Omega Teacher’s Secret

chest.
Ian smiled wryly, glancing at Brad. “Sometime, you’ll have to teach me how to prep some duck.”
His gaze slid down Brad’s chest like a caress, and Brad’s blood swooped between his legs.
By the time they made it out of the Apex, Brad was half-hard, and thinking up ten different ways he could get into Ian’s pants.
He drove them back to the apartment, parking under a bright streetlamp. Glanced over as Ian clicked off his seatbelt. “By the way,” Brad said. “I got you guys presents.”
Ian’s smile faded. “But… but you didn’t have to. I didn’t get you any… damn it.”
“What presents?” Gwen asked, clicking off her seatbelt. “Do I get one?”
“Yeah, you get one, and your dad gets one, and everyone gets one.”
“I should be getting some,” Ian said weakly.
“I’ll give you some, all right,” Brad murmured.
Ian gulped, his musk filling Brad’s lungs. “I guess we can—we can open them upstairs.”

6
Brad
Brad grabbed the gifts from the trunk. Together with Ian and Gwen, he climbed the stairs, watching as Ian counted out the steps with his daughter.
It seemed like a family thing; Brad wasn’t sure if he’d ever do that with his own child, if he ever had one.
Wasn’t sure he had the patience to care for another person every day for the foreseeable years of his life.
Then he looked at Ian’s back profile, Ian’s pants pulling tight across his ass. Brad almost tripped, watching his omega. He wanted to touch Ian. Had to hold back, at least for now. At least until Gwen went to bed or something.
Brad held his tongue, trudging up the stairs.
The apartment corridors were cramped and a little dim, with flickering fluorescent lights too far apart. Brad said nothing; Gwen skipped down the hallways like it was all normal to her. And it would be, if she’d been living here a while.
I thought you make quite a bit as a prof, Brad thought, glancing at Ian.
At a worn apartment door with peeling paint, Ian stopped. He pulled out his keys, unlocking the door. “Sorry it isn’t much,” he said, glancing at Brad. “I wasn’t expecting to have you over.”
He flicked on the light switches, swinging the door open. Gwen hurried inside first, and Ian followed.
Brad shucked his shoes. Glanced around the cramped living room, the single couch in front of a TV, and the tiny dinner table just outside the kitchen, with two chairs. There was one bedroom, and one bathroom. Hardly any space to turn around at all.
Brad had been in similar buildings while he was on duty at the station. The cheaper apartments usually featured cramped quarters, and too many fire hazards. It didn’t sit right with Brad, knowing that Ian and his daughter lived here.
Ian looked away, rubbing his arms. “Sorry.”
“No need. C’mon, open your gift.” Brad handed Ian the smaller box, wrapped in shiny gold foil. Then he handed a larger red box to Gwen.
“Put your leftovers in the fridge first,” Ian told his daughter, handing her the doggy bag from the Apex. “Then you can open your gift.”
Gwen grumbled, but she hurried the few steps to the kitchen. The fridge door opened and shut, and Brad had never seen a kid sit on the floor so quickly, tearing open a gift. Ian watched her, a tiny smile on his face.
“She’s starting to get more active,” he murmured. “She’s been recovering from her surgery this past year.”
Surgery? Brad held his breath, his heart sinking. “Yeah?”
“Heart defect,” Ian said, his smile fading. “She’s been through a few for her tetralogy of Fallot. Her cardiologist says there’s probably one more to go, but otherwise, she’s had a complete repair.”
It explained the tiny apartment they both lived in. Brad wet his lips. “Whose is she?”
Ian glanced at him, freezing. He didn’t answer for a long time. Then he said, “Mine.”
Not quite the answer Brad wanted, but he wasn’t pushing right now. He sighed, nodding at Ian’s box. “Go on. Open it.”
Ian smiled, picking open the wrapping carefully. He watched as Gwen pried open her box, finding a colorful fluffy scarf. Then, a tiny fire truck.
“I got that from the station,” Brad said. “We have a few for the kids that visit.”
“You’re a firefighter?” Gwen’s eyes grew round.
“Yup, been one for seven years.” Brad perked up at the attention, grinning. “Wanna come visit the trucks sometime?”
“Yes!” Gwen shot to her feet, hurrying across the living room. Then she grabbed a huge toy truck, pushing it over to Brad. “I got this for Christmas this morning. It’s a rainbow truck!”
She hit a button, and rainbow lights lit up all over the thing, changing colors when she pushed the truck around.
“That’s really cool,” Brad said, impressed.
“That’s what we went to the store for,” Ian said, smiling wryly. “Batteries. I didn’t know you’re a firefighter. I thought you just played the violin.”
“I play the violin on the side. But yeah, I’m working full-time at the station.” Brad looked pointedly at Ian. “Are you gonna open your present, or not?”
Ian laughed softly. “I wanted to savor it.”
He pulled apart the wrapping paper carefully, like he wanted to reuse it later. Made sense. But it made Brad want to give him more, so he didn’t have to scrimp like he was.
Ian blinked when he opened the box beneath the wrapping. He stared at the kid gloves, his eyes growing wide.
“If they’re the wrong size, I can get them exchanged for something that fits,” Brad said, feeling awkward. “I kinda estimated your size. Sorry.”
“It’s… it’s too much,” Ian said, stroking his finger down the leather. “I can’t possibly accept this.”
Brad shrugged. “It’s not like I have an omega, you know. Take it.”
Red crept up Ian’s cheeks. He set down the wrapping materials, then slipped his hands into the brown gloves. The leather pulled snug over his palms, and Brad realized that he’d been lucky, picking out a pair that fit.
“Gods, Brad,” Ian whispered, staring at the gloves in awe. “I just—I can’t—”
Brad leaned in, thinking about kissing him, tasting Ian’s surprise