Omega Teacher’s Secret

as Ian slid the tray of wings into the oven.
Ian shrugged. He felt better, now that he was home with Gwen. And now that Brad was here, still staying, instead of striding out the front door.
“I’m doing okay now.” Ian closed the oven door, leaning against the handle.
Brad stepped over. He slipped a sturdy arm around Ian’s waist, and Ian couldn’t help the sigh that escaped him.
“I don’t know why you came back,” Ian admitted. He tensed, afraid Brad would realize he was right, and leave.
But Brad pulled Ian against his strong chest, pressing his nose into Ian’s hair. “I don’t know, either.”
Ian’s heart sank.
“All I know is that I judged you too fast the last time,” Brad murmured, stroking Ian’s side with his fingertips. “You had circumstances that stopped you from doing things. I wish you’d told me, though.”
“And, what, you’d step up to be a dad? You were barely out of school, Brad. I don’t know how much you could’ve helped with the bills at that point. It would probably have crippled you, too. I couldn’t do that to you.”
Ian thought about his mother, who had stayed home to be a housewife instead of going out to work. Then she’d become resentful that she’d given up her career for her children, blaming the failures in her life on Ian and his siblings.
The way Ian saw things, it was best for Brad to have a chance to spread his wings. Let him fly, before he chained himself to a life he thought he needed to have.
For a while, Brad said nothing. Then he slid his hand up Ian’s chest, holding Ian against himself. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I’m not the same person I was when I was twenty-two.”
Ian cracked a smile. “You aren’t?”
“I was a greedy bastard,” Brad said, his breath puffing warm on Ian’s skin. “Just wanted to have you to myself. I still do, but there’s more I have to look out for now.”
“So you’re a less greedy bastard?”
“Maybe a just-as-greedy bastard, but a Jack-of-all-trades sort of greedy.”
“That didn’t even make sense,” Ian said. “And yet I understand you.”
“See, we fit,” Brad growled, pressing his front against Ian.
Ian shivered, sinking against him. “So… you’re fine with this whole thing. Gwen. Me being older than you.”
Brad snorted. “Yeah. But it’s not like I have much of a choice, do I?”
Ian winced, turning around to meet his eyes. “No, you do have a choice. I want you to know that. At every step of this… this thing, you aren’t tied down to what you think you should do. You could leave at any point, and I’ll—I’ll understand.”
It made his chest squeeze, though, offering Brad the option to leave.
Brad stared at him for a moment, his honey-brown eyes solemn. Then he pressed their foreheads together. “I’m here of my own free will. I’m sorry about the last time. Shouldn’t have said all that. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
Ian bowed his head, his heart swelling.
He couldn’t expect anyone to give him so much leeway. And yet here Brad was, apologizing to him. Holding Ian gently, his thumb stroking Ian’s spine.
With everything that Brad was, Ian was starting to like him more, in a way he probably shouldn’t.
He didn’t know why his heart fluttered the way it did, when Brad kissed his cheek.
“I shouldn’t be feeling this,” Ian mumbled.
“Feeling what?”
Ian touched his own chest. Brad frowned, and slipped his hand under Ian’s palm. Ian’s heart thumped against him.
“Don’t tell me you’ve got a heart defect, too,” Brad said.
Ian stared, and then he was laughing so hard he couldn’t stop. It was the wrong thing to crack up about. He’d hated the words ‘heart defect’ after the countless hospital trips. And yet, Brad had meant it as a joke. Somehow, it was the funniest thing in the world right now, Ian having a defect, too.
His heart was still pounding. His stomach was doing funny things around Brad, and maybe there was something wrong with him.
Ian panted as he came down from his laughter, sinking his face into Brad’s shoulder. “Thanks.”
“Just remind me not to do that when you’re drinking something,” Brad said wryly. “Otherwise you’ll grace me with your spit.”
“I thought you wanted that on you!”
“Not a fine, airbrushed mist on my face,” Brad said, but there was a smile in his voice.
“So a gush works fine?” Ian said, daring to tease. “Or a dribble?”
“Depends on what fluids, but yeah.” Brad grinned.
Ian met his eyes, sagging. It was a relief that Brad still wanted sex, too. “So… wings.”
“Yeah,” Brad said, glancing at the oven. “Wait, did you set the timer?”
Ian groaned. “No!”
Before he could reach for the egg timer, nausea rolled through his stomach. Ian paused, breathing in, trying to keep the contents of his stomach down.
Brad glanced over. “What’s wrong?”
“I think I need to puke.”
Brad frowned. “Already? I thought morning sickness doesn’t roll around until a month in.”
“It varies.” Ian hurried over to the bathroom. Gwen was on her way to the kitchen, but she didn’t seem to need him, so he turned on the bathroom light. Bent over the toilet, a second before his stomach roiled and clenched.
He hadn’t been prepared for it. The vomit burned out through his nose, and Ian coughed, grimacing when Brad pushed open the door. Ian spat, heaving again. Winced when Brad didn’t leave the bathroom.
Instead, Brad grabbed a mug, filling it with water. Then he crouched beside Ian, brushing Ian’s hair away from his face.
“I stink,” Ian said.
Brad stayed beside him, handing him the mug. He glanced around, grabbed the roll of TP, and tore off a few sheets for Ian. “More?”
Ian wiped the puke off his face, wincing. “I just have to wash up after this. It’s okay.”
He felt Brad’s hand on his back, though. Brad peered worriedly at him. The nausea had faded slightly, but this was only the start of weeks, if not months, of puking.
“I can’t believe you want a child enough to go through this,” Brad said. “That’s really