Elias stared up at the ceiling as though it might provide answers. His thighs still trembled, and every so often his body gave a little satisfied shiver, like it hadn't caught up with the fact that it was over. The heat had finally receded. His skin was tacky with sweat, his hair plastered damp against his forehead, and the hot pink dildo lay abandoned near the pillow.
"Oh my God," Elias muttered into the silence, covering his face with both hands. "I just… I actually…"
People used toys all the time, right? Totally normal. There were even websites dedicated to it. The internet practically begged you to buy silicone things in every shape and size. Nothing strange about that. But then... Elias groaned, kicking the blankets off his overheated legs, there was the other part.
That part being the crazy horniness and the slick. The part where, during the height of it, his body had done something no normal body was supposed to do. Where he'd been flushed and aching and then—God, he hated remembering this—the mess had built. It was wet, messy and oh so oddly satisfying.
He flopped sideways, staring at the dildo again. The stupid thing winked at him in the half-light, shiny with lube and… other things.
"Not gay," Elias said weakly. "It doesn't count. Not gay."
He waited a beat.
Maybe it was bi. Or pan. Or desperate. He didn't know. He'd never liked labels anyway, but right now the lack of one made him feel like a kite with its string cut. He was supposed to be normal, a normal guy.
And then there was Cassian.
Elias groaned louder and shoved his face into the pillow.
He hadn't stopped thinking about the man since the stupid vending machine incident. Big, broody, ridiculously handsome Cassian, who had actually tackled him to the ground to save him. And worse, Mafia Dude took the front and center roll in his horny sheet. It can't be that bad, right, jerking off to a guy? Besides, Cassian was fictional. Which was insane. Cassian was the main character, the guy with women clinging to him in every chapter.
"Nope," Elias told himself. "Not thinking about it."
His stomach rumbled in betrayal. He sat up, pressing a hand to his abdomen, which still ached faintly with the echo of cramps. If he stayed here, he'd spiral into another three-hour debate about labels, Cassian, and his newly discovered ability to slick like a broken faucet. He needed food. Sugar. Salt. Something normal.
Dragging himself upright, Elias hurried to bathe and get rid of the stickiness. Then he pulled on sweatpants and a hoodie, ignoring the damp cling of his shirt. His reflection in the mirror by the door looked like a man who'd been wrung dry. Dark circles, puffy lips, hair pointing twelve directions.
"Fuck all," he muttered at the mirror. "I'm hungry."
Then he stepped out into the warm afternoon. Elias tucked his hands in the pockets of his hoodie as he walked, ticking off the things he wanted to buy in his head.
He could sense a difference in the air compared to when he first arrived the fictional world. He caught hints of cigarette smoke blocks away, the sour tang of beer from the bar across the street, even the faint sweetness of pastries from the bakery that was packed to the brim. A group of college kids passed him, laughing, reeking faintly of vodka. Elias kept his head down and shuffled past. There was a small grocery store up ahead, still open thanks to the glowing "24 Hours" sign.
He had just stepped onto the curb outside the store when the pops of gunshots split the air.
Elias froze for a moment and his heart rammed into his throat, then there were screams, the crash of glass somewhere down the street. Shit. He forgot that there would be things like this in the mafia inspired novel. People scattered instantly. A woman dropped her grocery bag and bolted. Someone shoved past Elias hard enough to make him stumble. He turned wildly, looking for cover, for an escape route, for anything—
A man in a baseball cap pulled a gun from under his jacket and raised it.
Right. At. Elias.
Elias' lungs seized. His knees went soft. This was it. This was how he went out, in sweatpants on a snack run in a fucking book.
"Move!"
A voice thundered, low and sharp, just before something slammed into Elias' shoulder. Hands grabbed him, yanking him sideways, and then a muscular arm wrapped around his torso. Elias staggered into a broad chest, the gunshot cracking against the air where he had just been standing.
The world blurred. Screams, running feet, the smell of gunpowder hot in his nose, and then Elias was half-dragged, half-carried behind the stone corner of the grocery. His back hit the wall. His rescuer pressed in close, shielding him, one hand braced above Elias' head.
"Breathe," the man said, steady, commanding. "You're fine. I've got you."
Elias blinked up.
The man was older, maybe mid-thirties, with a strong jaw shadowed by stubble. Sunglasses hid his eyes, but his mouth curved in a grin that seemed both amused and protective. He wore a fitted black t-shirt that clung to muscle, and his scent—
Elias' knees almost buckled again. It was similar to the main lead's. Overwhelming.
Alpha. His body, still hypersensitive from heat, lit up like someone had flipped a switch.
"Oh," Elias croaked.
The man's grin widened. "Easy," the alpha murmured, voice dipped in velvet. "That was close, huh?"
Elias swallowed hard, the sound loud in his ears. Close? The gun was in his face! His heart hammered so fast it hurt. His hands shook where they pressed against the wall, but the alpha's grip kept Elias from collapsing.
Gunshots cracked again down the street. Sirens began to wail faintly in the distance. But here, in the shadow of the corner, all Elias could focus on was the alpha pinning him safe against the wall.
"You breathe yet?" he asked.
Elias swallowed, shaky. His mouth felt dry. "I—yeah, I…" He coughed, his chest tight. "I'm breathing."
"Good."
The sunglasses tilted as the alpha studied him. A faint grin tugged his lips. "Not bad, considering you almost took a bullet to the face. You've got reflexes, slow as hell, but reflexes."
Elias blinked at him. Was that supposed to be a compliment? His pulse hadn't slowed. He pressed harder into the wall, trying not to notice how close the man's chest was, how solid. Or how good he smelled like lemon and light musk.
"…Who the hell are you?" Elias asked, because that seemed safer than blurting you smell really good, so please keep talking before I jump you.
The alpha chuckled. "Name's Nico." He straightened just enough to give Elias space, dragging a hand through his dark hair. "And you are?"
Elias hesitated. "…Elias."
Nico repeated it once, testing the sound of it. The grin curved deeper. "Elias... I did just save your pretty hide. A thank-you would be polite."
Elias bristled. His instinct was to argue, to push back, but the word pretty looped in his brain. He caught himself pressing his thighs tighter together, winced.
Instead, he snapped, "Thanks. There. Happy?"
Right as Nico opened his mouth to speak, a voice rang out, "Oi!"
Elias startled as another man stormed toward them, built broad, jacket thrown back to show the handle of something tucked at his waistband. His eyes flicked between Nico and Elias, narrowing with recognition.
"You," the stranger spat. "You messed with our boss."
Nico's smile didn't even twitch. He slid his sunglasses down just enough for the other man to catch his eyes. "Careful," he drawled. "You're interrupting my conversation."
The air was tense and different sour and heavy had Elias scrunching his nose. Elias' survival instincts screamed nope.
The stranger shoved Nico's shoulder. "I'm going to kil—"
That was as far as he got. A fist cracked against the man's jaw. He stumbled back, spitting blood. Snarled, lunged.
"Jesus Christ," Elias muttered, panic rising again. His heart was still climbing from the gunshots, and now this? Two alphas brawling in broad daylight while he was pressed against the wall? Hell no.
"Stay there," Nico tossed over his shoulder.
"Fuck, no," Elias hissed, already pushing away from the wall. He ducked left, slipped, and bolted.
His lungs burned, his legs ached, but he kept running. Block after block, until the streets blurred into ones he recognized. By the time he slammed his apartment door shut and leaned against it, sweat dripping down his back, he breathed in relief. He slid down to the floor, pressing his palms hard over his face.
"What the fuck," he wheezed.
His stomach growled, loud and pitiful.
Elias groaned, dropping his head back against the wood.
In all that chaos and panic, he hadn't even gotten his damn snack.