How could his omega parent have walked away from this? Sure, his father hadn’t been like Heath, but he’d been a good man, and…

He cut his thoughts off. That didn’t matter. He and Heath would raise this baby together. They’d make more. They’d never part. It was bliss of the highest order, and the only sad thing in the world was that not everyone was lucky enough to experience it.

He’d have to call Ron Finch and thank him for setting up the auction, for encouraging the breeding option, and for making him sound so appealing in the write-up. It was absurd to contemplate that had it not been for all of that he would be at university right now thinking about Hontu fabric and not holding his baby son.

Thank God Heath had won him!

“Yes, yes,” Simon said, making an obvious effort to calm down. He approached the bed again and stared down at where the baby was latched on, gobbling away, his little mouth and cheeks moving adorably. “He’s handsome. Looks like you both.”

“Does he?” Adrien put his glasses on so he could see his son a bit better.

“I think he looks like Heath.”

“Dark hair, same skin tone,” Heath said agreeably. “But that nose and chin are all you.”

“Maybe. He’s so scrunched up. How can we really tell?”

Simon reached out a single finger and smoothed it over the baby’s thatch of dark hair. “He’s wondrous.”

“And you thought it was a bad idea,” Heath grumbled.

“I did not!” Simon protested. “I thought the plan was a bad idea…” He trailed off, glancing at Adrien and then back at the baby again. “No matter. I was wrong. This little miracle was a wonderful idea.”

“But you posed a good question,” Heath said. “What should we call him?”

Adrien’s stomach flip-flopped, and he gathered his nerve to make his suggestion.

“Yes?” Heath encouraged him. “I can see you have something in mind.”

“I think we should call him Nathan, after the man you loved? The one who died?”

Simon gasped.

Heath jerked back as if slapped. His face turned red, and his breath came in short gasps. “No. Choose something else.”

Adrien blinked up at him, an ache in his gut where moments ago only joy had been. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d like it.”

“I do.” Heath shook his head, wiped his hand over his mouth, and said,

“Just pick something else.”

Simon stepped away from the bed, as though he wanted to make himself invisible. Adrien’s chest hurt. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong.

“Michael? After my father, then?”

Heath nodded. “That’s good. I like it.”

Adrien fought back the lump in his throat and peered down at his son.

How could he be hurt when his child was perfect, plump, and snuggled in so tight against him chestfeeding? His glasses fogged from the puff of his own hot breath and the humidity of the suddenly hot room. He took them off again.

It was fine. They were fine.

Michael it would be, and it was a good name.

“Michael,” he said aloud, testing it.

“He was an angel,” Simon offered as he left. “One of God’s finest.”

Heath swallowed hard and seemed to make an effort to soften at Adrien’s side in the bed. “Yes, Michael. The angel of triumph.”

The tension in the room dissolved, and eventually Adrien fell asleep.

When he woke, the room was dark, but Michael and Heath were nestled up beside him, and he checked the baby for his breath. Upon finding it steady and strong, he slipped off back into dreams.

Chapter Nineteen

TO ADRIEN’S EYES, Heath seemed happier than ever, perhaps even deliriously so, after the baby’s birth. He smiled constantly and was a helpful, adoring father to Michael and devoted alpha to Adrien.

But it wasn’t the same for Adrien. As the first few days passed, he grew restless, tired, and anxious. His skin didn’t hurt like it did before, but he felt like his insides had taken over the job of aching. He couldn’t use the bathroom without pain, and while he knew that was normal, it stressed him out. He didn’t want to eat because that meant he’d later have to endure the bathroom agony, but if he didn’t eat then Michael wouldn’t get the right nutrients, and he just wanted to sleep, dammit, but Michael wanted to chestfeed, and it was harder than he’d thought.

He wanted that rosy glow back. The one he’d carried through his whole pregnancy. The one that had fallen over him like a protective blanket up until the birth, whispering to him that everything was all right.

Instead, he had a weird, nagging feeling that everything was all wrong.

And he had no idea how to settle it. He straightened his glasses as he paced with a fussing Michael up and down the long hallway. It no longer felt magical. He felt like he knew every nub and dent in the concrete.

“It’s the hormone drop,” Heath said calmly, falling into step next to him.

He reached out to rub Adrien’s neck, but that felt condescending, and Adrien shrugged him off. “You’ve been riding the pregnancy hormones for months, and getting plenty of my semen, too, which has a calming effect. Now, you haven’t been taking in any since the birth. I could jerk off into your mouth.

That might help.”

Adrien glared at him. He was tired, upset, and couldn’t take a shit without thinking he was going to die, but Heath wanted to jerk off into his mouth?

Fuck him.

“No.”

“It might help.”

“No.”

“I could put some in a glass for you then. You could drink it like milk.”

Adrien gazed down at Michael’s frowning face and sighed. “All right.”

“I’ll leave it for you in the fridge.”

Adrien turned up a lip. “Cold jizz. Thanks. Delicious.”

“I can give it to you warm. I already offered.”

“No!” Adrien kissed Michael’s fat baby cheeks, wishing he didn’t feel so growly inside. He was being unfair to Heath. He headed back down the tunnel into the living room of the nest again. “I don’t like the idea of Simon seeing it in the refrigerator.”

“This is common,” Heath said, following him. “Everyone knows omegas can go through this. Post-partum drop. It’s normal.”

“It’s not normal! It’s awful!”

Heath took Michael from him. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep? I’ll take care of this little booger.”

Adrien thought about arguing. He hated being away from Michael for even a few minutes. It felt wrong that the little being who’d so recently been inside him could ever be more than a hand’s reach away.

“I’ll just rest here on the couch.” He lay down on his side and grabbed a throw pillow to cling to. He watched Heath sit with Michael in the rocking chair Simon had brought down from somewhere in the big house. Heath hummed, his deep voice vibrating through Adrien soothingly.

He relaxed. Okay, this was all right. Good, even. He took off his glasses and put them on the arm of the sofa. When he woke up, he’d be over whatever was happening, whatever nastiness was growing in his head. He’d go back to feeling that lovely peace and contentment he’d felt before.

But when he did wake, he felt no different. Plus, Heath was gone, and Michael was in Simon’s arms in the garden. He tightened his robe, wondering when he’d be able to fit in his old clothes, put on his glasses, and stepped outside. He frowned. The roses had started to fade over the last few days.

“Autumn’s coming on,” Simon said, answering his unspoken question.

“Won’t be long until the bushes are bare. But they come back new every year.” He kissed Michael’s little head and smiled at Adrien, his old eyes crinkling at the edges. “Heath left something in the refrigerator for you. He said you should have it right away.”

Adrien gritted his teeth. He did miss the taste of Heath’s cum. He missed

the feeling of him pumping it deep into his ass the most, but that particular orifice felt like it would never be the same again.