14. Epsilon

CHAPTER 14

Epsilon

K yle was right.

It wasn't a common occurrence, but it happened – Epsilon supposed the odds favoured the frustratingly optimistic man occasionally getting things right, despite his utter na?veté preventing him from seeing the truth of people.

But this time it was Epsilon who was pretending not to see the obvious danger, and Kyle bluntly calling it out, because...Kyle was right . Epsilon was an idiot. No one defied Xerxes' mayor like he had, not if they expected to live out the month.

Epsilon sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Perhaps he could have handled the encounter with the Mackenroths a little more diplomatically, but the pair had wanted him to sell one of his staff into sexual slavery, for fuck's sake. All because of Miles' mildly hurt feelings?

No. It was because men like that weren't used to being told no , and overreacted in the worst ways when faced with it. They hadn't been forged by the adversity that most of Xerxes was subjected to on a daily basis, instead being born to money and power and the luxury of sunlight on their skin.

Epsilon paused in the doorway to the staff showers, the humidity of the room wafting out into the corridor where he stood. Most of the men had already cleaned up and were relaxing in the staffroom for lunch, and Kyle was alone in one of the walled shower bays. He was also delightfully naked, his weight resting on one leg while he stretched the other out, fingers fiddling with the taps.

Mouth dry and his pulse beginning to race, Epsilon let himself watch the way Kyle's muscles flexed, his fair skin pulling taut with strain and then relaxing as he moved. He'd always found it impossible to choose between a Kyle dressed in nothing but those tight trousers of his, the black leather leaving precisely nothing to the imagination, or like this, with his very shapely legs and toned ass on unadulterated display.

By the stars, he was a pervert. He didn't sneak glances at the rest of his staff like he did Kyle, but he could no sooner stop than he could cease breathing.

Epsilon willed the man to stop fussing with the tap and turn it on so that he could watch the way the water droplets cascaded down the broad shoulders and his lean, powerful torso.

"The water is out again," Kyle called out. "So if you've come to check whether it's just the runes on that fancy bath of yours that aren't working, I'm guessing it's a no."

He turned and shot Epsilon a bright smile that held no surprise, telling him that he'd known he was there and watching. Epsilon cursed himself for being so easily caught.

Yet there was no judgement or disappointment in Kyle's expression – there rarely was, which may have explained why Epsilon had reacted so badly when Kyle had vocally condemned him for how he'd responded to the Mackenroths – and Epsilon took a step towards him before he could think better of it.

"I was looking for you," he said truthfully. He should have added that it could wait until Kyle was dressed, but those words got stuck in his throat and obstinately refused to leave.

Epsilon moved closer until he was standing in the entrance to the shower bay, his polished dress shoes coming to rest on wet tile. With the partitions that separated the bays, the only way the other man could escape was past Epsilon himself. And the space between him and the wall was small enough that Kyle would be forced to brush against him, his bare skin on Epsilon's suit jacket, his pierced cock sliding against his hip...

Epsilon wasn't sure if he should be relieved or disappointed that Kyle made no attempt to leave.

"Me?" The blonde grinned and tilted his head, bright eyes twinkling with mischief. "Did you find the box of staples I accidentally spilled all over your office and decide you're going to hand me over to those Uppers after all?"

How could he joke about that?

"That's not funny," Epsilon spat out, fingers clenching around the tissue-wrapped package he held and making it rustle. "They were talking about some seriously sick matters back there, Kyle, and it is not something to be taken lightly."

The other man almost – almost – rolled his eyes at him. Oh, it was a sincere pity Kyle's training at the House was long over, for Epsilon would have loved to have taken him over his knee for his insolence.

"Relax, boss," Kyle drawled, rolling his neck and shoulders and distracting Epsilon with the movement of his body in the same immediate, overwhelming way that Kyle's cats went feral for catnip. It was enough to drain his fury, and he forced his fingers to uncurl before he tore the parcel he was holding.

Kyle's expression perked up as he caught sight of it. "You got me a present?"

"It's not a present," Epsilon muttered, obligingly relinquishing it to his demanding hands. How could he not when Kyle looked so eagerly covetous, even if it hadn't been for him?

But of course it had been for him.

Kyle radiated innocence – an impossibility considering what he did for a living, and yet there it was, a na?veté built from optimism and hope that Xerxes hadn't yet managed to grind down.

"You. Got me. A present!"

Epsilon scowled. "Give it back." He reached out to retrieve it but Kyle danced backwards against the tap, gazing delightedly at the package he clutched in his hands.

"What did I do to deserve this?"

"A whole lot of nothing," Epsilon said, immediately regretting everything . "If you're going to be a child about it, hand it over."

"You're not taking my present," Kyle told him petulantly, and it was to the sound of Epsilon's exasperated sigh that he ripped apart the tissue paper to reveal a black t-shirt with the words Livin' on a Prayer blazoned across its front in cracked white lettering.

Kyle squealed, which startled Epsilon until he realised from the man's face that it wasn't a bad noise. People were so confusing.

The blonde was beaming when he looked back up at him. "I'm going to wear it every day!"

Epsilon cleared his throat. "It's just a shirt."

"Every day."

"You don't need to-"

"Every day ," Kyle repeated, his tone brokering no argument.

He began to coo over the shirt like it was one of his cats – Epsilon had considered buying him one of those instead but decided the risk of Kyle evicting himself from his apartment to ensure his pets could live in comfort was far too real a possibility, and how many of the blasted things did he have now, anyway? – petting it and talking to the shirt as if it was a sentient being. Then he pulled it over his head and worked his arms through the holes, making Epsilon's brain temporarily stop working at the erotic sight of Kyle wearing it and nothing else, his cock half-erect and its stunning piercing gently nudging at the trailing hem of the shirt.

He was so fucking sexy when he smiled.

And Kyle smiled a lot. He was endlessly cheerful, ridiculously optimistic, and it was adorable. He was the furthest thing from Epsilon's carefully controlled, professional demeanour, and yet ever so perfect.

"Oh," Kyle said, evidently pleased with the fit of the shirt. He twisted on his heel to show it off, making Epsilon swallow deeply when it flared over his bare ass. "It's like you know my size."

"Of course I know your size," said Epsilon, trying to sound unbothered when it was impossible in Kyle's presence. "Who do you think buys all your gear?"

Including all that delicious leather that Kyle had conned him into footing the expense for on the justification that they were work clothes. Yet for all his complaining, Epsilon had been only too eager to do so.

"Yeah, but you've never measured me." Kyle frowned. "Like, with a measuring tape."

Epsilon let his voice dip into a growl.

"No. Not with a tape."

He enjoyed the full body shiver that passed over Kyle at that, the blonde's eyes briefly closing. As equally satisfying was the way his lips parted slightly in surprise upon opening them again to find Epsilon had moved closer. They were now almost touching, sharing breath, and for a moment Epsilon couldn't even remember the world around them, let alone let himself be bothered by it.

Because what else mattered when Kyle was looking at him like that, blue eyes seemingly as lost as Epsilon himself was, drowning in want and need and hope and please ?

As if drawn by a magnet to the man he'd found himself dreaming about since the day they met – a magnetic force Epsilon had somehow managed to fight for five years, but who could possibly resist such a thing forever? – Epsilon leaned in and brushed his lips against Kyle's.

There was a long moment where Kyle did nothing at all, a statue beneath his touch, and Epsilon began to fear that everything he'd perceived between them had all been in his head.

And then Kyle came alive .

Fingers twisted in his hair and curled behind his neck, Kyle's other hand wrapping possessively around his waist and tugging Epsilon forward until he was trapped against him. He sank into the embrace, relishing the warmth of Kyle's body and the solid length of him pressed against his leg as Kyle deepened the kiss, his tongue insistently seeking entrance to his mouth.

Epsilon surrendered without thought, his happy moan denied escape with how intently Kyle was exploring his mouth and tongue.

By the stars, the man should not be this good at kissing considering he'd placed it on his hard limits list four and a half years ago. Epsilon had manipulated him into that, of course, dropping comments about the importance of separating your personal life from your professional, and ensuring to assign Kyle a client whose attempts at kissing were enough to turn anyone off the act, but the gratification he'd felt when Kyle requested to update his hard limits for client appointments had been more relieved than smug.

Kyle's thigh insistently forced its way between his and Epsilon let it, parting his legs wider to allow him access. Anything this man wanted from him, he'd give.

For the taste of Kyle was like...Epsilon felt he should describe it as something poetic, like the sensation of sunlight on his face or the delicate fragrance of life and hope, but truthfully there was no comparison. Kyle was Kyle , and the two of them were now so closely entwined they'd become a single being. Perhaps they could share more than this one, exquisite kiss...

A gurgling cough sounded from behind Kyle a moment before icy cold cascaded over their heads. They both jerked apart in surprise, identical gasps erupting from their regrettably parted mouths, and stared in shock at each other through the wall of water between them.

The running water runes had reactivated.

Kyle laughed, a long, light-hearted sound, and pinched his wet shirt away from his body. "That was good for the heart," he joked, lips quirking into an amused grin as he reached behind him to turn the shower tap off without breaking eye contact. "But seeing as we're already wet..."

He reached out, not to pull Epsilon against him again but to curl his fingers in a signal for him to move closer of his own accord. A demanding gesture encased in Kyle's unique brand of dominance: tolerant yet firm, kind yet creatively wicked, and ever so damn enticing.

But the cold water had done more than shock Epsilon's body.

It had reset his head as well, stripping all those stupid feelings from it and reminding him that This. Couldn't. Happen.

Epsilon forced his breathing to slow before he responded. Kyle was too important to him, and as much as he longed to obey the man's imperious gesture and submit to him, his importance was why he couldn't allow it to go further.

Making a show of glancing at his watch and brushing water droplets from its surface, Epsilon cleared his throat.

"I actually have a session with Deacon I need to get to. You'll excuse me."

He turned on his heel, treading through a fresh puddle of water on his way to the door. He heard nothing from behind him but imagined he did anyway: a disappointed sigh that drove into his very bones.

It was only when Epsilon had reached the safety of the corridor and allowed himself to breathe again that he remembered his impending session with Deacon...was also with Kyle.