Chapter Fourteen
Wes
“Mr. Parkenson, did you need something?”
Wes organized papers on his desk, shoving folders into a leather case as he packed up his notes. Class had ended ten minutes ago, but he noticed a student lingering in the back rows of the stadium-style room.
Asher Parkenson approached him cautiously. Wes was surprised by the serious look on the beta’s face. The young man was usually so jovial, among the most good-natured in this section.
“I have a few questions about your lecture,” Asher said. “But I didn’t want to ask in front of the class.”
Wes furrowed his brow. The lecture he’d given today had been fairly straightforward, a basic timeline of omega rights legislation for their modern history unit.
He propped his hip on the desk behind him. “Alright. What can I clarify?”
“Well, the law says omegas can emancipate themselves at age twenty-five, if they’re not married.”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“But I was curious what happens if an omega has a baby before then?”
“An unmarried and unemancipated omega?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Are you asking if having a baby gives the omega grounds to emancipate themselves early?”
“That, but also if they get any say in what happens to the child.” Asher’s jaw ticked. “I know most omegas are married or twenty-five before they first give birth, but if it did happen?”
Wes hummed. “You’re spot on that these situations are unusual, but pregnancy is not grounds for self-emancipation. To the best of my understanding, in those instances, the omega’s parents would be legally responsible.”
Asher’s face pinched. “So they decide what happens to the baby?”
“Technically, yes. But I imagine that in most cases, the decision would be mutual.” Wes had never seen the young man look upset. “Is there a particular reason you’re asking?”
“Um, no. I…I was just wondering.” Asher hitched his backpack onto his shoulder. “It doesn’t seem fair, though, right? Like, the omega is the one giving birth, so he should be the one to decide. He’s still a father, even if he’s not twenty-five. His feelings should be considered at least.”
“And perhaps the baby’s alpha father too,” Wes added gently.
“I guess.” Asher scowled.
Wes was curious about Asher’s motivations. As a beta, it was impossible that he had gotten an omega pregnant, but he certainly seemed invested in this conversation. Did he have a friend? Or maybe it was something else.
“Are you asking because you’re interested in becoming a father?”
Asher reeled back. “What?! I’m twenty-one.”
Wes shrugged. “Some betas get the urge early. I thought maybe you were gathering information because an opportunity had arisen.”
“No. It’s not that. I just know someone. He might not be able to…keep his baby. I wish I could help.”
“Ah. It’s commendable that you care, but the decision lies with his family. So hopefully he has supportive parents.”
Asher grimaced but offered nothing further.
Wes attempted to reassure him. “If they go the adoption route, those situations usually turn out great. Agencies are very meticulous in their screening. My husband and I are currently going through the process, so I can attest to that.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Most babies who are adopted end up with beta couples.”
Asher was a Parkenson, so the struggles of trying to start a family as a beta had likely never entered his mind. It would not be hard for him, thanks to his family’s wealth and connections.
“Thank you for answering my questions, Professor Pashuk.” Asher shook his hand.
“No problem. I hope everything goes okay for your friend.”
“Me too. And I hope you and your husband are successful. I’m sure you’ll make great fathers.”
A contemplative look crossed Asher’s face before he headed up the stairs and out the upper exit of the lecture hall.
The heavy door had not fully closed behind him before it creaked open again.
Wes looked up and frowned at the man at the top of the auditorium. “Lux,” he said flatly. “What can I do for you?”
Lux, another beta professor in the history department, sauntered down the stairs.
“I was meeting with an adjunct in the biology building,” he said. “And your husband was coming out of the lab.”
“Okay?”
Lux shrugged. “Nothing. He just looked good. Like he always does. That red hair is such an unusual shade, so dark it’s practically brown. But today I noticed the gold flecks in it, like the sun was making it glitter.” He cocked his head before adding, “I bet it’s soft when you touch it.”
Although Wes agreed that Assa’s hair was spectacular, Lux’s praise sounded more skeevy than admiring.
Wes took a deep breath, not giving the other man the satisfaction of an indignant response. “Did you come here just to tell me you saw Assa, or was there some other reason?”
Lux’s leer faded. “I was hoping to get your outline on last century’s alpha labor strikes. So we can avoid redundancies, since we’re sharing half our students this semester.”
Some of the tension released from Wes’s shoulders. He wished Lux would behave this way all the time—like a normal work colleague, asking about normal work colleague things.
But ever since five months ago, when one of Wes and Assa’s hookups turned out to be an acquaintance of Lux’s, their professional relationship had soured.
The Pashuks’ one-night stand had not intended harm, but his vague story about having a fantastic night with a married couple who worked at the university was enough of a breadcrumb for Lux to figure out their identities.
He immediately let Wes know what he’d learned.
At first, because Lux had never acted like a weirdo before, Wes thought the man was merely informing him that their hookup had loose lips, but it soon became apparent that Lux’s main interest was in offering himself as a bedpartner.
Wes turned him down gently, with the truth that he and Assa did not mess around with other university employees.
But since then, Lux had grown bolder with his language. He didn’t outright suggest sharing their bed again, but he made sure Wes understood exactly what he thought about the couple’s lifestyle.
Whereas Wes and Assa saw their playtime with others as an expansion of their love, an expression of their trust and satisfaction, Lux saw them as a sexual curiosity, his lens solely lascivious.
He made inappropriate comments and insinuations, like what he’d said about Assa’s hair just now. The most egregious had come a month ago, when he remarked on the quality of Wes’s sweater, adding, “You like things rough, don’t you? I bet Assa likes it rough, too.”
Lux also spoke often about his prowess in bed. In one of their least subtle interactions, he'd assured Wes that there was no doubt he possessed the stamina to keep multiple men happy at once.
Wes had considered going to the department chair to complain, but that would require revealing his and Assa’s non-monogamy. The university couldn’t fire them for their lifestyle, but if the administration disapproved, they could make their work life difficult. He didn’t want to risk it.
He thought about how their lives would be altered if everyone found out their personal business. As much as he was unashamed, polyamory was still outside the norm. If his coworkers knew, they would treat him differently.
Lux was a case in point. Before he discovered their secret, he had been cordial and polite. Now he acted like a lustful perv.
Others might do the same. And Wes didn’t want that. Not for himself, and definitely not for Assa.
If there was one thing that made the situation bearable, it was that Lux hadn’t approached Assa directly.
That was mostly because they rarely crossed paths and didn’t know each other well, but whatever the reason, Wes was grateful.
Assa had enough going on with his miserable alpha father and his lingering self-esteem issues.
He did not need Lux’s gross behavior to make him doubt himself.
As Wes pulled out his notes for Lux, he realized there was another reason to worry about him knowing their secret.
If their polyamory became public knowledge while they were trying to adopt, it could cause a problem. Even if Wes and Assa committed to monogamy in the future—something they were willing to do if an omega birth father asked for it—their past encounters would work against them.
Wes needed to stay on Lux’s good side.
Wes handed him the papers with a wan smile. “Here you go. Hope the lecture goes well. Let me know if I can help.”
Lux blinked, then gazed inquisitively at him. He gave Wes a slow perusal before his mouth spread into a grin.
Wes forced himself to remain in place, hanging his thumbs from his belt loops as Lux stepped closer.
Lux reached up tentatively, brushing a thumb across Wes’s cheek. “Assa’s hair is gorgeous. But he’ll never be as pretty as you.”
Wes was shaking on the inside, his outrage a fire in his gut. They were colleagues. Lux had no right to treat him like this. To make him feel cheap.
But nothing was more important than the adoption.
He huffed out a laugh, backing away. “I’ve never been called pretty before.”
“Not surprising,” Lux said. “I bet most people think of you as a big tough guy, right?”
Wes’s thighs hit the desk behind him. “Are you implying I’m not tough?”
Lux inched closer. “I’m saying sometimes it’s nice to just relax and be pretty and let someone else be the tough guy.”
Wes chortled awkwardly. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
It irritated him that the other man was so near the truth, that in the right situation, especially with the right alpha, Wes enjoyed being bossed around. He hated that his repulsive colleague had guessed that.
But that's exactly what Lux was doing—guessing. This man didn’t know him. Or Assa.
With another smirk, Lux tapped the papers against his chest and lifted his chin. “See you soon, Professor Pashuk. Thanks for the assist.”
Wes heaved a sigh of relief after he left. It sucked that he needed to keep Lux happy. But what choice did he have?