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Just Pure Awful

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“Come out, Darling,” he rumbled. “I want you to have my babies.”

There were too many alphas in the asylum.

It made sense, of course. Alphas were more prone to violence and insanity because of their hormones. They were probably useful subjects in regards to testing different temperaments, though, and their strength was appealing because of the wrath they were capable of inflicting.

The fact remained unchanged: there were too many of them. Worse, there were too many insane ones. The lovely characteristics that made an alpha what they were culminated primarily in dominance. This dominance dictated almost every aspect of their lives. The two aspects it dictated in the asylum were by and far violence and sexual deviance.

Because most patients were of the same class, that hadn’t boded well for those that had been forced into submission. There had been many dead alphas strewn about, all blood and gore below the waist.

Even if Waylon had been an alpha he would’ve faced a horrific fate. But he was an omega, though he wasn’t sure if the fate in mind for his kind was worse just yet.

He had come across an omega in his sneaking. Waylon had kept to the shadows, to the hallways with the most overwhelming stench of urine and feces and blood to cover his own. The omega he found had not employed the same tactics.

A group of alphas had found him and, maybe because of his insanity or the pungent scent of the large bodies around him, he had gone into heat and presented. They’d taken him in turns, and each had been hard and fast, but none had hurt him. No alpha would physically harm an omega, especially one so obedient. There were far better uses to keeping one intact and they displayed that plainly by passing him around their circle and making him moan and squirt for them.

Waylon had felt a twinge in his gut at the sight. But, he told himself, he only watched because he’d feared attracting their attention with any movement or sound. A lie, he knew once he was away and his mind clear. He could’ve broken a window and they would’ve paid him no mind.

Unlike his counterpart, he seemed to be fortified against their pheromones. Though, his sneaking hadn’t been flawless. Alphas had noticed him more times than he could recall and offered their attentions and intentions to him in acts that ranged between lewd and heinous, yet he’d never felt the compulsion to consider them, let alone give pause.

But then he’d found himself trapped within the lair of an alpha with the strongest pheromones yet. Appealing as his body thought that was, his mind knew the man was a psycho. Luckily his fear overrode the rest of his senses so he could hide.

The alpha stalked his territory, shoulders huge and hunched. They drew back and forth with each of his deep breaths, accenting the lines of his pectorals and the taper of his waist. Each step was almost a lunge, and his tailored slacks—clearly homemade by their zig-zagged stitching—stretched taut over the thick mass of muscles in his thighs.

He would be very good at taking an omega apart. His inner monologue had meant in the worst, violently bloody way and yet his gut grew warm.

When the alpha turned his back, a hum and a song to his voice, Waylon slipped into the hall, hands clenching his video camera while his ears vibrated with the tone following him. He curled himself around and into a dark doorway, inching with his back to the wall until he found a table. He faltered the moment he touched it, fingertips barely brushing as a spasm jolted him into rigidness.

He felt the wetness flushing out of him.

Gingerly, he tried to step but his foot found the leg of the table and it gave a terrible groan as it skirted the floor. Footsteps picked up in the hall and Waylon ran to the back of the room and threw himself under a different table before he could be seen, futile though it was.

The man stopped midway, and the omega could envision the flare of his nostrils as he sucked at the air. “I can smell my love’s arbor. Darling, don’t you want to have my babies?”

Waylon’s throat clenched and his mind panicked even through the hum of his lower body. A bead of sweat slipped from the hairline above his temple.

When dress shoes turned and pointed their toes at him, he forced his legs to move. Babies, his mind supplied, meant breeding. Breeding meant knotting. Knotting meant prolonged sex. Sex wasn’t something he wanted to have with a murdering lunatic who clearly had intentions to dominate and claim him.

If he was claimed he’d never be able to draw himself away. He was starting to think his fate was worse after all.

His camera illuminated the dark patches of the building he ran through, intermittent with those of blinding light. So, he forced himself to run without the screen’s vision for now; his own eyes would serve him better in jumping over and avoiding obstacles.

He knew he’d been quick, his pulse urging his pace in his ears and chest, but he came to a jarring halt when he came upon a dead end. Beside it was an elevator shaft but the box was one or two stories below and he had no time to wait for it.

Waylon tucked the camera into his jumpsuit and took a few steps back. Before his feet could leave the floor, the alpha caught him.

The larger man had exerted a considerable amount of force to stop the omega’s momentum, so much so that it sent the both of them tumbling to the side. The alpha’s weight fell atop him, but not painfully so, and his large hands cradled and protected Waylon’s head from the hard floor.

He stared up at the huge patient. His eyes were unusually distinct, blue and bright and wide. His face was scabbed and his eyebrow and lip misshapen because of it. It didn’t seem to be pain him enough to relinquish his grin, though, and compared to the others he’d seen, this smile wasn’t so bad.

“Caught you, Darling,” he chuckled at Waylon’s gaping.

The omega bucked and flailed. He tried kicking at the other man’s shin but got a throbbing toe for his effort. The alpha added more of his weight to the hold and snatched up the smaller male’s wrists.

"You’re very playful, aren’t you? But now the game is over.” He got to his knees and then repositioned into a crouch over Waylon, and then using the muscles of his thighs, hauled him up.

The omega struggled anew, he even managed to jerk his arms free. He swung one of them so hard he lost his balance. The alpha, who had simply stepped back to avoid the blow, used this against his potential mate, ducking low and then, almost effortlessly, hefted Waylon’s weight over his shoulder.

Shock came first, and then the heat in his belly spread, as if the pressure placed there had forced it to his face and groin. Indignant, and knowing he was supposed to be fighting, he battered his hands against a hard stomach and kicked out his legs.

"Darling, stop it.”

Waylon didn’t and so the alpha threw him into the nearest wall.

Dull pain laced throughout his back. He was slow in pushing himself from the side he’d landed on, and he gave a pathetic moan, half at the state of his back and the other at the pressure his shifting had placed on his lower body.

The patient sighed and crouched before him. “Do you see what you made me do? Darling, I don’t want to hurt you, I want to love you—I do love you!—but you have to behave.”

Waylon glared.

“Now, what’s your name, Darling?” He reached for the omega after a few seconds of silence, fingers curled.

“Waylon!” He blurted before he could be touched again.

The alpha grinned. “Waylon, my Darling. I’m going to love you forever.” He drew the technician up and held him by his arms, just above the elbows. “I’m Eddie Gluskin, you should know; we’ll share my last name soon.”

Waylon trembled, mentally terrified at the idea. Gluskin watched it and gave a sniff to the air.

“You love me, too,” he whispered, pleased. “You’re in heat for me.”

The omega pushed his hands against the large chest but it didn’t move away. “No, I’m not.”

One long arm darted around his waist. The hand dipped lower than that to squeeze his ass. Waylon jerked forward, effectively aligning their bodies. Gluskin’s second hand sneaked down and after squeezing the flesh there again, he traced two of his fingers, pressing them into the fabric and against Waylon’s opening.

“Yes,” the taller man husked. “You’re damp here; you want me.”

The programmer dropped his head and tried fruitlessly to back away again.

“Come on, Darling. I’ve been waiting for you, come see.”

Waylon went, grudgingly, his wrists caught again and pressed together painfully. He kept his eyes to the back of Gluskin’s feet as they walked until the floor was too gore-covered to look at any longer.

Looking up wasn’t any better; he was being led passed numerous corpses. They were all mutilated, their genitals skewered or gone completely, leaving gaping red holes in their stead. Underneath the smell of their rot he could scent alpha pheromones.

He was grateful he had no food in his stomach, he heaved so violently that if he had he would’ve vomited straight onto Gluskin’s vest.

The patient turned at the sound and then cast a glance at his handiwork. “Oh, I never had them, my Darling, my sweet Waylon. Don’t be jealous. They were alphas, after all! I’d hoped you’d come, I knew you would, and I also knew they would try to take you for themselves. I had to do this to keep you safe.”

They moved on, and Waylon watched his vest this time until they reached their destination. He was presented a room, full of mattresses edge to edge on the floor, littered with pillows and blankets. When Gluskin led him in, the alpha’s scent seemed to curl around him, and he reeled, held upright by a sudden grappling embrace.

The alpha breathed on his face. “Yes, only my scent could make my one true love swoon.”

Gluskin had brought him to his den.

The cushions were soft under his knees when he was guided to them. He had to put his hands to them for support when the alpha stepped away. Subconsciously, Waylon bowed his head toward one of the pillows. Its smell was no longer affecting only one of his senses, it was as if it had become more than that and the omega could feel it shooting up his nostrils and into his body, through the treacherous beat of his blood.

Gluskin was moving some of the pillows together in the center of the room, his body bending half to do so, and the stark curve of his back distracted the omega for a moment before his wits reminded him the patient wasn’t returning the gaze. Waylon pivoted about and tried to crawl out the doorway, but the position—hands and knees, hips cocked—drew a low groan out of him.

He didn’t fight the hand that wrapped around his ankle and pulled.

“Where are you going?” The alpha rolled Waylon onto his back. “You’re trying to leave?”

The light in the room was dim compared to many of the hallways, but it stung Waylon’s eyes almost unbearably. He made to shield himself from it with his forearm, but Gluskin snatched it and pulled it towards him.

“Look at me,” he snarled, and the technician’s belly tightened at the rasp of his voice. “You want to go out to them?” The smaller man, dead weight as he was, was surprised at how easily he was wrenched up, inches from the rage-lined face of the patient. “You would rather go and get fucked by them, than me?!”

Fingers curled tightly at his hair, inciting pin pricked pain along his scalp.

“They won’t love you like I do. But you don’t care about that, do you? You whore! You want as many cocks as you can get. You want to have all their little bastards!”

The lights were so bright, and he was too afraid to look away from the alpha’s anger, but he was beginning to feel as if the energy from the bulbs had soaked into the skin of his face.

“You want to have them all inside you, as many as you can at once—then I’ll bring you back to them! I’ll watch them tear you apart!” He stood, yanking Waylon’s head cruelly. “You’re a slut, like all the other omegas. You don’t deserve love.”

Waylon locked his hands around Gluskin’s wrist and quickly found his footing, tripping and hunched as the alpha lurched to the door. He switched his grip then, clinging to the door frame.

“No,” it was quiet and yet still took all the breath from his lungs. “Please, no.”

He’d watched the other omega get that treatment and yes, yes he was leaking at the thought and maybe a few years ago—Gluskin was right: eventually those alphas would tear each other apart. Eventually that omega would be used to exhaustion and more. Nothing could be a more humiliating death.

This alpha didn’t want death for him. Being dominated and protected and claimed by one, the strongest he’d encountered yet, was what Waylon wanted—needed. It would keep him alive. The sooner an alpha’s scent was on him, within him, the better. For his escape.

The taller man had stopped and turned back. His eyes were narrowed and piercing straight into Waylon’s. The omega averted his obediently as he dropped back to his knees and then, with one hand touching the one on his head, tilted his chin up and bared his throat.

Gluskin growled, and the reverberations were so strong they moved down his arm and vibrated the programmer straight to his core. It might have echoed throughout the den, the entire asylum, for all he knew. There was another growl, and then the alpha’s hands under his arms, lifting and throwing him back against the mound of pillows. The door slammed then, and when the lock clicked, Waylon’s thighs spread.

The patient fell upon him, his teeth and tongue making a mess out of the younger man’s mouth. Waylon kept open under the sloppy administrations, his own tongue slaving messily against the lapping he was gifted. It was slick and so wet the drool was smearing at the corners of his mouth and below his chin, and Waylon felt more than thought about how much he wanted to be like that all over.

“Yes, that’s my sweet omega. My good Waylon,” the words were breathed almost directly down his throat, so scant was the space between them. One of his hands was taken and led to the alpha’s tented groin. “You want me and my seed. I’m going to give it to you. I’m going to give you my knot; I’m going to fill you up until you can’t hold anymore.”

Gluskin wasn’t exaggerating, either. Even confined away, Waylon could tell he was long, and the girth of him had the ex-employee trembling again. It had been years since he’d spent his heat with an alpha’s rutting cock in him, and he’d never had one this big. He squeezed it and was given a lick across the seam of his lips and then a hand returning the favor between his legs.

His jumpsuit was soaked now, and the wet noises, the sucking and squelching, were obscene as they were mesmerizing.

“You’re leaking so much,” Gluskin rumbled. He pulled the fabric from where his fingers had been pushing against Waylon’s opening. It suctioned and the technician was arching before he could realize. “You want me so much.”

Thick fingers plucked the zipper up and then down, glowing eyes roving over the revelation of skin. He pushed the edges aside, the leather of his gloves worn and warm and welcome against the smaller male’s collarbones.

“What’s this?”

Waylon made a sound, pathetic even to his own ears, when the touch left. He looked to the camera held for his inspection, but his tongue was too thick and slick for words.

“Do you want me to film you?” Gluskin turned it on, the little red atop it vibrant and almost eager. “You want me to film us? To film when you fuck back on my knot so you can see how pretty you are swallowing me whole?”

Waylon licked his upper lip, tasting the patient there, and stared at the lenses. The alpha moved away to prop the little machine on a pillow, the miniature screen full of the image of the smaller man. The omega couldn’t discern any of his own features at this distance, but he could see how pink he was, how his flush had spread to paint his entire body.

Gluskin kneeled beside him, hands pulling at his jumpsuit again, oddly delicate. “You look warm in this, Darling.”

Yes, that was the truth; where he wasn’t soaked with his arousal he was soaked with sweat, and the fabric was scratching and clinging mercilessly because of it. He hadn’t realized how uncomfortable it was now that he was shimmying it off his shoulders and allowing the alpha to shuck it away. The blankets and sheets and pillows felt good under his back and the large body looked good hovering above him.

“You’re so excited,” the patient murmured. He peeled off one of his gloves to set his bare palm against the rise and fall of Waylon’s stomach. Just beneath it, the omega’s cock was reaching up to his belly button, as if straining for that touch to move elsewhere. He didn’t think he could push and hold himself up with the shaking of his shoulders, so he tucked his chin to his chest to watch Gluskin switch to the tips of his fingers pushing them into his flesh, pliant and welcoming as it was.

They stopped so close, and Waylon should’ve been embarrassed at the sight of his dick twitching and leaking and begging for it in a way he hadn’t allowed from his voice.

The alpha moved into the ample space between his legs so he could add his second hand. He used them to circle around the technician’s penis, over and down his hipbones, curling into the sensitive skin that connected his inner thighs and groin.

Waylon arched into it, planting his head back when big thumbs pressed and circled there.

“You smell so good here,” Gluskin told him. “Do you taste as good as you smell?”

The omega cut off his gasp by clamping his hand to his mouth.

“Playing coy? That’s how you should be: a pretty, meek, little omega… except when my mouth’s on you.” He was gripping the outside of his hips now. “That’s what you want—my mouth on you. You want me to lick you there and taste you. You’ll taste so sweet.” He flipped the younger man to his belly.

Waylon gripped one of the pillows to his chest, the fabric a welcome rub against his nipples, and used it as support when he planted his knees wide and offered up his ass. More of his slick slid free at the position, trailing down as far as his thigh. That’s where Gluskin began, a growl vibrating from his tongue as he tracked the glistening line back up.

He withdrew and Waylon grunted in frustration, pushing his hips back to follow. Broad hands settled on his ass cheeks, massaging and molding them for a few moments as Gluskin soothed his ragged breath. Then he spread them wide.

“I knew it,” his moist air puffed heavy against Waylon’s hole. “So sweet, and all for me.”

It was a blessing that his tongue was as thick as the rest of him. It lathered over him, slaving up and down, over his hole and down across his perineum. Waylon choked, breath and moans and words entangling in his throat, so focused was he on rocking his hips back for more. He futilely tried to reach his hand back for Gluskin’s head but only made it as far as one of the hands on his ass, which he urged to squeeze him harder and open him further.

The thought of being that open for this alpha for hours enticed a shudder through him, one that dropped his chest back to the pillow, one that preempted the onset of more slick for the older male’s tongue.

The alpha moaned into his opening, into him, and it was only second to the draw felt at the grating tone of his growl. The tongue worked harder then, lapping the fresh arousal, replacing the soak with his spit instead.

With his position, Waylon was granted a further reach but he slapped his hands to Gluskin’s, needing those fingers indented in red lines on his skin, needing them to never leave.

Dully, he knew he didn’t want that; he might’ve been able to remember as much if he’d not wanted the pressure at his opening, inside his opening, probing and soothing.

Gluskin didn’t have to work at loosening him, and though it seemed too slow for the programmer, his tongue breached his hole easily and steadily. Waylon’s first instinct was to reach down and jerk himself to orgasm so that he could clench around the muscle, but the patient’s hands moved in so that his fingertips could circle the pulsing pucker, to force it wider. So, the technician couldn’t think of a better use for his hands then keeping his ass open and gaping.

His tongue speared in, searching deep as if to test his reach, and then, satisfied with his limits, began to undulate. The motion was deliberately slow, allowing the tip to trace the inner walls, as if memorizing each dip and curve, and if that were the case Waylon wouldn’t need his hands to get off at all. He rocked back, the jam in his throat worked free, allowing him to groan and pant.

His voice seemed to affect Gluskin as well; he felt the press of his nose against his stretched skin and felt the puffs and grunts and whispers deposited inside him. They were both babbling, incoherent noises mostly, when he withdrew again.

Waylon didn’t have the time for disappointment; the alpha flipped him over and then dragged him back up to the pillows, and it should have been terrifying, that physical strength, but the thrill within him refused to acknowledge it.

He grappled, off balance and almost painfully aroused, but went eagerly with the pushes at his chest. Gluskin backed his shoulders off the little hill of pillows but sank his hands into his hips, hitching and angling them up the cushions so they were far higher than his torso, uncomfortably, yet entrancingly, so. It was easy and natural for his legs to fall open to balance out the position, his feet resting well above his head and his knees falling on his shoulders.

The alpha’s hands held him there, even though his body trembled at the awkwardness. But it left him completely open under the huge body, and he thrummed at the instinctive rightness of it. He gripped his thighs and could do nothing but stare up at where his cock and Gluskin’s eyes stared back, both too bright in their coloring.

The blue in the latter held his gaze, even when the taller male pressed back in to renew his licking. He never closed his eyes, nor did he look anywhere but Waylon’s face. The omega could feel how much more it flushed him, how it excited him. He could imagine how dark and blow his own eyes were, how red and open his mouth.

From his vantage point he was able to both see and feel his balls drawing up, could see the way his cock bobbed, not with every pulse but with every swipe of wet tongue. When Gluskin drew it back, and then probed forward with only the tip of it, when he traced it along the puckered hole, when he followed the little folds and lines there, Waylon clamped his eyes shut, clamped his hands onto his skin, and clamped down on the tongue thrust back into him because with how fiercely his body tightened it was impossible to stop.

The first stream of his cum landed across the bridge of his nose, and the next his cheek and the third across and into his mouth which had been open, a circle around his moan. The rest of his seed dribbled out, peppering onto his chin and upper chest.

He swallowed what was in his mouth.

Gluskin, breath coming hard from his nostrils, eased the omega down and then drew him more comfortably against the pillows. “You’re beautiful covered in seed, my perfect Waylon.” His fingers touched his cheek and then swiped at the release there, gathering and adding it to what lay on the nearby lips. Slowly he pressed it into the programmer’s mouth. Waylon sucked at them and swallowed.

“You’ll be even more beautiful when you’re swollen with it.”

His release had quenched nothing, but he did feel the slightest bit more docile. Very slightly.

His erection, perhaps not as rigid as before, remained extended and red against his belly. His blood was still hot in his veins, though it was barely discernable from the temperature of his skin. His mind was the worst of it: capable of only fleeting thoughts of lucidity, it seemed as though it was enveloped in a hazy shawl soaked with alpha pheromones, skewing his vision and his sense of smell.

Gluskin shifted to his knees. He reached up to divest his neck of his bowtie, and then followed that by removing his vest. The latter material he dropped onto the omega’s face.

Shamefully, Waylon twisted his fingers into it so it would bunch under his nostrils. He drew in the scent so wantonly the patient laughed breathlessly. The technician pulled the fabric down so that he could glare over it, but the larger man had started to unbutton his dress shirt so he could not get his brow to descend.

His torso was exactly as Waylon had suspected, though what details he’d imagined seemed far away and blurred now that the reality was being revealed to him. His shoulders were massive, clearly, and they were curved with lovely muscle. His collarbone, prominent but not sharp, marked where his pectorals swelled down, interrupted only by the brown circles of his nipples. His abdomen was just as taught and lined with jagged muscles.

Waylon tucked the vest under his chin like a makeshift scarf so that he could reach his hands out. He touched beneath his navel first, tracing the soft outline of it juxtaposed with the surrounding firmness. He moved up, his fingers dipping to follow the concaves and swells, sitting up as he did.

Gluskin covered his hands when they got to his chest. The programmer made eye contact with him only briefly, a show of his obedience, but was forced to hold the gaze when his chin was caught.

So Waylon looked and watched the way the light eyes darted back and forth, inspecting his pupils. It was unclear for what he was searching, it would probably be the same had he not been in such a debilitating heat, but the alpha seemed satisfied enough to let him go.

The omega stared up at him as he got to his feet, his hands left to trail down, but he caught the fabric of his pants at his hips, halting the patient from moving away. Gluskin flashed his teeth in amusement and, to Waylon’s distant shame, pried the grip away from him.

He quickly redirected it to his fly. “I want to be in your pretty mouth.” He dragged the pad of his thumb over the technician’s bottom lip so firmly he pulled it from his teeth.

There were only buttons on the fly—apparently finding and attaching a zipper in this place wasn’t feasible—and the material was tailored so perfectly it fell down his hips and thighs as soon as they narrowed. He allowed Waylon to free his ankles from the fabric, and the sight of his legs—as impressive as his torso—paused their movements.

He tried to wrap the circumference of his fingers around his calf, and then watched the spread of his fingers widen as he slid upwards. The alpha’s thigh felt as grafted marble, save the dusting of hair over it. He traced back and cupped the heavy bow of the older man’s hamstrings, using them as anchors so he could press his lips to the quad muscles before him, one and then the other.

Gluskin’s hand fell on the crown of his head, then, forcing the omega’s cheek to his muscle. Waylon obliged him by nuzzling up his skin, pressing so firmly with his nose the cartilage within pivoted.

He dragged his face up until he got to the tight, white fabric of the patient’s underwear. His erection was dark and straining upwards to the band that kept it sealed away, swollen and throbbing against Waylon’s face.

He traced the tip of his nose along it, drawing as high as he could on his knees so he could reach the bulb that indicated its head. He inhaled deeply there and had to tuck the side of his face to the big man’s pubic bone, the scent overwhelming and dizzying.

Gluskin touched his head again, but there was a kindness to it. When the programmer tilted back the fingers caressed his cheek. “You love my smell, don’t you? That’s how you know you’re mine.”

He cupped Waylon’s chin once again. His free hand pulled the band down, and the omega tried to help move them to his thighs but he was forced to dig his fingers into skin when that thick cock, as if it had a consciousness of its own, bounded free to smack his face.

The smell, unrestricted now, was a potent mix of sweat and pheromones, but powerful as it was, the hot length on his face proved more riveting. He nuzzled his face to it again, feeling the sheer skin against his cheeks and nose, against his closed eyelids. Its length trailed from his face, and Waylon opened his eyes as Gluskin took it by the base. He leant back in, just enough to press the head to the younger male’s cheek, smearing it there and down, swiping across his chin to the opposite side. When he stopped under his lips again and then slowly, slowly touched the seam between them with a shudder, Waylon parted them.

His dick was long, but its girth was the more intimidating factor. He tongued the head in without having to adjust, though, and he closed his eyes as he suctioned his lips around it. His fingers chased Gluskin’s away, and there were enough inches for both his hands.

The patient put his own back to his head, pulling tender fingers through his hair.

Waylon swept his tongue, catching the tip of it on the tiny slit there to taste pre cum. When he sucked again, the alpha hissed above him and exerted more pressure on his skull to guide his mouth forward. The omega went willingly, opening wide and then wider and then as wide as he could as he took in the inches.

When the head touched the back of his throat he gagged. Gluskin didn’t pull back to relieve him, though Waylon hadn’t wanted him to. He swallowed and tried not to focus on the stinging in his eyes. He swallowed again and again, and flared his nostrils wide until he didn’t mind the strain in his jaw or the pressure at the back of his throat.

He swallowed it all down, and wished he could lean back into the hand petting him and cherish it as he mentally did with the rough voice praising him.

“So good, my pretty Waylon. You’re opening for me everywhere, aren’t you?”

The alpha tested him with a forward roll to his hips, and the smaller man didn’t choke. Emboldened by that, he drew back, flicking his tongue as he went, and gave another suck to the head. Then he withdrew completely, eyes up on Gluskin so he could watch the look on his face as he opened his mouth as wide as he could and stuck out his tongue.

The older male cupped the sides of Waylon’s head, enveloping him and steadying him, and then he began to fuck the reddened opening offered to him.

Gluskin seemed to know the omega’s limits, because his thrusts, while deep and firm, weren’t bruising. He was fucking his mouth, but he was fully aware, fully focused on the younger man, fully in control.

Waylon wrapped his hand around his own dick and stroked fervently, overcome with how pleased his submissive nature was to have found such a doting alpha. There might have been some reason to oppose his emotions, but it couldn’t have been that prying if he couldn’t recall.

He was drooling, so much so that the sides of his face and chin were soaked and dripping. He didn’t try to slurp it back in, but he tried to hum, to make a nose so he could please the alpha. It came as a gurgle, the massive size of Gluskin’s cock impeding the sound.

It was the sound of him swallowing, of his groan, and of the older male’s skin sliding against the ridges of his mouth and filling the hollows of his throat.

The hands cupped over the sides of his head moved back to his hair, stroking and threading. Waylon let that draw him off, soothed by the feel of it. He could only enjoy it for a few moments, though, before a reminder of his arousal slipped down one of his thighs to pull him from the reverie.

So, he similarly pulled himself from the gesture. He turned his back to the larger man and shuffled the few feet to the pillows. He let his head and shoulders rest there, arms bent for support, and lifted his ass into the musk of the warm room.

The mattress jumped beneath him when Gluskin dropped to his knees, and he bounced with it until his hips were caught. Wide thumbs pulled his cheeks apart.

“Yes,” the patient growled. “That’s how a bitch presents.”

Waylon muffled his moan in a pillow, but reached back to overlap those fingers with his own.

“Yes,” Gluskin repeated. “Open up for me. You want me, don’t you?”

The programmer bit into his pillow, his impatience coupling with annoyance, sudden and sharp. He dropped his hands for leverage and jutted back, sighing when he felt a firm poke against one cheek. He tried again, shifting to get that head at his opening.

The alpha stopped him with an abrupt slap that sent his skin jiggling. He tucked his hips forward and away immediately, though the strike had surprised him more than it had stung.

The older male pulled him back, slithering hands down his sides and then planting them just under his hip bones and into the divot created between his hips and thighs because of the bent position. The heavy cock slid along the line of his ass, and on every upward pass the knob of its head snagged Waylon’s hole before tugging free.

“Tell me you want me inside you.”

There was the thought of defiance in his head, behind his ears as if a whisper, but his heartbeat was so loud and his body hypersensitive to only the alpha’s voice, and touch, and closeness, that it seemed a foreign language to him.

The pillow was damp when he lifted his head to beg. “Please.”

“Please, what? I want you to tell me, my pretty Darling. My beautiful bitch.”

“I want y-you inside me.”

One of the hands released him, a precursor to the circle of rigid flesh pressing at his opening. It slipped away once because he was so wet, before nudging in a bit or leverage.

“You want me to fill you up. You want my knot? I’m going to spread you open on it, and you’ll love it because you’re mine now. You’ll never want to be empty again.”

Waylon gasped and groaned and growled, all of it catching in his throat and wrenching free as something unintelligible and inhuman.

Gluskin let it encourage or inflame him, though he didn’t slam into the younger man, as so many alphas would have. Nor was he delicate or tender about it; he pushed in in a brisk, long line that didn’t halt until his testicles were flush to Waylon’s ass.

He’d been wrong to worry about the patient’s girth. His hole had been contracting, practically dilating in eagerness before and so there had been no pain, and barely any resistance with his entrance. It had filled him, just as Gluskin said it would. It had dragged against every nerve and wall, though the clenching of his body wouldn’t have allowed any less. He’d felt every vein, every line and curve as it was pressed to his limits.

The length he hadn’t worried about, and maybe he should have; the head felt so deep within him that it may as well have been in his stomach. But nothing hurt, no, nothing could hurt.

Gluskin slipped back and then thrust into him, rhythm and force set at something hard enough to send him forward and forward and forward.

“You’re so tight,” his alpha said. His voice was low, low and reverent.

He had a suspicion any hole would be tight around him, but he arched back anyway, gasping when Gluskin met him halfway to lick at the corner of his lips. He rolled himself into Waylon as he did so, maybe loathe to give up the heat clenching him so soon.

The shifting and grinding tested the give and take of his inner walls. It pushed on each nerve with which his breed had been gifted, his prostate more sensitive than all the others. He wrenched his face from the alpha, a pathetic moan replacing their air.

“Right there, my pretty Waylon?”

He had to drop back down, so sudden was the larger man’s thrusting. There were too many inches to directly pummel the omega’s prostate, but his insides were so charged--his entire body was--that it wasn’t going to matter. The spread of his insides did, and the foreign length was welcome and needed deep inside him.

Gluskin took him by the hips, yanking him back into his forward thrusts, and he went willingly, happily, greedily.

“Oh, you’re perfect. You love it; you’re my slut.”

That should not have had him twitching, tempted to take himself in hand--but he didn’t. No, it was always so much better if he didn’t, rare as it used to be. Not that he could recall--had he ever been truly taken before this alpha mounted him? Had he ever come from just a tongue before? Had he even enjoyed sex before?

The patient took him by a bicep, straightening him back with a giant palm to the rapid growth and shrink of his chest. The cock straightened within him, and Waylon grunted and bared his teeth at the shift. Gluskin turned his head and licked over the show of white. He didn’t seem to expect a response, because he started rocking again, his touch searching along and down the technician’s front.

His fingers parted to allow the smaller man’s dick between them. Waylon rolled between the administrations, his hands on Gluskin’s wrists and then up and trying to interlock behind the broad neck. The angle was awkward and uncomfortable, so he circled the pads of his fingers at the smooth base of his skull.

Alphas didn’t purr, but a pleased rumble shook through them, and Waylon wanted to keep feeling it.

The hold encircled him closer when he began to slide from the length within him. “Where--?”

“Take me on my back,” Waylon said, but did not order. His answer was to be released. His gut reaction was to spin and face the alpha, but the older man was enjoying his submission, and the thought of being enjoyed put a pleasurable tickle into his stomach.

He lowered back down to his arms so that he could flip himself over fluidly. On his back, he bent one leg at the knee, his foot hiked up and planted so he could feel the air on the wet circle of his hole.

He reached out, wanting to touch the planes of the patient’s stomach and waist. Gluskin slipped passed his hands to crush his weight atop the omega.

Waylon opened his arms and legs, thrilled yet pliant.

The alpha felt huge against him; his torso heavy and aligned as evenly as it could be given their height difference. They were chest to chest where they could be, and then chest to stomach, stomach to hips, and hips to thighs, leaving Gluskin’s feet stretched out and alone for how Waylon had tucked his under strong shins for leverage.

The taller man was trying to devour his mouth yet again. The rest of him undulated and rolled their flesh together. Waylon, distracted as he was, squirmed and rocked his hips, reaching out and pulling and caressing shoulders and arms, then settling and tracing the curve of the alpha’s spine.

He opened and closed his mouth with Gluskin’s tempo, letting their tongues meet and slip. The older man pulled off a bit so he could lick across his lips, wetting one corner, then dipping onto his teeth, and then out again. He sucked Waylon’s bottom lip into his mouth, worrying it so sweetly that the smaller man dug his fingers in and cocked his hips back.

He loved his alpha molded against him like this, but he wanted to be bent in half; he needed that dick in him again. He had to turn his face away and swallow Gluskin’s spit to say as much.

“Get back inside me.”

Gluskin hauled up, snatching up a pillow that he promptly shoved under the small of Waylon’s back. It propped him up, placing him at an angle of which the patient took advantage to bottom out in the omega’s ass once again.

The ex-employee arched and sighed, splaying his legs because he loved the feel of them open, of everything sensitive offered up to this dominant male. He searched with his hands because he cherished the flex of an abdomen shifting and clenching to drive a hot cock up his ass.

Waylon stared up, transfixed as he keened and gasped when the rhythm within him renewed. His insides were tightening, he could feel them, as if constricting to never let Gluskin’s dick back out of him.

His alpha grunted and took the parted legs in his hands, using them to reposition and aim his fucking down and varied, his head tugging and grinding along inner walls and glands as it went.

The omega moaned and his head rolled back. “Right there; fuck me just like that.”

Gluskin did, his only pause the stutter he gave to his thrusts, shortening their length so he could stab at the prostate within. “Say my name, Darling.”

His thrust just missed the ball of nerves, setting the programmer’s skin alight. He shifted his hips and tensed upward when it rewarded him with a perfect jab to his prostate.

“Oh,” he choked. He pulled on the larger man’s sides, urging. “There--Eddie, keep fucking me there.”

“Keep fucking you here?” He thrusted and ground his hips, thrusted and ground his hips, and everything wet between them acted as a suction, clicking and squelching in the most shamefully erotic way. And the way he emphasized the curse should not have had the technician reeling. “You’re going to spill all over yourself again, aren’t you? You love having my cock in you, don’t you?”

Waylon grappled at his skin. “I love it,” he hissed, the only way he could keep his voice level against the rising pleasure, the amplification of his desire and submission. “You’re so big in me. Make me cum again.”

“I’ll make you cum,” Gluskin growled. His hips slapped down, short but frantic. “I’ll make you cum; that’s what you want. You’re so wanton. My little slut. You’ll cum again and you’ll be loose and ready for my knot. Ready for your breeding.”

The omega cried out. His semen jerked out of him in spurts, triggered by the shallow, scraping thrusts against his prostate. He wrapped his legs around what he could of his alpha, desperate for his knot and desperate for his orgasm to last.

Gluskin allowed it as the pulses were wrung from him, but then he pulled away, leaving waylon soaked out and in. When he looked to him, threat on his lips, his eyes fell on the tight, preventative circle of his hand clamped around the base of his flushed dick.

Waylon knew his eyes had narrowed by the way the patient suddenly squeezed himself. They waited, trading ragged breaths, but Gluskin didn’t move to loom over him, and he didn’t try to beckon him to do so. His orgasm denial was an effort to prolong their pleasure, and Waylon’s heat wouldn’t begrudge some more of his own. He’d need a few moments, like his alpha, but his blood was still pumping and his body humming.

He touched the spill on his belly with two of his fingers. “Did you get close for me?”

Gluskin’s chest expanded and then drained, a grumbled conjoining with it. His hand fell from his cock.

Waylon reached out for him then, drawing him down, by the neck when he could, towards his stomach. “Do you want to taste me, again?”

The large male curled over him and then so too did his tongue. He took up Waylon’s seed with broad strokes, the air from his nose cool on the technician’s damp skin. He leaned up when finished to share the taste.

Waylon pulled him in further and wrapped his legs around his sides to keep him there. He had the thought to lock his ankles, but he liked the feel of the alpha’s skin against his. He pivoted his legs and lifted them to drag his inner thighs along Gluskin’s sides.

The older man did taste like him, and he savored it, yet he wondered how the patient’s see would differ. It wasn’t a thought that persisted long against the promise of it filling his ass.

His alpha withdrew his mouth, and the heavy hands on his stomach indicated he’d managed to hold off his knot long enough to recover; it indicated he’d held it off enough to go again.

Waylon put his hands to the shoulders above him and gave another guiding push. Gluskin didn’t go; he leaned forward, and heavily at that, to put his face in the omega’s neck. It made the programmer wonder, very briefly, when he’d lost his vest-scarf. His tongue darted out as well, but he’d moved in for the smell, which he sucked in greedily.

So greedily that the smaller man had to eventually squeeze his knee between them. When he’d wedged more room between their bodies he put the flat of his foot to the broad chest, and grunted with the effort of forcing the bigger body back. Confused eyes stared at him as they got further away, and Gluskin still did not part from him completely.

And so Waylon spelled it out for him: “Lie down so I can ride you.”

The alpha didn’t hesitate once his unspoken question was answered, and his hands were quick to the technician’s thighs. Waylon swung one over his hips, pleased when the older male transformed his grip into one of support. He’d need it for this position; Gluskin would be inside him completely, and his own weight would keep his ass split open around him. His weight would help him take the patient’s knot.

He slid himself back along the jutted length with that image in his mind, lamenting that he’d never be able to actually see his opening stretch wider than it ever had. To stretch and welcome, and then tighten and refuse to let go. There was blood pulsing back into his groin, and he enticed it by reaching back and aligning Gluskin’s cock back to his hole where it belonged.

With the head inside and not bound to slip free, Waylon turned to hold himself up with firm hands on the dominant male’s pectorals. He moved down it slowly, his gaze having become fixated on the blue eyes beneath him almost immediately. Gluskin’s eyes were too blue, and he’d thought so when he’d first seen them; he’d thought so whenever he’d been force to stare into them. Too blue and too beautiful for an alpha—for a crazy person. The way they narrowed as Waylon slid down made the color increase in its vibrancy. It was a vibrancy that remained on his face and never deviated, and that chilled him as much as it warmed him.

He broke the contact after the initial roll of his hips, overcome by the fullness inside him. Still, he made no effort to reconnect it, but instead focused on replacing his balance by leaning back and gripping the alpha’s bent legs to straighten the cock inside him. His new position took away its angle so that it reached up and up and deep. The deepest he’d had, and he exhaled slowly, so slowly he was almost sighing, because finally, finally he had something reaching far up inside him, as if it were trying to burrow as deep as the heat that had demanded its presence.

Gluskin must have taken his breath as discomfort, or at least an acknowledgement of him needing time to adjust, because he remained very still, save for the soft caresses his hands gave to the omega’s legs. Waylon didn’t think on that alarming kindness, his heat, blessedly, wouldn’t let him. He lurched forward and back, dislodging the touch and forcing it to return with a firmness that he relished to feel squeezing his flesh.

The alpha’s breath picked up with Waylon’s tempo, that rumble at the edge of it. He was chasing the smaller man’s rocking, his hips given the tiniest of thrusts. Frustratingly, they didn’t push him any deeper as he surged only on Waylon’s forward movements. When he finally vocalized his disappointment, Gluskin snapped his hips, and the omega, up.

The ex-employee grappled at the back of his alpha’s thighs, chest stuck out and head lolled back as they came back down. He rode out more of the thrusts, a laugh in his voice at the strength of the man below him and the pleasure he gave. But, as far as he was shoving, he couldn’t get to the speed they so clearly needed, and so Waylon hefted his weight forward and stopped Gluskin before he could begin again.

Using the patient’s chest, Waylon pulled his legs up so he could put his feet to the sheets and perch himself up above his alpha’s hips, and ultimately the long, hot line of his dick. He slammed his ass down before the other man could react, and then drew up to do it again and again, and then again. The cushions were bouncing beneath him, sharing momentum, allowing him quick undulations that forced every inch of Gluskin’s cock into his hole.

Those gripping hands were at his hips, pulling and pulling with his rhythm, but when Waylon looked up it was to those eyes again. He faltered at the intensity there, and the exhaustion he hadn’t noticed in his legs over the wet and hot between them had him sitting back in the large lap.

Gluskin sat up after him, his palms sliding to the omega’s back, and it felt as though they covered all of him for how hot they were. He curved Waylon’s torso to him and craned his neck down to near one of his nipples. The smaller man shoved his hand through the swipe of black hair harshly, as harsh as the sucking on his chest. When he was soothed with warm licks, he tried to brush the strands back into place, but he was a little fond of the way they remained erratic despite his efforts.

The alpha repeated the attention to his other nipple and then spoke, moist and low, against it: “My Waylon.” His fingers tickled down and teased the circle of silky flesh sucking at his engorged cock. “I’m going to knot you; do you want it?”

Waylon put his hands to his shoulders. “Yes.”

“Can you take it?” His fingers were slick as everything else near his ass, and one of the pads was testing the give of his hole.

The programmer felt his jaw fall open and his brows screw as he focused his attention on pushing down on his lower muscles. One of the fingers pressed in, but it went slowly and carefully. A second joined, just as gentle, but the stretch was as uncomfortable as it was arousing. His entrance leaked, and that helped, but Waylon grunted at the addition all the same.

“I’m going to be bigger than this,” the alpha told him, “but I’m going to feel good in here.” He massaged the slippery inner walls. “You want my knot and my babies, don’t you? I’m going to give you so much.” And a third finger joined the others.

Waylon heard the air leave him, as if he’d been hit in the gut. Though, really, that thought wasn’t far off.

“That’s it,” Gluskin whispered. “Look at you; look at how much you’re taking.”

The technician mashed his mouth to the taller man’s, needing the distraction. The kiss did the trick because, while his alpha worked him below, it left everything above to his own discretion. He was the one licking into the larger mouth now. He used one of his hands to tilt back Gluskin’s head so he could lick along the bow of his bottom lip, ignoring the scabbing for the way the patient hummed at the feeling.

They kissed until the discomfort vanished, and it was as though the older male sense it, because he was pulling his fingers free. And for all it had pushed his limits, Waylon no longer felt full enough.

Wet fingers folded over his hips. “Show me how badly you want my knot.”

Riding the alpha was easier with the leverage given by having his arms around his neck. Gluskin was strong enough to handle his weight combined with the motions of his thrust, so Waylon resumed the rapid slamming that had felt so good earlier. And it felt good again; it felt perfect and hard and jabbing and mind-numbing. But still, his mind whispered to him somehow, that it was not enough.

His alpha didn’t disappoint him, though; and could he? At first he thought the fingers were back, but as he drew upwards they didn’t follow—the thickness was only there when he thrust own, and each time he did he could feel the way it grew. Waylon pressed down a final time and bowed his head into the crook of the stronger man’s neck.

He hadn’t gotten the swollen base of the patient’s cock fully inside, but Gluskin was there again, guiding him down while he pressed up. It was not as wide as his fingers had been as it went in, but a few stunted thrusts were getting it there. Ultimately, Waylon couldn’t stop his own rocking to coax its growing, nor could he stop what he had to admit was a whimper from leaving his mouth as he felt that enflamed bulb settle its weight just beneath his prostate.

“Oh,” the omega whispered as he stilled. He could feel Gluskin’s pulse through his knot, fast but steady.

The older man turned his face and began kissing him, wherever he could reach. Waylon paid it little mind, so focused was he on the way they were locked together. When the larger hips hitched into him, slight as it was, he dug his nails into the tense muscle.

“Wait, wait,” he pleaded, though he wasn’t entirely certain why. It should have been a plea against the idea of being filled with some alpha’s semen and impregnated, but that had been long buried deep in his mind. No, this was either for the discomfort or the pleasure. Or the fact that the two seemed to be connected, overwhelming his already highly sensitized body. He hadn’t considered that the knot pounding his prostate could be too much for him; that it would give him a release that might be the most shattering he’d ever had.

It was too much and Waylon didn’t think his body could let go to even experience such a thing.

The moment Gluskin gave him ended, but he could no longer thrust as deep as he had, or truly at all. The movements of his hips were a hybrid of those undulations and rolling, rocking the technician back and forth. Every time that roll pressed the swell to his prostate, Waylon let out a guttural sound he couldn’t label beneath pleasure or pain. That differentiation seemed nonexistent now. Still, his sounds goaded the alpha into speeding the rhythm, their skin slapping as they came together.

Waylon thought a curse, because he certainly couldn’t speak it, and dug into the dominant man’s shoulders. The cock twitched inside him and its owner grunted as he shot his first strand, the first of many. His rolling didn’t cease, either, but his hands began to rove more freely.

Gluskin was murmuring to him, but even though it was spoken directly into his ear, the smaller male couldn’t understand. It wasn’t until Waylon’s body was spasming, his stomach tightening and thighs clenching with the magnified approach of his release that it became clearer.

“Yes, my pretty omega. Let go. You’re so beautiful.”

It was staggering and almost wretched as it wrenched from him, and Waylon could feel the contortions of his face but could not spare an extra thought to try and temper them. His alpha’s hands were immobile on his hips, though the programmer’s body was so rigid it couldn’t have been to steady him. no, instead he extended his arms to increase the distance between them--though Waylon snapped his hands to corded biceps in refusal--so that he could look between them and watch the first arch of the omega’s seed as it shot upwards.

Waylon gasped, and it was wet and almost pained though, admittedly, he felt nothing but pleasure from the huge knot milking him. It was too much, but exquisitely so; a bliss gifted by his sensitivity and the taller man’s excessive girth.

Gluskin wrapped a fast hand around his dick, and that made it all the worse. The technician cried out and splayed his thighs wide, lightheaded and shuddering because of it. And then the alpha bit him.

A bite was an understatement--his alpha had yanked him back in to sink his teeth into the joining of Waylon’s neck and shoulder. Yanked him back to claim him.

Proof of his pleasure spilled from him, and he felt the curve of his belly jolt back in, and it was amazing but horrifying.

He found the breath kept from him by that bite, though his high was receding. The teeth on him were piercing and the tongue lapped at the skin pinched between them. A bead of liquid slipped down and over the younger man’s collarbone, and he may have thought it drool save for the sting in his skin.

Blooming, shifting pleasure leaked into his chest, spilling along his sternum and down, and he sobbed at the feel of it.

His mate licked the claim clean when he relinquished the bite, but Waylon didn’t let him finish. He jammed his face into the bigger man’s neck, not ready to face the bond that had just been created. His heat had not left--and it would not leave so easily, and he’d resigned himself to another round to placate his body--but now he burned all the hotter, now he’d been claimed.

His alpha cupped his back and lowered him to the pillows, slim hips angled upward and guided by the bundle of nerves in his ass.

“Oh, god,” Waylon whispered. The patient hovered over him and rocked, his face slackened in bliss, and yet those eyes still eerily focused. So, the omega whispered again: “Oh, god.”

He had to suck in a breath at every roll, at every wet slop of cum that accompanied it. Eventually the alpha settled over him, arms bracketed about his mate’s head and body heavy, but not crushing, atop him. He hitched into him, and it felt as if only that engorged ball moved to torment his spent and throbbing inner gland.Waylon wanted to look away from him, but their foreheads touched and everything else was their breath, the older man’s movements, and the wet weight inside his ass.

“My Waylon,” Eddie whispered. His mouth opened into a softer form of his smile.

He could feel each little shot escaping the head of his alpha’s dick, less intense though they were. The first few had fired straight up into him, burning and tingling and marking. The rest would slowly fill him over a period of time. He couldn’t know how long exactly--he’d never been knotted before--but his instincts demanded forever, singing high above the mounting panic in the back of his mind.

“I’m going to make you swollen,” his mate promised, though Waylon didn’t know if that meant now or later. “I’m going to stay inside you so it takes, and then I’ll make love to you again to be sure.” He nuzzled against the omega’s face, and the technician turned his head and gave his cheek and neck freely, in both submission and to escape the puff of the words against his mouth.

A good volume of wetness pushed into him then, and that’s truly how it felt--a new test of his limits. He didn’t know how there could be room around the width of that cock, and he’d assumed the white liquid would’ve begun leaking from around that knot. Besides his body’s own lubrication, however, he felt nothing slipping free of his hole.

He endured another slow minute of licking and kissing and murmuring from his alpha before he turned his head back to face the discomfort that had grown once again in his ass and was currently working its way to his lower stomach. When he glanced down, he discovered why

His belly was distended, and though it was not too exaggerated a curve, Waylon gaped at the knowledge of so much Eddie within him. And then he groaned, and leaned into the nosing, the enticement of his heat clouding his mind when he realized that their joining had only just begun.

Eddie dragged his nose up the omega’s skin, sucking in the air there hard through his nostrils. He drew back then to hold his chest up and back on taut arms. Then he lowered his head so he could watch between Waylon’s legs, but because he couldn’t see their joining, he dipped his weight back, carefully, and planted his palms to the back of the smaller man’s thighs as he pushed them towards his heaving chest.

His look was so hard it was as if his stare had a physicality of its own.

The alpha enjoyed what he saw, evidenced by the sudden pulse that slithered through Waylon’s insides. The pads of his fingers pressed indents into the soft skin of his mate’s thighs.

He let out a gust of air over their swollen, wet parts, inciting a shudder up the programmer’s spine. “You’re sucking all of it up.”

Waylon covered his face with his free hands against the truth of it. He could feel the tightening of his hole, the pull of his walls on the length of the patient’s dick.

Eddie sighed, almost dreamily. “You love me in here; I do, too. I never want to pull out of you.” He surprised the younger man by gathering up one of his hands and kissing its knuckles. “But, you’ll never leave me. You’ll be so full of me and then my babies.”

The swollen circle sealing them together twitched, and a longer jet of liquid nestled between his walls. It was like that for several moments and Waylon kept hidden behind his fingers through much of it. After each pump he thought it wasn’t possible for there to be enough room within him, but the cum kept streaming and his pliant body opened further and wider for it.

At one point the alpha peeled the blockade from his face and resettled it upon his belly. It was larger than before and even his own fingers caused him discomfort, so when Eddie’s settled along the lower curve of it, he hissed. The bigger male looked at him, head tilted in question.

“It’s… so much,” he explained.

“Yes,” his mate agreed. “You’re beautiful, Darling. I knew you would be.” He tested his knot, but it had yet to recede so he hunched his back and pressed his cheek to the chest beneath it. He kept one of those big hands over his lover’s belly.

Waylon breathed, loud, huge breaths to lift the weight of Eddie’s head. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, but he supposed they were the least of his worries. The pang on his shoulder was one, the stretch of his inner muscles another, and his impending pregnancy the biggest. Acknowledging them as problems was a testament to his willpower.

As an omega, this is what his instincts wanted. He’d wanted to be speared and spread, he’d wanted to be slicked and slippery, and he’d wanted to be breached and bred. He’d wanted that claim. His mind could deny it, just as he had denied it all his life, just as he had denied it by marrying a beta, just as he had denied it by scent blockers and drugs that hid what he truly was, what he truly wanted.

But there had been some good to those efforts, hadn’t there? His thoughts, hazy as they’d been since his heat had started, were clear enough for him to recall the turmoil male omega’s underwent during pregnancy. He could carry this child, and if he didn’t get out of this place, he would--no, now that he was claimed, he would--but he’d need surgery for its birth, he’d need surgery to stay alive.

And how could that have been the scariest thought? Not that Eddie had bitten him, not that he’d created a bond. Not that he’d lose everything he had before. Not that he’d been taken and milked and filled. None of those things, and only this: if he wasn't allowed to leave, this child he’d never wanted wouldn’t survive.

He tried to physically turn away, as if that could cease his thoughts, but that only drew his eyes back to his forgotten camera. It sat as a testament to what had taken place in that room. He doubted he’d ever be able to forget anyway, but that little crimson light denied him any possibility.

He jumped when Eddie kissed above his heart, but the icy eyes were shut and his face lax and as peaceful as it could be considering its owner.

His mate shuddered once more, and then, with a tug of his hips, he pulled his knot free. There was an audible popping sound, mortifying and arousing. With the plug gone, Waylon couldn’t help but squeeze his lower muscles, and the thick mix of fluids he’d been harboring slipped free as well.

Eddie slid back on his knees almost effortlessly, drawing his lover’s legs down with him. He rested his cheek against an inner thigh, turning every few seconds to pull his lips or teeth over the skin. One hand he kept on Waylon’s stomach and with the other he spread leg that wasn’t acting as his support. Then he pressed down on the ex-employee’s belly.

The omega groaned and curled his fingers around Eddie’s but did not attempt to pull the weight away. There was a relief to it, a relief to have all that cum and lubrication pouring out of him, a relief that made his cock attempt to rise again. But, pleased as he was, he had to acknowledge his confusion.

“...Eddie?” His alpha looked up at him. “What’re you--?” What about their baby?

White teeth glinted at him in the low light. “I have to make room, Darling.” He pressed again. “I can smell you and you aren’t done yet.”

Waylon noticed his tremble first in his thighs. He clenched the sheets so that he wouldn’t have to feel it in his hands.

“But that’s a good thing, my Waylon. We have to make sure, after all.”

So much had pushed out of him that the programmer felt as though he lay in a puddle, hot and of their own making. Much of it had been his slick and he might’ve thought that all he possessed, but those words in that low voice seemed to pull a new bout of arousal through his gut. His opening gave a valiant spasm, and what remained within him spurted free.

Eddie pressed two fingers to him, and then into him. He withdrew and then eased next to his little mate. Waylon opened his mouth before he could be prompted and tasted everything they’d shared.

“You’re loose now,” his mate informed him. “An omega should be tight, so you’ll need to rest.”

Waylon’s brow furrowed, but the rest of his body relaxed at the idea of sleep, as if he were made up of independent pieces.

“I’ll get you water and food,” Eddie said, though he seemed to be speaking to himself. “A mother needs to be nourished to keep her babies strong.” He leaned his face in close. “Give me a kiss.”

The omega obeyed. His hair was brushed aside and his cheek petted; rewards for his quickness.

“I’ll take such good care of you.” The alpha bound to his feet, then, and dressed just as quickly, though he did not pull on his vest. That piece of fabric he dropped back to his mate’s pink chest.

Waylon wished the smell wasn’t so soothing.

The patient crossed to the door, as if he hadn’t spent an hour, a day, a week? fucking his omega through three orgasms. As if he hadn’t been sporting a knot the size of a fist. As if he hadn’t been as wrecked as his partner.

His submissive part was stung by that. Had he not returned his own pleasure tenfold? But then, stubbornly, he refused to acknowledge the thought again. The gallon of semen in his ass had been proof enough that he’d been enjoyed.

“Don’t look so sad, my Darling,” Eddie said, mistaking the conflicting emotions on his lover’s face. “You’ll stay in here, where you’re safe. I won’t be long.”

No, he imagined the older man wouldn’t be, but how long would Waylon have to stay where his alpha deemed safe?

“Eddie,” he called, making the larger man turn once more. He mulled over his next words carefully. “...When you come back, can we leave? There are so many alphas here--and I know you can keep me safe!--but I don’t want to smell anyone but you. I don’t want our baby to be born here.”

Eddie’s shoulders lifted and fell, his breath counting out the long moments he was lost in thought. Finally, he stepped outside the threshold of their makeshift home. “Not yet. You’ll be safe in our den until I know you’re with child.” He made to close the door but stopped at the last moment, his face visible in the crack remaining ajar, his teeth bright within his spread mouth. It was the same expression he wore the first time the omega had seen him. “I love you so much, my Waylon.”

He closed the door and the lock slid into place, keeping Waylon in his.