Chapter Text
His Knottr profile isn't the most promising.
There's a hammer and sickle emoji in place of a name. His face is cropped out of the shirtless pic. It's not a total dealbreaker: you just go by your first initial on here, and you also keep your face off the gay hookup app. He's got abs, scars, and a fire engine red prosthetic arm that his bio says he made himself; intriguing, maybe even sexy, but not enough to cancel out the "make me your omega sissy" on the next line.
You'd be lying if you said you had a strict no-freaks policy, because you're trans and on Knottr and that would stop you from pulling at all, but he seems like the kind of guy who would either call you mommy or a slur if you pegged him. You don't reach out.
He reaches out to you, though. He asks you for your favorite movie, which is refreshing amidst the sea of knot pics. You tell him Mrs. Doubtfire, mostly as a joke, but it turns out he's a Robin Williams fan and that gets you talking. He says his favorite movie is Rocky Horror, which is a yellow flag if you've ever heard one, but his justifications vis a vis Frank-N-Furter's character are interesting enough that you're willing to hear him out. He calls your nipple piercings hot, you tell him about your Prince Albert, and shit devolves into sexting about as fast as you'd expected.
It's pretty much what you were looking for tonight if you couldn't score an in-person hookup, and he dirty-talks well enough to get you off. You call it a victory and head to bed.
He sends you a good morning text the next day.
---
In a little less than a month, you'll learn that his favorite movie is actually Fight Club. He's jerked it to Tyler Durden more times than he can count-- something about a charismatic, powerful alpha in his omega mate's body, beating the shit out of them both, makes him hard. He owns a 2XL sweatshirt, baggy even on him, that reads "I am Jack's broken heart". It reeks so strongly of pheromones that you will almost gag the first time you smell it. He'll say he lied about the movie thing because "alpha who's really into Fight Club" is one of the biggest red flags in existence and he'd really liked your profile.
You won't know how to feel about that.
---
You mention the hot stranger you've been sexting with to Edd and Matt two weeks later, over Sunday brunch. Matt's apartment is a huge mess, but he's the only one of the three of you with a gas-burner stove so his place has become the de facto brunch spot in the year that's passed since your house burned down.
"How hot are we talking?" Edd asks over his shoulder. He's wearing Matt's KISS THE CHEF apron and manning the frying pan. Every so often a hot drop of grease hits him and he yelps. "On a scale from one to Matt."
You open up Mr. Sickle's Knottr profile and consider his torso with a critical eye. "Three-quarters of a Matt." Matt, sitting across from you at the kitchen table, makes grabby hands at your phone until you pass it his way for inspection. "Maybe two-thirds of a Matt physically, but I like his personality." Yesterday, he texted you a photo of his knot for the first time. It was thicker than your fist. Your mouth went dry and your cunt throbbed when you looked at it. This has absolutely no bearing on your rating. "Plus, he's a mechanic. A sexy, shredded auto mechanic."
"I'd give him half a Matt myself," Matt says, decisive. He'd always been into the lither, more androgynous types: alpha women, beta men, the occasional domineering omega. With his pretty-boy omega looks and total lack of a dynamic preference, he'd never had to resort to hookup apps. You kind of resent him for it. He gives the profile another thoughtful glance before passing your phone off to Edd. "He looks familiar."
"You say that about everyone." You lean back in your chair and taking a sip of your coffee. Edd grunts an affirmation and flips the eggs before looking at the profile. When he does, he lets out a low whistle.
"'Make me your omega sissy'," he reads out loud, poking at the bacon idly with his spatula. "I was going to give him points for the auto mechanic thing, but now I'm reconsidering."
Your skin prickles a little with embarrassment. You set your mug down between a stack of unopened, important-looking mail and a half-empty tube of foundation. "He's a freak for sure," you admit. "But I don't think he's a chaser."
You're lying through your teeth. After your initial, enlightening movie conversation-cum-cyberfuck, he'd hit you with the Are you trans? Thats hot. You dont look like an omega. Or are you transgender? Of course you don't look trans-- you've been on omega-to-alpha hormones since you were a teenager and female-to-male ones for even longer. You'd done all the right things: you'd gotten top, you'd done the voice coaching even when second puberty hit you like a ton of bricks and dropped you solidly into baritone range. You'd even tried dating omegas for a while, back in high school and the early part of college, but the attraction had never stuck. Hence: you, here, dealing with this douchebag. You'd been typing up a cutting comeback when he said I always wanted a transalpha to breed me and sent you a photo of himself, toned thighs spread, teasing himself through a pair of red lacy panties. Your ego took an abrupt backseat to your boner. Sue you. The unending sociopolitical struggle for transdynamic liberation could wait until you'd gotten off.
As if on cue, your phone vibrates in Edd's hand. "New Knottr message," he says, eyes bright and mischievous. You're on your feet and snatching your cell from his hands before he can open it. "Hey!"
"Share with the class!" Matt singsongs, hopping up to look over your shoulder as you sink back into your seat. You hunch your body over your phone screen. Matt drapes himself over your back, pretending to swoon. Sometimes you hate your pack. "Tommm!"
You nudge him off and open up the message from your still-anonymous knotbuddy. It's innocuous enough: Good morning, handsome <3 and a mirror selfie of a disgustingly well-built alpha in an oversized t-shirt and boxers. His face is obscured by the phone flash. He's at least six-two and could clearly bench all 180 pounds of you.
You turn your screen to show it off to Matt, who ooohs over his pecs like a schoolgirl. "He called Tom handsome," he gasps, faux-scandalized, and Edd makes a crack about that, but your focus is locked on the selfie.
It's subtle, but his chin's tilted up and a little to the side, showing off the bare expanse of his throat. The neck of his shirt is too wide, sliding off his shoulder to expose his collarbone. Everything about it-- his tousled hair, the shortness of his shorts, the way you can see a pile of blankets and pillows on the unmade bed behind him-- feels like an invitation.
"Tom, are you blushing?" Matt exclaims, and you sputter out a denial while Edd snickers. Yes, your face is burning. So what. You shove your phone back into your hoodie pocket and slump lower in your chair.
"You're one to talk," you retort, reaching for your coffee again and squinting at a still-grinning Matt. "Didn't you have three alphas fighting over you last week? Again?"
"Sorry, what?" Edd asks, turning off the stove and whipping around to stare at Matt. Matt groans, burying his face in his arms. "Three? Again?"
"It's not my fault I'm irresistible," Matt whines. You clear a pile of books, potted plants, and playing cards off the table. Edd hands over the food while you settle in for some telenovela-esque melodrama. "So, my agent got me a shoot with this girl from Bristol--"
---
good morning to you too, hot stuff <3
sorry to leave you on read, btw. pack had me over for brunch.
☭: <3
☭: No need to apologize, lovely. I hope you enjoyed your meal.
☭: I dont think youve mentioned your pack before.
yeah.
it's me, an omega, and a beta.
the beta's also trans, funnily enough. alpha-to-beta. you'd never be able to tell.
we've been a pack since, like. secondary school.
☭: That sounds very nice.
☭: I didnt find my first pack until I went to uni.
that's pretty normal, i think. i dunno a lot of packs that lasted all the way through uni, let alone earlier. we're a bit of a rarity.
but, yeah. i would have mentioned them sooner but... things have been weird with them for the past year.
and they're just starting to get back to normal again.
and i don't want to jinx it, you know?
☭: Did something go wrong?
i like you, so i'll spare you the sob story. <3
☭: Dont.
☭: I like hearing you talk <3
you sure about that?
i'll still sleep with you even if you don't learn all of my tragic lore, promise.
☭: I wouldnt offer if I didnt want to hear.
☭: Let me make myself a mimosa and settle in...
☭: Alright. Im all ears, handsome <3 Whatever youd like to share.
...
thanks. <3 that means a lot, actually.
okay. so.
to make a long story very short.
---
You leave out the names, obviously, and a lot of the gorier details. Red Leader, the Scandinavian dictator whose pedestrian identity was recently leaked with the no-fly list, had been making international headlines for a year. The last thing you needed was for your sexy new friend to hear the name "Tord", look at the timeline, and start drawing unfortunate conclusions.
You just give him the basics: your tight-knit pack of three taking in another alpha in your first year of uni-- a brash, headstrong teenager with a thick accent that Edd had met in his art classes. It'd been clear to you and Matt from the start that Edd was terribly, head-over-heels in love with Tord. The lot of you lived together in a dorm suite for your first two years of school together, went in on a mortgage at twenty, and moved into the four-bedroom that you'd all planned to stay in for the rest of your lives, or at least until someone's art career got big enough to make the down payment on a real mansion. Edd was your leader despite being a beta, leaving you and Tord to jostle for the position of his second in command. Tord was loud and abrasive and accidentally broke Edd's heart when he'd said offhand that he couldn't see why an alpha would ever want a male beta.
(This is the part you don't say: Edd calls that day "the fire." Matt doesn't call it anything at all. You remember shooting him down, after he left and came back and fucked everyone you loved over yet again. You've got a scar on your shoulder that sill gives you nerve pain when you play bass and several symptoms of unresolved PTSD that make you a nightmare at parties. You punched a hole in your TV because his name was all over the news and you never got a new one. It was probably for the best.)
You don't live with Edd and Matt anymore. The three of you scrambled to find apartments after your housing situation fell apart, literally, and moved into the first places you found. You were supposed to start hunting for a new place together, but the first six-month lease went up a few months ago, and Edd had said that he still needed some space to himself, and you hadn't wanted to live with just Matt, so. You live alone for now. You're perfectly okay with that, totally fine with seeing Matt and Edd only on the weekends, because Matt's busy with his modeling and Edd's busy with his art and you're not as busy as the two of them, so you're kind of lonely, but whatever. It's what Edd needs, and since you're the alpha of this pack it's your job to provide it for him.
And if you sometimes want to complain, to grab Edd by the shoulders and say that you need him, that you need to be close to him and Matt, that you need the physical reminder that they're safe to let you sleep through your nightmares of iron and ash and blood and paranoia, that you miss his laugh and his warmth and the way you all used to fit so effortlessly into each other's space? You're strong enough to shove that shit down. Your pack needs someone to be the strong one, and you drew the short straw years ago, back when you were terrified at seventeen, on the day when you realized that you could either be an alpha or kill yourself and you chose to live.
---
☭: Wow.
yeah.
uh.
that's. kind of a lot now that i see it all typed out.
☭: I think its noble.
☭: Theres not a lot of alphas who would do that, you know.
☭: Put everything on the line for their pack.
☭: I respect that.
thanks. <3
seriously, though. thank you for listening.
☭: Of course, lovely <3
☭: It sounds like you miss them.
☭: Even when theyre right there.
☭: I get that.
☭: My pack from uni was very tight-knit. Very similar to yours, actually. Also another alpha, an omega, and a beta. None trans, however. I was also head of my pack.
☭: We also lived together during and after school.
☭: Leaving them was a very difficult choice, but I had responsibilities back at home that I could not avoid.
☭: It was agonizing. Like ripping my own heart out.
☭: In a way, I feel for the other alpha in your pack, even if the way he treated your beta was horrible.
i can't imagine how hard it must have been to leave.
i'm sorry.
☭: All is well <3
☭: I have a new pack now. A mated couple took me in and theyve been very kind to me.
☭: I think you will get along well with them.
hey. wait a sec.
are you asking me to meet your pack?
two weeks in?
☭: Was that too forward?
☭: Sorry. That was not my intention.
☭: I just feel like Ive known you forever.
at least take me out to dinner first <3
we need to talk about your horrible taste in horror movies.
then i can meet the fam.
☭: Hey, now.
☭: Watch your mouth.
☭: Birdemic: Shock And Terror is a true work of art.
doubt.jpg.
☭: Are you free tonight?
☭: We can stream it, if youd like.
☭: No mic or video, Im afraid. My packmates are taking up much of the bandwidth for work.
i'm free, yeah. <3
you're incredibly lucky you're hot.
i wouldn't suffer through this shit for just any knothead.
☭: Haha, you know you like it <3
☭: Or maybe you like me?
☭: ;)
...
maybe so. <3
---
The selfies he sends you are ungodly hot. You see him in every configuration of dress: formalwear, shirtless in tight jeans, sweatshirt and no pants, nothing but boxers, nothing but socks. You see him lifting weights in what looks like a private home gym, spandex shorts hugging the curve of his ass. Sometimes, he sends photos from his bed: normal pics at first, fingertips trailing over the taught planes of his body, then more... Intimate things. Alpha nesting is a flavor of kink content that you've been deleting from your search history for years. You run your vibrator through its entire three-hour battery life, charge it up, and kill it again.
He's always careful to crop his face out of the photos he sends. You ask why on day fifteen and he explains, hesitant and apologetic, that the auto accident that took his arm disfigured him pretty badly. "Sorry, lovely," he says, on one of the rare occasions where his hands are full at the shop and he leaves you an audio message instead of a text. His voice rasps like he's smoked a pack a day for the last ten years, soft against the sounds of machinery around him. You feel your stomach do a flip when he calls you lovely. "My body has healed. My ego..." He gives a self-deprecating little laugh. "Not so much."
You see the scarring wrapping half his body and decide to cut him some slack.
There's a part of you that's worried that he's hideous; maybe his face will be so gross that you won't be able to come if you see it in person. It's distressing because you're thinking a lot about seeing him in person. You've been texting him nonstop for over two weeks now and it's been bringing out the hopeless romantic side that you'd thought your last few breakups had killed for good.
---
okay, your turn.
truth or dare?
☭: Hmmmm.
☭: Dare.
☭: ;)
again?
why do you always pick dare?
☭: I believe that would be a truth question, haha
touché.
let me think...
☭: <3
<3
how about this:
get a permanent marker and write "omega cumslut" on the inside of your thighs.
☭: Mmmh. Yes, Sir. <3
☭: [Attached: IMG_2183.jpg]
fuck
fuck.
god, that looks good on you
☭: Thank you, Sir ;)
☭: Would you like to trace the letters with your tongue?
maybe my teeth <3
i bet you're sensitive down there, aren't you?
would you cry out if i bit you?
☭: God.
☭: Yes.
☭: Please.
anything for my favorite omega <3
☭: Hhhm.
☭: <3
☭: Truth or dare?
mmm. truth.
we'll change it up for once.
☭: Why havent you sent me any photos of your face?
☭: If the answer isnt too personal, of course.
no, that's fair. i don't mind answering it.
i've got a weird eye condition. i can see just fine, but i've been told my eyes are a little...
offputting.
to strangers.
☭: Ahh. I understand.
☭: So you dont want people to judge you for them before getting to know the real you?
that too, i guess.
the main reason is also why i blur the tattoos in my profile pic:
they make me immediately identifiable.
☭: I do like your tattoos, though.
☭: I think Ill like your eyes. <3
☭: Youre unique. There are very few alphas like you out there.
☭: It seems right that your eyes are unique as well.
poetic. i like it.
flattery will get you everywhere <3
☭: Its not flattery if its true, is it?
heh.
if you say so <3
truth or dare?
---
Three weeks in and you're waiting with Edd in line at the comic book shop, sexting furtively while he checks out. You'd never looked at someone's lewds in public before, least of all in front of the nice butch at the counter who'd borne witness to your horrific teen dyke era, but your knotbuddy has been enjoying his day off by sending you increasingly risqué photos for the past hour. Who were you to deny his boner?
You shove your phone back into your hoodie pocket when Edd finishes up at the register. It's not subtle. Edd snickers at you, but there's no real mockery in it.
"Is that your boyfriend?" he asks, shoulder-checking you as you both head towards the exit.
"He's not my boyfriend," you reply, aggrieved. It's like middle school all over again, down to the neon-green comic shop bag in Edd's hand. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you barely resist the urge to check it. Whatever image is waiting in your Knottr DMs is not fit for Edd's vanilla eyes. "I don't even know his name."
"You don't know his name yet," Edd amends, waggling his eyebrows at you. You stick out your tongue and hold his comics for him while he searches for the car keys. "You should get it soon, though. When you're married, you'll need it for insurance purposes."
"What if I don't want to get married, huh? Did you ever think of that? What if I want to stay single and dangerous until my late fifties and then settle down with a hot piece of ass half my age?" He's laughing, which makes you smile. "Keys are in your front right pocket."
"Thanks, Tom," he says, fishing them out and mashing the "unlock" button until you hear the latch click. "You're right. I shouldn't have assumed. I don't want to deny you your slutty DILF era."
Edd's owned the same shitty little sedan since he's been old enough to drive. Before that, his mother had driven the two of you to the same comic shop in this same car. It's more than a little nostalgic. You settle into the passenger seat and fiddle with the radio. It begins to tell you about a miraculous new treatment for alpha hair loss.
"... I've been thinking about meeting up with him," you admit. "Not just for a hookup. For an actual date."
Edd smiles out the windshield. "It's been a long time since you've brought someone home."
"Yeah, well," you say, wincing. "You saw the last few people I was with."
"It could have been worse," Edd says. His smile seems a little strained at the edges. Someone tries to cut him off as he merges and he accelerates until they're forced to brake. "None of your exes have tried to kill us."
You've had the It's Not Your Fault argument with Edd many, many times over the past year. It's not a productive one. "Laurel's ex nearly did, to be fair. When she updated her Facebook status to 'taken'."
"I don't think that's Laurel's fault, though," Edd muses. "You can't blame your ex for your ex's ex's crazy. But," he continues, cutting you off before you can argue, "but. You seem happy with this new guy."
"He is smoking hot," you deadpan, and Edd snorts as he hits the turn signal. This time, he merges without incident.
"If you're into perverts, I guess! But you get my point." He flicks you a meaningful look. "He makes you happy, and I'm happy when you're happy."
"Yeah, yeah," you mumble, sinking down deeper into the car seat until the seatbelt digs uncomfortably into your chin. "Not to TMI, but my rut's coming up at the end of the week. I've been thinking about having him over for it."
"Eugh, definitely TMI," Edd says, miming vomiting. You roll your eyes. "But I think that could be nice? Have him over, get freaky with him, see if he's worth sacrificing a few decades of bachelorhood."
"Thank you for your blessing," you say, entirely sincere. Edd gives you a one-finger salute and turns up the radio.
---
☭: [Attached: IMG_2224.jpg]
☭: [Attached: IMG_2225.jpg]
☭: [Attached: IMG_2226.jpg]
not that i'm complaining about the incredibly sexy selfies, because i'm not.
at all.
but aren't you up a little late?
☭: Isnt this the perfect time for nudes? ;)
well, yes.
but i can still see daylight in the photos you sent.
did you take them in advance?
☭: ...
☭: ;)
hey now. don't think you can get out of this by being charming.
☭: You do think Im charming, though. <3
of course i do. we've established that.
<3
setting aside the idea that you have a whole supply of sexy nudes that you've been holding out on sending me, as much as i hate to do that:
don't you have work in the morning?
☭: Perhaps.
what's got you up so late?
☭: Mmmmm.
☭: If I said your alpha charms were keeping me up, would you believe me?
after that hypothetical?
no. <3
☭: Ah. I see.
☭: I have only myself to blame.
ha ha ha.
seriously, though. what's up?
☭: Mmh.
☭: You really dont intend to let this go, do you?
you're learning. <3
☭: Your hardheadedness is one of your most attractive qualities. <3
☭: If you must know: I have phantom pain from my amputated arm.
☭: It has improved significantly since the time of injury.
☭: Now, it is only occasional.
and tonight was one of those occasions?
☭: Mhm.
☭: It is a deeply unpleasant feeling.
☭: Like my arm is still there, and my prosthetic is crushing it.
☭: I used to wake up screaming sometimes.
☭: Less now.
☭: I can stop myself before I disturb my packmates.
... damn.
☭: Mm.
☭: Please dont apologize.
☭: I find it frustrating when people do.
i didn't intend to, promise. <3
the silence was me workshopping a handjob pun.
i had to scrap it.
☭: ...
☭: Youre an odd one, do you know that?
hopefully in a good way.
☭: In a very good way. <3
cool.
so.
i was playing guitar anyways.
if you wanted to hop on a call for a bit, i could play for you or something.
until you fall back asleep.
☭: I thought you mentioned playing bass?
i play a lot of stuff. guitar's good for playing solo.
☭: Or with nighttime company?
something like that. <3
call me when you're ready?
☭: <3
---
Three and a half weeks in and you're letting your apartment door slam behind you when you get home from the pharmacy. Looking the pharmacist in the eye after they fill your T and transalpha scripts is incredibly awkward, and it only gets more awkward the farther along you are into your transition-- at least when you were younger and looking cis was a lost cause, your meds weren't outing you. The deed's done, though, and you've got three vials of testosterone and a depo shot's worth of transalpha hormone in a small paper bag.
You always feel a bit off the in the last few days before your depo-- you know that natural-born alphas sometimes get pre-rut aggressive as their bodies start ramping up to the main event. You, on the other hand, experience your lowest level of alpha hormones per quarter right before kicking your rut off. It leaves you feeling antsy and vaguely dysphoric.
There's maybe another reason why you're antsy, though. You pull out your cell, open up Knottr, and stare at the message bar for a long moment before starting to type.
hey.
are you busy?
The response is near-instant:
☭: Not at all. <3
☭: Does my alpha have a task in mind? ;)
My alpha. God, this man was going to be the death of you. You feel hot, possessive, and slightly embarrassed.
not at the moment, no.
☭: Would you like to talk?
kinda?
yeah, we should talk.
wait, no. that sounds like i'm breaking up with you.
i'm not breaking up with you.
not that we're together, or
agh. foot in mouth.
☭: Haha, dont worry about it <3 Its cute
☭: Whats on your mind, lovely?
would you want to spend my rut with me?
There's an agonizing three-minute wait before you get a response. You're pacing around your room and scrolling through Vice's latest terrible Red Army thinkpiece when the notification pops up on your screen and sends you into a cold sweat.
☭: Oh? ;) <3 When would that be?
The silver lining of being transalpha is that you can always pinpoint the start of your rut. Score one for being trans.
in three days. <3
would you be able to take the time off work?
i know that's short notice.
my ruts aren't long, at least. maybe 72 hours.
but they're pretty intense.
☭: I think it can be arranged. <3
☭: Im due for a few days of time off anyways.
☭: My packmates keep saying that I should take more breaks. Recharge and whatnot.
☭: What better way to recharge than by serving my alpha? ;)
god. yeah.
yeah.
okay.
that would be really, really nice.
<3
☭: <3!
---
The last three days leading up to his visit are surreal. You run between errands-- buy a lightbulb that matches the wattage of the burned-out one in the bathroom, stock up on groceries, stop in the sex shop and skulk by the panties until a staffperson takes pity on you and answers your halting questions about lingerie. You know precious few facts about your mystery man's identity, but you can describe his sexual predilections in vivid detail: he has a thing for alphas in lace or thigh-highs; he likes to have his ass played with; he has a collection of complex, strappy bondage gear that he's texting you about incessantly. Should I bring this? he asks, sending you a photo in a leather body harness or a fancy velvet posture collar that completely derails your more productive thoughts. What about this? How can I best please my alpha during his rut? ;)
His texts have ramped up in frequency from "consistent" to "constant". The topics of your conversations range from the lewd baseline to the surprisingly sweet-- he asks about your favorite post-rut snacks and offers to pick you up a family-sized box of Cheez-Its, which makes you feel gratitude and homosexuality in equal measure. You've bandied the term "boyfriend" around in your head since Edd had mentioned it at the comic book shop; you're starting to wonder if he'd maybe been onto something. Edd usually is.
You run another load of laundry, sweep the kitchen, and try to tamp down your hopes before they can get crushed.
---
hey.
you up?
☭: Mhm.
☭: 9 more hours. <3
<3
i'm, like.
way more nervous than i thought i'd be.
more excited, too.
☭: It feels surreal.
yeah.
exactly.
☭: I feel it too.
☭: You are the first alpha Ive spent a rut with in a very long time, you know that?
awww. <3 am i just that special?
☭: You are. <3
☭: Ive said it before, but I feel like Ive known you forever.
☭: I think seeing you in person will be like coming home.
... i don't have anything clever to say to that.
thank you.
it's.
been a very long time since i've taken a chance with someone new.
i don't let a lot of people in anymore.
so.
thanks.
for being someone i trust enough to take this chance with.
☭: Its an honor. <3
<3
☭: Eight hours now.
☭: Go get some sleep, lovely. <3
i'll try. <3
see you soon?
☭: Very. <3
---
One hour before he arrives, you're pacing around your apartment. Your depo shot's already done; your body is ramping up for your rut. Everything is bright and loud and so much-- your t-shirt chafes against your skin and you want to rip it off and shred it to rags. You're compulsively checking your phone, even though you know he's driving and can't respond. You're chewing on your lip. You can feel a sweat breaking out on the back of your neck. Your clit aches. He's going to be here soon and you'll finally be able to touch him. You'd agreed on no claiming bites but everything else was fair game. You were more than ready to play. Your strap is laid out in your room. Lube's on the nightstand. There are snacks and water within easy reach of the bed. You left a set of extra soft blankets out by the bed in case he wants to fulfill your libido's wildest dreams and nest when you're done fucking his brains out.
Fifty-nine minutes until he arrives.
---
Half an hour, and Matt's sending a bunch of photos of eggplants to the groupchat. Edd is asking you to be mindful of the neighboring units, one of which is his. You love them. You send them a thumbs up and get back to pacing.
---
Five minutes, and you're pretty sure that the nerves are going to kill you if the horny doesn't.
---
One minute, and what if he doesn't like you? What if he thinks you're uglier in person? What if your eyes put him off? What if he's ugly? What if he's bad at sex-- really bad-- and you're stuck faking orgasms for your entire rut? What if you're being catfished? What if he's actually a serial killer? What if he gets here and he's just like his photos and his voice is sexy and he gets you off and everything is perfect and you still somehow manage to fuck it all up, the way you always do?
---
Zero minutes. Where is he.
---
Three minutes past when he should arrive and you're losing your goddamn mind even though this is a perfectly normal number of minutes to be late; the layout of the apartments doesn't make sense, and the pizza guy always gets lost coming up--
--he's at the door, fuck. Fuck. You finger-comb your hair as fast as possible and straighten out your shirt and will your hands to stop shaking. They don't. You fumble the doorknob. You open the door.
---
He's standing in the hallway. Tight black t-shirt, broad shoulders, eyepatch covering the mess you made of his eye. Overnight bag on the industrial carpet by his boots. Before he sees you, he's looking at his phone. He's smiling.
---
☭: Heading out now. <3
☭: Ill be there in an hour and a half.
drive safe. <3
i love you
---
Something inside you wrenches. You taste bile.
For a second, you just look at each other. You watch his face fall.
It hurts.
---
"You," he says, voice raspy and familiar and agonizing. You get a fistful of his shirt, drag him into your apartment, slam him up against the door. You hear something crack. You hope it's his spine. "Fuck."
You want to say something clever. All you manage is a strangled sound. You punch him in the stomach, feel your fist connect with hard abs. He wheezes, stares down at you. The one eye he has left is wide-open and shocked.
"Shit," he spits, gasping for air. "Faen, shit, shit,"
He fumbles for his belt like he thinks he'll find a gun. He doesn't, thank God. You aim your next punch at the scarred side of his face. Your knuckles hit a thin layer of skin stretched over steel. You hiss in pain.
He reaches for your neck with the mechanical hand, and you don't think. You twist your head, lean into his throat, and bite.
---
you like that, don't you?
like it when i claim you?
☭: Mmmmhhh. <3
☭: Yes, Alpha. <3 <3 <3
god, you smell like you do.
smells like you're desperate for it.
you feel it, don't you? the way your scent's shifting for me?
your body responding to my claim?
☭: Yes.
☭: God. Yes.
☭: Please, Alpha. I
☭: Fuck
☭: Need it
☭: Need you
☭: Alpha please I need
mine.
my omega.
---
He jerks like you've electrocuted him. Freezes. You taste blood. Your nose is filled with alpha pheromones; it's heady, disorienting. He smells familiar. He smells like home used to. A soft, wispy sound comes from his mouth. He'd be keening if he could. This is the best his larynx can do. You're why.
Everything is quiet while your teeth are buried in his neck. Your tongue flicks out to trace over the mark you're leaving. Your pulse is roaring in your ears. You're dripping in your boxers as you smell his pheromones change. You've claimed him, your hindbrain is saying, and now it's time to fuck.
"Tom," he whispers, "Tom. What have you done?"