VIRTUS

Oh, sure, John felt a lot of things. He felt achy, he felt tired, and he felt it was about damn time he didn’t have to blow his nose every three minutes. He felt hungry, he felt dirty, and he felt very, very unattractive. 

So what the hell was this guy thinking, hitting on an obviously sick man in the middle of the produce section?

John gasped and looked at the man in dawning horror. He’d heard of those complexes where people got off on being needed, having to take care of someone. The kind of complexes that lead mothers to poison their children and spouses to tip weed killer into their significant others morning coffee. Shit, hadn’t Steven King wrote an entire book on the subject? 

Well, John wasn’t going to have any part in this sicko’s game.

Finally, he shut his mouth, but opened it a second later to breathe through it.

“Look--” Christ, this guy did look a little like shit. Nothing a few more days’ rest couldn’t cure, though. Not that it mattered. “I meant, can’t you feel me?”

Harrison fought the urge to reach out, for his own safety and health.

If John had actually been able to breathe through his nose, he might have realized why there was a broad shouldered, beard toting man staring at him across the produce section. But the omega was three days into a cold that had followed him all the way from Tampa to this rural little town just outside of Denver, and had made moving into a new apartment even worse than it usually was. 

The first day was sniffles, the second day heavy nose blowing, and today? Today he had woken up with a mouth dry from breathing through it all night, sinuses so plugged he felt like his forehead was about to burst, and despite dressing in so many layers it was hard to bend his joints, cold shivers kept seizing him at odd moments. 

Yeah, cashing in on sick days before he’d even started in the station was really winning him some good brownie points with his fellow officers.

John’s skin prickled hot with the weight of the man’s eyes on him, and the omega scowled, grabbing the first bunch of celery he saw and scooting down the wall of veggie displays toward the pyramid of carrots. Okay, so he probably looked like he was the favorite candidate for ‘Most Likely to Be Patient Zero in the Zombie Apocalypse’, all puffy eyes, red nose, and shambling gate, but still, hadn’t anyone taught this dude not to stare? 

Shrugging a little deeper into the fur lined hood of his winter jacket, the omega resolved to ignore the man and go about getting his soup supplies as quickly as possible so that he might actually make it home before his cold medicine wore off and his nose started acting like a faucet again. Slowly but surely the basket hanging from the crook of John’s arm filled with all of the fresh, healthy, comforting ingredients that made up the chicken soup John’s grandomega had been feeding her sick family members for the last seventy years. 

But when he glanced up from the tower of potatoes he was poking through to find the same damn man standing just on the other side of the display watching him with startlingly blue eyes, John just couldn’t bite his tongue a second more. 

And what’s it?

The magnetic pull and push, the sudden wake in the night with a cold sweat, the sudden bout of uncalled for nausea at the worst time possible. The signs his body was trying to make, only to go to waste on an unknowing mind. Because as far as he was concerned, the alpha was going through a simple rut. That’s pretty much what it felt like, he thought. Problem was, though, nothing he tried-- ‘self love’ and attempted one night stands-- could scratch the itch. As it was, Harrison was stuck with a half hard on for three days. His pants too tight, his skin too hot. And when he rounded the corner of an isle for quarter pound of his regular veggies, his cart shucked full of ice and ten different bags frozen foods, all the pieces he hadn’t realized were pieces fell into place.

There.

Another werewolf.

An omega.

A perfect match to his alpha.

Harrison clammed up as his inner wolf went up the walls. The ghost hackles on his back were up, a normality in the rare presence of another like him. It felt like his insides were being pawed at, his limbs becoming suddenly not his as the wolf struggled to fill and work them out, get them moving, get him closer to the object of his desire.

Thankfully enough, he and the wolf could both tell the omega-- yes, it was certain he was an omega-- was as gorgeous as his face, worn and a little dried out, hinted at beneath the unflattering, padded and puffed jacket he’d wrapped himself in.

“Are you fucking me? You don’t feel it?”

He just wished he’d be able to remember any details later. 

While usually a brilliant multitasker, it seemed the hormone addled omega’s limit to coordinated movements was easily met. He tried, he really did, but with Harrison driving into him his attention had narrowed down to the wonderful drag of flared head over sensitive nerves and thick girth testing the limits of his pleasure slicked rim. His toes flexed and curled where his feet were planted against the alpha’s firm chest, a physical counterpart to the breathless whines and mewls each thrust forced up out of his chest. 

The distracted tug of his hands over the offered cocks proved to be substandard, and soon enough fingers curled around his wrists, guiding his movements so that all he had to do was make a fist. With Harrison angling inside him, playing his body like a well learned instrument, it didn’t take long before the first of many orgasms rippled up John’s spine. He bowed, muscles drawn taut and passage spasming around Harrison’s still thrusting length. A noise tore itself from his throat, too strangled and incoherent to be a name, but made just for the alpha all the same. 

After a moment, the pleasure ebbed but did not disappear, and John dragged in a greedy gulp of air between one thrust and the next, expelling it again as a moan. Even as pleasure addled as he was, the omega knew that Harrison was fucking good. Every stroke was on the mark, every pant and low rumble of a moan music to Jonh’s ears, and when the alpha’s hips snapped hard against John’s ass, burying him to the hilt as liquid heat poured into the omega, it was enough to urge another toe curling climax from him.

Harrison came to stand at John’s head as another man stepped up between his legs. John strained toward him, abused lips parted, wet mouth begging, and he was quickly rewarded. Together, the two men slid into the warm offering of the omega’s body, a wanton moan vibrating in the throat Harrison’s cock nudged against. The men around John moved, sliding in and out of him as frequently as the waves of pleasure crested and dipped, every orgasm wrung from his body with a stiffening of muscles and a new flood of slick from his stuffed hole.  

The chain of orgasms from John ended with one more when Harrison finished. He’d acted true to his word, burying himself to the hilt and filling the empty nooks and crannies in the omega with his own pleasure. The alpha’s groan was nearly buried beneath the grunts and encouraging curses from the men around him, and he spent a few long moments still. Just like he was, taking in the way John felt wrapped around him, claimed by him.

And then he was gone, leaving the warm space between the omega’s legs to situate himself at the head of the bench while another man retraced his steps. He was inside John without giving him a moment’s respite, taking a stuttered mewl of startled pleasure as encouragement to try and match the pace made by Harrison before him. He came close, as did the man after him, and the one after him, and the rest after them. But it was clear that John-- fucked good, no doubt-- was still hungry, still aching for Harrison and all only he could give.

When each of the wolves had had their turn, Harrison took his rightful place where he’d started and where he belonged. John was stretched and spent, painted beautifully with click and cum that dripped from his ass to pool beneath it and trickle down the soft, rounded edges of the stool he’d been perched on. 

“I’m here,” he crooned, grabbing him by the knees and lining his cock up and sinking it in, shuddering at the feel of the release not his that kept John slick and almost sated. With one more cooing breath of reassurance, Harrison began thrusting, deep and slow, the slick sounds of sex accompanying his movements. 

Harrison barked out orders, and John felt his knees go weak. The alpha manhandled him, passing hands over his body, feeling him up in front of all these other people, fingering him as the rest of the men grouped around them, forming a lose circle. If the omega’s braincells weren’t muffled by layers of hormones and soaked in liquid want, he might have counted the men, might have been intimidated by the number of hands that would be touching him and cocks that would be fucking him. 

But Harrison was there, giving John that flash of a smile as he urged him down onto his knees, wet and wanting and open. Hole still clenching around the ghost of the alpha’s finger inside him, John shivered at the cool air teasing over his freshly bared skin. The tremble vibrated up his spine and out of his mouth in a breathless whine, because now he could finally smell something other than his own honey sweet need. Now, he could smell them, and oh how they wanted him. 

How Harrison wanted him.

His mouth slid open before he was even conscious of his brain telling his body what to do, welcoming the fat head of Harrison’s cock onto the velvety curl of his tongue and a gut deep groan of satisfaction. John’s hands clung to the firmness of the alpha’s thighs as pleasure hungry instinct took over, guiding him in worshipping the jaw stretching cock. Careless of the wet noises of suction or the spit dripping from his swollen lips and down his chin the omega suckled and kissed and dragged his tongue over every ridge and vein and bitter slit that Harrison’s length had to offer. 

This was contentment, this was happiness. Here, with his knees aching against the firm give of the rubberized floor, the gentle rasp of dry hands jerking at hardening cocks, and the low murmurs of Harrison’s pleasure rumbling in his ears; this was exactly what John wanted.

But John was being a little selfish. Yes, his mouth was busy. But his hands weren’t. And with a nod from Harrison, the two men on either side of the omega took the initiative on reaching down for John’s hands, leading his grip to their own neglected cocks.

“Look at you,” he said, running his knuckles down along the cut of John’s jaw. The man had begun stroking the cocks in his hand in jagged strokes, struggling to divide his attentions between the three men standing around him, using him. Harrison groaned low in his throat and pulled John back by the hair on his head, turning him as the man to his right stepped in to slide his cock where Harrison’s had been. Slowly, the omega fell into a rhythm that went on like that for five, ten, fifteen minutes: John sucking and slurping on whoever jammed themselves in his throat despite the way he seemed to favor Harrison, stroking whatever filled his grip like a force of habit.

Once all the men had at least one go at John, Harrison spoke, Harrison ordered.

“Line up around the bench. You growl, you knot, you try getting possessive, I kick you out myself.” The men he spoke to seemed to be in understanding, too punch-drunk in their hormone induced state. “I’m cumming in him first and last.” Harrison pointed his glare down at John. “You want that? You want me to fuck your ass?”

He knelt down to make short work of getting a very cooperative omega naked, balanced and splayed, his legs parted and Harrison nestled between them, on the small workout bench set up for him. The alpha didn’t bother undressing, just yanked his shorts and underwear lower for easier access.

Look how fucking wet he is.

Harrison smirked at the comment, rubbing at John’s slicked hole with the rough pads of his fingers, bringing them up to swipe at with his tongue. He did it a few more times, each time cleaning the sweetness that coated his fingers in alpha eagerness, before angling his cock carefully against the omega’s pucker, sliding in slow and dry so John could feel each thick sink into his body until Harrison bottomed out.

He waited a moment before sliding out about half way to fuck back into John, and then again, and then again, jolting him up against the leather cushion beneath him. The site of the omega being taken proved itself too much, apparent by the audible shuffle behind him. Two men stumbled in on either side of John’s head, holding their cocks at their bases, waiting. 

The alpha’s breath ghosted hot across John’s mouth, and he knew this was it. This was going to happen, reputation be damned. 

“I want it, Har.” he whined, rocking his hips down into the warm cradle of the alpha’s palm. “I want you, and I want them. I want them while you watch me have them.” 

John’s hands fluttered between them, settling briefly on Harrison’s hips, his chest, his biceps, all edging around the elastic band of his gym shorts. He bit at his lip nervously, edging closer, drinking in deep lungfuls of Harrison’s scent. God, how his mouth watered at the smell of him, musky and full of the dark bite of black pepper and ruby red wine. 

He wondered if Harrison would taste nearly as good as he smelled. 

John being pressed in close, feeling him up, smothered against his body and leaking for him called his attention back. Harrison kissed him hard and short, sliding the hand at his rump past elastic band and in between the cleft of his ass cheeks. “One of you drag a bench over here,” the alpha slipped his middle finger inside John, rocking his hips forward to add a little more pressure. “The rest of you, get in a circle. We’re using his mouth first.”

Harrison spent the time it took for his orders to be be carried out right where he was, fingering John with a single digit, teasing him, feeling the heat and wetness of him first hand, spurring him on into a moaning, writhing, hungry mess.

He felt the almost touch of a hand at his shoulder, a wolf aware he might be crossing territory if he actually made contact. “Ready, boss?”

Harrison growled and nodded, curling the finger inside John and whirling him around into a small, crowded circle of men: alphas and betas, all jittery with excitement, all strong and slicked with sweat and ready, a few with their limp cocks already in jerking hand. They were waiting for Harrison’s go-ahead.

“Knees.” he grunted, finally letting go of John so he could follow orders as well. Harrison knelt to quickly peel away the omega’s shirt, tossing it blindly behind him as he wasted no time freeing his own cock, moving a hand behind John’s head to shove him face first into warmth between his legs, bringing his other hand up to slip his wetted finger between his lips.

He groaned at how sweet John was, how pure the taste of an omega in need could be.

John flushed scarlet, but hid it behind the middle finger he waved in the direction of Harrison’s retreating back. Yeah, yeah, alphas always thought it was a good joke, but the second he was riding on top and a bit of slick trickled down to the ‘untouched crevice’ they were all ‘Ew gross, this is why omegas belong on the bottom’. 

Jerks. 

Back pressed against the door, it was suddenly a lot harder to not follow after the alpha. John didn’t like not being able to see Harrison, not being able to smell the salt of healthy sweat that nearly masked the spice of his musk. He didn’t like not being able to reach out and touch him, or rip his clothes off and throw him on the ground and ride him like a wild stallion. 

This wasn’t going well. 

The door behind his back jolted, lurching him forward with a noise of surprise. He could hear muffled complaints on the other side and snarled low in his chest before he could contain himself. But the voice was familiar, and the renewed flood of wetness down the back of his thighs was telling. 

“Harrison,” John grumbled, his voice hitching as the backs of the alpha’s fingers brushed against the bare skin of his chest, narrowly avoiding the pebbled peak of his nipple. “Just because I’m…. I’m indisposed doesn’t mean I won’t hit you for being an asshole.” 

And okay, maybe wearing Harrison’s clothes were a bad idea. The shirt John slipped over his head was clean, but the soft smell of the detergent was enough to turn the omega’s thoughts right back to the alpha. And the smooth drag of sweats up his bare, hypersensitive legs was a pale comparison to how goddamn good it would feel to have Harrison’s hands following that same path to cradle his ass. 

Somewhere beneath his bed was a disgustingly pink, anatomically correct dildo Adam had gifted him as a joke. And up until now, John had never thought he’d want to use it. Fuck, he was wrong.

“Jesus, lets go.” John blurted, stuffing his feet into his sneakers as he grabbed his gym bag, stepped out onto the gym floor, and froze as every head in the room snapped to face his direction. Every ripped, sweaty, flexing man in the room was staring right at him. 

John went cold, and then very, very hot. 

They stepped out into the gym and suddenly, the effort the two put into trying to get John to not smell like he was nearing a full blown heat was all for nothing. He smelled delicious, no fucking shit. And everybody wanted to taste for themselves.

The effect that had on Harrison showed itself immediately. He was reaching back at the same time John was reaching for him, threading his fingers into the omega’s to pull him in closer, pushing his shoulder in front of his to shield the man from open space and curious eyes. Because John was his. His friend, his omega, his to mount and fuck and breed and knot. But as Harrison met different sets of eyes, looked over familiar faces and bodies through hormone-daze vision, he turned around.

He’d be the one to fuck John first.

Slowly, he pulled his hand out of the omega’s grip and reached back a little further between his legs.

“You want it, don’t you?” Harrison purred, turning around slowly, his breathe ghosting warm over John’s lips. “Your pants are soaked through, I can hear it in the way you breath, I can see it in your eyes.”

He smirked, flicked his tongue across the bottom pillow of John’s lip.

And now? Now he was wondering exactly how long it would take him to rip off Harrison’s shorts and get the alpha buried deep, deep inside that aching emptiness inside him.

“Shit, this is worse than I thought.” John groaned, turning off the tap and reaching blindly for his towel. He couldn’t look at Harrison, not when the alpha looked so damn good, all sweaty and flushed. Sure, the flush was probably in part from his panic, but that didn’t mean John couldn’t appreciate it. 

 Without the cutting spray of the ice cold shower flushing at least some of his scent down the drain, the sweet musk of his arousal was all the omega could smell. Embarrassment flushed hot over his cheeks, and he wrapped the towel tightly around his hips, hunching a little in an effort to hide the unmistakeable lines of an erection beneath the terry cloth.

“I’m suing.” he promised vehemently, carefully edging out of the shower while keeping as far away from Harrison as the confined area would allow. Because even though he trusted the poor, flustered alpha to keep a level head, John had little faith in his own hormone controlled body. “I’m fucking suing. I’m suing my doctor, and the pharmacy, and the drug company, and that stupid, simpering twat in the commercial. God, what a cunt.” 

The omega took one glance at the clothes Harrison was offering, and reeled back, shaking his head. 

“You’re fucking kidding right? You’re practically spouting off like a fountain, and you’re worried that the big boys outside are going to smell your shorts?”

Beta or not, John was being an idiot, and needed to know it. Perhaps the dynamics of their relationship wouldn’t change after all. That was, if there was still a relationship at all. 

The alpha rolled his eyes and tilted himself against a wall for a moment of thought. “Get your shoes on, I got a spare pair of joggers and a shirt in my office. Put your back to the door, wait here.”

Harrison was gone before John could another word in complaint wise. He was sweating profusely as he trekked between machines and gym regulars, his pupils a little dilated from being suddenly suffocating in a room full of thick omega hormones. The man only had to stop three times to shake a hand and get a curt but friendly-enough nod in before he was in his office, snatching at spare clothes, and retracing his steps. He stopped a few more times, each time growing a little more worried over the omega he’d left alone. Actually, he worried for the poor bastard who could make the mistake of barging in.

The alpha was pressing against the door with an insistent hand, glad to find that it wouldn’t budge. He knocked quickly, muttering an ‘it’s me’ as low as he could to keep from drawing attention to a nervous alpha and a horny omega.

“Here,” he grumbled, shoving the bundle of clothes that he could easily hold in one hand to whatever bare mass of skin was closest. “And Jesus, John,” Harrison set a hand on his hip, the opposite smoothing over a worried, pensive, irritated brow. “I’ve seen a naked man before, I know how the hardware works. I’m not gonna start drooling on my knees. Would you stop being such a goddamn prude and hurry up?”

It wasn’t heat, thank god, but it was something like it. 

He’d heard of it happening, heard of omegas having a bad reaction to their suppressants and experiencing wild hormone spikes powerful enough to at least simulate a weak heat, if not match a full blown one. And when his erection refused to fade even after tipping the shower over to ice cold, John let himself sag forward and pressed his face against the wall.

“Christ!” John yelped when Harrison’s voice cut into his spiraling sense of panic. 

Naked. He was naked, and Harrison was there. He was naked, and horny, and Harrison was standing there, three feet away from him, still glistening with sweat, his biceps bulging where his arms were folded across his chest. And the alpha was angry, his brow furrowed into a scowl, his words short even as his tone softened. 

Fuck, John wanted to kiss that pout from his lips. 

In all fairness, Harrison wasn’t looking for that scent, that distinct nip of aroused omega sweetness. In fact, he’d prided himself in being an alpha in control of himself, never being one to pant after an omega with a trickle of slick rolling down their thighs like they had a paper sign taped to their lower back that read: “KNOT HERE.” But as it was, he and John were the only two in the lockers, and no more than five feet away from one another.

But he couldn’t be expected not to smell slick when it was all he could smell. No soap, no shampoo, no anything else to keep his senses busy. 

“John-- are you--” Harrison shield his eyes and spun around like John was some fair maiden whose virtue he’d just threatened. “I though you said--”

Okay, John never said he was a beta. It was just implied. No omegas were built like he was. No omegas had general interests like his. There were no omegas like him, the alpha thought, rather ignorantly. But here one was, having posed rather convincingly as a different gender, naked, and flushed, and hairy, his hole two kinds of wet as his body practically begged for dick. Harrison’s dick.

“I need to get you home,” Harrison sounded, a little panicked as he shuffled around for the clothes drenched with sweat and stained with just a touch of slick. “I mean-- not my home. Just home. Just get dressed, I won’t try to-- I promise won’t-- Y’know--” 

He could have sneezed in his face, or blurted out one of the embarrassing, overly sexualized thoughts he tried so hard to push away. Hell, a gunman could have burst into the gym and opened fire, at a moment when John was quite unable to do his job and protect the public from crazy motherfuckers. Harrison even could have started talking about some prospective relationship he hadn’t talked to his workout buddy about yet, probably some hot little omega who makes him feel like a big strong alpha. He could have shat himself. 

There were a thousand and one worse things that could have happened to him, but in that moment of breath stealing, horrified realization, John couldn’t think of a single fucking one. 

It was a combination of things that had done it, really. This certainly wasn’t the first time he and Harrison had been up close like this, with the alpha half sitting on the thigh of John’s extended leg, pinning it down as he pressed forward and drove John’s other knee up against his chest. His hand was firm on his raised ankle, Harrison gently pressing it back toward John’s head, working on improving his flexibility while the muscles were loose from a thorough workout. 

They were talking, sharing the moment of casual closeness between them. John had said something, and Harrison had laughed, a full, throaty sound that vibrated out of the alpha’s body like a tidal wave, rumbling into John from every point of contact between them. And the alpha smiled down at him, friendly, warm, maybe even affectionately?

All of those things came together, and that little piece of John that he had worked so hard to keep dormant sprang to life. Warmth blossomed in his belly, and the sweet smell of slick hit his nose as John felt the space between his cheeks dampen tellingly. 

One moment he was helping a friend out, giving him a hand like he had before. The next, he was being hit right where it hurt, between his thighs, by wayward limbs that scrambled about to get the man they belonged to up to his feet and as far away as possible. Maybe he stunk, maybe he was too sweaty. Whatever the reason, the alpha didn't care. He was too busy seated and curled into himself to pay anything other than the sickening agony at his groin any mind.

A few minutes and a flurry of curses later, he was seated on a nearby bench, catching his breath and willing the wooziness in his stomach away enough to be present enough to focus.

Maybe he had sweated too much, a drop or two falling from his body onto John's. They had always kept their contact to a minimum in the few short weeks they'd known each other, the beta shying away from anything more than a handshake or a hearty pat to the back. But that was normal, as far as Harrison could tell. There was no reason to worry, but the stubborn alpha in Harrison demanded an explanation, as well as an apology for the complete overreaction. He stepped carefully into the locker room, set on minimizing the jostling of his junk in the wake of his determination.

"John, what the fuck?" he confronted, tilting against cold tile, gluing his stare to the back of the man's head beneath running steaming, water. Looking elsewhere, especially at any other part of John's body, was incredibly dangerous. The alpha was just a man, after all, and staring the beta down who had a body like that was a trial he was sure would see him shamed, a line he couldn't bring himself to cross.

John was touching him just right and saying all the right things, but there was still a hint of worry that neither of them would shake until one, both, or neither of them climaxed.

And then the omega was slipping away, down past the edge of his bed and onto his knees, nestled comfortably in between the alpha’s splayed thighs. All Harrison could do was nod, which he did, until his limbs caught up with his brain and he was fumbling with the waist of his pants. He fumbled too much, and decided to work on his shirt instead. That was much easier.

He’d managed to get it over his shoulders and tangled over his eyes just as John yanked his sweatpants around his ankles. He was so close to being free, and in a surge of desperation, Harrison cursed and flung his pesky shirt somewhere it’d probably go forgotten.

“I-I…..” John tried not to gape, staring down at the glorious, thick, hard, perfect cock that sprung back to hit Harrison’s thigh with an audible, meaty thunk. John’s surprised look turned into one of mild offense.

“You’ve been keeping this from me for so long?” He asked, glancing up at Harrison’s face before his eyes were drawn inexorably back to that wonderful length.

Fuck, he wanted it inside him.

“We’ll just have to make up for lost time, then.” John grinned. He trailed warm, soft fingers up the lightly haired insides of Harrison’s thighs, until he could finally have the alpha’s cock in his grasp. He leaned in, guiding the ruddy tip to almost rest against his lips. The omega stared up at Harrison, and raised a dark eyebrow. “Let’s see what this thing can do.”

It was like the man was in a frenzy-- all moans and slurps and everything in between that sent trembles up the alpha's thighs. And all Harrison could do was flex every muscle in his body with tightly shut eyes, and hope that he wouldn't burst with overexcitement.

It wasn't long until Harrison was gasping, and pushing John back and away with harried panic.

"Wait! Stop--" He hunched over as the ebbing pleasure slowly subsided. When he could, the alpha sat back up, a little flushed, a little entranced.

“No, it’s not some ‘born again’ thing.” he grumbled, pushing John back with some of his own weight. “I’ve just been sticking to ‘waiting’, and before I knew it I was thirty and too embarrassed and…” Harrison shrugged in lieu of explaining further. His eyes were diverted away from the ones staring down at him, and his cheeks were flushed. He could blame that on the omega’s seduction.

Or at least in John’s experience, that’s how it went.

“This just means I don’t have to teach any bad habits out of you.” He said soothingly, running gentle fingers over pink cheeks and smiling encouragingly. “I bet you’ll be a natural, Har. For an alpha, it’s hard not to be.”

Okay, so that was a lie. John had been with more than his fair share of alphas who had just be bad at sex. Wicked combinations of virginity, bad porn as inspiration, too many drinks, and small cocks had come together to make quite a laundry list of men John would never fuck again, even if they were the last two people on earth.

God, he hoped it wouldn’t be the same with Harrison. He actually liked the big oaf.

A lot.

John was touching him just right and saying all the right things, but there was still a hint of worry that neither of them would shake until one, both, or neither of them climaxed.

And then the omega was slipping away, down past the edge of his bed and onto his knees, nestled comfortably in between the alpha's splayed thighs. All Harrison could do was nod, which he did, until his limbs caught up with his brain and he was fumbling with the waist of his pants. He fumbled too much, and decided to work on his shirt instead. That was much easier.

He'd managed to get it over his shoulders and tangled over his eyes just as John yanked his sweatpants around his ankles. He was so close to being free, and in a surge of desperation, Harrison cursed and flung his pesky shirt somewhere it'd probably go forgotten.

Not only had John completely dismiss the alpha’s explanation, but he had gone ahead with seducing at full force. And there wasn’t a goddamn thing Harrison could do to stop himself now.

Over the course of their young relationship, John had said his name at least a hundred times. Most times it was spoken in love or neutrality, sometimes in exasperation, a few times in curses. But the way John was saying it now, all low and damn near filthy, was a way Harrison had never, ever, heard– and a way that did things to him. That and the hands and the frotting and the sweetness in the air of course.

“M–Make me feel good?” he managed out, breathing in and out with shallow inhales and exhales. His chest had puffed out and his fingers clutched at ample flesh. For long moments all he did was watch the omega move in slow, deliberate sways that sent a heat pooling into the depths of the alpha’s gut. Until he was eventually tipping his hips back and forth against the lazy, wet friction and the short erection prodding at his stomach. “Yeah— Special– Enough– Oh fu—”

Harrison had never been more hard in his life. It was almost painful beneath the burgeoning weight, but the way John canted and rolled his hips, and the way his excitement had begun seeping into the front of his sweats and onto the flesh of his cock, it made it all worth it. Now, there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind over how the night would end. It was thinking about them getting there that made him freeze, look up with wide eyes, and blurt out the first thing that came to mind.

“Wait, what?” 

John paused mid grind, his expression somewhere between confusion and surprise. A virgin? But the alpha was, what, thirty something? How the hell was he still a virgin? That couldn’t be right.

"No, it's not some 'born again' thing." he grumbled, pushing John back with some of his own weight. "I've just been sticking to 'waiting', and before I knew it I was thirty and too embarrassed and..." Harrison shrugged in lieu of explaining further. His eyes were diverted away from the ones staring down at him, and his cheeks were flushed. He could blame that on the omega's seduction.

Harrison choked on a scoff. If only John knew, about the filthy, impure thoughts and urges the omega gave the alpha, and about why the alpha hadn’t put out.

He let himself smirk a little, a soft little twitch of his lips, as he settled into his position with a short, amused breath.

“I’m not disgusted with you, John. At all.” Harrison was close enough to reach out with a hand and touch the other’s knee. He did just that, making slow, smooth lines over fine brown hairs with the rough pad of his thumb. “I like making you feel good, it’s enough for me, it is. Call me old fashioned, but I just think if we wait before…”

Harrison’s attentions trailed off, and he clasped his hands back together with a weak threading of his fingers. His shoulders were tense, and he felt a his stomach tighten with a nervous twist.

The thumb on his knee was like igniting wildfire, stoking the heat still kindling in his gut higher and higher with each pass it made over the downy hairs there. John needed Harrison, and right now, he was ready to do whatever it took to have him. Because the alpha wasn’t disgusted. He just had some crackpot idea of ‘waiting’. 

Complete and utter bullshit. 

“Listen, Harrison.” John drawled, pushing aside the pillow that had been hiding his erection and the wet spot he left on the sheets. Hands and knees, he crawled over into the alpha’s lap, straddling him. He enveloped those wringing hands with his own, and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the alpha’s lips. 

“Maybe I want to make you feel good.” he crooned, peppering kisses along the alpha’s jawline as he settled fully into his lap, letting the slickness dripping down his taint dampen the fabric of Harrison’s sweatpants. “Did you think about that?” 

John took Harrison’s hands, placing them on his thighs as he started to make slow gyrations over the firm lump of alpha cock he was sitting on. His thighs flexed with each movement, and John guided Harrison’s hands up every inch of them until they settled on his ass.

Not only had John completely dismiss the alpha’s explanation, but he had gone ahead with seducing at full force. And there wasn’t a goddamn thing Harrison could do to stop himself now.

Over the course of their young relationship, John had said his name at least a hundred times. Most times it was spoken in love or neutrality, sometimes in exasperation, a few times in curses. But the way John was saying it now, all low and damn near filthy, was a way Harrison had never, ever, heard– and a way that did things to him. That and the hands and the frotting and the sweetness in the air of course.

“M–Make me feel good?” he managed out, breathing in and out with shallow inhales and exhales. His chest had puffed out and his fingers clutched at ample flesh. For long moments all he did was watch the omega move in slow, deliberate sways that sent a heat pooling into the depths of the alpha’s gut. Until he was eventually tipping his hips back and forth against the lazy, wet friction and the short erection prodding at his stomach. “Yeah— Special– Enough– Oh fu—”

Harrison had never been more hard in his life. It was almost painful beneath the burgeoning weight, but the way John canted and rolled his hips, and the way his excitement had begun seeping into the front of his sweats and onto the flesh of his cock, it made it all worth it. Now, there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind over how the night would end. It was thinking about them getting there that made him freeze, look up with wide eyes, and blurt out the first thing that came to mind.

Oddly enough, Harrison was never really one of those alphas. Sure he’d find a man handsome or a woman beautiful, but never enough to no-strings-attached screw.

He preferred relationships, the tenderness over complete lust, and the affection over empty promises to call sometime. Harrison like the security and the devotion, and the sweet, fulfilling reward that came from waiting long enough until ‘just sex’ meant making love.

Except he’d never made love, or had ‘just sex’. And nobody had ever made him want to do either than the awkwardly situated omega not 2 feet away from him.

A hissed “What?” was the alpha’s first reaction. His next was to fight a smirky chuckle that threatened to pick at John’s nerves even more than whatever it was he’d done.

“I do like it.” he said with exasperation and a roll of his eyes. “But you know what I’d like a lot better? If I got to actually have sex with you. It’s been months, and I haven’t even seen you naked. You’re not even down for some over the pants groping. Are you embarrassed? I can promise you size isn’t an issue, not from what I feel pressed up against my ass when we wake up together.”

No, size definitely wasn’t an issue. It hadn’t been long before the two were falling into bed together, or curling up on the couch. It was hard not to notice Harrison’s tool when John woke to it nestled happily in the crack of his ass, or trapped underneath the thigh the omega had thrown across Harrison’s lap. No, if anything, knowing how big it felt made the temptation all the more serious, and the denial all the more upsetting. 

Harrison choked on a scoff. If only John knew, about the filthy, impure thoughts and urges the omega gave the alpha, and about why the alpha hadn't put out.

He let himself smirk a little, a soft little twitch of his lips, as he settled into his position with a short, amused breath.

"I'm not disgusted with you, John. At all." Harrison was close enough to reach out with a hand and touch the other's knee. He did just that, making slow, smooth lines over fine brown hairs with the rough pad of his thumb. "I like making you feel good, it's enough for me, it is. Call me old fashioned, but I just think if we wait before..."

Harrison's attentions trailed off, and he clasped his hands back together with a weak threading of his fingers. His shoulders were tense, and he felt a his stomach tighten with a nervous twist.

It wasn’t taboo, but it was close enough.

When John found out his best friend was not only seeing someone, but seeing another alpha, he had to meet the man responsible.

It was a pack of men, really. A group of alphas, all tall, all handsome, all very very fuckable. But it was their alpha, the alpha of alphas, that John found himself going out of the way to be around. He went to every bar outing and back yard cook out they pack hosted, even going so far as to show up at Harrison’s auto shop claiming car problems and acting surprised when discovering the little cafe he’d gotten lunch from had accidentally doubled his order and would Harrison like a sandwich for his troubles?

Three months of increasing alone time later, and they realized they were pretty much dating already, so why not make it the real deal? Except Harrison was behaving…..oddly.

“No!” John gasped, forcing himself to roll away from the bearded lips at his neck and the thick fingers that had just slid inside his slick hole. He was hard, and panting, and so fucking ready for more, but there was Harrison.

In his sweats.

And a shirt.

Looking at John like he had no idea where he’d gone wrong.

Well, John was certainly going to let him know.

Oddly enough, Harrison was never really one of those alphas. Sure he'd find a man handsome or a woman beautiful, but never enough to no-strings-attached screw.

He preferred relationships, the tenderness over complete lust, and the affection over empty promises to call sometime. Harrison like the security and the devotion, and the sweet, fulfilling reward that came from waiting long enough until 'just sex' meant making love.

Except he'd never made love, or had 'just sex'. And nobody had ever made him want to do either than the awkwardly situated omega not 2 feet away from him.

A hissed "What?" was the alpha's first reaction. His next was to fight a smirky chuckle that threatened to pick at John's nerves even more than whatever it was he'd done.

The alpha reviewed John with tenderness. He kept their kiss chaste, like it was their first. Large, calloused hands wedged between them to cradle the the omega’s face, keep him in place as he pulled away. “No, I just make it easier.” Harrison’s face softened, and he wiped away the wetness on John’s cheeks that had mostly been smeared away on the side of his own neck. “C'mon,” The rough pad of a thumb swiped down across the pillows of of his lips, so the alpha could lean back down to taste John with one more kiss. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Threading his fingers between the omega’s, Harrison led him away with quiet steps and impressive gracefulness. The last thing they needed now was shrieking interruption started by a bump or two, especially John. But as they stumbled into the master bedroom, the alpha hoped less for sleep, and more for something a lot more intimate.

A fitting change of pace from the sex they’d had not a month ago, Harrison laid the omega down with as much carefulness as he would a babe. He followed suit in silence until John was settled back against pillows, and his hands were undoing the knot keeping the other’s robe tied closed.

John followed after Harrison like he was already half asleep, drawn forward only by the hand in his, and the mesmerizing flexes of the alpha’s ass beneath his jeans. Yes, with Harrison here, both babe and omega were in good hands. Harrison would give them exactly what they wanted.

But what did John want more? To give in to the siren call of sleep that tugged at his lids and dulled his reflexes to awkward half stumbles? Or to take the pleasure being offered in the soft swells of Harrison’s lips, and the dark pools of his eyes?

John watched the alpha with slow, lazy eyes as deft fingers tugged the belt of his robe from the knot he’d tied it in the night before. Harrison parted the folds of terry cloth so tenderly, slowly exposing bare chest and loose shorts. In desperation John had even stood in the shower with the squalling babe on his chest, hoping the warm water on Noah’s tiny back might soothe him. An hour later the omega was barely bothering to dress before slipping behind the wheel of the car.

His body answered for him. 

He kissed him soft and hard all at once. Lips hungry, tongue bold, the alpha claimed him with a passion that pressed John into the cushion of the pillows beneath him, and tightened the hold soft hands had on the loose cotton of his shirt.

Harrison eased up when he remembered to breathe, soothing a hand down the curve of one of the thighs squeezing the narrow span of his waist past the hem of cotton boxers.

“If you don't want this," Harrison rose on his knees, crawling backwards, hooking fingers beneath the elastic and slipping John's shorts free from his body. "stop me now."

If the omega made any noise, Harrison didn't hear it. His full focus was set on something more important, something warmer, something sweeter.

Lowering himself flat against the mattress, Harrison's lips worked a path over the soft flesh of John's inner thighs as he stalked up into the space between his legs. His arms hooked themselves under muscle, yanking the omega down once in a quick show of dominance and eagerness.

Breath hot and eyes black, Harrison didn't bother bending John in any which way. He pressed into the apex of those thighs, staring up to gauge every one the man's reactions, wrapping thick fingers around his hardening cock. And as his nose burrowed into the warm crevice beneath soft, tense sack and his tongue crept out to finally taste, the alpha was tugged back by a sharp ring from the doorbell, and a broken pattern of a knock.