#naturalfic

Chapter 28 will contain the following....

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Pairing: Walter Marshall x reader x August Walker (yes, really.)

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, male masturbation, fingering, p-in-v sex, shower sex, ongoing vampire shenanigans, haematophilia (that's a blood fetish, people.), (hence unsurprisingly) lots of blood, paranormal voyeurism, regular voyeurism, exhibitionism, taunting August (bad idea, probably), (light?) predator/prey dynamic, elements of D/s dynamic, praise kink, hair pulling, some light spanking, spitroasting, mentions of (something resembling) subspace, the guys being fucking idiots (because why not), deepthroating, double facial...

“Dr. Bekker!”

Ava looks to Latham and nods in acknowledgement, knows she’ll get an earful for using command later, but what matters now is that Connor isn’t arguing with her. Instead, he seems almost stricken, like a deer in the headlights. Or maybe a doe is a better comparison. There’s a softness to him, an innocence almost. It hits her then, that she might be able to change him if she’s patient. Get Connor to fall into his role as an Omega, stop being so combative and bratty. She commanded him once, and it’s like a switch has been flipped. She has reading to do now, research, and before she knows it she might be able to actually get him to resign.

It occurs to her all of a sudden that Connor would make a good mate if she could just get him to realize the natural order of things. He’s smart, and she can practically taste that he’s fertile, and what a thing it would be to come home and see Connor finishing up a meal for her. Smiling at her. And eventually, with a kit balanced on his hip or clinging to his legs. She wants that. Every single Omega she’s met hasn’t been good enough, but Connor would be perfect if she could just get him out of work.

He’s close to demure now, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes, doing as is expected of him without arguing, and when he reaches time to stitch up, instead of asking for thread, he looks to Ava. She gets to make the call. And she does, closes up the patient, and then they’re finished, and Connor is still standing there like a lost child unsure what to do with himself. 

“Connor,” she says softly, reaching for him, checking to see if he’ll flinch away or not. “The surgery is over. The patient is okay. We did a good job.”

He nods.

The command must still be in effect if he’s not talking. Right. She told him to do as she says and be quiet, and that’s what he’s doing, like a good Omega. She has half a mind to kiss him over it, but instead she just cups his cheek gently. Although he doesn’t lean away, he doesn’t lean into it.

“It’s alright, you can speak now,” she says, effectively lifting the command.

He immediately backs away from her and leaves the OR, a faint scent of distress trailing after him that Ava only picks up on because she spends so much time around him. Usually he keeps good control of his scent. She very much would like to follow him, see where he winds up, but before she can, Latham is right beside her.

“Dr. Bekker, once you’ve cleaned up, I would like you to come to my office. We need to speak about what happened.”

“Of course.”

Time for a reprimand. He’ll remind her that it’s against policy to use command on hospital property, tell her not to do it again, and ask her to apologize, which means she gets an excuse to track Connor down, talk to him, get him alone. She shouldn’t before she does a little research, but she will.

She doesn’t rush, stripping off her gloves and gear, or letting her hair out of its bun because Connor had told her once that it looks prettier down. It isn’t like Latham would care, but she feels a little better knowing that she’s doing something that he would like. It’s one of the first steps in building at least a little more of a connection between them. 

Latham is already in his office, looking at something on his computer when Ava knocks as she opens the door. All she can think about is Connor. Where he might’ve gone, what he might be thinking, who he’s gone to for comfort. Eventually, he’ll come to her, not run from her. This is a first step. But first, Latham. An obstacle. 

“Dr. Bekker, you do understand we don’t allow command at this hospital, especially in delicate situations like surgery. Policy dictates that, depending on the situation, this be punishable by suspension or possibly dismissal.”

Right. That. Ava never liked that policy. “I didn’t mean to command him, I swear. It was… an instinct in the heat of the moment when I felt the patient was in danger.”

“Meaning?”

“I don’t believe I deserve to be punished for commanding Dr. Rhodes.”

“Ah. Maybe we can evaluate what to do next after I’ve spoken with Dr. Rhodes, and have gotten his opinion. In the meanwhile-” Latham clicks around his screen a few times, “-he is off CT for the rest of his shift, and will be working in trauma. I’m going to ask that you leave him be, barring an emergency, but that the next time you two do interact, please apologize.”

“Of course.”

He dismisses her, then, and Ava goes straight to the doctor’s lounge to pull up her phone and look for articles. Her first bet is anything for dealing with traumatized Omegas. If she had to describe Connor in one word, it might be that one. Improperly cared for by his father, feeling abandoned for years, constantly trying to prove himself while having no intimate personal connections. In all reality, he needs her, because he can’t be taking care of himself if there’s no one to hold him when he’s distressed, to stroke his scent glands when he’s having a bad day, to kiss him when he cries. 

Everything she looks at tells her to give Connor space, let him move at his own pace, but that’s not going to work. She’s let him do whatever he wants for months, and it’s done nothing. He needs her to do the work for him to make sure he’s alright. But that means more in depth research than a phone search, so she’ll have to go in depth on her computer after her shift.

For some reason, his nose is hit with the stinging odor of bleach, and he isn’t sure why. He doesn’t own any, and the building policy is to post a notice before using strong smelling chemicals, so it can’t be one of the neighbors. Before he can start to investigate, something bangs against his door, fast and frantic. Will grabs his bat before opening it, only to see Connor there, cheeks flushed, the skin on his neck and wrists irritated, raw- chemical burns. Undiluted bleach that he reeks of, covering his natural scent.

“Help me, please. I have to hide…”

Will has an obligation to call the cops, to bring Connor back to Bekker, but he’s not going to. He wouldn’t dare. He glances around the hallway and, once he sees it’s clear, pulls Connor inside. His scent is so absent, covered by the bleach- it was smart, almost. Now he can’t be tracked. But he has chemical burns. At least he doesn’t have internal injuries, according to the hospital records Will couldn’t resist looking at just to be sure that Connor was okay.

“You could’ve hurt yourself, doing this.”

Connor shakes his head. To say that he’s fine, or that it doesn’t matter, Will can’t tell. The only thing he brought with him is a small bag that feels like it’s full of fabric- clothes. Not Connor’s, because they weren’t staying there, so they must be Bekker’s. It makes sense, he supposes. Connor has a mate whether he likes it or not, and he’ll need her scent for his own health until he can get the bond severed. If he ever can. There are experimental procedures, but they don’t always succeed in separating mates.

Will’s getting ahead of himself. “I’ll put this in my closet, and then we’ll talk, okay?” he asks, taking the bag off Connor’s shoulder. “You can’t stay forever. Everyone at the hospital, they’ll be able to smell you on me once that bleach starts to fade. Especially because I know you’re still in heat, Connor, even if I can’t smell it.”

“No, I uh- I…” he waves a hand near his neck, and all Will smells is the bleach, none of Connor’s incredible usual scent. “I kept pouring it, over and over. They’re uh, I made sure they can’t work anymore.”

He tilts his head to the side, revealing the burn on his bite mark too. Jesus. “Connor, if- I need to take you to the hospital. If they really can’t, then there’s a lot of damage, and you need antibiotics, you need to be looked at, evaluated-”

“No hospital, they’ll send me back. Just- can’t you help me?”

Anything Connor will ask like that, looking at Will with those big blue eyes, he’ll give to him. He can’t stop himself. “Okay, okay. I’ve got gauze, I’ll put bandages on you, then we’ll talk. C’mon, the bathroom’s this way.”

It’s strange, driving Will insane to not be able to smell Connor anymore. He’s used to being able to practically taste him, but the chemicals instead of the sweetness when he knows Connor is right here is short-circuiting his brain. He has to squeeze his eyes shut and take a deep breath that just smells like bleach.

“There were better ways-”

“No.” Connor grabs Will’s arm tightly, digs his fingers in. “Not from her. I did what I had to, and- and I know you’ll help me. You helped me before.”

“You realize this is the first place she’ll look.”

“It doesn’t matter-”

Although it seems like Connor had more to say, his words evaporate into a shiver and his brows draw together. Without the scent, it’s easy to forget. Connor’s still in the middle of heat, and he’s here, running away from his Alpha. He’s hurting right now, needs to be taken care of.

“I’ll patch you up, and you can nest in my closet, for now. We’ll figure this out, okay?”

He helps Connor hop up on the counter and digs out his first aid supplies from under the counter. Mostly it’s off brand band-aids, but he has a roll of gauze and a few cotton pads. He’s as careful as he can manage, pressing a pad to each of Connor’s burned scent glands and winding the gauze around his neck. Other than the burns, his skin is smooth and soft. Will wants to kiss him. Groom him. But he can’t do either of those things, he reminds himself as he puts a knee-sized bandaid over the burned bite mark on the crook of his neck. Then he moves on to the wrists, noting the little purple marks that are probably from Bekker. Will doesn’t stay there long, just wraps up the best he can and steps back.

“Anywhere else?”

“I can take care of it myself-”

“Connor.”

Connor takes a deep breath and spreads his legs, lifts the edge of the hospital gown he’s still wearing so Will can see that he burned the scent glands on his inner thighs. He could tell Connor to handle this himself, but that’s not the sort of Alpha Will is, and when he kneels between Connor’s legs, he can just barely smell the heat on him again, can definitely smell the slick. Not for the first time, he’s caught in a moment of wanting to do more than just help. He wants to touch, to claim.

“Okay. Just lift your leg up a little, I’ll do your left first.”

Will carefully places the pad in place and begins to wrap the gauze, careful not to let his hand brush anything it shouldn’t. Connor deserves better than that. He’s cautious and methodical until it’s time to switch to the other side. As soon as he lets go of one leg, however, it curls around his waist and Connor’s foot digs into the small of his back. He doesn’t say anything, just focuses on the other, but when he’s done, the other joins and he finds himself pulled flush to the counter with Connor’s legs around him and then his arms around Will’s neck, and there’s no space between them. Will’s struggling to smell more than the bleach, and he just barely catches the hint of the slick, maybe because he knows it’s there now, or maybe because his hand brushed against some when he was bandaging Connor’s second leg.

“Connor…”

“Alpha,” Connor answers, tilting his head just slightly to the side. Not submissive, but curious. Teasing. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

He has. Will’s thought about it, thought about giving in to what comes naturally and making Connor feel good, giving him anything he could want. Taking care of him like a real Alpha should. Kissing his lips until they’re swollen, and rubbing his scent on every inch of Connor’s body, and letting a hand come up between them to touch Connor and see if his pleased moans are as high pitched as his frightened whimpers.

But right now’s a bad time. Will needs to be rational, for both of them, even though Connor’s lips start to skim his cheek. He leans away, pushes Connor’s legs down, off of his hips. 

“Connor, right now…”

“Please?”

Connor’s hands cup Will’s face, one of his thumbs stroking along his bottom lip, and his eyes seem so big and sad and empty, and Will wants to just fill him with as much love as he can hold, but it isn’t that simple. Even if Connor wants him, and there’s enough slick on the counter for Will to coat his whole body in, Connor legally and physically belongs to someone else, and he’s in no position right now to be making any decisions like that. It would be easier to do as Connor says, but no. Will can’t. Even with the hands on his cheeks, the soft lips pouting at him. He wants. But he can’t have.

All Will can think about is why someone would say that, why someone would think he would ever hurt Connor. That’s the last thing he’d ever intend to do, especially when Connor had come to him seeking comfort and safety. Right now, he should be in the ED, taking care of patients and keeping an eye across the room on his coworker, but instead he’s here, wondering if he’s going to be suspended over something he didn’t even do. And Will’s the type of Alpha who believes victims, honestly. But he knows Connor didn’t report this, and that he didn’t do anything wrong.

“I believe you, and not this report. But it is protocol that I investigate. So tell me what happened, and then I’ll interview Dr. Rhodes myself. If you didn’t do anything wrong, you have nothing to worry about. So just sit down and talk to me.”

Will forces himself into a seat, schools his voice as calm as he can manage, and goes through the whole thing from the beginning. Connor coming into the ED and acting strangely, and then how he pulled Will aside for comfort, and asked to be marked. He tells her that Ava had commanded Connor- which she responds to by emailing Dr. Latham- and all he did was try to protect someone he cares about. And he explains how Connor pushed him away at first too, but only because he was already on edge, and that he came right back and then asked to be protected. Will just wants him to be safe. 

“Okay. You can wait outside while I talk to Dr. Rhodes.”

He gets out of the chair faster than he could have ever thought, practically throws himself out of the room, and sees Connor standing just outside, leaning against the wall. Ever so slightly, he bares his throat to Will again, dosing him with his scent. It washes over in a wave of serenity, stealing his anxiety as Connor walks in to see Goodwin. They're only in there together for a few minutes before the door swings open and Will sweeps back in to the soundtrack of Connor's shoes on the floor and the slight tug of a capable hand grabbing his lab coat for the second time today. Holding. Clinging. Needing. It pokes at Will's instincts to cradle Connor close to his body and claim him. 

"Like I told you, Will, I believed you. The report is clearly a misunderstanding. But in the future, be more careful about public affection, okay?"

"Of course, Mrs. Goodwin," Will says immediately.

Connor only responds by nodding and pressing his face against Will's sleeve. Inhaling slow and deep. Smelling, using it to self-soothe, and that feels like victory. Connor wants him. When they leave her office, they’re still close together and Will can smell himself all over Connor’s body at this close range and he wonders, suddenly, what it would be like to truly lay down with him and bond with him, be given the chance to love him.

He doesn’t say as much, though maybe it’s visible on his face anyways because Connor smiles at him bright and perfect and kisses his shoulder. Something about that gives Will the courage to wrap an arm around Connor properly and keep him close. He has this urge to mark Connor again, to refresh the scent and make it glaringly obvious no matter where in the hospital one is that Connor is claimed and off limits.

But the thing is, Will doesn’t have a claim to him, and this whole thing, it’s just so Connor feels a little safer in light of Bekker having commanded him, which in of itself isn’t that much of a sign of interest. He can only have this today. He has to enjoy it before it’s gone, and takes the offer when Connor leads him into a supply closet and bares his throat again to be marked. Will doesn’t hesitate to take the chance he’s offered. He kisses along his jaw, bites gently once or twice, and then dips his head to rub his cheek against Connor’s stubble. He wants them to smell the same. Wants people to think they’re courting.

Will wants to court him.

He’d never admit it, certainly not to Connor, but he loves the idea of having the privilege to kiss him all the time, buying him dinner, taking care of him the way an Alpha should. Too many people would want Connor to quit his job to become the ideal mate, but Will doesn’t think that way. Connor would be miserable. And he deserves to be able to choose what he wants, to keep working if he wants to instead of being relegated to a human incubator that does the cooking and cleaning. That wouldn’t be Will taking care of his mate, but expecting him to be a servant. Really taking care of him would mean sometimes, Will does the cooking. It would mean cleaning up when Connor is sick or tired or just having a bad day. It would mean tucking him into bed and helping him wash his hair and marking him every morning before work and helping him cook breakfast on Sunday mornings and giving him his everything. People don’t always understand what it really means to care for an Omega. And maybe that’s the only thing Will has that could help him if he really wanted to court Connor.

“Alpha,” Connor whines, and Will jerks back, dropping his grip on Connor’s hips that he didn’t realize he had.

“Connor? Connor, hey, what-”

His nose catches it. A hint of slick. A hint of heat. Not here yet, but close, and clearly brought nearer to the surface. Will takes an instinctive step back and raises his hands like a surrender. If Connor’s close, it means he probably can’t consent to anything, and Will refuses to do anything that he isn’t one hundred percent certain Connor wants. He isn’t that kind of Alpha.

“I’m sorry. It just happens- I’ve been on suppressants for like- for like five years,” Connor says, and his voice is breathy in a way that worms beneath Will’s skin and sparks heat in his cheeks. “Haven’t had a heat since. Sometimes my body just does that, and it’s an instinct- I didn’t mean to say that. I’m sorry."

Will waves a hand dismissively and cups Connor’s cheek. “It’s okay. But five years, Connor…”

“My GP knows. It’s all good. But if this means you don’t wanna mark me today, I get it.”

No, that’s not an issue. It’s the furthest thing from an issue. Will shuts his eyes and inhales deeply, savors the crisp scent of Connor’s slick, even if it feels a little empty without arousal to back it and give weight to what it could mean. There’s nothing real here, Will reminds himself.

“It’s not your fault. Just maybe take a few minutes before you come back to work?”

Connor nods, and they separate a little more as they leave the closet. His scent is cloying, heavy, almost too intense where it burns in Will’s usually under-sensitive nose. Being able to smell this so strongly feels like a miracle.

“Take my jacket home,” Will says, before he can stop himself. “My shift is a couple hours  longer, but this way, you’ll be good for tomorrow. If you want that, of course.”

“I’d love that.”

He lifts up on his toes just enough to kiss Will’s cheek and breaks away to go wash his hands and wipe himself down a little so he can go back to work, while Will just heads straight back to check on his patients and look at their results. In truth, his job barely touches his thoughts when he can still see and smell Connor for the majority of the day. He sees him getting ready to leave, holding Will’s jacket to his face, and feels warm inside and secure when he turns his full attention to a woman riding in on a gurney out of an ambulance. 

By the time his own shift is over and Will goes to the doctor’s lounge, he sees his jacket crumpled on the table. He picks it up like a fragment of glass, like it’ll hurt him, and lifts it to his face. It smells like Connor, but the scent is stale. Something’s wrong.

The truth is, she’s probably right. Connor’s never liked being talked down to, being handled with kid gloves, and no matter what, Will’s concern might fall through, and that could make things worse. He knows, better than anyone, what could happen if he and Connor get in a bad argument on what’s clearly already a bad day for him. 

So he does his job, cares for his patients, and when there’s a dull moment some twenty minutes later, he and Connor wind up both in the nurse station, Will drinking water and Connor looking through the past medical records of his patient. For a moment, Will just looks at him. The curve of his back as he leans down to look, the way he leans more on his left leg and keeps his right bent, the bright light reflecting on his eyes. Beautiful. That’s the only word to describe him.

The elevator pings, and Connor looks up before Will does. Then, in a heartbeat, his hand is on Will’s back and Connor’s pushing him toward a treatment room where a patient is currently sleeping while they wait for the results of their last round of panels and scans. As soon as they stop walking, Connor grabs a fistful of his coat, holds close enough for his scent to be borderline overwhelming. It’s good. Intoxicating. Every instinct in Will’s body is screaming at him to do something. Kiss him, mark him, croon, do something or anything to get more of that scent and fix whatever’s upsetting him.

“Connor, what’s going on?”

Connor’s cheek dimples in. He’s chewing on it again, the way he does when he’s nervous or unsure, and Will has the urge to tell him to stop. “I don’t want her near me right now.”

“Who?” Glancing out into the main area, Will scans for anyone who wasn’t there before Connor pulled him away, and his eyes land on Bekker, leaning against the counter and chatting with Monique. “Dr. Bekker? Did- did she do something to you?”

He won’t answer, but he does pull on Will’s coat a little to bring him closer. Will can’t help wrapping an arm around him, and his body is warm, solid. Holding him, it feels like the most natural thing in the world, and the thing is, he doesn’t want to let Connor go. Not now. Not ever. He can’t help rubbing his back a little too, and burying his face in soft dark hair that smells like hibiscus shampoo. 

“Whatever happened, you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Connor jumps back. Rips Will’s hand off him. Drops his coat. “You’ve ‘got me?’ I’m not an object, nor am I your patient.”

“I didn’t mean it that way-”

“Doesn’t matter. Just…” Connor looks back out of the room. Will does too, and Bekker is still standing there talking to Monique, but he swears, for a moment she locks eyes with him. “Stay here with me until she goes away.”

And Will has to ask. “On the condition you tell me what happened.”

Hesitation rolls off Connor in waves, travels down his spine and bites into his scent. He doesn’t want to say it, and maybe Will shouldn’t hold safety over his head to make him, but it’ll help so much just to know. And he must admit, it’ll stroke his ego to get to feel even more like a protector, part of that desire to be the Alpha his father always said he couldn’t.

“She commanded me during a surgery.”

It’s disturbingly easy to imagine. The heavy cadence of her words dipping lower, Connor being forced to do whatever she said. He must’ve been so scared, so upset. No wonder he wants away from her. Independence is important to Connor in a way Will sometimes thinks he understands, but realizes in rational moments that he can never truly know the way it feels  to have his own free will ripped from him in a moment’s notice.

So of course Will nods and pulls Connor close again, holds him and wants more than anything to brush his lips along Connor’s jaw, brush against the scent glands, make him smell claimed and protected so maybe Ava will back off. He won’t, though. That’s not what Connor wants or needs. 

“Are you afraid of her?”

He doesn’t get an answer, but Connor doesn’t pull away, and that’s something. He allows himself to be held, and doesn’t say or do anything to indicate he’d like it all to stop. His body is so warm, so real, so perfect. A thought wonders in Will’s mind of holding Connor in bed like this.

After a few minutes, Bekker gives up and leaves the ED, meaning they’re done here. Will says as much, but it still takes a long moment for Connor to actually pull away and look up with something strange in his eyes. Slowly, he tilts his head to the side, baring his neck in an undoubtedly submissive gesture, and looks up with his lips slightly parted. It’s the sort of thing that Will has dreamed about for a long time and, faced with it, isn’t entirely sure what to do.

“Connor?”

“I’m thinking it’ll make her back off, at least for now. So, please.”

And he’d do anything Connor asks, especially when he says please in that almost breathless tone. Will bows his head, gives himself a brief moment just to kiss at the area before angling his own head to the side. Rubs his face against Connor’s neck and throat, coats him in his own scent in a way that has a primal part of Will so fucking happy he can barely stand it. His. His Omega. Connor feels safe with him. Then he does the other side, and when he pulls away, he can practically taste Connor’s scent on his tongue. A neat little side effect- they both smell like each other now. Like there’s something real and good between the two of them. More than anything, Will wants that. But if this is the closest he’ll get, he’ll take it. 

“Back to work, then,” Connor says.

There’s weight in his voice, but Will might be imagining it. He nods, and the two of them exit the treatment room. It’s impossible not to watch the way he moves, the way he laughs. His scent is clinging to Will’s own throat and hands, mollifying his leftover frustration at Ava.

All the same, an hour later of glancing at Connor and concentrating on his smell, Goodwin approaches with her face set and a sour tinge to her usually soothing, almost herbal scent. “Dr. Halstead, you need to come with me right now.”

His has to be about Connor and Ava. It’s technically frowned upon for Will to have marked him like that at work, and it would be obvious to anyone that he did, but it’s not against the rules, hasn’t affected patient care, and was absolutely to protect him. If he explains that, there shouldn’t be any issues. All of it’s going through his head so quickly that he doesn’t come back down to reality until he’s standing across from Goodwin at her desk.

“I received a complaint that you were behaving inappropriately with Dr. Rhodes.”

His chest aches. He can still smell Connor all over him. “I… what? He asked me if I would mark him, said it would make him feel safer today-”

When Connor pushes Halstead away, and she can smell that he’s upset, suddenly not as submissive like he had been earlier, something like pride. He knows that he doesn’t belong to Halstead, and on some level, he knows that Ava is the Alpha he should answer to. The way he reacted to her command, it was so beautiful, so right. Connor is beautiful, she thinks. He’s proportioned perfectly, hard angles and soft edges in the right places. If she ever has kits with him, they’ll be so gorgeous and smart. They’ll be perfect.

But then Halstead is touching him again, and he’s at Connor’s throat, and she knows he’s marking him. Laying a claim on what isn’t his. Ava has a vivid thought, for just a second, of grabbing Will by the throat and slamming his head into the wall until he can’t even look at Connor anymore, let alone manage to lift a hand towards him.

“Dr. Bekker, are you okay?”

Right. She was listening to the young nurse who keeps making goo-goo eyes at Halstead. Maybe she’d do some good for him, get him to focus on an Omega that doesn’t belong to someone else.

“I have something to attend to,” Ava says, and turns on her heel. She can file a complaint anonymously about Halstead, about how he dared to pretend that he’s anyone worth Connor’s time. Of course Connor didn’t want that. Halfway down the hall, she’s already on her phone, pulling up the complaint form on the hospital website. She knows exactly how to fill one out, make sure it’s seen and addressed right away, get Halstead as far away from Connor as possible, even if she can’t pull Connor from the emergency department right now.

It only takes a couple of minutes. By the time she’s back where she should be for her rounds, the report has been sent in, and soon they’ll be pulling Halstead away and ensuring he won’t be anywhere near Connor anymore. Trying to take him away. He has no right, absolutely no right to go near what’s hers.

By the time she gets back to her rounds, nurses are giving her a wide berth because  they spend enough time around her to tell she’s angry, and that just pisses her off more. She’s not an Omega. She’s not Connor. She should be able to control herself. Ava takes a slow deep breath, forces herself to control her scent, and heads in to see the first of her patients. 

Her shift goes slow, but quickly at the same time. She performs more surgeries. She checks on her patients. She does her job. And when she’s released for the time being, she goes down to the ED where Connor is standing in the doctor’s lounge, pressing his nose into the collar of his jacket with his eyes shut. When Ava steps a little closer, she can smell the cologne on the fabric and its combination with the scent of the owner. Halstead’s jacket. More than anything, she wants to rip it off him. Instead, she raps her fist against the door frame.

“Connor?”

He jumps, rips his face away from the collar like he knows he shouldn’t be doing that. He knows he doesn’t belong to Halstead, whatever that doctor would like to think, and he recognizes who he should really be looking to. His head tips back, just a little. She’s never seen him do that to her. Be submissive to her. It makes her entire body hum.

“I am really, genuinely sorry about what happened, Connor. It was a high stress moment, we were in the middle of a surgery- I didn’t mean to. You understand, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” he says, but he leans back on one foot and averts his eyes. Once again, he’s deferring to her, avoiding challenging her. But he’s nervous about it, and she needs to be careful here because he isn’t entirely ready yet to admit that he needs her to take care of him. “Is that all, or…”

Ava can’t help herself. She’s not ready to abandon him yet today. “I’d like to buy you a drink as an apology. Just the one.”

For too long, his eyes flit between her lips and his own hands, but he finally nods and, after a moment’s hesitation, shrugs out of Halstead’s jacket to leave it on the couch in the lounge. Then he comes closer and falls into an easy step behind her, his hips swaying slightly with each step, but not in an exaggerated way designed to get attention. He knows his body is enough on its own. 

She can’t wrap an arm around his waist all the way, but she does place a hand on his lower back, just between his hips as they walk out together. His body is warm, and the close contact forged by her touch lets her smell him better. If she concentrates, really concentrates, she can tell that he’s probably approaching a heat. He hasn’t had one since she got here, a long time even on suppressants, so it makes sense it would be close, and the scent works its way through her body like a slow pull of heroin in her blood. Her fingertips are burning. How badly would he take it so soon, she wonders, if she dug her thumbs into the tender space on the inside of his hip bones to see how slick it makes him. It would smell good, taste better. But this early, this soon, she has to admit that he would likely react poorly.

He has a sports car, she knows, even though Ava takes the train. It’s easy to spot, and she holds out her hands for his keys when he shoves his hand into his pocket to find them. Connor pauses again.

“I’ll drive. You’re tired, and I want to make up for earlier. Please.”

Before he decides, she plucks the keys from his hand and goes over to the car, sliding herself into the front seat and adjusting it for her shorter legs. The leather is supple, comfortable. A little cold. She flicks the seat warmer on, and does the same for the passenger seat as Connor buckles himself in. When the heat comes on, she angles all the vents toward him, because it’s her job to take care of him, and he’s an Omega. He gets cold easier than she does. 

When they get home, Ava leads Connor to bed, and he lets her. Doesn’t make a joke or anything, doesn’t try to fight back, just goes. There’s something in his eyes, though. Something still sharp and firm, beneath this temporary compliance. And she knows it’s temporary, because she knows Connor. At some point, he’s going to argue with her again, refuse to submit, but the difference is that he’s hers now, and there’s nothing he can do about it. The bite mark on his neck cements it. He hasn’t claimed her back yet, but things have been hectic. They can get to that today, as she cares for him during his heat.

“I put in your resignation while we were there,” she says, settling on top of him and watching his chest heave. “So you don’t have to worry about it.”

She leans down to groom the scent of the hospital off him, but he won’t bare his neck. He just stares at her, and his scent, beneath disinfectant and hers, is irritated, There’s going to be an adjustment period, she knows that, but it doesn’t mean that he gets to ignore his place, especially when she knows he’s in heat right now. It’s simmering beneath his skin. This is one of those moments that he should want to give up control for his Alpha, not resist her.

Ava growls and grabs his chin, forces him to tilt his head back so she can groom him, even though it’s clear he’s resisting. It’s stupid and pointless. She’s his Alpha, and if she decides to groom him, he doesn’t have the authority to do anything about it. With his throat bared for her, she’s able to groom him, nip at his jaw, lose herself in his scent the way he should lose himself in hers. But he’s just laying there and looking at her, even as his body and scent are starting to go haywire in need of an Alpha to help him through his heat.

“Connor, relax.”

He obeys physically, but his face remains the same. Upset. Angry. She doesn’t get it. He’s hers now, he should be relaxing into his role, but he won’t. He just looks at her like he doesn’t want to be here, and he shouldn’t be resisting his instincts. With Halstead gone, everything should be fine now, but it’s not, because Connor won’t stop acting like this even though she’s claimed him and gotten him alone. He was so submissive for her last night, was a good Omega in the ED, but now he’s being too confrontational and strong willed again, and it’s ruining everything.

She grabs his hips and presses down again, to remind him where he is and what his job is. He’s an Omega. Her Omega. And he’s in heat. He should be begging her to take care of him, not refusing to submit like they’re back at the beginning of this. In three days, she thought she broke him, but apparently not. She has the time, though. He can’t go anywhere without her now. She owns him. He needs to get over himself and realize that there’s no point playing coy anymore. 

“It’s okay, Omega,” she says, as gently as she can manage. “You can submit. You’ve got nothing to prove.”

He has the audacity to growl at her- or at least the closest approximation he can manage, because he’s a fucking Omega and not an Alpha, and he needs to act like it. Ava bites him again, not as deep as when she claimed him, but enough for it to hurt and bleed some and get him to go limp and give her such wide, frightened eyes. Back to the way he was last night. The way he should be.

“Good,” she coos, and runs her hands over Connor’s body. Lithe and well kept. Strong. She could fill him with kits right now. Breed him. “Just relax, Omega.”

But then her phone goes off, and she forgot she was on call. She picks it up, reads the message, and knows they’ll call, next. Jesus. Ava sits up properly and taps out a response.

“I’ll be back in a bit. Could be six hours, could be twelve. Be good, and if you need me, I’ve got my phone or you know the hospital number. Anything in the house, you can have.” She cups his face and he turns away. “Be good, be safe, Omega.”

He doesn’t answer her.

It still stands though, that Connor can’t leave, and nothing too bad can happen while she’s at work. It’s that thought she clings to as she pulls on a clean pair of scrubs, as she keeps smelling the air for his delicious scent, as she ties her shoes and wonders if she should bring him home another soft blanket after her shift. He’d like that, she thinks.

For her entire shift, she’s thinking about him, about coming home to her Omega because she finally has one, even if he’s still somewhat a work in progress. Everyone at the hospital can smell him on her, and she knows they know. He’s hers. Latham nods at her, says to extend his best wishes to Connor. Most of the nurses congratulate her, tell her they were wondering if Connor would ever be able to set down. And she’s proud of that, knowing that she’s done something no one else could, and that she’s able to take care of him the way he deserves.

On the way back to her apartment, she even goes by the store again. Another soft blanket for Connor, something quick he can eat, and a thing of ice cream she can imagine he’d like. Strawberry, with little frozen chunks inside. It seems like the sort of thing he’d enjoy. She can’t stop smiling because hey, maybe the day allowed him to calm down, and she can breed him, let him claim her back, cement that he’s safe to follow his instincts here.

“I’m back,” she calls through the doorway, but something’s wrong.

For one, the bleach is sitting on the counter, open, its scent mingling with Connor’s. His scent that’s stale. Hours old. Not fresh anymore. 

“Connor? Omega? This isn’t funny.”

She goes to her room first, and it’s clear he hasn’t been there in hours either. Or in the bathroom. Or in the closet. Or anywhere in the apartment. He’s gone, even though he belongs to her, and she sees red. Well. She sees a red overlay on an image of Connor tied to the bed so he can’t run away from her again, so he can learn how to be a good Omega.