You and Ada hadn’t left off on a good note. Not to say that the way she left you before you woke up, but this time had been especially sour. You’d been awake, for starters.

She’d slipped out of bed and smooth as silk and gotten dressed while you decided whether or not to continue pretending to sleep. Being upset about it felt unfair, after all Ada had never once suggested that this was anything more than sexual. What did it matter that she left at the crack of dawn. You estimated how long she’d be gone until the next time, if it was anything like last time it’d be at the very least 2 months.

“Keep safe.” You heard before the door shuts.

Half whispered, half said but Ada doesn’t do anything not necessary. She knew you were awake, it just didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things to her.

Your feet had already dragged themselves out of your bed before you realised what you were doing, carrying you out the bedroom. She was already by the door, coffee in hand, another sitting on the table. You didn’t remember her leaving the bedroom, but there was so much that went unspoken and unnoticed when it came to you both.

“Where are you going this time?”

A casual question that fell flat somewhere in between your raspy morning voice and that edge of hurt that you couldn’t quite conceal.

“You know I can’t say.” Her voice felt cold, detached as her eyes, focused on the mug on the counter, as she pulled something out of her purse.

“I don’t want it.” You snapped. Whatever it was; a necklace, designer shoes, whatever your mouse had hovered on while online shopping, it wouldn't be enough. It was never enough. To breach that gap left gaping in your chest - ribcage peeled open - wings fluttering like those butterflies on her dress.

The only response she gave was the slight quirk of her eyebrow. Her hand lifted as if to bring it out still, then came out empty. Her lips pressed together silently.

Nothing was guaranteed. This could be the last time. How was it you always seemed to end up on the short end of this arrangement.

You opened your mouth to tell her not to come back, but something else entirely came out.

"I hope it's worth it." Bitter and clinging to your tongue like bad wine. You would drink in her presence like wine, if only it didn't leave you the same, disoriented and lost. Each time.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, looking at you properly. Likely scanning the fresh hurt on your face.

"This is just sex."

"Just say it is Ada. Say it's worth it, the money, the job."

You watched the tilt of her head with your heart pounding out of your chest. What did it mean to her? What was it called when a professional spy could lie so badly?

Her silence left you defeated, the bitterness seeping out of your like an open wound.

"You'll be late. Ada."

You retired back to your bedroom, and when you heard the click of your door shutting and locking you let yourself curl into your pillow like a wounded animal. Missing her.

Life had gone on without her, as it does. You couldn't say you 'got over it.' Ada wasn't something one could 'get over.' That was like getting over the Sun. Warm, or scorching, like it or not you're stuck in its orbit.

You pushed thoughts of Ada deep into your mind, delving into more work and outings with friends. You didn't near the dating scene yet. You didn't want to let your animosity towards Ada affect your next relationship, you told yourself. Not that you could call what you and Ada had a 'relationship.'

Perhaps some small part of you wanted Ada to call, to come back, to break the silence. You wanted to hurt her this time. But she didn't. And so just as you had excepted that maybe she no longer saw this thing you had going on as viable after your outburst, you got a text.

I’m in your city.  

That was it. Radio silence for 6 weeks but suddenly she was ‘in town’ so now she’d suddenly remembered your existence. Yearning and rage clouded your mind. You wanted to play a long game, clasp your hands around her, there would never be another Ada Wong. On the other hand you doubted there would ever be anyone else so infuriating? Coarse? Apathetic?   

Congrats. You texted back, and you would have been lying if you didn’t smile at your phone when you did it, watching three dots appear and then disappear just as fast. She’d get the hint.  

Or at least that’s what you had expected, you’d been laying in bed. Ruminating over it, perhaps wallowing if you wanted to be accurate. You’d had good times with Ada it was a shame she had to ruin it. Or perhaps you had, seeing something that wasn’t there. Either way it was over. You were shutting it down now, no more heartbreak-  

Fix your door.  

What the fuck did that mean?  

You didn’t get time to even see who the notification was because your front door slammed shut and in a panic, you grabbed the gun Ada had given you and shown you how to use from inside the nightstand.  

Your hands shook as you rounded the corner into the living room. Your grip faltered as you saw it was just Ada, but didn’t lower. She’d been waiting for you.  

“You’re not going to shoot me with my own gun, put that down.”  

She sounded tired, no, worn out. Weary. A tenor in her voice you’d never heard before. Tired, yes, but this?  

“You can have it back.”  

You placed it down on your marble countertop before walking back. You were tired too.  

She sighed, ignoring the gun and following you instead.  

“Ada, go home,” did she even have one? Seemed she was always coming home to you. “Or wherever else you go when you pretend I don’t exist.”  

“The jobs require radio silence, we’ve been over this.”  

You laid down on your bed, head facing the wall and she stayed standing, leaning against the doorframe. So close she was almost there with you, and just about to leave as always at the same time. Holding the same distance between you two as she always did. 

“Is that why you’re so upset? Because I didn’t call?”  

Her words are unusually tender, but you don’t care anymore. It’s too late.  

You turned around and sat up with a speed that even shocked yourself despite the fact she didn’t flinch.  

“Yes. Yes and because you don’t care. I don’t know why you do the things you do, give me gifts, teach me how to use a gun, you don’t care. You only come here for sex and you’re gone the next morning but you stay up all night tracing shapes into my back- I'm a convenience. And when it’s not convenient to see me, you don’t. I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t want to see you Ada, don’t come to my city.”  

Your heart pummeled itself against your chest, eyes prickling. This had been a long time coming. Your words hissed out violent and defensive like a wounded animal, and she just looked at you, blank. Blank faced. Is that how it was, was all of this just nothing?  

She walked towards you, heels clicking into the tiles, sinking to her knees in front of yours, her hands cradle your face, wiping your tears. Her touch is so soft but you pull away.  

“You don’t care about me, you don’t.”  

Something flickered in her expression, something akin to pain twists her features for a second before her eyes meet yours again.  

“I do. None of this, seeing you isn’t convenient. I come here because I want to see you. I want you safe, I want you happy and I want you away from my lifestyle.”   

Her hands rest on your knees.  

“You’re important.”  

“Maybe, but I’ll never be more important than the next job. You’ll always leave.”   

Her eyebrow quirked again, a silence ‘challenge accepted.’   

She stood up.  

“I’m not leaving.” She sat next to you on the bed. Legs crossed.

 “Let me prove it to you.” 

She’d allowed herself to spend the night without a bag packed for the morning. Watching you sleep soundly in her arms, she wondered how she would navigate this.

She shouldn’t have told you she would stay. Shouldn’t have made such a brash decision yet the thought of losing you was worse.

Maybe it was time. After all, she had enough money to support her for at least a decade in itself. And she wanted you. She could let herself have this one nice thing, right? To hold you close to her heart every night.

Ada’s hand reached out for her phone but this time her thumb tapped the camera button. She took a picture of your blissful resting face, the conflict and sadness from before melted away into slumber.

Why couldn’t you have just been born a Beta for god’s sake? Goddamnn it.

You slipped out of bed, grabbing your phone from your nightstand, legs already weak and lower abdomen burning. You stumbled your way to the bathroom, resting against the sink as you tried to clean the mess between your legs with toilet paper.

It suddenly occurred to you that you’d have to call in sick. No, no, no, no. Fuck.

There was a reason it took you so long to break into your career. Scholarships didn’t like Omegas it was a well known fact. Their perceived submissiveness, disruptive heats and the sheer domination of Alphas in important positions meant most Omegas either were uneducated, got mediocre grades, or had tutors if lucky and rich.

You’d hadn’t got lucky, it’d taken effort because you hadn’t just had to be good, you had to be the best. If they would pick an Alpha with lower qualifications over you, you had to be so good that your secondary gender didn’t even enter the conversation.

So you did that. This would expose everything you had tried to not show. Weakness. You’d worked so hard at pretending you got mistaken for a Beta multiple times. This would ruin that. Everyone would know.

You bit back your tears in anger, it’s not like crying would solve anything and it’d only make you feel weaker. You felt your clit throb, hole clenching over nothing, spasming and you almost dropped your phone in the sink.

You’d slumped down on your cold, closed toilet seat and pulled out your phone. Your knuckles gripped your phone instinctively, already sweating. This wouldn’t stop. The slick builded up between your legs. If you could get yourself to your abandoned nest from your last nest in the corner of your bedroom, you could ‘attempt’ to sleep it off, but that only worked if you got up.

The doorbell rang, and then you heard the sound of keys jangling, the click of the door unlocking and someone walking in. For fuck’s sake. The last person you wanted to see you like this and the only person who could help. Grace Ashcroft.

Grace had known your heat would start today, it’s why she decided to come early after stopping at the store, both hands chock-full of with bags. She’d panicked. Just a little. I mean, this was her partner’s first heat, could you blame her for being nervous?

Sure she’d read for hours on symptoms, and treatments and what helped and nesting and yet she still felt thoroughly unprepared for what she was about to walk into.

“Hey, I-er, I’m coming in. It’s me, Grace.”

She heard a weak groan and immediately dropped the bags by the door, rushing through the rooms of your flat, looking for you. What if you were hurt?

“Are you okay?”

You’d answered but she hadn’t heard it, not that she needed to. The further she delved into your college housing, the stronger the sickeningly sweet smell of apple cinnamon lingered in the air, and although it had no sexual effect on her, it was almost nauseating in its strength.

Grace found you in the bathroom, head in your arms on the marble sink, while your body trembled.

“You- you have to email my teachers, that I’m not coming in. Pl-lease.”

Your voice sounded hoarse and laboured. You wanted to crawl out of your body, you were soaked and irritable and needy.

“O- Okay.” Grace fumbled with her words. You couldn’t even look her in the eyes and everything she’d read had just gone flying on the window.

“What can I- How can I help you..? Can you stand?”

You shook your head, it still nestled in your arms refusing to look at her. It was hard enough for her words to register in your mind when you were trying your hardest to remind yourself how much of a bad idea it would be to hump the side of the bathroom sink.

“Do you want me to carry you?”

Her voice was soft; words came out tentative, testing the waters. She felt out of her depth but also wanted to be there for you no matter what.

You thought about it for a long time. Part of you wanted to prove yourself for whatever reason. To get up and to walk yourself upstairs despite the pain. And part of you knew that there was nothing to prove. At least to Grace. She wouldn’t care if she had to help you, she liked that. You weren’t sure how your body would react to being so close to someone you were so attracted to, but you pushed that out of your head as you looked up at her and nodded feebly.

Grace bit her lip, finally seeing your face. Eyes glassy, lips slightly parted like you weren’t getting enough oxygen still, your face - slightly wet with sweat and eyebrows furrowed.

How did you manage to look so perfect even now?

She moved forward, gently lifting you into her arms, your legs around her waist, resting over her hips.

You moaned as your front pressed against her stomach, something Grace definitely heard and ignored, rubbing your back.

“I’ve got you, okay? Don’t worry about it.”

You nestled your face into her shoulder taking in her scent. It was faint, like most betas, but all your scenes were heightened. She smelt like patchouli, lavender and sea salt and the smell of clean clothes and detergent.

“I don’t want this.” You whined against your will, arms and legs tightening around her as she used her leg to nudge your bedroom door open.

“I know, I know. You’re doing so well, yeah? Because actually, you managed to get all the way to the bathroom, so yeah. That was good.”

Grace considered melting into the furniture.

“Mhm.” You gave a non-committal grunt.

Grace finally placed you down in your nest, sitting down next to you and pulling out her phone.

“I, I’m gonna send that email, hold on.”

Fuck, you regretted everything. Fuck the email you wanted Grace to fuck you.

Her hands fidgeted as she typed into her phone and you nestled in her side again, letting out an involuntary whine that made Grace turn to look at you and your whole body burn.

“Do you want this?” Her blue eyes pierced into you, her hands tugging on the hem of her sweater. Before you could answer, she took it off and put it next to you.

“Here, now you have something else that smells like me to add to your nest.” She smiled.

Grace felt like she should physically help you. She wasn’t stranger to heats, she’d been in sex-ed classes and furthermore she’d researched it - but she didn’t want to make that jump unless you initiated it. She definitely didn’t want to pressure you into having sex with her.

She watched as you buried your face in her sweater, blissfully unaware of the moans you were muffling.

During all her typing you’d realised you’d had enough in between fighting back tears, your soaker underwear and your clit throbbing angrily, you’d decided you couldn’t wait.

You grabbed her arm, laying on your stomach.

“Grace.” You said firmly and hoarsely, voice barely concealing your need.

“Yeah,” She looked up from her phone distractedly. “Yeah? What is it?”

You took a deep breath, but to be honest you didn’t have any energy left from dealing with body tremors and cramps to be embarrassed.

“Please fuck me.”

Grace certainly expected you to ask but was caught of guard with how blunt you were.

“Y-Yeah, um, yeah no problem- um.” She mumbled, her cheeks dusted pink

She got up and you watched her deer-in-the-headlights expression as she looked at your bedroom door.

“I brought something for this, just one sec.”

You would of laughed at her preparedness if you didn’t just want her to get on with it.

“Okay.” You groaned. “Hurry.”

Grace rummaged through the bags, trying to find what she was looking for while keeping her anxiety at bay. She knew this moment would come, and it wasn’t like you hadn’t had sex before: it just hadn’t been like this. You hadn’t been this vulnerable yet.

Grace quickly pulled out the strap harness and dildo out of her bag rushing back to you.

When she came back into the room you were practically panting, scent enveloping the entire room.

“I-um, I read that penetration helps more, so I got this, we don’t have to use it but-“

Her words came tumbling out and you cut her off.

“P-please just- I really can’t-tt take it anymore..”

Your pussy was spasming constantly now, and your fingers gripped the blankets and clothes beneath you just to hold you in a seating position.

Grace fumbled around with the strap harness, finally getting it on. She thought she looked a little stupid like this, she’s bought it in your favourite colour. Was that weird to do? She was still fully dressed but she doubted you could wait any longer for her to take her clothes off.

“Okay, a-are you sure?”

“Yes, I swear to god Grace.”

“Okay, okay.”

Her kisses started slow, reverent; down your neck, to your collarbone and then back to your lips. You kissed her like a drowning man begging for air, almost pulling her on top of you. You leaned into her, whimpering into her mouth and her hands came to your hips holding them in place, as if to tell you to calm down.

“Hey, take it easy…”

She murmured, one hand up your shirt, tracing cupping your breasts, the other by your waistband. You were too desperate for her to notice the irony.

“Can I?” Grace asked, her hand raising the hem of your shirt, you nodded fervently.

“Yes, yes please.”

Grace lifted your shirt, her hands already at your breasts, caressing them. She rubbed her thumb over a hard nipple and you moaned, already sensitive.

“God they’re so- your tits are so fucking perfect.”

She said hoarsely, giving your right breast a firm squeeze that felt like an electric shock went through you.

She leaned into you, her lips placing kissed on your areola before sucking on your nipple. You squirmed, your hands gripping her hair. Your head was reeling, your clit throbbing so much you’d think it had its own heart beat.

“Grace, fuck pllease just…” your breath hitched.

“Okay, yeah um, let’s handle that.”

She delicately peeled your shorts and underwear down, her breath hitched at the sign of your glistening pussy.

“Oh, oh wow uh- guess we won’t need the lube I brought then…”

Grace’s eyes widened and she rubbed her neck nervously. You looked at her, your glare speaking volumes.

Her fingers slipped into your folds and she circled her index finger over your already sensitive clit. Your legs tensed, and she kept on hand on your knee to keep you steady and open for her.

Grace let out a gasp at the wet squelching sounds from your drenched hole as her finger slowly rubbed against you.

“This is okay, right?”

“Yes, fuck yes, don’t you d-dare stop.”

Grace nodded, eyebrows furrowed as she focused on your pleasure alone - her fingers ran tighter circles while her lips met your chest once more, hand slipping up to your hips, leaning forward until she was almost on top of you, strap poking you in the stomach.

You bucked into her hand sporadically, the moans leaving your lips borderline pornographic. It wasn’t long after that Grace finally built up the courage to use the strap, her mouth pulling away from your tits.

You stared up at her anxiety mixing with lust as her hands rested on the knees of your spread legs.

“You’d let me know if it hurts right?”

God, she was so sweet.

“Yes. Yes I would.” Your voice trembled ever so slightly and Grace lined up the strap with your entrance, you felt sparks under your skin as it brushed your inner folds.

Grace tried to lower herself slowly but the slick meant she bottomed out almost immediately. Your fingers dug into the bed as you moaned loudly.

“Shit, shit are you okay?” Grace started to pull out and you gripped her wrist, mind hazy.

“Yes, fuck don’t. Keep going, keep going baby.”

She initially kept her thrusts slow and deep, searching for that spot she kept reading about while her fingers found your clit again. She was amateur; not that you cared. Thrusts out of rhythm, accompanied by the beautiful symphony of her little gasps and grunts as if she could feel you clenching around her strap. You’d believe her if she said she could.

“More… more I’m getting close.”

You threw your head back, and Grace watched your tits bounce with her thrusts and felt herself getting wetter. You were so loud and unashamed, and stunning, she couldn’t keep her eyes off you and that perfect mouth.

“F-fuck you’re practically swallowing me.” Grace mumbled, her thrusts stuttering as she felt the rising tension within her.

She found that spot that made you whimper the loudest and her strap hit it rhythmically, rapid and shallow as her fingers changed from circling to rubbing your clit, giving you almost constant friction.

“Grace- Grace, fuck I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna c-cum don’t stop-

Your words came tumbling out as you orgasmed, your pussy clenching around her strap as your cum covered it and her jeans. Grace helped you ride it out, her strap stationary but her fingers gently rubbing; forwards, backwards, forwards, backwards. Until you came down from your high, breath as laboured as hers.

You finally felt some semblance of relief.

“H-holy shit.” Grace stared at you wide-eyed and you suddenly felt so exposed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever made you cum so hard.”

You snorted.

“Don’t get cocky,” you chuckled, “besides, I’m not the one who came untouched.”

You gestured at the damp patch at the crotch of her jeans. She’d likely been so focused on your pleasure she hadn’t even noticed. Her face blushed bright pink.

“That’s- I, I didn’t know I could do that.”

“It’s fine,” you looked up at her, her sweaty afterglow mesmerising. “It was very sexy.”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you, just both of your heavy breathing and the ticking of your alarm clock.

“Should I still send the email?”