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Randy genuinely thought the day couldn’t possibly get any worse. How does the universe one up being forced to scarf down a day old burger right before your co-worker goes Postal and kills everyone else before keeping you hostage? Apparently by fucking with biological impulses that you can’t ignore.
It’s a nightmare as Randy sits in the passenger seat next to Benson, wearing his clothes. His scent is all over them, all over Randy. Even stepping into Benson’s home made his knees nearly buckle. After being thrown into the wall, Benson’s fangs shining as he spat threats at Randy, he really couldn’t deny the warmth pooling between his legs and making it hard to think. He wasn’t even due for a heat. Had to be the adrenaline of it all, the panic.
And now he was covered in Benson’s musk, thick and animal overlaid with cigarette smoke and the woodsy warm undertone of straight tobacco. Benson is talking to him, but he can barely focus enough to hear the words. He has to swallow constantly with how fast saliva is pooling in his mouth, hoping that Benson can’t smell him. If he can, he’s making no show of it.
“That stuff Chris was saying about you not having a girlfriend. Is that true?” It’s an awful topic to bring up now, Randy shifting uncomfortably in the seat and pulling the jacket tighter around him. Close and soft, protective, smelling like Benson-
“Uh. Yeah, yeah it’s true,” he manages to say. He doesn’t want to think about Chris. He doesn’t want to think about this conversation. He wants to be in a room. His room. Safe and familiar, burrowing under a pile of blankets and pillows. A nest.
He misses the next question, Benson looking over at him with a lilting smile that falters.
“What?” Randy asks.
“I asked if you’re a virgin,” Benson repeats, but the flippant tone is gone and his knuckles are standing out as he holds the wheel with one hand.
“Uh… Yeah,” Randy replies. He only had a few heats before this one, and none with a partner. He wondered what it would be like with someone else. He’s wondering even more right now, daring a glance to Benson and seeing the muscle in his neck standing out.
There’s a beat of silence, the train of questioning derailed by the inevitability of Benson’s noticing.
“Randy?” Benson says his name with a composure that feels forced, borders on dangerous.
“Y-yeah?”
“Are you going into heat right now?”
Randy licks his lips, wishing the already too big jacket around him could swallow him whole and pull him out of this conversation.
“Yeah,” is all he can say.
“Shit,” Benson hisses as soon as the confirmation comes.
Randy can’t help but feel a pang at how Benson seems just as unenthusiastic about the whole thing as Randy does. He’s feeling so raw that the idea of rejection hurts like broken glass, craving escape even more. He can’t even question why it hurts, logic trickling out of his system like an hourglass as the tension only makes Benson’s scent stronger. Adrenaline. Stress.
“‘M sorry,” Randy says in barely a whisper. Why is he apologizing? He doesn’t know. Because it’s what he does.
“Hey, hey, hey, none of that,” Benson snaps, a command whether he meant it to be or not. Randy’s approaching spiral halts at his word, looking up at Benson with eyes swimming with the onset of tears.
Benson is looking straight ahead, jaw tight, both hands on the wheel with knuckles going white. His nostrils are flared.
“This your first?” he asks.
“No.”
Benson thinks, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel.
“How long can you hold out?” he asks.
“What?”
“I need to get you to a- to a motel or something. Can’t do shit right now…” Benson’s words come out agitated, half talking to himself. Randy’s brows crease in confusion, struggling to follow.
“You don’t want to- uhm…” He has a hard time getting the words out, dizzy on how badly he wants Benson on top of him. “You don’t… want me?”
Benson hits the brakes and pulls over so fast it breaks Randy out of the stupor for a moment, panic seizing his chest as the older man slams the car into park and leans close. They lock eyes and Randy can’t look away, frozen like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming 18-wheeler. Benson’s are lidded with barely contained lust, his scent wafting off in waves
“You have no idea what I want to do to you, Randy Bradley,” he says low and threatening. A violent shiver runs down Randy’s spine. “But I can’t do jack shit in the back of a parked car when it involves getting my dick stuck in your cunt for a few hours.”
Randy can’t speak, Benson’s words going straight between his legs.
“Now. Can you hold out for a little longer?”
Randy nods.
---
It doesn’t take long for them to find a seedy little place out of the way, Randy sweating as clothes become too much to bear against the heat pouring off his skin. He’s sitting with his head back, throat bared as Benson goes in to get a room. It feels like it's the middle of August despite the creeping chill outside, a whine slipping past parted lips.
As the door is yanked open, he starts, Benson grabbing him by the hood of the coat and hauling him up. Randy struggles to find his feet and all but loses them when Benson claps a hand to the back of his neck.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Benson slides his hand lower around Randy’s torso as he guides him. “One of those kinds of Omega, huh…” Like before, there’s a forced casualness to his tone. Before Randy can think to ask him what he means, he adds, “Fuckin’ ragdoll.”
At the door marked with a fancy number 4, Benson jams the key in and fumbles it open. He gets Randy around the neck and his legs go to jelly, stumbling onto the bed.
Benson’s already pulling the yellow cardigan off, Randy peeling off the coat and relieved at the brush of cool air that meets his skin when he does. The smell clings to his sweaty skin, and as he pulls off the tee shirt Benson’s pushing him back. Randy complies easily, eagerly, stuck on the hungry need to have those hands all over him, inside of him. He can’t spare the brain power to think about this morning, or what’ll happen later. It’s only now, with Benson, in this room. That’s all he can handle, all he wants.
Benson’s on top of him on all fours, eyes hungry as he looks down Randy’s bare chest.
“Today’s about you,” he breathes. “Tell me what you want.”
Randy can’t think in words, he doesn’t even know what he wants beyond Benson.
Benson Benson Benson. Alpha Alpha Alpha .
“You… Whatever you want,” Randy finally says.
“That’s a lot of power to give me,” Benson warns, looking at Randy like he’s going to devour him. The thrill that goes through the Omega verifies that he’d let that happen happily.
“Just- Just touch me, please.”
Benson does, sliding a hand along Randy’s torso. Sucking in a breath, Randy arches his back into the touch, a shiver of goosebumps running down his side. It's like teasing an itch, Randy groaning at the feather light sensation. Benson looks entranced, still predatory in the way his eyes drink in every subtle movement of the man beneath him. His touch feels soft by force, holding back.
“Actually touch me, please, Benson,” Randy whines, having already seen what Benson can do when provoked. He wants to feel that again, he doesn't understand the way he's resisting. It makes him angry, something Randy swallows down immediately.
Benson exhales through his nostrils but does just that, shuffling closer and grabbing Randy around the waist and pressing into his flesh. Nails scrape along his side as Benson leans in and Randy’s mouth falls open in a gasp before the other man's lips close over his.
A white heat runs through Randy, blinding him even behind closed eyelids as Benson’s hands slide up and graze bruises he left slamming him into the wall. His tongue runs over Randy's, tasting thickly of cigarettes. Benson kisses him deeply, paying no attention to the others poor attempts at keeping up as his thumbs run over his nipples.
Randy moans, squirming impatiently and grabbing at Benson's forearms, feeling the way his muscles tense and jerk back. As Benson pulls away, Randy tries to follow, lips slick with saliva and confused by his empty mouth. Benson grabs his wrists and pins them to the bed, an excited tremor of fear running through Randy.
“No touching,” he growls, a shaking threat in the order.
Randy nods quickly, heart beating so fast it feels like it's going to break a rib. They stay like that for a beat, the danger leaving Benson's eyes as he looks Randy up and down.
“You like it when I have you like this?” He asks. To emphasize his point, he squeezes Randy's wrists. Randy is pretty sure if he squeezed hard enough he could snap the bones like they were twigs, a terrified delight at the idea.
He nods again, voice lost and tongue thick. Benson smiles and brings Randy's arms over his head, holding them in one hand and bringing the other down his chest again. The position is vulnerable, at Benson's mercy. Just like he's been all morning, only more explicit.
Benson holds him around the waist again, nails biting into his skin as he leans in and kisses along Randy's neck. His facial hair itches and tickles, Randy rolling his head to the side and exposing more skin. Teeth graze his flesh and he whines needily, the points of Benson's canine fangs indenting the flesh beneath them. It's dizzying, the pressure of an Alphas teeth against him. He wants to feel them pierce him, wants to feel myself bleed, but Benson closes his lips around the bite and sucks.
The sensation has Randy whimpering, pressure over pain as Benson moves down to another part of his exposed neck. Randy wants to grab his hair, wants to hold him to his neck as he leaves purple and red marks in his wake. His fists ball up, nails digging into his palms as he closes his eyes, Benson moving to his collarbone.
Without warning the older man rolls his hips against Randy and he flinches against the friction.
“F-fuck,” Randy breathes, his voice retuning full force with the shudder of need that runs through him.
Benson smiles against his throat and grazes his teeth again, the motion careful and in time with another grind of his hips. Randy yelps, bucking up to meet Benson. It's on the edge of too much and not enough, the friction of his jeans agitating every inch of skin and too tight around his erection.
“B-Benson?” Randy gasps. Benson hums in response. “Pants… pants too tight…”
Benson's reply is another grind against him, tears springing to Randy's already dewy eyes as he chokes on a moan.
“Please.. Benson, please ,” he begs. That seems to be what Benson wants.
He gives Randy another kiss and releases his wrists to pull back.
Randy is barely any help as Benson pulls off his pants and briefs, the air welcome and cool as his erection springs free. His cock is red and weeping, and his cunt beneath it glistening with slick. Benson spreads his legs as he sits between them, Randy so needy his thighs tremble beneath his fingers.
“Fuck, you smell good,” Benson says as his hands run up the inside of Randy's thighs. Randy nuzzles into the jacket beneath him, head stuffed with cotton and heat. If he weren't so dizzy and heat-drunk, he might've been embarrassed to be exposed like this, Benson taking his time and soaking in the image. But he wasn't embarrassed. He was just hungry.
He whines instead of pleading again, wiggling his hips until Benson gets the hint.
Benson goes down and licks up his leaking slit, Randy gasping as he grabs at the bedsheets. He keeps going, licking up the shaft of his cock before taking it all in his mouth. Randy doesn't last a moment past that, crying out as he comes. It doesn't slow Benson any, tongue running up his cock and swallowing down every drop as he does, and then dipping back down to take all of Randy in his mouth again.
Randy can't think, sounds coming from his parted lips he'd never made before and his mind and body humming with the orgasm. He was made of jello, muscles trembling and twitching as Benson kept sucking on his sensitive cock. Then he moved lower, nuzzling into fine bush between his legs and licked up between Randy's folds. His hips bucked forward, the edge of the heat taken off with his first orgasm but still heady with lust and needing more.
His tongue thrust into him, another warbling cry coming from Randy as his thighs tightened around Benson. Nails bite into the soft flesh of his legs as Benson holds him and laps hungrily, humming his satisfaction as he goes. Juices dribble down Benson's chin, Randy rocking his hips against the Alphas eager mouth.
“B-Benson- ah… Fuck…” Randy squeaks, overwhelmed and overstimulated as tears run down his face.
It should be too soon to come again, even with a nearly nonexistent refractory period, but he can't stop jerking and trembling as Benson licks the folds of his cunt, pushing his tongue deeper. His grip hurts but the sting feels like nothing next to the cresting euphoria that breaks over him again. Benson doesn't stop even as Randy cries out from dry orgasm, back arching and toes curling into the sheets.
He can barely focus on breathing, his speech gibberish and moans as Benson finally pulls away.
“You taste amazing, baby,” Benson says, voice low and husky as he nuzzles into Randy's thigh.
The pet name sends an eager thrill down him, fluttering in his chest and making it harder still to breathe. Then teeth sink into the meat of his thigh. Randy yelps, and then moans as two fingers slide into him. He's leaking enough slick that there's no resistance, Benson biting and sucking at the inside of his leg as he fingers him.
Randy mewls, a high sound he didn't know he could make, as Benson stretches him with trembling fingers. His cunt is throbbing around the digits, two orgasms in and still not satisfied. He'd hated his heats before because of this, because it felt like no matter what he did or how tired he was, his body craved more. But now he has someone else to keep pushing, and the thought of the knot between his legs makes Randy eager.
“Benson… p-please, ah…” He wants more than fingers, aching to be filled completely.
“Just making sure, don’t wanna hurt you, baby,” Benson replies, scissoring his fingers and stretching him wider. Despite the slow and gentle motions, Randy can feel the tremor of effort beneath Benson’s skin. He means it when he says he doesn’t want to hurt him, holding back as much as he can.
“I want… I want you to hurt me…”
The hand cradling one leg tenses, nails scraping away skin. The next bite that comes draws blood, Randy crying out. A third finger is added, reaching and curling inside of him as Benson bites down harder. Randy chokes on his own breath, the burning pain lacing through the pleasure wracking his body. A bite is a claim of ownership, a mark. The idea makes Randy dizzy.
“So fuckin’ impatient,” Benson says, pulling his fingers out. Randy feels empty, opening his tear-blurred eyes as Benson sits up and starts undoing his belt. He's shaking still, growing impatient at his own difficulty in taking off his pants, and blood is smeared in his mustache, down his chin.
“You… You want it, too,” Randy says, lifting himself onto his elbows. Benson finally manages to pull his pants and underwear off, growling as he does.
He leans forward and grabs Randy's chin, the Omega's heart fluttering. The blood on his face steals Randy's breath again, wanting to lick it off, wanting to be bitten again…
“I do, don't you worry your pretty little head about that,” he says, chest heaving with controlled breaths. “But I can break you. And you don't know what you're askin’ for.”
The genuine warning in his voice sends a shiver down Randy’s spine, but it doesn’t scare him. Or at least he’s not as worried as he probably should be. It excites him, wanting to know just how much damage Benson could do to him. He’s lost that sense of self preservation that had him glued to the car seat, following Benson when he snapped his fingers.
“Break me,” he whispers. Benson’s eyes go dark, angling his face down to look up at Randy from beneath heavy brows. For a moment it seems like he’s thinking, then he nods slowly, chest filling with a slow and heavy breath.
Benson pushes him back down onto the bed, hand splayed over his chest and pinning him there as he positions himself between Randy’s legs.
“You asked for it.”
Benson lines himself up, the head of his cock teasing between his lips. Before Randy can do anything else, Benson snaps his hips and slides into him with one quick motion. Randy cries out, hot pain lancing up his core as his insides bend around his cock. The hurt doesn’t last long, numbing to a heat that scrambles what's left of his brains as he feels Benson inside of him.
As Benson begins to move, Randy’s already seeing stars behind his eyelids, knuckles as white as the sheets as he grips them like anchors. Each short thrust pulls a moan from him, mouth open and panting as his cunt throbs around Benson. One rough hand twists into his hair, tugging at the roots as Benson kisses him again and swallowing his sounds, the other digs into Randy’s hips, pulling him in time with his thrusts as he picks up speed.
Randy can barely breathe as sharp teeth bite at his lips and Benson’s tongue forces its way into his mouth. His eyes roll, whimpering as Benson slams into him harder, angling himself to reach deeper inside of Randy.
His hair is released, the hand sliding beneath his jaw now and forcing his neck to be exposed and turned away from Benson. A thrill of fear accompanies the action, heightened when teeth press into his skin again. He wants Benson to bite, to be marked, to be claimed, a desire as deep and biological as his heat, even if it comes with certain expectations. He can’t think about expectations, or how it’d look. He just wants to feel it, to bathe in the knowledge of belonging to someone else.
Benson growls against his throat, a shiver running through Randy. He’s not breaking skin, applying just enough pressure to hold him between his fangs as he ruts into the Omega. His other hand pulls Randy closer, rising onto his knees as he finally pulls away from his bared throat and sinks his teeth into Randy’s shoulder instead.
Red hot pain flashes through him, blood spilling into Benson’s mouth as he pulls back and bites a new patch of exposed skin. Bloody smears follow his path, Randy yelping and moaning in equal measure. Benson licks along the trail of bite marks that run from Randy’s collarbone down his shoulder, panting against his skin.
Randy whimpers, his head held away from Benson. He wants to see him as much as feel him, raising a hand to grab at Benson’s wrist since he can’t speak. Benson immediately grabs him, pulling back and glaring down at him with an intense heat as he grabs around his arm so tight Randy thinks he might just break it.
Everything comes to a stop, Benson balls deep inside of Randy as he glares with an intense and foreign hatred. When he seems to recognize him, the anger begins to melt. Randy’s looking at him in a panic, crying from overstimulation and frozen in place.
Benson’s jaw loses its tension and his grip softens, pulling Randy’s wrist to his mouth. His whiskers tickle his skin as he inhales his scent, kissing the tender spot of flesh. The surprisingly gentle action catches Randy off guard, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding as Benson’s teeth graze along his wrist.
He looks down at Randy and lets his hand fall to his side again, rolling his hips and pulling a moan from him. Randy looks up at him with watery and reverent eyes, limp now despite the way his cunt is squeezing around Benson with each slow thrust. He’s still afraid to move, afraid of and excited by the prospect of Benson lashing out again. He wasn’t lying when he said he wanted Benson to break him, trembling heart so full of a need for pain that he’d never been able to embrace. He wasn’t supposed to want that. But he couldn’t stop thinking about Benson’s hands all over him. Rough hands, guiding him, throwing him, choking him…
He tries to swear as a wave of pleasure rolls over him, but it comes out as a titter of breath, watching Benson as he looks down at him. Licking his bloody lips, torn from the Alpha’s sharp teeth, Randy dares to move again. Benson’s eyes dart to his hand but he doesn’t act. He grazes Benson’s fingers and the older man follows the gentle guidance until the hand is around his throat. Randy lifts his chin, exposed voluntarily and clear in what he’s asking.
Benson’s brow quirks up, his stoic expression lilting into a half smile that brings out warm creases in his face.
“That what you want?” he asks in a low growl of a voice, his fingers tightening around his neck. Randy nods. “Real freaky for a virgin, Randy.”
He squeezes as he picks up speed again, the knot at the base of his cock beginning to swell more noticeably. Randy can feel it with each thrust, threatening to stick but not quite there yet. Air becomes scarce, but he can still breath in short gasps. It makes his head swim, another dry orgasm coming over him as Benson tightens his grip and stops his airflow altogether. He chokes out a cry as his body tenses, cunt clenching around Benson and making the older man groan.
Randy coughs on his own breath when Benson lets him breath again, his head spinning and thoughts a whirl as he feels himself floating far beyond this. He’s never come that many times in that short a period before and he’s shaking as Benson keeps going.
“You like it rough, don’tcha, pup?” Benson growls, leaning down and licking along his neck. Randy squeaks and nods. He hasn’t been called pup since he was smaller, much smaller, but it sends a fresh wave of heat through him. “Thought… you were just talking big…” He says, breathing heavy as he gets close to his own orgasm.
Randy doesn’t know how to tell him both things are true, still can’t form words or thoughts. Benson runs both hands down his side again, slowing his thrusts before pulling out completely. The empty feeling is worse than the overstimulation, Randy whining softly and Benson snorting a small laugh before flipping him on his stomach.
Benson pushes into him, pressing his weight down on Randy who’s nuzzling into the shirts he’d been wearing earlier. Before he can react, Benson grabs one of his arms and bends it back, Randy yelping and instinctively trying to pull away. Benson pulls it harder, his shoulder straining under the grip as Benson starts fucking him, hard and fast just like before.
Benson leans over him and presses his lips against the back of Randy’s neck before sinking his teeth into the flesh between his neck and shoulder. He bites down hard and holds him there, thrusts becoming impatient and sloppy. Randy can feel the swell of his knot more prominently now, like a burgeoning threat. His cock, sensitive and red, is rubbing against the sheets, Randy whining at the added sensation of discomfort and pain amidst the bliss that surrounds him.
Benson growls. He lets go of Randy’s flesh and his teeth find the back of his neck. Randy goes very still, his heart like a caged rabbit as his muscles seem to lock. And then Benson bites down.
It’s like lightning shoots through him, his paralysis breaking down into a limp pile of bones as Benson thrusts into him and finally comes. His knot holds, Randy’s cunt holding it in place as the first wave of seed pours into him. He’s only dimly aware of the sensation, a contentment washing over him as he feels Benson’s cock throb inside, filling him. But he can’t move.
It takes Benson a few moments to realize how limp Randy is, releasing the younger man and panting against the bloody bite marks he left.
“Fuck…” he nuzzles into Randy’s neck, blood and sweat and Omega scent thick. “Randy?”
He pulls back and lets go of Randy’s arm and it only barely shifts out of the hold. For a minute, cold panic seizes him and he shakes Randy’s shoulder.
“Randy?!” he can’t keep the break of fear from his voice, but sighs in relief when Randy groans and shifts his head.
Moving it hurts, the bite marks weeping angrily. He swallows, opens his mouth, and then closes it again. He takes a moment and realizes when he tries to move again just how sore all of him is.
“Take it easy,” Benson says, attempting to roll them both on their side.
“Fuck,” is all Randy can get out, wincing as he’s pulled into Bensons arms wrapping around him from behind.
“‘Fuck’ is right,” Benson holds him close and Randy can’t help but feel safe. The safest he’s felt being with Benson. “Rest up. It’ll be a bit.”
Randy nods. Even if they weren’t tied, he’s too tired and sore to even think about doing anything but falling asleep in Benson’s arms.