Chapter Text
Glyndon rushed into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. Brandon watched her lean against the door, chest and shoulders heaving. He was seated on the closed toilet, face propped against the counter.
Their eyes met.
“Occupied.” Brandon held his chin up with his hand.
“Oh, I didn’t know this hiding spot was specially reserved,” Glyndon said haughtily.
“It is, so scram.”
“We can share. I’ll be quiet.” she promised, and Brandon was reminded of when they were kids. He and Landon would race through the thick forest by their house in search of wood nymphs, and Glyndon, four years younger than the twins, would always follow. She always promised to keep up, and always failed to do so.
Brandon remembered how Landon would leave her behind, and how loudly Glyndon would cry at the prospect of getting lost. How many times had eleven-year-old Brandon stopped and gone back, holding Glyndon’s tiny hand in his as they walked back to Kenninger Manor?
“Leave her Brandon, Mum will come get her! ” Landon would call out. “ Come on! ”
But Brandon never had the heart.
Glyndon hoisted herself up onto the bathroom counter, adjusting her dark green cocktail dress. There was a matching velvet bow tied to her tousled honey-blonde hair. She looked like a princess. Her skin was tanned from spending late summer in the California sun - no doubt just a month in Britain's gloomy winter would bring back her usual paleness.
“So, how long have you been in here?” Glyndon asked, slouched against the mirror.
Brandon lazily glanced at his watch.
“Just about an hour.”
Glyndon hummed.
“Was that before or after Grand uncle Jonathan got into a shouting match with Grandpa Henry?”
“Definitely before,” Brandon sighed. He was lucky - after the arrival of their Great Aunt Muriel and her decrepit Pomeranian, Shu Shu, Brandon had decided to stake a claim on the upstairs bathroom no one used during parties. “Anyone looking for me?”
“Yup. Dad,” said Glyndon. Brandon’s stomach churned nervously.
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry, it’s low grade. He didn’t seem too concerned when he asked me.”
Glyndon had been out of the house for too long - she had forgotten how their father was. If he asked for Brandon at all , it was red alert immediately. He needed to go soon and delve back into the Christmas party crowd before their father went nuclear.
“I thought you’d enjoy this,” he said to Glyndon. “You know, seeing everyone together since you’ve been gone for four months.”
Glyndon had jumped at the opportunity to study overseas in America, and Brandon had watched her go while he stayed in the manor. All the sibling love in the world could not stop the sliver of envy in his heart.
“I thought so too, but I forgot how overwhelming it is,” she said. “I keep getting asked the same questions over and over. How’s California? How’re your studies? Happy to be back? And I just keep saying the same things. It’s surprisingly tiring.”
“Hm, I can imagine.”
“Why are you hiding?”
“Well,” Brandon said, crossing his arms. “I keep getting the same question too.”
Glyndon grimaced as they said at the same time;
“ Any suitors yet? ”
The answer was no - Glyndon already knew that. Brandon had been keeping her updated throughout the Fall semester over text messages. Every time his father and mother sat him down at the dining table, hands folded in front of them, Brandon mentally prepared a text for his sister about whichever ridiculous alpha his parents were trying to set him up with. Every courtship ended just as fast as they started - Brandon made sure of that.
The bathroom door slammed open, startling the pair of them. Their heads swiveled to see their intruder, and for a second, Brandon feared it was their father.
But no, instead it was someone worse.
“What the hell are you two doing in here?” Landon snapped. The bathroom quickly filled with the scent of agitated alpha. He looked suave in his plain button-down and brown sweater, but his shoulders were pulled up to his ears with irritability. His hair, previously slicked away, hung in his eyes.
“Hiding, obviously.” Glyndon studied her French-tipped nails.
“Cowards.”
“If we’re cowards, so are you. Unless you’re here to actually take a piss,” said Brandon.
Landon closed the door and locked it. The tension drained away almost instantly.
“Nope. Here to hide too,” he said.
“Christ, then why did you bust in here like the SWAT team?”
“Because both of you left me to fend for myself.” Landon crossed the bathroom and went to the bathtub. Without a second thought, he climbed in and made himself comfortable. “Auntie Muriel kept trying to show me photos of Shu Shu. Did you know she carries an entire album with her now?”
Glyndon laughed loudly, and Brandon shushed her.
“Quiet, since we’re all MIA, Dad’s definitely going to look for us now.” Me , was what Brandon meant to say. If their father was looking for him, Brandon’s presence in the bathroom put them all at risk for a proper lashing. Their father could detect Brandon’s scent like a bloodhound could find a wounded fox - hiding was useless.
Landon nodded.
“Creigton’s probably going to come and look for us too.”
“Then the whole party will move up here, how exciting,” Glyndon said flatly.
“What about Eli?” asked Brandon.
“Eli’s an adult, he’ll be fine at the party.”
“Eli might be an adult, but ten minutes with Auntie Muriel is enough to drive anyone batty,”Landon kicked his feet up on the bathtub’s tap. He looked completely at ease. “Shit like this makes me loathe Christmas. Why do I have to be this gracious host when mum and dad are right there? Why can’t I just sit there and look pretty like Brandon?”
“Hey!” Brandon snapped.
A loud knock at the door quickly silenced them. The children glance at each other, anxious. Was it Creighton?
“Password?” Landon asked tentatively.
“ Open this door right now, Landon, or I’ll break its hinges off.”
Eyes wide, Landon lept out of the bathtub and wrenched the door open. Brandon automatically shot to his feet at the sound of their irate father; the three of them knew that that threat was not unfounded.
On the other side was Levi King.
Dressed in a dark blue sweater with a collared shirt and dress pants, their father stood at the bathroom door and took in the sight of his three children holed up in the bathroom. Any mercy he might have considered showing them before is gone.
“What the hell are you all doing in here?” his voice was low. To the untrained ear he sounded calm, but Brandon knew better. He could see the vein in his father’s neck bulging and the way his lips twitched every so often. Anxiety flickered beneath Brandon’s skin - it rolled off his scent like waves on the coast.
“We were just… well…” Glyndon sputtered, then said, “I don’t have an excuse.”
“I could ask you the same question, dad,” Landon crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you doing up here? Bored of the party?”
If poking the bear was a national sport, Landon would be a gold medal winner. But their father knew how to handle his eldest son. Yelling, groundings, scolding, gentle parenting; none of it worked on Landon.
“Well, I was hoping that my grown-up, completely adult children were being polite and helping their mother host our family Christmas party, but I couldn’t find any of them downstairs,” he said. “Whose idea was this? Landon’s?”
“It wasn’t anyone’s idea, we all came up here at different times,” said Brandon, intervening before his twin could open his mouth. “We’ll go back downstairs, sorry, dad.”
Immediate acquiescence always worked.
“Fine. When you go downstairs, apologize to your mother. She’s been planning this Christmas party for weeks, and you know how stressed she’s been; especially since she’s fired half our landscaping staff” Levi said, then turned to his other son. “Landon, I expected better from you.”
“Yeah, sorry to disappoint, dad.” said Landon, but he didn’t sound particularly sorry. Based on his expression, he didn’t care in the slightest.
“Hey, look at me when I’m talking to you,” their father snapped, voice booming in the bathroom. The hairs on the back of Brandon’s neck rise on alert.
Landon met his father’s eyes, jaw clenched as he continued.
“Enough of this childish nonsense. Hiding in a bathroom? You’re twenty-three, for Chrissake, start fucking acting like it.”
“Brandon’s also twenty-three. Are you gonna rip him a new one too, or does he get a pass since he’s an omega?”
That made Brandon’s head jerk up. He wanted to protest, but his father beat him to it.
“ Landon, that’s enough,” he shouted, hand slamming against the doorframe. The sound made Brandon finch and his mouth go dry.
Downstairs, conversation and chatter died down. The sound of cutlery dimmed. The whole house was listening now.
Landon’s mouth shut - he could keep going, but one severe look from Glyndon had him choosing peace. Thank god. Brandon left the bathroom, side-stepping his brother and father and beelining for the stairs with Glyndon hot on his trail. He couldn’t take the alpha pheromones pumping into the bathroom, threatening to choke him out.
“Try and show a little bit of sincerity when you talk to your mother,” he heard their father say to Landon. “Get out of my sight.”
Landon stormed out of the bathroom, past Glyndon and Brandon and down the stairs to the first floor. His footsteps were thunderous and he made no attempt to hide how pissed he was. Glyndon shot Brandon a grimace before chasing after Landon - probably to stop him from doing something petulant and stupid.
“Bran, I need to talk to you,” Their father stopped him before he could follow after them.
“Sure, what’s up?”
They’re standing at the top of the staircase - the party’s gone back into full swing downstairs. Apparently everyone is used to Landon and dad’s frequent spats.
“I was looking for you everywhere, Brandon.”
“I know, I’m sorry, dad. I was feeling a little… overwhelmed by everyone,” he said, using Glyndon’s words.
His father’s eyes softened and Brandon felt like a dick. Sometimes it was beneficial to be an omega - like everyone else in society, his father believed that Brandon was sensitive and in need of extra care. Omegas were prone to mental health issues and stress-related illness. Brandon was not sure if his pampered life at the manor would lead to any of that but, who knows?
“It’s alright,” he said, patting Brandon’s shoulder. “Just do me a favour’ when you go down, talk to Auntie Elsa.”
Brandon groaned.
“Dad, really? During Christmas?”
“She said he’s an art major like you,” his dad barreled on as if he had not spoken, “He graduated a few years ago and now works as an assistant curator at the National Gallery.”
“Curator at the National Gallery? How old is this guy?”
His dad hesitated.
“How old, dad?”
“Twenty-nine.”
Not convincing in the slightest.
“Really?”
“More like… thirty.”
“...”
His father lets out a deep-boned sigh.
“He’s thirty-four.”
Brandon nearly chokes on his saliva
“ What? ”
“He’s an established alpha,” his father plows on like he never interrupted, “He’s worked with your aunt and a few of your mother’s artist friends; they all sing his praises. He’s a good man.”
“Dad, you don’t even know him, how can you say that?”
“I actually have met him,” his father said. “He has my approval.”
Brandon froze. His father met this alpha? That’s a first - usually his mother was the one who met with his potential suitors. If his father was getting involved, this was serious. Brandon had a thousand questions - he picked one.
“He knows I can’t have children? Right? He’s taken literally any biology class on second genders?”
“That’s what he says. He said it would be his honour to court a male omega.”
Brandon leaned against the bannister and frowned.
“That sounds suspicious. What kind of alpha is just fine with courting a male omega?”
“This one is,” his father said, and the hand he had on Brandon’s shoulder felt less reassuring. It was dragging him down. “Like I said; he’s a good one. Aunt Elsa has his number.” Go get it from her .
“Dad, it’s Christmas,” repeated Brandon. “Can’t this wait? I’ll call auntie on Boxing Day and get the number then.”
His father looks at him, eyes searching for something. It was the look he gave Brandon when he was worried about him, where his dark brows pinched together and the wrinkles around his mouth and nose deepened. Brandon didn’t know how to assuage his father’s worry; if he didn’t get married, he worried about his safety, if he got married, he would worry because Brandon was out of sight. It felt like either way, they would all lose.
Don’t get it wrong, his father wanted him to get married - he wanted Brandon to be as safe as possible, and the safest an omega can legally be is wed to an alpha. An alpha mate could completely protect him with a mating mark - Brandon would become that alpha’s property and the mark would ward off every other alpha.
Was that what Brandon wanted? When he was a teenager, that sounded like a dream - a world where alphas didn’t bother him anymore. But now he wasn’t so sure anymore. Alphas would stop bothering him, but the price was marriage. The price was life-long bondage to a person he didn’t know. A damn steep price to pay.
“Are you coming, Brandon?” Glyndon called up the stairs.
“Yeah! I’ll be down soon,” he replied and his father dropped his hand.
“I know you want to put it off but… you’re twenty-three already, Brandon. You’re done with school and you have your degree. This alpha is good, he might let you find a job and work.”
Unlikely. Two percent of the male population were omegas, and of that two percent, zero percent is in the labor force. Omegas in general were liabilities in the workplace.
“Yeah, maybe,” is what Brandon said, but there’s little hope in his voice.
As Brandon descended the stairs, he thought about this alpha. Auntie Elsa, who loved to see the good in people, would pounce on him and wax poetics about this guy. Christ, Brandon was not in the mood. Landon and Glyndon were at the base of the staircase, waiting for him.
“Do you see that, Glyn?” Landon jerked his thumb up in the direction of their father. “Ever since you’ve left, mum and dad haven’t even tried to hide how they dote on Brandon and shit on me. They always nag me about being ‘responsible’ then forget that Brandon’s my twin. ”
“Oh, Landon.” Glyndon cooed with false sympathy. “Is the stress of alphahood finally getting to you? Responsibility must be tough.”
“I’m not kidding! They wait on him hand and foot while they do nothing but criticize me. It fucking sucks.”
“Maybe it’s because Bran is actually a good person who makes sound decisions?”
“Or maybe they don’t want to trample on his omegan sensibilities,” Landon muttered, “It must be nice.”
Irritation flickered in Brandon; Landon loved to complain about how mum and dad treated their omega son like royalty, but he didn’t know the half of it. He didn’t know that Brandon was marching downstairs to talk to their aunt about a potential new suitor.
“You want to be me? Fine by me, let’s trade places for a week and I can be the King family’s alpha heir and you can be the useless omega fuckhole they’re trying to sell off.”
“Woah, okay, chill.” Landon held his hands up. “Just jokes. I’m not ready to have another politically-charged holiday conversation - I already had a weird talk with Grand-Auntie Aurora about omega rights going ‘too far’.”
“Would it kill you to take this seriously? To take me seriously?” Brandon whirled on his brother. “You are such a fucking dick, Landon. Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass every so often you’d realize not everything in my life is so perfect.”
“Bran, that’s not what we meant,” Glyndon’s eyes were big and concerned. She looked so worried - because it’s Landon’s job to get emotional and mad during the holidays, not Brandon. But her expression made him take a breath and calm down. Landon did not say anything, he looked at Brandon with disinterest, as if everything he said and no meaning whatsoever. Perhaps it did not matter what Brandon said - regardless, their roles would never change. So, why even imagine it?
“Yeah, I know, Glyn, I’m just… keyed up. Sorry.”
“Is your heat coming?” asked Glyndon, to which Landon fake-retched at the word.
“Ugh, you really shouldn’t talk about heats in front of an alpha, much less your alpha brother; that’s just gross,” Landon wrinkled his arrogant nose as Glyndon scoffed.
“It’s a natural process!”
“Yeah, a natural process that I don’t have to know about!”
“You are so immature sometimes, Landon.” Glyndon rolled her eyes. “Brandon, you should come visit me in California next summer. You’d love it there, I know you would. The art scene is crazy awesome and nobody even cares about second genders.”
“Yeah, maybe.” If their father let him. He wouldn’t.
“Hey, aren’t you gonna invite me?” Landon asked.
“What, and unleash you on California?” said Glyndon with a frown. “No way, why would I ruin my favourite place?”
They were halfway to the sitting room when they heard the yapping of an annoying small dog.
“Yeah, I can’t do this anymore.” Landon pulled at his tie viciously. “I’ll actually go mental if I’m here for a minute longer. I’m out.”
“And where are you going?” Brandon asked.
“Remi’s having a house party,” he explained, chucking his blazer on the ground. “We’re all invited. You coming, Glyndon? The girls will be there.”
“Absolutely. I’ll go change.” she left the room, the sound of her high heels clicking on the hardwood steps as she climbed back up.
“Careful, dad’s still up there,” Brandon warned.
Landon glanced at him.
“Are you coming too? Or are you too scared of dad?”
“I’m not scared of him.” Brandon protested. “I just don’t want to raise his blood pressure again.”
“Well, maybe you’re right. I mean, the safest place for an omega is at home, right?”
Brandon resisted the urge to reach out and punch his brother, the bear-poking champion. Obviously if their father found out that he snuck out to a party in the city, he'd absolutely hit the roof. Brandon would get his going out privileges completely taken away. On the other hand, staying meant Brandon would have to talk to Auntie Elsa and learn more about suitor number six.
“Fine, I’ll come. I’ll drive too, since I can’t drink.”
“Excellent.” Landon grinned. “Go put on something less… formal.”
Brandon was not sure if he owned something less formal.
---
When Brandon was twelve, he loved going to school
To him, school had been the antithesis of Kenninger Manor - loud, boisterous, filled with people and friends.School had sport teams and clubs - polo and lacrosse team, after school art and photography club, and swimming lessons. Twelve-year-old Brandon liked playing tag at recess and was friends with everyone in his class, despite his shy, quiet demeanor.
Presenting at thirteen changed all of that.
Brandon began to learn about his place in society as a male omega.
Female omegas had functioning reproductive organs and can have children, male omegas didn’t. Moreover, male omegas were rare, accounting for two percent of the United Kingdom’s population - a statistic that left Brandon in limbo for nearly ten years. He would have heats, but they served no purpose since he had none of the equipment to give birth. Apparently he and Landon were anomalies; the last time twins had opposing second genders was nearly sixty years ago.
Brandon had figured out quickly what attracted the alphas; the prospect of fucking an omega without the repercussions of pregnancy? A dream come true!
Suddenly, alphas at school were talking to him. Suddenly, the adults at their church started paying attention to him. Suddenly, the ladies and lords at his mother’s tea parties wanted to talk to him. They cooed at him, called him cute and sweet and pinched his cheeks.
His dad had him drop all his clubs and sports teams - it was not omegan for him to interact so closely to alphas. Brandon quickly learned about what was expected of an omega, and he was startled to learn it meant not doing anything he used to do.
In class, he sat either alone or with Landon, and Landon hated being forced to sit with him. He spent lunches and recesses in the school library with the Librarian - the only other omega in school.
Then he hit puberty. His cheeks hollowed out and his jawline sharpened. His knobby knees and skinny legs seemed to reproportion themselves overnight, and then he was beautiful . Not cute, or sweet, or adorable like he used to be. No, he was suddenly alluring. Brandon found himself reconciling a mature body with his still-childish mind. Suddenly, those ladies and lords looked at him with their noses held up with disdain - like the very thought of an omega was distasteful. He learned that a beautiful omega was nothing but trouble.
His fourteenth and fifteenth years at school were hell. Plain and simple. His classmates made sure to remind him of his place as an omega.
At sixteen, his parents thought it would be best to send him away to an all-omega boarding school in the middle of nowhere (Wales). There, Brandon kept to himself. In the three years he attended, he made no friends but one; a foreign student from America. Once they graduated, they parted ways and lost contact.
Those years had been desolate. Brandon spent his days wasting time at school, yearning to get back to his family. Then when he finally came back at 18, his father had grey hairs among the blond and his mother had wrinkles around her eyes. Landon had become the biggest asshole in the world, while Glyndon had presented as a beta. Home wasn’t how he remembered.
The world kept spinning, and Brandon felt trapped in time. He felt trapped in Kenniger Manor. While Landon and their cousins went off to university, Brandon found himself begging to continue his post-grad to hold off on getting married. His parents had to pull some serious strings to get him accepted at a local Visual Arts and Humanities school, and even then, he wasn’t permitted to physically attend. It was unheard of for an omega to attend university - why should they? Should they not have everything provided for them by their mate as treasured, protected members of society? Brandon had not even been allowed to show up for his own graduation ceremony.
He knew the world was not safe for omegas. He heard the stories, hell, he lived the stories. Brandon knew well the stares he got when he went out. His father reminded him again and again of what alphas were like, and what being in the presence of an omega can do to them.
He thought about this as he pulled into the gas station and up to an empty pump. Next to the station/convenience store was a sleepy little strip mall; half the stores were closed for the night.
“Remi says he needs more vodka and tequila.” Landon was glued to his phone. He sat next to Brandon in the passenger seat, feet up on the dash.
“Ugh, don’t tell me that’s all he’s gonna have,” Creighton sighed.
“We need beers!” Glyndon said, poking her head between the seats. “Gin too!”
“California’s changed you. Completely and truly changed you,” Creighton was crushed up against the window, shoulders hunched. Apparently Auntie Muriel had pestered him with Shu Shu for nearly an entire hour. They had lied about going out to party - Creighton claimed that he had a terrible migraine and needed to go home, and they volunteered to bring him back. It was a weak lie, but enough to get them out of the house.
“Is there a KFC close by? I need something salty and fried to wash that fucking awful pudding out of my mouth,” said Eli. That was the first and probably last thing he was going to say for the night.
“Alright, we’ll go get the drinks and a family-sized bucket.” Landon turned to Brandon. “You good here? Need my card?”
“I’m good, go on.” The allowance he got last week should be enough to fill the tank. Even if Brandon wanted to go into the liquor store, he needed his alpha to accompany him - according to his second gender card, that alpha was legally his father.
“Alright team, move out.” The four of them spilled out of the car and towards the strip mall while Brandon unbuckled and went to fill up his Beemer’s tank.
It was a cold night. Brandon’s hands were almost immediately frozen and chapped when he stepped out of the car and pulled up the collar of his jacket. The convenience store next to the pumps glowed like a neon beacon in the night - the light glittered in the reflection of his car’s silver paint. Brandon could see people inside the store, milling among the aisles.
The air was so frigid, Brandon’s breath puffed out in front of him with every breath. Fuck, maybe staying inside tonight would have been better, just to escape the winter chill.
Brandon contemplated that when a roar, like the rip of a chainsaw, startled him out of his thoughts.
A big black motorbike sharply pulled into the gas station and right behind the Beemer, coming to a screeching halt. The engine of the bike was so hot, it steamed in the winter cold.
The cyclist is enormous .
It was an alpha - it had to be - wearing a thick leather jacket and black cargo pants. His big shoulders were hunched over the handles of his bike, and when he rose to full height, Brandon nearly gulped. Alphas were usually built like brick walls, but since when did God start making them like that ? The soles of his boots looked to be the size of Brandon’s head. The big black helmet he wore completely obscured his face.
The huge alpha dismounted his bike in one smooth motion. Brandon’s eyes went straight to the meter and the climbing numbers - he didn’t want to attract any attention.
But Brandon could not help it; he wanted to look so badly at this alpha. Turning his head ever so slightly, he peered at the biker from his periphery.
The alpha was looking at him - of course he was. He tilted his helmet and nodded at Brandon. It was such a small gesture, but it had Brandon’s face going red hot. His heart slammed against his chest like a bird fluttering in its cage as he trained his attention back on the pump and pretended like nothing happened.
This alpha was intimidating.
Brandon swore he heard a soft chuckle come from the alpha, but he decided against looking again. He didn’t need to know.
His father warned him about alphas like this. The whole bad boy type was so typical and overplayed, But… rather interesting to look at. Brandon wondered what he looked like under that helmet. His curiosity flickered as the alpha walked to the convenience store, allowing Brandon a clear view of his broad body.
That’s the kind of alpha he wished would court him - not the stuffy, old, uninteresting ones his parents were hell-bent on pairing him with. Then again… alphas like that one were nothing but trouble.
Loud laughter, unfamiliar to Brandon’s ears, attracted his attention. The other patrons of the convenience store had stumbled out. They were two older men, dressed in construction uniforms with flashy yellow and orange stripes. Alphas, he was certain of it.
Brandon watched them from the corner of his eye as they passed between the two pumps and he held his breath.
Not this time. Brandon was certain of it. It wouldn’t be this time. If he kept his eyes on the gas pump and minded his own business, everything would be fine.
Then the alphas stopped.
“Well, hey there.”
Come on.
Brandon pretended not to hear them.
“I said, hey there, darling.” One of the alphas came closer - he was mostly bald with hair only above his ears. His nose was badly crooked and warty. “Can’t you hear me?”
Brandon shifted in place, waiting for the pump to ding. He did not know what to say - he was not sure if he could even speak at all. The skin on the back of his neck was burning hot with panic.
“Hey, we asked you a question,” the other alpha said, leering closer. This one had yellowed teeth and a big greasy beard. They both stank of alpha and booze; a dangerous combination.
“I can hear you.” Brandon said softly. Just comply and they would go away. Eventually.
“Then you should answer when you’re spoken to, shouldn’t ya, omega?” Baldy asked. “It’s not polite to ignore your superiors.”
Superiors? Brandon looked at them; they were filthy from the day's work from their liver-spotted foreheads to their cement-splattered steel-toe boots. Standing next to them in his slacks and Oxfords, Brandon looked like the Queen of England. A lot of alphas got off on those kinds of dynamics - that technically, even the richest, most well-born omega was still beneath the lowest, most vile alpha.
Teeth grit, Brandon said;
“I apologize.”
They’re standing so that Brandon is trapped between them and the flexible tube connecting the gas pump to the car. He could not stop his scent from anxiously fluctuating.
The light there was dim - it was hard for him to make out the numbers on his watch face as he checked it. How long had his siblings and cousins been gone? How long did it take to get alcohol and a bucket of chicken?
“‘ I apologize’ You’re a prissy one, aren’t you?” Beardy said, and Baldy guffawed. “Prissy and wound up tight like a clock.”
He wondered if these alpha would follow him if he took off. That happened once when he was nineteen. An old, gross alpha followed him from the public library, to a cafe, to a Tesco, through the Tesco for nearly thirty minutes, then followed him to the bus stop. Hands and knees shaking, Brandon had turned and shouted right in the man’s face, get lost! Leave me alone! when he realized he could not shake the alpha. The alpha, startled and embarrassed, had turned and left. While on the bus, Brandon had promised himself two things; that he’d never rely on anyone else to save him, and to never tell his parents about what happened that day.
No one had helped Brandon then - he had saved himself. Could he save himself now?
“How about a drink, hm? That would loosen you right up, yeah? What do you think, Ernie?” the one with the beard asked. He moved to put his hand on Brandon’s shoulder, but Brandon flinched away.
“Put your hands on me and see what fucking happens.”
The men laugh loudly.
“That’s cute, darling. Come along now, we need some company for the night-”
A rough, dirty hand reached around Brandon and grabbed a handful of his ass.
And Brandon fucking snapped.
He reeled back, hand curling automatically, and rammed his fist into that big crooked nose. The man howled and Brandon felt blood, hot and sticky, explode over his knuckles.
Ernie howled like a wounded dog, curling over and covering his face. That did not stop the flow of blood that dribbled to the asphalt in a small but growing puddle. Brandon did that?
“Fucking bitch! ”
His hand stung - a warning that if he did that again, he'd surely fracture or break a bone. Just in time, the pump dinged. He wrenched the gas nozzle out of the car, moving as fast as possible to get away from there.
But Brandon wasn’t fast enough. When he turned to race back to the driver’s side, one of the alphas grabbed his jacket and dragged him back. His heart nearly leapt from his throat when he felt an alpha’s strength - He had never been thrown around like this before. Landon and him had been forbidden from rough-housing after they presented, and it was un-omegan for Brandon to fight in any capacity, so even self-defense classes were out of the question.
Brandon sorely regretted not pushing for those classes when hands on the collar of his shirt swung him around and slammed him into the Beemer’s trunk. The air in his lungs bursted out of him with a sharp gasp. Adrenaline was making him shaky and weak - Brandon was certain his knees would have failed had the bald alpha let go of him.
“Get off of me!” he shouted, but his voice shook with terror.
Baldy pinned him to the side of the Beemer.
“This bitch is in need of a lesson,” Ernie sneered, blood trickling down his lips and teeth. His breath was rancid. “Keep him there, Randy.”
“You’ll regret this,” Brandon warned, “you know what they do when you violate another alpha’s omega? There won’t even be a hearing, the judge will decide without a jury.”
A hand closed over Brandon’s windpipe, and squeezes. The words died in his throat.
“Shut the fuck up, you mewling little bi-”
A gloved fist shot out from Brandon’s blind spot and cracked into the side of Ernie’s face. He felt blood splatter against his face, warm and sickening. Randy released him in shock. The sound of bones crunching against bones - of skin ripping upon impact ricocheted in Brandon’s brain.
It was a solid, single punch, and Ernie was completely knocked out. He crumbled to his knees before pitching to the side, face pressing into the dirty ground.
Legs finally giving out, Brandon dropped to the asphalt.
Ernie was on the ground too. He dropped like a corpse, eyes closed, mouth open with his tongue lolled out.
Brandon looked up, breath caught in his chest, and saw the biker alpha standing above him. He seemed larger up close, shoulders squared. His scent is thick and tangible.
“You should’ve listened to him,” the alpha growled behind the helmet’s visor. “Now why don’t you get the fuck out of here while you still can?”
But just as Brandon suspected, Randy was a complete idiot. Instead of running away like any intelligent person would, Randy raised his fists and moved towards the biker. He punched, swinging his arm sloppily, and the biker ducked. He used that momentum and drove his fist into Randy’s stomach in a brutal sucker punch. Randy collapsed to his knees, but the biker wasn’t done. With one hand, he grabbed the guy’s head - with the other he slammed his fist repeatedly into the already unconscious alpha’s face.
Brandon cringed away, nauseated. He couldn’t watch this - he could barely believe that it was happening at all. He heard punch after punch as the biker pulverized that man.
It seemed to go one forever, each hit echoing with the beat of his heart. The slap of skin against skin was unfamiliar, and not something Brandon would quickly forget.
Only when a voice spoke to him did Brandon realize the smackdown was over.
“You okay? ”
The alpha’s chest was heaving from the exertion, as he stared down at Brandon. He stripped off one bloody glove and chucked it aside and offered him the hand.
Brandon nodded and took it, eyes locked on the two unconscious bodies. There was so much blood pouring from their wounded faces, they were unrecognizable. The look of horror must have been so obvious because the biker clicked his tongue and put an arm around Brandon, steering him away from the scene and to the other side of the Beemer. This way, the two alphas were completely out of sight. But it wasn’t enough; Brandon had to clench his fists to stop them from shaking.
The alpha seemed to notice as he pulled Brandon in front of him, uncaring of the fleck of blood splattered on both of them. Their bodies pressed together, thighs and chests touching.
The close proximity meant Brandon could smell this alpha’s scent - thick tones of Bergamot and mint, mixed with sweat and leather. He’d never gotten this close to a stranger before, let alone an alpha.
“Hey,” two fingers touch his chin, guiding his head to look up at the helmet’s visor. “Don’t get lost in your head. Keep your eyes on me.”
That would be easy.
“That was…” Awful? Horrible? Gruesome? “Thank you.”
“No problem. Are you hurt anywhere?”
The alpha’s arm stayed around him, a large hand firm on his lower back. It wasn’t like the touch of the other alphas at all. He was warm and gentle; hands never straying from their position.
“Only my pride,” said Brandon.
The biker laughed.
“Nah, they had no right to put their hands on you. It’s them who should be ashamed.”
He had an American accent - a foreigner?
“Well, you certainly left their pride in shatters.” Brandon glanced over the Beemer’s hood and at the unconscious alphas. “What do we do about them? Do we leave them?”
He pointed past Brandon to the convenience store. Behind the glass, the store clerk was staring right at them while talking into a phone.
“I think she’s calling the police.”
“What?” Oh fuck, oh fuck. “I can’t be here.”
“Me neither, ” he said, “Don’t worry, we’re in the middle of nowhere, so you probably have ten minutes before the fuzz pulls up. After that, though, you better get going, sweetheart.”
“I can’t abandon my friends here!”
“Then leave the keys in and come with me. I’ll give you a lift out of here.”
And all of Brandon’s good sense - all the lessons he learnt from his father and at his finishing school - dissipated like that. He wanted to go with this alpha, despite knowing nothing about him. He didn’t even know his name and he’d hop on the back of his bike with no hesitation.
But this man beat the hell out of two people who wanted to hurt him. He had protected him . That had to count for something.
Did it? Mentally, Brandon pumped the brakes - was that all it took for an alpha to woo him? For them to flex their muscles a little and sweep him off his feet? Come on, he wasn’t that easy.
Before Brandon could answer, someone called out to him.
“Brandon! I’m-” Glyndon’s smile completely faded when she rounded the pump and saw two alphas on the ground and another right next to him. Her arms were laden with cans of beer. “What happened? Are you okay?”
She rushed over to look him up and down.
“Did they… are you…?”
“Oh, that’ll help ,” said the alpha.
He reached over to Glyndon, whose eyes grew wider and wider as the alpha approached. But he wasn’t grabbing her - he went straight for the beers in her arms and slipped a can from the plastic rings - Glyndon stood there, completely frozen.
He took Brandon’s hand in his, then pressed the cold beer can against his aching knuckles. The skin there was already flushed red - there would be a bruise tomorrow. The alpha gently slid his fingers along the ridges and bumps. Those hands just beat two men within an inch of their lives, and now they were caressing Brandon. Fuck, maybe he was just that easy.
“I-I’m gonna go get Landon!” and she took off running. The biker didn’t care; he kept massaging Brandon’s knuckles like they were the most interesting thing in the world. Brandon didn’t care much either.
“Don’t think you broke anything. Good. Wouldn’t want you to hurt these pretty hands.”
Brandon didn’t know what to say to that. He let the alpha touch him - no alpha outside of his family as ever touched him like this. Alphas outside of his family never touch him… caringly. Tenderly. It made him blush scarlet.
“Thanks,” is all Brandon could muster. “Why are you… touching me so much?”
“I read that touch helps comfort omegas when they’re upset.” he kept massaging him. “Is it working?”
Brandon’s face somehow got even hotter. But he did feel better - safer, somehow.
“I think so… but you really shouldn’t touch me like this.” He slowly extricated his hands from the alpha’s.
They were so close, the alpha’s body heat was like a furnace.
“Why not? ”
“My father wouldn’t like it,” he admitted. “He… wouldn’t want an alpha like you anywhere close to me.”
“Oh, fuck, baby,” the alpha’s head tipped back up to the night sky. “Those are the magic words. ”
Brandon laughed - hopefully that covered up how flustered he was.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, ” he said, “Means totally nothing. You’ve just had a traumatic experience, we can put a pin in that conversation for later.”
Later ? Brandon balked.
“You’re… strange.”
“Oh? Please elaborate. ”
“One minute you’re beating someone to death, now you’re… nice to me?” Brandon shook his head. “You’re giving me whiplash.”
The alpha laughed - it’s a pretty sound.
“Yeah, I’m known for that among my friends. Don’t worry, you’re handling it very well.”
“I’m not used to alphas being nice to me.”
“I can imagine. ”
“Or at least, when they’re nice like this,” whispered Brandon, "they usually want something from me.”
The alpha chuckled.
“Cross my heart, baby, I don’t want a thing from you - just want to make sure you’re safe.”
“Sure,” he said, watching the Alpha flexed his hand - his dominant one that he had preferred when pummeling Randy. “Your hands are probably way worse than mine.”
“ This ?” He raised his hand and peeled the other glove off to inspect it. The skin along his knuckles were split and bleeding. Red trickled down to the cuff of his leather jacket.
Brandon’s mouth went dry when he saw the thick veins bulging along the back of the alpha’s hands. Thin black lines were tattooed there, ebbing and flowing like the north to south lines on a map. His fingers were long and thick and beautiful.
“Here,” he whispered, taking the can and pressing it to the alpha’s knuckle. Condensation mixed with blood and smeared along the beer’s label. “You need it more.”
The biker tilted his head, and the image of the alpha tilting his helmet at Brandon should not be that hot, but it is . It’s so hot that sparks lick along Brandon’s stomach. Not the anxious kind he usually felt around alphas, no, these left exciting flames in their wake.
The alpha took him by the wrist.
“Are you gonna take care of me ? Thanks, baby.”
Brandon couldn’t suppress the shudder that rippled through him. This alpha had a way with words - everything about him screamed danger, but Brandon was intrigued. No one’s ever had that effect on him before.
“Fuck, this is definitely inappropriate, so feel free to punch me too, but you’re so fucking pretty. You know that, right?”
Brandon looked away sharply, eyes on his shoes.
“Oh, shut up.”
“What do you mean?” the biker’s voice was coy - he had to be smiling under there. “It's the truth. You’re like an early Christmas gift."
“How many times has that line worked?”
“Mmm, like, four times? ”
“And how many times has it failed?”
“...sixteen?”
Brandon laughed, whole and hearty. For a minute, he forgot what had happened before he started talking to this alpha.
“By the way, I’m Brandon,” he said, offering his hand, “Brandon King.”
“King, huh? My name is- ”
“Hey! Get the fuck away from him! ”
Fuck, crisis number three of the evening.
Crossing the pavement was Landon, Creighton, and Eli. Landon was running ahead of their cousins with a murderous look on his face. His chest was puffed - alpha posturing.
“Who the fuck are you?” Landon shouted, storming right up to the alpha and shoving him away from Brandon. The alpha stumbled back, but Landon did not stop there. He raised a fist to beat him.
Surprisingly, the alpha did not react - his hands stayed down at his sides. It was Brandon who caught his brother’s wrist and stopped him from sucker punching him.
“Landon, calm down, he helped me! He… he protected me!” Brandon tried to step between them, but his brother was unstoppable.
“Who are you? Huh?” he snarled, “What the fuck are you doing around my brother?”
“Landon! Stop it! ” It took Brandon, Creighton, Eli, and Glyndon to stop him from advancing. “He stopped those men from attacking me!”
This worked - Landon froze and looked at his brother. His eyes moved over Brandon’s shoulder to where Randy and Ernie were on the other side of the Beemer.
That shut him the hell up - his ragged breathing hung between their group and the biker until the biker broke the silence.
“Are you his alpha? ”
“No,” spat Landon.
“Well, tell whoever is to do better. He nearly got himself killed tonight. ” the alpha tilted his head, attention back on Brandon. “No mate, huh? ”
“You fucking bastard,” Landon bellowed, cocking his fists and moving towards the biker. Creighton wrapped his arms around Landon and pulled him away.
The biker laughed and laughed, like Landon was as dangerous as a butterfly.
“Let go of me!” Landon bellowed.
“Landon, chill!” Creighton shouted. “Listen!”
Brandon heard sirens; distant but drawing nearer.
“We need to go now,” he said, grabbing Glyndon’s arm and pulling her towards the Beemer. If the police arrived while they were there, their father would find out and go ballistic . The alpha went to his motorbike - only when he was seated did Landon stop resisting Creighton.
“Do me a favour and keep yourself safe, baby. ” he called out to Brandon, “And I’ll see you around. ”
Brandon scoffed, but smiled all the same.
“In your fucking dreams!” Landon roared.
The alpha laughed as he sped away. Brandon memorized the sound and the scene; the roar of the bike, drowning out that deep, throaty laugh while the smell of gasoline chased away the remnants of Bergamot, mint, and alpha.