Chapter Text
Prapai has entertained all kinds of guests over the years.
Platonically and sexually. Men and women. Both and neither. Omegas, betas, and even other alphas. If all parties involved have a certain level of understanding, and everyone is satisfied by the end of the night, then he’s not terribly picky. It would take a special type of person to really throw him off.
Which is why he’s at a complete loss when his latest hookup is teetering dangerously toward a full-blown breakdown on the bedroom floor.
The boy—Prapai doesn’t even know his name—is sitting flat against the wall, knees pulled tight to his chest as he takes in deep, steady breaths.
It was sudden. They’d been making out, shirts coming off, tension building and heading in a rather promising direction as they took their time making their way toward the bed. Then there was a gasp, and Prapai was being unceremoniously shoved backward, too startled by the action to understand what was happening.
The first thing he registered was the person he was just having a great time with cornering himself and looking around frantically for his clothes, slowly sinking to the ground without a word.
The second thing was the scent; very sweet. Very mild. Barely even detectable had Prapai not been standing mere feet away.
If he thinks about it, it might be the most delicious smell he’s ever encountered. But he doesn’t have time to dwell on it too much when the omega in question is shaking and throwing out clear warning signs to stay away from him.
Prapai likes to think it should be rather easy to figure out what to do with an omega going into heat, but this is not the body language of someone that wants to be touched right now, least of all by him. An alpha and a stranger at that.
So, Prapai does what he believes to be the best option at that moment. He yanks the blanket off the mattress and drapes it over the shivering boy. His sheets are clean, free of any scent other than your basic laundry detergent. He crouches down, level with the boy, who narrows his shining brown eyes and bares his teeth at him. This would be a fraction more intimidating if it weren’t accompanied by a full body flinch.
“Where’s your phone?” is all Pai asks.
He doesn’t get a verbal response, but a glance at the jacket behind him tells him all he needs to know.
Prapai reaches for the discarded clothing and roots around the pockets before coming up with a battered iPhone. Lucky for him, he doesn’t have to ask for a password. It unlocks with one swipe, and he navigates to the messaging app.
Without another thought, he finds the most recent name at the top and hits the call button.
Fifteen minutes later there’s a series of frenzied knocks on his door.
Within that time frame, Prapai had to drop the boy’s own jacket over his head to stop him from growling every time he walked into the room. It gave him something familiar to cling to while they waited, and it seemed to work. The omega had frowned, confused by the gesture, but tugged it tighter around his shoulders. After that, the inviting scent gradually grew strong enough to the point that Prapai relegated himself to the kitchen to keep from being tempted to do something stupid.
The second the front door opened, a vaguely familiar head of brown hair darted in under Prapai’s nose, nearly bowling him over.
“Sky!”
Sky. The name fits somehow.
His place isn’t that large. Prapai lets the kid find his friend in favour of turning toward the second figure still mingling in his doorway.
He pauses. “Phayu?”
Phayu raises an eyebrow, a silent question in the gesture. What have you done now?
At fifteen, Sky thought he was in love.
At fifteen, Sky thought he knew what love was.
As it turns out, at fifteen, Sky was no different than any other teenager. He was young, naive, and easily manipulated into thinking he was something special.
Gun made him believe that when in reality all Sky was was a plaything that he could mould into whatever he wanted. A puppet he could control. A power play. But hindsight is 20/20.
If Sky could go back in time, he’d tell himself to run. Get away before he’s in too deep. Because nobody who claimed to love him would do the things Gun had done.
“Oh, he’s just a kid,” a soft voice says, closer than he expected it to be. A light touch to his knee has Sky flinching back, head shooting up only to meet the gaze of what Sky would describe as a literal angel.
A girl is kneeling in front of him, young but still years older than he is. Her hair flows in delicate brown waves, and her eyes are kind, but determined. Sky trusts her intrinsically and he doesn’t even know her name.
When Sky looks at her, she gives him a smile, then turns over her shoulder to address another woman at the door. An alpha. Though given the context, he finds her far less threatening.
He doesn’t hear what she says because another shiver wracks Sky’s body. His eyes sting with unshed tears, he feels like he’s burning from the inside, his hair sticks to his head with sweat, and everything about this is awful.
Sky hadn’t even known what was happening. He remembers coming to the bar with Gun and his friends despite how tired he’d been all day. There were three of them, boys Sky had only met once or twice before in passing. But after tonight, he would never forget their faces.
As the hours went by, Sky became increasingly, unbearably hot. He’d pressed in closer to Gun for some sense of comfort, a little familiarity as his body started a process he’d thus far only heard about in school and from his parents.
He remembers whispers, and then the next thing he knew he was being dragged into the nearest bathroom and pushed up against cold, tiled walls.
What Sky felt in that moment, the dawning horror of what they were trying to do to him, can’t be described simply in words. He’d tried shoving them off, fighting back, and crying out, but they weren’t stopping. Gun wasn’t stopping them.
They had successfully torn his shirt off. Multiple hands from every angle touching him, groping him, ignoring his pleas for them to stop.
And they did, only when suddenly the bathroom door nearly swung off its hinges and slammed into the wall, a flurry of bodies and several snarling voices filling the room. The hands tugging at him were ripped away, and Sky immediately fell to the ground with a choked sob, trying desperately to cover himself up.
There was the sound of what might have been the impact of a fist on flesh, followed by a yelp. Sky couldn’t lift his head; refused to. He didn’t care what was going on so long as it didn’t involve him anymore.
It was over almost as fast as it had started. Sky, left barely clothed, hyperventilating on a filthy bar floor, tries not to cry before he’s draped with a heavy leather coat over his back. The smell on it is strong enough to knock most of the panic out of him and replace it with disgust, having him reeling back and wrinkling his nose.
The girl gives him an apologetic look. “Sorry. My brother reeks,” she says lightly, taking Sky’s hands between hers in order to help him stand. “But it’ll mask most of your scent while we get you out of here. Okay?”
There aren’t many other choices for him, so Sky nods.
“What’s your name?” the other girl, the taller one, asks from the door when they approach.
“Sky,” he says.
“Ink,” she replies. “That’s Pa,” Ink adds, gesturing to the woman next to him.
Sky would smile, but he’s too freaked out and anxious to do much other than to go where they lead him.
The rest of the pub is bustling as normal, like an assault didn’t literally just take place twenty feet away from the closest patrons. Sky doesn’t think he’ll be able to come back here. It’s mediocre anyway.
They reach the back door without issue. Aside from a couple curious glances, nobody pays them any mind. Sky can’t see Gun or his friends anywhere, and distantly he wonders what happened to them.
Then he decides that he doesn’t care.
The air outside is a warm slap to the face; hardly better than the stifling heat of bodies and overwhelming stench of stale beer inside. But Sky gulps it down like it’s water and he’s on the verge of dehydration.
Sky is flanked by both Pa and Ink as the three of them draw nearer to two men standing on the street. Another alpha and omega pair, Sky is sure, but they both look equally ready to throw down if need be. And they’d win.
“Hia,” Pa calls out, getting the attention of both boys. Their faces soften instantly at the sight of him, like they’re glad to see him intact if a little shaken.
“Are they gone?” Ink asks once they’ve stopped walking.
“Yeah,” one of them answers. He has maybe an inch or two on the man next to him and with slicked back hair. Sky would dare call him handsome on a normal day. He’s also the only one wearing a tank top. Sky wonders if it’s his jacket that he’s wearing. “With their tails between their legs,” he adds, a hint of pride colouring his voice.
“Sick bastards,” the omega mutters, glaring off into the distance before turning back to Sky. His eyes widen. “How old are you?”
His tone makes Sky want to straighten up, puff out his chest, and declare that it’s none of your business. Another shudder prevents him from doing that, an embarrassing whine escaping his throat instead.
“Old enough to be in heat in a very public area,” Pa answers for him. “Can we go now?”
The question is enough to kick them into motion, navigating their way toward a sleek, silver vehicle with just enough seats to accommodate all of them. They put Sky in the back, smack dab in the middle, and punch his address into a GPS once he rattles it off to them.
They drive for what feels like hours, but realistically could only have been about five minutes. Sky’s mind races, his body flashing hot intermittently but he refuses to take the coat off. Not for fear of anything else happening, but because moving at all feels like effort he doesn’t have the energy for. Maybe he’s in shock now that the threat is gone.
“How did you guys know?” Sky asks suddenly, the thought only just occurring to him. “That I was in there? That they were—” he can’t finish that sentence.
“Pat saw your group come in,” Ink replies. “We thought it was weird that you seemed so much younger than the rest of them.”
“So we were keeping an eye on you,” Pa finishes.
From the back seat, Sky watches Pat’s hands tighten on the steering wheel, keeping his gaze fixed on the road ahead. “One of the few times I wanted to be wrong.”
The other omega, Pran, reaches over and sets a hand down on Pat’s thigh. Sky’s eyes burn again with sheer, overwhelming relief that someone had been looking out for him, even when he was unable to look out for himself. He doesn’t want to think about how much further those scumbags would have gone otherwise.
He doesn’t realize he’s shaking again until he feels an arm wrap around his shoulder. They don’t speak for the rest of the ride until they’re parked in front of Sky’s apartment complex.
Pa shuffles out of the car to make room for Sky to exit, and he’s fully prepared to go inside alone, but he’s stopped by a hand on his jacket sleeve.
“I’ll walk with you.”
Sky looks over his shoulder into the smiling face of Pran. In no state to argue, Sky can only let it happen, ignoring the immediate sense of ease he gets knowing that he doesn’t have to navigate the hallways alone the way he is now.
“Do I smell?” Sky asks softly once they hit the elevator, hesitant.
Pran gives him a side glance. “This is your first heat?” he questions.
Sky nods.
“A little,” Pran tells him. “It’s not too strong yet. And even if it was—” his tone grows serious, “—that’s no excuse for anyone to touch you. Alpha or not.”
He pulls the jacket tighter over himself, trying hard to push the memories back, even if it only happened less than an hour ago. “I didn’t know I would go into heat.”
“Not everyone does,” Pran is quick to assure him, pausing when the elevator doors open to Sky’s floor and he walks out first. Sky follows when he motions for him. “First heats are tricky,” he continues. “Your body is still adjusting, so things will be touch and go. That’s why you’re not out of your mind right now.”
Makes sense, he supposes. He knew people could still be functional while in heat, but he still thought it’d feel a lot more intense than it does.
“You mean it only gets worse from here?” Sky mutters, taking the lead to direct them toward his unit. At least he didn’t manage to lose his keys amongst the chaos.
Pran doesn’t reply, only giving him an apologetic smile, which is enough of an answer for him. Sky’s door swings open, the darkness of his apartment looming in front of them. And he should be relieved. He should feel safe now, being that he’s home, lucky to have been found and taken care of by a bunch of well-meaning strangers. Except there’s nothing but the weight of dread in his belly and the sudden urge to throw up.
Because from this point on, he’s going to be alone.
“Hey.”
Sky takes in a shaky breath and turns toward Pran, who’s looking at him like he already knows what’s going on in Sky’s head. Pran holds hand out, presenting a sticky note with a smiley face as a background, and a Line ID in blue ink.
“In case you need anybody to talk to later.”
Right. Because he’s a young, lone omega that just got assaulted in a public washroom. There’s hesitation in Sky’s movements, but he takes the note regardless, nodding before he remembers something else. “Oh!” He shrugs the leather off his shoulders and tries to hand it back to Pran. “Here. Thanks for…” he makes a vague gesture towards the jacket.
Pran takes it, chuckling softly. “No problem. I’m honestly impressed you kept it on as long as you did.”
Sky doesn’t like to assume anything about anyone’s relationships, but curiosity is a fickle thing, even in the face of trauma. “And it didn’t bother you?” he asks.
Pran’s smile is kind, if a little mischievous. “I know where I stand in Pat’s life. I couldn’t get rid of him even if I tried. And believe me, I have.”
Well now he has even more questions, but Pran is nudging him inside. “You have my ID. Go rest for now, okay? It’s been a long night.”
Understatement of the century, but Sky acquiesces anyway, giving Pran one final thank you and goodbye before shutting the door and locking it behind him.
Silence has never been louder.
Since then, Sky had never had a heat take him by surprise. Never had a real heat at all, actually. Until last week.
For the last five years, Sky has been on suppressants. He acquired some a month after the incident, and he’d taken them every three months like clockwork, all to prevent him from experiencing anything like that ever again.
But he did. Sure, the alpha this time didn’t take advantage of it, but that doesn’t mean anything when it shouldn’t have happened at all. He should have at least felt it coming. Suppressants don’t necessarily stop the entire process; they just dull it down, make it bearable, and make Sky a functional member of society.
Now with a full body physical complete, Sky sits in a doctor’s office, hands clasped between his knees as the doctor—Dr. Singharat, the name plate reads—goes through his file on his computer. He takes his time, and Sky wonders if he’s reading all of the medical history starting from the day he was born. The stern look on his face keeps him from commenting on it.
Finally, he leans back in his chair. It creaks. “Nong Sky,” he starts, and Sky’s back straightens automatically. “You say you went into heat unexpectedly?”
That is what he told him. He nods slowly. “Yes.”
“And you’ve been taking suppressants since you were—” he glances at the screen, “fifteen?”
“Yes.”
There’s another pause, seemingly for the doctor to mull over his words before speaking them. “That, and based on the information you’ve given me—I can think of two things that may have happened.”
Sky didn’t tell him too much exactly about what he was doing when his heat started, but it’d been enough to get the point across.
“Taking high doses of suppressants consistently and over an extended period of time means your body will eventually build a tolerance,” he explains. “Couple that with close proximity to an alpha in more…exciting situations, and you’ve got a great cocktail for hormones to go wild.”
Ah. Great. So his body is just built to betray him.
“What does that mean for me then?” Sky asks, though he’s sure he already knows the answer.
Dr. Sing’s expression hasn’t changed during their entire conversation, but just for a second Sky swears he could see an amused glint in his eye. “It means your body’s been through enough, nong. Give it a break.” He taps a couple of papers on the edge of the desk and stands, signaling the end of their appointment. “Yourself too, while you’re at it.”
Sky doesn’t know if that’s something he can do, but Dr. Sing isn’t a therapist and Sky isn’t about to throw a tantrum over being told to lay off the pharmaceuticals. He sighs, bows as politely as he can with a frown on his face, and allows himself to be led out.
That’s it, then. He needs to “give his body a break.” So what, he’s just supposed to let his heats happen as normal? Seems like a rip-off.
But is it really? That’s the million dollar question. Sky remembers his first heat, and he doesn’t remember it as a very pleasant experience even after he’d made it home. It was all fatigue and nausea, sweat dripping off his skin, and his body blazing with a fever that could only be relieved if he submerged himself entirely in cold water. When he was actually lucid, he called his dad, needing the familiarity and comfort of his voice because he didn’t have anyone else. He didn’t have Gun. He’d blocked him on everything the first chance he got.
This…hadn’t been that. This heat had been much different.
The fever remained but even that had changed to a degree. Instead of burning him alive, it was a steady simmer under his skin, hot and tingly all throughout his body. Prior to realizing what was happening, he remembers thinking that he’s never been so wet before either. Prapai’s hands and lips alone had been enough for him to produce more slick than he’s ever been able to manage by himself.
And then there was the way everything smelled. He thinks that’s what scared him the most. Even frightened and shaking on the floor without any idea of what to do, Sky had wanted Prapai to hold him just so he could bury his nose in his hair. He wanted to breathe in the alpha’s scent and embed it in his lungs. He wanted to lick him.
Sky went home with that scent all over his skin. He got off on it. Several times. He’d found himself wishing more than once that he’d had the presence of mind to swipe some article of clothing off the bedroom floor to take with him.
He’s very glad he didn’t. He’d never be able to live with himself after.
Prapai has always prided himself on being the kind of person that finds it easier to go with the flow than try to change something that’s out of his control. And to an extent, that’s still true.
But now he’s questioning whether or not he needs to see a doctor. Because it’s been weeks.
Weeks since the races.
Weeks since that botched hook-up.
It’s ridiculous. He should have moved on by now with several other willing participants to take to bed. They hadn’t even had sex, and yet Prapai continues to find his thoughts drifting back to that night. To that boy.
Sky.
Sky had been all bark and bite. There was some apprehension, but Sky had taken one look at Prapai and had no reservations about insulting him on the spot. Sky, who’d fought him from the second they met and had kissed him like he had something to prove. And he’d done it smelling like Prapai’s favourite dessert; all cinnamon and cloves and a hint of something vaguely like citrus.
His mouth waters at the memory, and he should probably stop thinking about it before his trousers become unbearably tight. He has a meeting in ten minutes and while Prapai is admittedly shameless, he’s not ready to explain that to his father.
So maybe this kid isn’t quite out of Pai’s system. That’s fine. He’ll just have to do something about it. And while he doesn’t know much about Sky, he knows enough that it should be feasible to find him again:
Sky is friends with Rain.
Rain is dating Phayu.
And that’s really all he needs.