Thorns

by aloftinthebreeze

Summary:

Amy is a photographer and secret Omega living with her gay childhood friend, Sonic, a Beta who helps her maintain her cover and avoid becoming bound to an Alpha and losing her independence.

She meets Shadow, a billionaire CEO of a pharmaceutical company (and, of course, an Alpha) with a dark/tragic past (I give you 1 guess as to who is involved with that), at a $1,000 per plate donor dinner for Rouge's mayoral campaign, for whom Amy does photography.

***

Modern Setting with no Chaos Energy/Magic. Romantic Drama shenanigans ensue whilst a suspense plot lurks in the background. Knuxouge subplot, Sonilver subplot.

Notes:

An idea I've had flitting around in my noggin whilst I've been working on my other fic. I'll be updating infrequently.

I hope you enjoy.

***Please read***
This is your one and only warning that this fic contains Explicit Sexual Content along with many adult themes and topics.
There is near constant explicit language and occasional use of pejoratives and slurs.
This is ABO, dubcon comes with the territory, but there is also 'mate or die' on page one.

Chapter 1: Amuse-bouche

Summary:

Amy has a problem that Sonic is trying to help her with.

 

Amazing art by @MonArt3s on X

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4:08 PM

Amy’s unfocused eyes idly gaze at her alarm clock on her bedside table. She’d owned it since she was a child. Cat shaped, the eyes lit up and the tail would tilt if you tapped it. A gift from her aunt. The memories bubbled through her heat-addled mind. There was somewhere she needed to be…soon. Somewhere important.

Maybe she’d remember once Sonic finally came inside her.

His pelvis slapped against her in a languid and erratic pattern, denoting his growing fatigue, his length beating off the deafening need inside her to be filled, to be complete. No matter how often she was struck dumb, no matter how tightly she scrambled for a semblance of control, her body failed her and melted into a puddle of writhing need.

Amy bit her tongue to silence her needful voice and tried her absolute best to stay completely still. Anything she could do to not remind Sonic she wasn’t the man he was imagining as he rutted into her. The poisonous heat clung to her insides, doing its best to pulverizing her brain into a mushy, wanton, lustful paste. She desperately needed Sonic’s release. Amy would die without it.

Three times. Amy had needed Sonic to service her three times that day. Her heats had been becoming increasingly pernicious, but this one took the cake. Cursed as she was with a monthly heat, the most frequent of all heat patterns, if she didn’t get porked fast enough she enter a frenzied state of lust and need that could last three days or more. To add insult to injury, her traitorous body seemed to be growing immune to Sonic’s Beta seed.

One of his hands gipped her hip while the other balanced his phone on her back, headphones in, whatever video he needed playing. Amy was presenting, head jammed into a pillow and ass as high as she can, ears limp against her skull and tail held to the side. The natural Omega position. Accessible, submissive, ready and willing to be bred.

His muted grunts raised in pitch. Sonic’s cellphone tumbled to the bed as he grasped her hips with both hands and gave her several more forceful thrusts. The relief was almost instant. White coolness spread through her insides, bringing an instant relief to the oppressive cloudiness. Her thoughts cleared and she gasped. 4:10! Shit! She had a bus to catch in twenty minutes!

Sonic pulled out and, panting, flopped into the bed beside her, the springs squeaking under him. “There…there you go, Ames.” He murmured between breaths.

Amy lifted and arched her back into a stretch, feeling her vertebrae pop. She reached for a tissue from her bedside table. Holding it between her legs, she gingerly touched her best friend’s arm. “Thank you.”

Sonic’s eyes were closed, a hand massaging his scalp. The other hand raised and gave a two-finger salute before falling limply. “Anytime…” He said groggily. Sweat damped his brow and the fur around his pelvic region was mussed and stained with fluids.

Amy stood slowly, feeling the post-heat aches. It had hit early in the morning far ahead of schedule, ruining her plans for the day. She’d fought it with all the normal methods (Alpha scented towels, over the counter anti-inflammatory medication, and as-cold-as-you-can-stand showers), trying to make it to mid-day when Sonic could race his scooter back to their shared apartment on his lunch break.

It was a quick coupling, Amy was already drenched with slick and Sonic was an old hand at performing on demand by now. Ten minutes with his eyes closed and he sighed out the name of the guy he’d been crushing on from work, the paralegal with the white fur. Wet wipes, quick bite of leftovers from the fridge, and Sonic was almost out the door when she doubled over.

“Sonic!” He was beside Amy in an instant, just like he promised to be all those years ago, leading her back to her room. This time, he had to apologetically get his phone halfway through to help him perform. He returned to his job late.

That would have been it, right? Needing to be filled twice to fend off a heat wasn’t that uncommon. Not a chance. While she was reviewing her camera bag, double checking her gear for her gig that night, she flushed and gasped. Her womb contracted painfully, devastatingly desperate to be given the chance to bare life. She stubbornly refused it, month after month, with her contraceptives and hormonal suppressants, and it made her suffer for it.

Tissue still between her lips, Amy retrieved a fresh pair of panties and wiggled into them. Should she wear a slick pad? She grimaced. The bulge would be visible under her tight cocktail dress. She’d have to settle for a slick-strength tampon, as spotty as those would be. As she left her room, Sonic asked, “Can you get me a glass of water and, like, five ibuprofen?”

“Sure thing.” Amy went to the bathroom and turned on the shower before going to the medicine cabinet. She retrieved Sonic’s request, then took her usual morning after pill. The last thing either of them needed was a pregnancy scare. Without an Alpha, Amy had no chance at getting a prescription for proactive birth control. She took a drink from the tap to wash it down. Straightening, her eyes landed on her daily suppressant.

The brand covered by her public health insurance had changed a few months ago and she really thought the new box was…just garish. Omega products were generally discreet by design. Suppressants with a loudly colorful motif and a slogan (‘Live Loudly!’) branded across it…the art was clearly made by some Beta who never met an Omega. She loathed every time she had to pick up her prescription at the pharmacy, terrified someone would comment on the brightly colored box.

Amy had already taken her suppressant for the day…but another couldn’t hurt could it? Maybe she was being paranoid, but she didn’t want to take the chance that her heat threatened yet again during her gig that night. She was going to be nauseous and lightheaded tomorrow from the morning after anyway. Might as well add in whatever overdosing on hormonal suppressants would do to her. She was only going to be editing photos tomorrow anyway. She could be sick as shit for that.

Pulling a shower cap over her quills, Amy slipped out of her underwear and ducked into the warmed up spray of the shower. She didn’t have time to dry out her quills, but she needed a quick rinse to get the sweat and dried slick out of the fur around her nether regions. A couple minutes of vigorous scrubbing and she was out, wrapping a towel around her hips.

Returning to her bedroom, she handed Sonic a bottle of painkillers and a glass of water. Amy set about getting dressed. He popped open the bottle and downed probably too many before draining the glass. “So, what’s your job tonight? Wedding?” Sonic retrieved a pillow not coated in sweat and saliva from the floor and propped himself up.

“A fundraising dinner for Rouge.” Amy said absently as she toweled off her fur and began brushing her quills. She looked at herself in her vanity mirror. Her face was still rosy from heat flush, but her pink coloring hid it well. She didn’t wear any makeup or adornments. Better to not draw attention.

“Ooh, fancy. Where at?” Sonic dug through the messed sheets to find his phone. Amy made a mental note to strip the bed again once she got home that night. After today’s activities, she was out of clean sheets…she could probably slip in a trip to the laundromat tomorrow.

Tucking a loose quill behind her ear, Amy retrieved a can of scent suppressant spray from atop her dresser. “Some mansion outside of town owned by one of the megadonors.” She gave herself a heavy coating of the scent cover. She didn’t want to smell like anything tonight. “The CEO of some big pharma company, I think.”

Sonic hummed as he massaged his forehead, the sounds of pornography he’d been watching flaring up from the phone’s speaker before he thumbed it close. “Maybe I’ve heard of him. My lab gets so much work every time one of those companies get sued and has to come up with third party test results.”

Amy smirked. “Him?” She raised a brow.

Sonic snorted, glancing away from his phone to her. “Come on, Ames. Are you gonna get on to me about assuming the guys an Alpha, too?”

Sonic had her there. There were more female CEOs than non-Alpha ones. Amy retrieved her phone from her bedside table and unplugged it from the charger. Bring up her calendar app, she looked at the location attached to the entry. “Looks like…Kintobor Life Sciences.”

Sonic shot up, emerald eyes wide and ears perked with interest. “You’re going to Shadow Kintobor’s house?”

Amy shrugged, wary of Sonic’s sudden engagement. “I guess? Do you know him?”

“Kinda. I’m actually working on a contract project for KLS right now at work. Wait, shit. I’m not supposed to talk about clients.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Forget I said that…”

Amy laughed. She searched through her closet and found a fitted black dress with a wide neckline. She hated the exposure, but leaving nothing to the imagination was a disguise she’d relied on often.

“Anyway, you have to get me a picture of the guy.” Oh, not this again.

“Sonic…” Amy sighed as she wiggled into the dress.

“Dude’s hot as fuck. Come on Ames, I never ask you for anything.” That was an exaggeration, but she had caused him to go long on his lunch break that day.

Sheathed in the dress, Amy bent forward and spread her legs. She was still plenty slick inside, so the thick absorbent sponge went in without complaint. She rolled her hips making sure it wouldn’t slide out and then she put her underwear back on.

Amy straightened and pushed out the wrinkles on her dress. “I am not gonna take dirty pictures for you.”

Sonic flopped back on the bed dramatically. “No, Ames, god. No. Just a normal picture. The guy’s even a hedgehog. Come on, Ames. My spank bank needs an update.” He gestured at his phone for effect.

“Sonic…” Amy rolled her eyes and examined herself in her mirror. She didn’t look like she’d been begging to be fucked all day, right? She made her practiced smile. Small, pleasant, unremarkable. Don’t look at me. Don’t think about me. Don’t touch me.

Sonic yawned. “You owe me, Ames. He’s probably gonna be in a tux.” He whined, a needful lilt in his voice. “You got to do this for me.”

Amy crossed her room to her camera bag sitting on her desk chair. “I’ll let you look through my raw shots, but that’s it. He might not even be there. It’s just at his house.” She checked that her DSLR was securely tucked in and double checked her stash of memory cards and that the spare battery was charged.

“You’re a treasure, Amy. I love you. But if you do happen to get a close up on his pouch-”

“Sonic!”

“Kidding! I’m kidding, Ames, sheesh.”

Amy eyed her box of scented masks beside her vanity mirror. Giving where she was headed, it would be a prudent move to cover her mouth and nose against any Alpha scents floating around…but it would also draw attention. Why would a Beta need to wear a scent mask? She tucked one into her camera case just in case.

“I’m already regretting agreeing to this. You can’t let anyone else see it, okay? If Rouge finds out I’m letting you goon on donor pictures, she’ll fire me.”

Sonic rolled his eyes. “Oh no,” He said with mock concern, “who else will illegally underpay you like Rouge?”

“Sonic…” She knew his comment was meant as a joke, but she didn’t like thinking about how uneven the rent splitting was. Sonic wasn’t exactly ambitious, but his laboratory technician job was both more stable and profitable than her photography so far. If the inequity bothered Sonic, he’d never mentioned it, but that didn’t stop Amy worrying about it.

She slipped on a light coat and shouldered her gear bag. “Don’t wait up for me.” She leaned over and lightly kissed Sonic on the forehead.

He gave her his signature massive smile. “No worry of that. I’m bushed.” Sonic sank back on the pillow, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Knock ‘em dead, Ames. Photograph the hell out of those stuffy plutocrats.”

While Amy waited for the bus, she scrolled through the latest posts on the Omegas Only message board. The title was unfortunate given the number of pay-per-performance websites that used similar names, but the OO forums proceeded them by decades, starting out as a Usenet newsgroup. Users had to be verified by the lead mod and owner to post, but once in, the depth of knowledge was staggering.

Amy frowned at the new posts added to the ‘In Memoriam’ thread pinned to the top of the board. She thumbed the thread and scanned through the new entries. All of them were younger than she was. Honor Killing, Heat Death, rut-related. At 25, Amy felt ancient. The Memoriam thread was the oldest on the board. The site owner dedicated it to their daughter, an Omega who didn’t make it to 20 years old.

Many Omegas left the forum once they got Claimed, normally at the behest of their Alphas. The farewell posts were bittersweet. But it was inevitable. There was a soft law, over one hundred and fifty years old now, that stipulated Omegas needed to be claimed by age 21 for ‘public health and safety’ reasons. It was never enforced by itself, but it was used to punish Omega’s who would go into heat in public, started a rut-riot, or otherwise caused trouble.

Amy navigated to the board dedicated to Heat Help. Normally it was full of cries for help regarding first heats posted by teenagers and the occasional terrified mother, but recently it had been flooded with requests for help with off-cycle heats. Amy frowned. At least she wasn’t the only one suffering. There was a locked thread telling everyone to vote for Rouge Batton in the snap election. The Mod chastised them for off-topic discussion.  

A few minutes of casual scrolling didn’t reveal anything she didn’t already know. Amy had lurked the message board for years, never posting once. She felt…disconnected. Almost like she was eavesdropping on conversations that weren’t meant for her. What could she add to a discussion on bite aftercare? Did she have a right to have an opinion on neck covers? How could she weigh in on the legitimacy of Alpha/Omega matching services?

Amy looked up from her phone and down the road. Where was the Omega Bus?

Omegas were prohibited from holding driver’s licenses. Their heats were deemed too debilitating for them to safely operate a motorized vehicle. It was a public safety hazard should an Omega suddenly be taken by a heat whilst behind the wheel. These laws were used to allow private taxi services and ride-shares the ability to discriminate against Omegas. That left public transport the only option for unaccompanied Omegas.

Amy had a faked ID that was identical to her real one except it had her second sex as Beta. It wouldn’t pass close scrutiny, but got her through most interactions, especially if she had her bare shoulder’s exposed. Sonic didn’t have a driver’s license either, but it’s because he didn’t want to pay the fee. Instead, he had a scooter.

The Omega Bus was late. Amy couldn’t remember the last time it came at the posted time. Omegas were segregated to their own bus to ‘protect’ them from having unwanted interactions with Alphas. But in practice, the Omega bus was frequently late if it was running at all and Alphas rarely took the bus anyway. The result was just another limitation on unaccompanied Omegas.

The regular service bus pulled up and Amy frowned. A sign prominently featured in the window: A red O with a black slash through it. The universal symbol. No Solo Omegas Allowed. Next to it was the blue O with a black A circumscribed. Omegas Allowed with Alpha escort. The driver opened the doors for Amy.

Her stomach clenched. The Omega bus was already twenty minutes passed due. If she didn’t take this bus, she’d be late for the donor dinner. She really didn’t want to disappoint Rouge. Amy owed her so much.

Amy shifted her gear bag to pull down on her coat, exposing her shoulders to scrutiny. The Beta driver didn’t even look at her as she swiped her metro card. She sank into a seat and placed her bag on the seat beside her. The few other riders didn’t look up from their phones. She clenched her fists in her lap.

Passing.

Unmarked and deep in suppressants, Amy could pass as a Beta. The guilt of this privilege dug its teeth into her. The fear of being discovered coiled ever present in the pit of her stomach. Her independence hinged on her ability to masquerade. And a timer was ticking deep in her biology threatening to bend her to the will of imperatives evolved in more desperate times.

Amy swallowed and looked out the bus window, quietly committing a crime in plain sight.

Chapter 2: Den of Predators

Summary:

Amy attends Rouge's campaign fundraising dinner. Things are going great until they aren't.

Notes:

I can't think of anything clever to put here. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Amy looked through her viewfinder, snapping a few candid shots as Rouge accepted the wireless microphone from the MC, trying to ignore the slight coating of sweat that had gathered under her amaranth fur. A menagerie of well-dressed guests had enjoyed a frankly staggeringly delicious looking plated meal under a high ceiling. She didn’t know what this room was normally used for, but it comfortably fitted nearly one hundred guests around large tables, being served by a small army of black and white clad staff. Maybe an actual, literal ballroom?

The evening had been going smoothly, more or less. The air was thick with scents and Amy had to take frequent breaks, diving out of the dinner area to shove her face into the scent mask she had brought (on a whim, thank god!). She had, foolishly it seemed, assumed that the event would be outside like all the others she’d been to while working for Rouge’s campaign. Amy should have known better. As they drew closer to election day, the colder weather and earlier sunsets would send most campaign events indoors.

“Thank you! Thank you!” Rouge bathed the room with a brilliant smile, her sharply tailored suit matching the color of her eyes and hugging her slight form provocatively. She dominated the room effortlessly. There wasn’t a stage, so Rouge walked back and forth, commanding attention against a backdrop of large floor to ceiling windows. A gorgeous garden and pristine lawn lay beyond the windows, but the veil of night had obscured them from view.

“Who had the chicken? Wasn’t it great, folks?” A few hands waved and voices called out. Rouge’s large ears twitched, one of her few tells, that of satisfaction.  “The lamb?” Another smattering of noise. Rouge pointed towards a wolf seated at the nearest table, “You had the lamb, didn’t you, Larry? Don’t lie, now. I know you!” The wolf whistled and his table cracked up in laughter.

Amy had heard Rouge’s routine so many times now she knew when to swing around to capture donors laughing or of Rouge gesticulating. Any one of her photos could end up on a door hanger or in a television commercial. Amy saw one of her shots on a bus once. Conflicting feelings had swelled in her. Her most widely seen work didn’t have her name attached.

Rouge grinned. “Well, I had the salad.” She twists to the side, crouching slightly, her hand blocking her face from the crowd as if divulging a secret. “I had the steak. Don’t tell my manager!” She whispered directly into the microphone. Uproarious laughter filled the space.

A bear at the table nearest sniffed suddenly and his face wrinkled in confusion. Amy quickly moved away, feigning interest in a couple of Rouge’s staffers helping clean up after an old ram lost hold of his glass of wine while laughing.

“But seriously, ladies and gentlemen, let’s give a hand to the wonderful people who have been taking care you tonight.” Applause ricocheted off the high ceiling. “Louder folks, so the chefs buried three stories down can hear you.” Laughter joined the applause.

As Amy circled the outside of the room, she found herself by the table she had been avoiding. Set towards the back, near a pair of propped open French doors through which a nice breeze blew in from the garden, was the Omega table. Meal completed, most were masked. With Rouge’s pro-Omega platform, they were allowed to attend a function that would normally prohibit them, but their Alphas were elsewhere, scattered about the room with their peers.

A small doe locked gaze with Amy and, though her mouth and nose were covered by a designer-branded reusable scent mask, the smile she gave Amy reached her eyes. Amy tried to smile back, but her stomach churned, and it was all she could do to keep a grasp on her camera. Her eyes fell to the doe’s bare neck and the large discoloration that denoted the Claim Mark. Amy shuddered and moved away from the table of silent trophies just happy to be there. She did not take pictures of them.

“Which reminds me. A special thanks to our gracious host!” Rouge placed a hand to shade her eyes and peered around in a pantomiming manner. “I don’t quiet see him, but I’m sure he’s lurking around somewhere.” She waved her hand dismissively, her painted nails flashing. “What a lovely house, though, isn’t it folks?” The gathered guests clapped. Rouge jabbed a finger towards the back of the room. “Put your check book away, Herald, it’s not for sale!” More laughter. “Not my cup of tea, I’m afraid. I got lost looking for the bathroom and wound up in the next county!” The room erupted into laughter.

“But in all seriousness, my friends.” Rouge’s pacing stilled. “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. You are the ones who have stepped up to rescue our amazing city from those who would undermine the values and virtues upon it was built.” Rouge’s continence grew serious. “By placing your trust in me, you are shoring up those foundations of freedom and equality.”

She brought a clenched fist against her chest. “Together we are ripping a bright future for our children from the jaws of corruption and immorality. In the district attorney’s office, I fought for justice and peace and as mayor I will continue to do the same for all our citizens. I will not betray your conviction that I am the best choice to replace Mayor Jewel.” A smattering of applause materialized, but most knew to keep silent for the next part.

Both her hands covered her heart and Rouge extended her wings fully. Amy zoomed in. Some of the guests were already whooping in anticipation. “Together we will rise!” A powerful down beat lifted Rouge into the air and she spread her arms. A stunning white and turquoise angel looked down on them, her beloved flock. The room ate it up with a spoon. Hooting, hollering, a cacophony of approval. A mandate.

Amy took shot after shot, her camera eating the moment. Rouge loved doing this little stunt. It’s important to make them feel small but hopeful, she’d told Amy with a wink once. They’ve got to want you to save them. That’s when the checkbooks come out. Modern winged mobians were flightless, but Rouge spent an enormous amount of time and effort to be able to produce this display. And damn if it wasn’t impressive. Thank god for high ceilings.

Despite her best efforts, Amy was suffocating, the sounds and smells bombarding her. Her heart frantically worked to give her body the blood it needed to react to her panicking systems, but Amy shoved them all down and away. She stubbornly refused to be a slave to the whims of her body. Not then, not now, not ever. Till her last breath, be it tonight or in a hundred years, she’d own herself.

Rouge lowered lightly to the ground, her fanged smile beaming, “And remember, my friends, any donated dollar above the limit stipulated by campaign finance law will fully benefit the Maria Kintobor Memorial Foundation.” She placed her hand on her heart. “And you know what that means, my friends.” A cheeky smirk accompanied a jutting of her hips to the side. “Tax deductions!” Rouge pumped a fist into the air.

The room erupted in laughter and applause. “Now, who is ready for some desert?” Servers appeared with trays laden with slices of decadent chocolate cake and mini cheesecakes piled high with whipped cream and sliced strawberries. The gaps between the tables became clogged as servers mingled with guests standing to try to interact with Rouge or others.

Rouge passed off the microphone and entered the warren of tables, quickly getting pulled into a conversation. Amy fled back before she got hemmed in and was forced to touch someone to escape.

Amy moved around the edge of the room towards an area set up to be a photogenic backdrop for posed photos. Soon Rouge would stand, glittering smile plastered on her face, as donors lined up to have their picture taken with her. It was the last activity of the night that Amy needed to be present for and she was eager to get it over with.

Unfortunately, Amy just had awhile to wait as Rouge worked her way through the crowd, all of whom were hungry not for desert, but for Rouge’s attention.

Off to the side, watching the proceedings with calculated intensity, was the lynx who had approached Amy she took pictures of guests arriving in expensive luxury cars, sparkling individuals disgorged, and the vehicles raced away by valet staff.

“Sign this.” The lynx had thrust a tablet with a stylus at her. Amy flinched back, putting her camera defensibly between her and the woman that had suddenly appeared. “This is a non-disclosure agreement and a hold harmless agreement. I need you to sign it, Miss Rose.”

Amy took another step back, her flats starting to press an immaculately groomed flowerbed. “How do you know my name?” Sweat dampened her brow.

The woman stared at her blankly, a mild emotion ghosting over her face like a leitmotif. Indifference? Annoyance? Impatience? “It is my job to know the names of everyone on this property.” The lynx’s purple dress was dangerously sharp, cut in the way that sniffed derisively at Amy’s off-the-rack frock.

Amy looked at the tablet, still being extended to her, warily. “I’m working with Ms. Batton. I am her photographer for her campaign.”

“I am aware.” The lynx’s tone remained steady. “However, this is private property. If you do not sign these agreements, I will have to ask you to leave.”

Amy bit her lip. She was missing more and more shots the longer this woman stood in her way.  Slowly, she lowered her camera letting it hang heavy against the strap around her neck. Her ears laid back as she sighed her name in the places the lynx told her to. “Thank you, Miss Rose. Now, please keep to the areas assigned for staff use. Also, under no circumstance are you to enter the second floor. This is a private residence, and you will respect the owner.”

Amy returned her attention to the bustling ballroom. She hated the way that woman had looked at her. Those piercing green eyes made Amy feel naked. Worse than naked. Known. Her pulse picked up. Amy swallowed. She felt hot. Too hot.

Where was Rouge? Amy’s eyes darted through the throng of Alphas and Betas. There she was. Still locked in conversation with several people standing in the wings ready to snap her up once she finished. Amy had some time before Rouge was ready for the posing session.

She rushed through the doorway the wait staff had been using. In her haste, she brushed shoulders with a lemur and Amy squeaked as she shrank away. Don’t touch me! The lemur startled and stared at her with big yellow eyes. “S-Sorry!” Amy slipped around them, pressing herself against the door frame.

This stupid house was too big. It took her a few moments to find the nook near the kitchen where she’d stashed her camera bag. Plucking out the scent mask, she pressed it tightly against her face and breathed deeply. The strong, artificially blank scent inside rushed into her. Relief was instant. Cooling clarity returned and the heady clouds dispersed.

Just a little longer. The evening was almost over. Guests would start leaving now and the air would start clearing of torrid Alpha musk. She’d almost made it through. Today had been a nightmare but she’ll have won. Her body had tried to pull her down in a pit of hormones and lust and she, with Sonic’s help, had defied it and recovered quickly to (mostly) full function.

“Are you alright?” Amy jumped, hastily shoving the mask back into her bag. She twirled. A concerned badger carrying a tray of coffee service looked at her, brow knitted.

“Y-yeah!” Amy stammered, adopting a strained smile. Totally fine, she didn’t want to slither out of her dress and mount the first Alpha she saw at all. “Musk allergies, am I right?” She attempted to joke. “You’d think these stuffy rich folk would shower more.”

The badger didn’t look convinced, but she offered a noncommittal, “Ah, sure. Sorry. That sucks.” And returned to her task.

Amy grabbed her bag and tried to move it to a darker corner. She was huffing the mask again when she felt it. Shivers ran through her, reverberating and amplifying. A sob clung to the back of her throat. A trickle of dampness stained her underwear. Her slick sponge was saturated.

No no no no! Why was this happening to her?

This wasn’t happening. She would not let this happen!

The posed photos with Rouge were the most important part of the whole evening. Some of the guests attended just for that. Once (If) Rouge became Mayor, photos Amy had taken would be signifiers of adjacency to power. They’d be framed and hung all up in important corner offices all over the City.

And now she had slick threatening to drip down her legs and let every Alpha in the building know she was ready to be slammed against a table and fucked silly. Amy furiously dug through her bag. There had to be something in there she could use. Come on, come on!

There! At the bottom, pressed flat by untold months buried under heavy camera equipment, was a slick pad. Amy stowed her camera and dashed away.

Bathroom, bathroom, bathroom. Where the hell is a bathroom? She opened door after door. This stupid house was too large! Who needs all this space?

Getting desperate, Amy found a closet and slipped in, shutting the door behind her. Shelves of old junk witnessed her hitching up her dress, pulling her underwear down, bending over, taking the pull string, and yanking the sopping wet sponge free of herself. Now where was she going to hide it?

Amy flushed, the horror of her stupidity striking her full in the face. Good going, Amy. She rapidly scanned her surroundings, the sponge dripping slick into the tile floors. Old board games, an assortment of throw pillows, plastic tubs full of rolls of fairy lights, seasonal knickknacks. No good options made themselves known.

Silently apologizing to whoever would have the misfortune of finding it, Amy lifted the cardboard lid for an old chess set and slip the offending object inside. She ripped the plastic packaging off the slick pad and pressed it into her underwear, securing the wings to the underside. It was an ‘ultra thin’ one, meant to be invisible (ha!), so she did not have much time. But it would hold because it had to hold.

Amy raced back to her camera, trying to flatted her dress and comb her quills with her fingers as she went. This shouldn’t be happening. Sonic broke her heat already! She should be dry as a desert down there. Was it all the Alpha scent in the air? The fire that had been growing under her skin all evening was reaching inferno levels.

But she had a job to do. She needed to prove to Rouge that it hadn’t been a mistake to hire her, that she would not be held back by her second sex. Every employer that had found out she was an Omega had fired her on the spot. But Rouge hadn’t. Rouge let her stay, let her work, let her be something other than a moist hole that produced babies.  

The line had formed by the backdrop and Rouge was already waiting. Spotting Amy’s approach, Rouge smiled and clapped her hands loudly. “We’re ready to go! Thank you all so much for your patience.” Her smile never faltered, but Amy could see the irritated accusation when they locked eyes. Where the fuck were you?

Silently, Amy took her position and began to snap shot after shot. All of her will was bent on focusing on her art, her photography. The air in the room was suffocating her. Toxic aromas chewed at the edges of her sanity, compelling her to bend over, submit, flop onto the floor and present to any of them, all of them!

Her stomach clenched, her womb throbbed. Blood rushed everywhere except her brain. Her hands were shaking, probably ruining half her shots. Keep it together. You’re not a person. You’re a camera, your purpose is to trap a moment in time. In bits and bytes, you smuggle the past into the future.

Cameras don’t sweat or yearn for a hard dick to pound them into a pleasurable nothingness. The government doesn’t encourage cameras to join state-funding matching services, or extract ‘public burden’ premiums from their tax refunds, or exclude them from the protection of anti-discrimination laws.

The line seemed to go on forever. Amy was panting now. She fumbled as she tried to change the memory card on her camera. Her joints were getting inflamed, crippling her against flight. She noticed many of the people waiting in line were sniffing the air and starting to shuffle animatedly.

Oh god! Her scent was breeching the coverage of the suppression spray.

And then it hits her.

A shearing shiver ran up her spine, rattling her brain to bits. Amy’s vision blurred. The camera lowered from her face, quickly losing its relevance to her as an object. She was vaguely aware of Rouge squinting at her with growing concern.

“I am so sorry, ladies and gentlemen!” Rouge is talking? “All this glad-handing is making me thirsty. How about we take a quick break? Arty knows what I’m talking about.” Grumbles turn to chuckles. “Don’t worry shareholders, his driver is sober!” Amy can’t hear the response over the ringing in her ears.

Amy bolted. Or tried to. However fast she’s going, however downright strange it looks, her few remaining same brain cells are concerned with one thing: getting as far away as fast as she can.

Where is her bag? Doesn’t matter! Need to get away!

Where is she going? Doesn’t matter! Need to get away!

Why was she running? Amy shook her heat-addled head. She should stay put. No. There are so many strong Alphas here. No! Surely one of them can help her. One of them can keep her safe. One of them can finally fill her up for good. Scratch that infernal itch she’s had for over ten years. NO! It would be so easy. Not only that, it was also the right thing to do. All this running and hiding and fearing discovery. There wasn’t any point to it.

Her suffering had no point.

Her jellied legs get her to the grand foyer. She was almost out of the massive house. The open air would help clear her head. Surely then she’d think of something.

“Are you alright, miss?” A deep voice sounded too close to her and Amy stumbled.

A firm hand grasped her upper arm, steading her and holding her upright. The contact burned (Don’t touch me!) but she leaned into it anyway, her legs continuing to buckle, her body craving more!

Amy turned and looked up into brilliant eyes the color of burning rubies. Dark brows crinkled with concern. Her breath hitched. A jet-black hedgehog with red colorations at the edges of his eyes, a full head taller than her, held her. The smell of him locked her body down. She had been caught by an Alpha.

Then the stranger’s nose twitched, and the concern evaporated first into surprise as his pupils blew wide before descending into disgust. He whipped his face away, covering his nose and mouth with his other hand. “Fucking hell!” He snarled, his eyes shot through with a battle between anger and arousal. His quills flared and she beheld crimson streaks to match the eye markings.

“Are you out of your mind?” He growled at her, his deep voice cutting her sense of self-preservation to ribbons. Her sweetness released a turret of syrupy slick, overflowing the thin pad and racing down her legs.

“I-“ Amy squeaked, all she can manage. Words were useless now. Why speak when she could just go limp and allow nature to take its course?

Footsteps approached from the way Amy had come. “Shit!” The dark man hissed as he glanced away. As his eyes arced back to her, something caught his eye, and he looked down. Noticing the fluid dripping from Amy onto the hardwood floors, his grip eased a bit. “This way. Quickly.” The rough whisper, softer in tone, danced around the shell of her ear, sounding like the sweetest (poisonous) music. He half-led, half-drug her locked up form from the foyer and down a short hallway to a stairway.

No no no no please NO!

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t protest, couldn’t offer any resistance at all as she was brought up the stairs to the forbidden second floor.

Notes:

The information discrepancy between the reader and Amy is immense right now. Our poor girl...

Chapter 3: Meat Cute

Summary:

Amy discovers where the stranger is taking her.

Notes:

The adults are adulting in this one, chat.

Also, a thank you to my beta reader: Bitter_Sweet0ak! Please check out their work!

Amy was brought to a dark space. With the flip of a switch, the man illuminated the room with soft light. A plush and spacious, if impersonal, bedroom was revealed. There are other objects in the room, but Amy only saw the made queen sized bed covered in coordinated decorative pillows. Prime nest making space! Her arm was released and she stubbled to the bed, leaning on it heavily as her legs shook, her hands fisting the silk coverlet.

The room smelled stale, unused, and the sudden absence of intoxicants gave Amy a blush of clarity. She turned to see the dark colored hedgehog had closed the door and pressed himself against it. Trapping her inside. His fiery red eyes, a shade to match his quill and eye markings, glared at her with a dangerous intensity. Predatory. Hungry. And a significant part of her wanted to be devoured.

Now that she could get a good look at him, she was disgusted by how handsome he was in a sleek, black tailored suit that hugged his muscular form captured in a tieless white dress shirt. Amy’s womb contracted and she winced. Their pups would be so gorgeous! She bit her lip to capture a salacious whine before it escaped her throat. Pink and red! Visions forced themselves into her consciousness.

“Are you trying to start a riot?” His voice was strained, blunting the venom. Controlled. Imperious. Like a proper Alpha. Amy cringed at his displeasure. Stupid! She could be so good if she just let herself be. Slick continued to dribble out of her, clarity fading quickly as the room filled with his voice and smell.

The strap of her camera rubbing against her sweltering pelt irritated her. Fighting the urge to fling the offending object, she slipped it over her quills and set it carefully on the bedside table with shaking hands. She didn’t know what was going to happen to her, but if she survived the night, she was really going to need the pictures on that flash drive.

“Where is your Alpha?” His words were metered, his pronunciation slow and clear. Right here! Amy panted. Why was he staying over there? Didn’t he want her? The trickle of slick swelled, flowing onto an expensive looking rug. She was so ready, so empty! Please! She could get him over here if she just asked. Why couldn’t she ask? Please, Alpha! Amy bit her tongue.

Amy pulled herself onto the bed. Her joints were inflamed; a side effect of the intense work her hormones were performing to ensure her insemination. She took a slow breath. “I don’t have one.” She managed to say, her voice only warbling a little.

His eyes were drawn to her bare shoulders, his lips pulling back to reveal wicked fangs. “You’re-“ He pressed himself against the door, his quill splaying against the heavy wood, “unclaimed…” The man swallowed, but moisture glistened on his lips.

He wanted her! She could see it so plainly. Why wasn’t he coming to her? Taking her like a proper Alpha. There must be something wrong with her.

“Do you have…” He struggled to choke out the words, “anyone who can…help you? Anyone you can…call?”

Sonic. Why would she want Sonic when there was a big, strong, handsome, Alpha right here? Amy shook her head. “He’s too far away.” She whined, but there was lilt to her inflection that mortified her. She was too brainfucked to do the math, but she was sure that by the time Sonic got here she’d be too deep in the throughs and would need to be locked in this room for the next few days lest she start yowling and presenting in the streets.

And that’s assuming he was awake (which he most certainly wasn’t after the day she’d put him through) and could get a cab (which she sure couldn’t afford) to take him across the city because there was no service in the city that would allow her into one of their vehicles smelling and leaking as she was. The event was still ongoing. What would Rouge think? And..and how could she keep asking this of Sonic? Relying on him, hemming him in with the promise he had made as a teenager. When would it end?

No way out!

“Why is this happening to me?” She whined partly to herself, mostly to the universe. Large, salty tears welled in her eyes and began to overflow, staining her muzzle and falling onto the silk coverlet.

Once the tears started, Amy couldn’t control them. Another stupid Omega reflex. Used to reel in the rare Alpha with scruples. If mindless lust couldn’t tag and bag her a fucking, pity would have to do. She hiccupped.

The dark hedgehog’s chest heaved with fast, heavy breaths. “You didn’t know this was going to happen?” The Alpha pressed his hand over his nose, his ears quivering.

Amy shook her head roughly, gritting back another sob. “My heat wasn’t even due until next week!” She wailed.

A moment passed without words. Amy sobbing and dripping, the stranger gripping the doorframe tightly with one hand and covering his face with the other. She was so tired. The sticky heat was unbearable. She should just lay down, give into the inferno and just burn away. All of her hard work was already piled high, ready to be set fire in a massive bonfire.

Finally, the jet-black hedgehog spoke. “I-“ He grunted, pressing the words out through gritted teeth, “could help you.” Amy blinked, her face scrunching, unable to comprehend the statement. Wasn’t that why he’d taken her here? “If…that is okay with you.”

An Alpha was asking permission. Amy almost laughed at the absurdity. What was he playing at? The whole reason he dragged her up here was to have her all to himself, to not have to fight off the pack of rivals chasing after her. Why did he insist on drawing out her suffering with all these questions.

Unless…he was being honest.

Amy narrowed her eyes, trying to see through the heat haze. His brow knitted as he met her scrutinizing gaze. How could she trust this stranger? What would he do if she refused?

The man looked away. “I’m sorry. That was terrible of me. Forget I said anything.” He half turned, reaching for the doorknob. “I’ll give you privacy.”

Amy’s system panicked. “Wait!” She sobbed. He froze, but didn’t turn back to her. She could see his jaw taunt as his teeth clenched together. “You can’t Claim me.”

He released the doorknob, his attention fiercely returned to her, a development that thrilled her baser instincts. Look at me! Want me! “No, I would never-!” He declared.

“Promise!” Amy shook, aching with the hideous desire to be touched. “Promise me you won’t.” She rubbed at her eyes. These terrible tears.

“I promise.” His voice sent a gentle, placating breeze over her burning skin. The sight of land after years at sea. She was safe with this stranger. So very safe.

“Then…I accept.”

Amy shifted her seat to slip off her underwear. The pair dangled from a finger, laden by the sodden pad, as she held it over the side of the bed. She relaxed her finger, and her undergarment fell to the floor with a moist plop. The Alpha’s nostrils flared, his eyes all but devouring her.  He reached up and undid the top button on his shirt. “As you wish.”

Rolling onto her hands and knees, Amy hitched up her dress, sliding her tail free of the tailscye, until it bunched at her waist. Her tail folded to the side and she lowered her head into the pile of pillows. They were terribly soft. She twisted to look at the stranger who was about to fuck her senseless. “I won’t beg.” She said as firmly as she could manage. Why was she trying to ruin this when she was so close? Was she stupid?

He squinted at her, seemingly confused. “What?”

Not trusting herself to not backpedal her defiance in the face of his disproval, Amy turned away. She focused on a small wooden desk. The legs were intricately carved. It probably cost more than her monthly rent.

Amy closed her eyes and began to imagine the place she visited when Sonic serviced her. If he could dream, then why couldn’t she? Gentle waves brushed a pristine sandy beach. Sunlight streamed down between the occasional fluffy white cloud. Playful zephyrs-

Amy’s brow knitted. Something was wrong. She pushed up and turned. The Alpha remained rooted by the door, his eyes clouded. Amy felt a sudden surge of indignation. Wasn’t she good enough for him? She said ‘yes’! Was he teasing her with his offer? He just wanted to see her present and leave her empty and embarrassed. Her cheeks flushed further, anger adding to the mix of brainless arousal.

“What are you waiting for?” Tears returned, but now shame-flavored.

The black hedgehog blinked, refocusing on her. He scowled and jerked his head to the side with an audible tsk. “Impatient.” He muttered. He took a step forward and slipped off his suit jacket. He let it unceremoniously fall to the floor and Amy felt herself quicken at his physique. The button-down shirt was well tailored and outlined refined shoulders and arms without looking stretched.

Another step and he was unbuckling his belt and toeing off his leather shoes. The trousers slid down and Amy tore her gaze away before she saw something she couldn’t look away from. She lowered her face back to the pillows, her face looking away.

The bed sank as he crawled into it and Amy felt her heart jump. This was it. This was happening. The conflicting feelings of revulsion and bone-rattling desire warred inside her. Her slight form began to tremble and she dug her fingers into the coverlet.

Away. She needed to go away.

Sandy beach. Perfect day. His hands touched her hips!

Amy gave a shuddering gasp and her trembling became violent shivers. The hands retreated and she bit back a whine at the sudden chill. “I can’t-“ The voice was right behind her! Amy panted for air. So close.

The hands returned, firmer, stronger this time. Her flesh burned. From the revulsion at the touch. From the sucking desire for him to go further! The Alpha growled, “I can’t do this if you won’t be still.”

Amy’s body froze. Her view of the room skewed as her pupil dilated. That voice. That tonality. The deep timber commanding obedience, laced with some nefarious subtlety. The Alpha Voice. The compulsion locked Amy in a firm embrace. She could barely breathe. Her tears began to flow again, seeping from still eyes, flowing down paralyzed cheeks.

The Voice. Like the voice she heard in her nightmares. The voice commanding her to submit, to let it happen, to just be a good Omega. To not scream. To not be such a tease. To beg for it.

“Shit, I didn’t mean-“ The hands on her hips moved up to her waist, rubbing, messaging her paralyzed muscles. Amy, as if released from a spell, melted into the touch, so gentle, so caring. “It’s okay.” His voice was low and soothing. “Please, just relax. I’m sorry this is happening to you. I’m going to take care of you.” She closed her eyes. A rumbling grew in the base of her throat. It was okay. She was safe. Cared for. Cherished.

“That’s it…” The hands worked their way back down towards her hips, stopping to kneed the tight knots of her lower back. The rumble grew louder. Amy closed her eyes. Was this what she had been worried about? It already felt so good and he hadn’t even entered her yet. “…good girl.”

Amy’s eyes shot open, the purr in her throat dying so quickly she choked.

“Are you alright?”

“Just get on with it!” Amy sobbed. She was going to die. Either he’d just strangle her for her audacity or he’d leave her here alone to boil alive in her own heat. She was dead. No way around it. Why did she have to be like this so argumentative and abrasive? Why did she try to hide so much? No Alpha would want her anyway.

He released an irritated grumble but she felt him lining up with her lips. She squeezed her eyes shut. Beach, sand, sunshine. The little cabin set back in the woods. The summer going on and on forever. An infinite afternoon. The adults were busy. They could play and swim and climb all they wanted. They could-

Slick lined, her tight space provided no resistance as the tip of the man’s length breeched her and Amy gasped. Gasp was too weak of a word. It was as if Amy was taking her very first breath after a life of holding it. The pleasure was immediate and immense. It ripped through her like a tsunami, leveling everything that came before. Her chest swelled, the sucking in of air creating a whining squeak.

He stopped, grunting. “I can’t keep stopping like this!” He hissed. “I’m- I’m not-“

Amy pushed back on her hands, pressing into and taking him deep inside her. Every inch of it felt amazing. Her world shifted. A total solar eclipse. She needed more. She needed all of it.

“Fuck!” He bent over her, wrapping his arms around her stomach. “Why are you like this?” His words were meaningless in her ears. All that mattered was maximizing the amount of Alpha inside her.

He was keeping some from her, she knew it. She lifted away slightly and then slammed back. The Alpha growled and Amy felt her heart flutter. He was upset with her! No! She was pissed at him. He wasn’t giving her what she needed. She’d have growled back if she knew how.

Amy went to slam back again, but he shoved her ass forward and sheathed himself to the hilt into her, the fur of his pelvic region finally contacting hers. Amy released a shameless moan, relief flooding her senses. He returned to his knees. “I’m doing you a favor. So, I’ll set the pace.”

Amy was about to hiss a venomous reply when he started to move, and her frontal lobe lost power.

Sonic, her dearest friend, always set a rapid, impatient pace. Mechanical, pedestrian strokes that weren’t meant for her. His mind was set to a task and he barreled towards completion without regard for anything else. His pleasure, hers, nothing. Amy had gotten use to joinings like that. Quick, impersonal, mandatory.

This was an entirely different beast.

Her dark partner in this terrible situation began slowly with a rolling gait, but going deep, deep inside her with each intrusion. The friction sent reverberations through her insides as if she were a precious violin and he the bow. Her insides, so set on their task to immolate her from within just moments ago, sang out in ecstasy. This! This is what she’d been needing all this time!

Disgusting words pooled in her mouth, demanding freedom. Please, more, please! Deeper, harder, faster! She bit them back. Traitors, every syllable. But she could not stop the sounds of her throat. The deep moans and whining squeaks. The lustful utterances as she salivated and tears, of joy now, rolled down her cheeks.

Fluids. Fluids absolutely everywhere. Soaking the coverlet, soaking the pillows, pressed into his shirt and into her dress. Wet expulsions meant to eliminate the enemy that was friction. Soldiers bent on making the coupling seamless.

He quickened his pace. “Fuck,” his deep voice was strained, with an almost awed overtone, “why are you so- ah! – tight…” The last word coming out in a sigh. The curses poured out, his strained and rough voice tempering to breathy gasps. He leaned over her, pressing his face into her back. He moaned and she could feel the vibration in her chest.

Joy swelled like a ballon in her, pushing away her dark niggling thoughts of resistance and autonomy. He liked her! She was a good Omega. She was soooo good. She would be so good, so very good, that he would have no choice but to Claim her!

Amy flinched and gasped. The dark hedgehog peeled off her back, muttering an apology, and he stilled in her. His absence left her back deadly cold and she shivered. And inside she withered. He was still in there, but, but- Amy released a piteous cry. A long, high-pitched wail.

He laughed! “Just hold on…I gotta…” He labored to breathe. Her head twisted and she glowered at him through eyes clouded with thick tears. He was unbuttoning his shirt. “It’s- I’m hot.” Amy watched as a blaze of white bloomed out of the falling away shirt. He tossed the garment to the side. “You’re doing so good for me.” He ran his hands over her rump and she squeaked as he tensed inside her. “We’re almost done.”

Done? She never wanted to be done! Amy couldn’t stop the disappointed whimper from escaping her lips. She slammed a hand over her mouth. What was she doing? He needed to go faster! This needed to be over.

“Oh?” He smirked, the rise of his lip revealing a sharp canine. A mischievous twinkle passed through his crimson eyes. He brought a hand up to his face, his gazed locked to hers, bit the middle finger of his glove, and slowly pulled it off. Amy’s heart pounded. She felt a fresh burst of slick bubble past her occupied entrance.

He began moving again and her eyes squeezed shut as a wave of sensation broke throughout her. He leaned over her again, but also reached down between her spread legs and-!

Amy gasped, her back arcing up into taunt muscles. She squirmed. She writhed. She screamed. He pumped languidly as he touched her, drawing the most disgusting noises from her. As his ungloved hand worked, the other held her tightly around the chest, supporting and stabilizing her against the wild thrashing her body was wrecked by.

All the while he murmured into her ear, “So good. So very good. Leave it all to me.”

“F-fah-“ Amy attempted to vocalize.

“Hmmm?” He hummed, his teeth gracing the shell of ear. “You’ve been so mouthy so far, ma pêche. What’s stopping you now?” She could feel his hot breath on the back of neck as he rubbed his nose into her. “So good…”

“Faster!” She shrieked.

She felt a dampness as he licked the back of her ear, eliciting a shiver from her. “As you wish, my dear.”

He did not relent with his hand, but picked up the pace with his thrusts. In, out, in, out, smashing her to bits, unraveling her with his hand. The pressure! It was too much to bare and yet it still wasn’t enough. He was pushing her up a mountain she never knew existed in her.

Amy was a crying mess of moans and gasps, a cacophony in concert with his groans and grunts. All her will was bent on keeping the poisonous words off her tongue. Please, please! Yes, Alpha, fuck me! Fill me! Breed me! Please! There was nothing left with which to resist the impending release. Nothing left to question what was happening.

Heat coiled deep in her abdomen, a growing pit of lava. With every pound, every circle, he drove her further and further. His length brushed something deep inside and she was at the peak, staring down at the molten lake in the caldera. Retreating and then pressing forward, ever deeper, ever harder, he hit her spot, pushing her into the volcano.

Amy screamed. Amy cried. Amy shook. Amy fell to pieces, scattering in glimmering shards of unfathomable pleasure spread across space and time. Lost for all eternity in one golden, rolling moment.

Expletives rained from the dark hedgehog’s lips as her space gripped him in involuntary clenches.

Vaguely, Amy felt herself being held as she slowly reemerged from thoughtless nothingness. She was drenched in sweat and a strange clarity reigned. “Th-that was amazing.” She breathed.

“You’re welcome.” He growled, a self-satisfied grin apparent in his tone. He pressed against her and what sanity she had regained fled. A massive, hot mass pressed against her. His knot! The swollen area would lock him into her ensuring no seed escaped. Amy had never been knotted before. She’d read accounts from the OO message boards. Omegas dividing their lives by a single event: their lives before being knotted for the first time and their lives after.

She swallowed. Amy knew what her biology desired. It was already screaming at her, demanding she beg for the powerful Alpha’s hot knot. She wouldn’t be full without it. Wouldn’t be whole without it. Amy wanted it desperately, every thrust pushing against it dissolving her ability to resist a little more.

She pressed backwards, chasing the pressure as he pulled back. “A-are you sure? I-if, ah, I knot you, there’s no going back. We’ll- gah!- We’ll be stuck together for the duration.”

Please please please knot me! I need it so badly! I’m gonna die! Please please please!

“Do it!” Amy’s voice cracked as she spit out the words.

“As you wish.” His grip on her hips tightened and he slammed her back as he thrust forcefully forward. Amy cried out as the mass passed into her, hot, throbbing, impossibly big and yet the perfect fit! A sensation unlike anything she’d ever felt rocketed through her. Amy arced her back. Her quills tensed, her fur stood on end, stars crackled across her vision.

Every cell of her being sighed at once: Finally!

Past the peak, Amy began the slow, comfortable decent down, down, down into darkness.

Notes:

How are we feeling? I wonder who this guy is. He seems nice.

Also! I’m rubbish at fluff, but want to have some to counter the spicy. If it not too much trouble, could you please suggest some friend activities for Amy and Sonic in the comments below?

Tumblr @aloftinthebreeze

Chapter 4: Catch and Release

Summary:

How's Shadow feeling?

Notes:

A big thank you to my beta reader: Bitter_Sweet0ak! Please check out their work!

Shadow lost his mind for a bit after his knot popped into the photographer.

It has been so long since his last knotting that he simply wasn’t ready for the overwhelming wave of pleasure and animalistic possessiveness that sucker punched his self-control into submission. He’d made at least half a dozen short, fierce thrusts, his release so close the base of his spine was seizing, before he noticed two very concerning things.

First, he had the poor woman’s shoulder in his mouth. He could smell the claiming gland underneath the skin, unbroken and utterly ripe, like a succulent fruit. Her fur, mixed with sweat and her intoxicatingly sweet Omega scent (strawberries, vanilla), was luxuriously decadent on his tongue. Shadow was poised and ready to Claim this amazing Omega the moment he consummated, in direct violation of the promise he’d made to her. Fuck!

However, the more pressing concern was that his the Omega had gone limp in his arms and now he strained to hold them both up. Shadow had pulled the pink hedgehog back a bit as he went for the knotting, so he could lean his weight entirely on his knees. The woman had passed out. The realization shot ice through his veins. Fuck!

Taking advantage of his sudden clarity, Shadow pulled himself from her shoulder. “Miss?” He gave her a gentle shake. Her head lolled to a side and his breath hitched. Shadow shifted his grip so one of his hands cupped her chin, supporting her neck. He could feel her pulse and her chest expanding and contract, both steady. Small blessings. “Miss?” He shook her a little harder. He’d heard of Omegas passing out from their first knotting but this couldn’t possibly be the woman’s-

Oh FUCK me…

Shadow licked his lips. Well, shit. His irritation with himself kept his desire at bay, but that would only work for so long. What the fuck was he supposed to do? She had agreed to allow him to help her. Did this development nullify that consent? The heat growing in his abdomen was becoming intolerable. He needed to decide quickly before his body did it for him. Fucking idiot, how could you let yourself be in this situation?

Shadow’s knot suddenly throbbed and he pitched forward, barely catching them with a hand before he crushed her under him.  He cringed as a building, painful tension started spreading through his pelvis. Shit, the last thing he needed right now was to get knot sick.

If he didn’t nut soon, his body would punish him with several days of partial paralysis as it worked through the hormones it was currently poisoning him with. The antidote was to finish in this beautiful, delicious, ready Omega. Not really a choice at all, why was he even waiting, he just need to- Stop it!

He wasn’t a fucking animal! Think! Not about how amazing she felt and how delicious she smells and how he wanted to keep fucking her and fucking her until his seed was so far up inside her she’d have no choice but to bare a litter of his hoglets. Shadow gagged. His mouth watered. The pain radiated upwards, his stomach clenching, his lungs constricting until he could only pant, bring more of her scent into him.

“Please, wake up.” He breathed into her ear. His fangs graced the soft flesh. He was trapped. Utterly. Absolutely. She was in him. In his lungs, in his mouth, in every thought his brain could assemble. His hips jerk involuntarily as the radiating pressure clenched his spine. Shadow gasped at the ripples of relief that one little motion gave him.

Fuck that felt good. He was so deep inside her. So warm and comfortable, like she was made just for him. He held her closer and rubbed his face into the soft pink fur of her back. Shadow shifted his hips, slowly pumping into her again. The pain in his abdomen began to ease.

He would do what they’d agreed. Break her heat. Resist the urge to claim. Leave her alone. Leave her? How could he do that to such a perfect creature? She was his! Shadow squeezed his eyes shut and tried to wipe away these obviously false thoughts. Focus. He wouldn’t make excuses for himself. He got himself into this situation and he would accept the consequences, whatever they may be.

Gently, he held the pink form as he shifted them both to their sides on the bed. He laid her head on one of the pillows. He stole a look at her face. Even marred by tear tracks, she was beautiful. Her expression was soft and relaxed, as if she was in the embrace of a pleasant dream, her lips pursed slightly.

A sense of pride welled inside him. She’d been bawling, disheveled, terrified. Her lovely mouth contorted with misery and her brow twisted with fear and uncertainty. But now she was serene. Satified. And he had done that. Maybe, when she awoke, he would see her smile.  Shadow heart clenched. He would like that very much.

The speed of the shallow thrusts increased, as did the intensity. Stimulated again, the throbbing of his knot became pleasurable again, heat building. His arms snaked around her torso and he hugged her tightly. His breaths became ragged, shuddering heaves.

Shadow pressed his nose against the nape of her tender neck, breathing in her irresistible scent and salivating at the gland just beneath the skin, the one with the sweetest treat in the world inside. He could sink his teeth into it, breaching the sack that she’d had since birth. The enzymes and chemicals released would mix with his saliva and the specialized hormones he was making that instant because she was Unclaimed and ALL his.

They’d be bonded forever, the mark of his claim dark and permanent on the flesh and fur of her shoulder. Everyone would know that she belonged to him and him alone. She wouldn’t be able to get his scent off her. It would follow her to the end of her days. His.

The tight, velvety heat grew too much. With a few asynchronous strokes, Shadow emptied himself into the beautiful, mysterious woman. His body rewarded him with an explosion of pleasure. It ripped through him in rough waves, obliterating all tension and doubt and thought. An airy, cozy bliss settled in along with the conviction that this could be available to him whenever he wanted it…if he just reached out and Claimed the privilege.

The urge to bite, to possess, seized his bliss-poisoned mind in a steely grip. His mouth was on her shoulder. His fangs were bared. It would be quick and painless. He wouldn’t hurt her at all. He’d never hurt her, not once she was-

Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine!

Oh, fuck me! Shadow’s jaw screamed in protest as he set all his will against sinking his fangs down. He had to bite. Had to mark what was his. With a choked gasp, he wrenched his head away from her shoulder leaving the fur wet but unmarred. Had to bite!

He shoved his forearm into his mouth and barred down. Holy fuck, that hurts! Shadow tasted his own blood. The intense pain and searing disappointment of having failed to claim (what was so clearly his) warred with the effervescent high of full knotted release. It was a confusing and unsettling brew.

Releasing his arm, the bite wound began to bleed into his dark fur. Great. He lifted, looking for anything to staunch the bleeding with. Twisting, Shadow saw a box of tissues covered in a decorative box on the bedside table. With some uncomfortable maneuvering, he retrieved the box and began tearing out tissues.

Self-inflicted blood flow staunched and post-nut clarity firmly asserting itself over his quickly receding Alpha instincts, Shadow found himself in a rather ridiculous situation. He was stuck inside this woman he’d never met before and would remain so for close to an hour (if he was lucky, longer if he wasn’t). Said woman was still out like a light and, he really wished for some mercy on this one, seemed like she was perfectly healthy (please, stars above, ancestors below, anyone listening – let her just be sleeping). His house was still full of strangers and at least some of them would be looking for the missing photographer. What a moron he was. How did this happen?

Rouge.

Shadow snorted. What could she have been thinking bringing an Omega to this event? The guest list was over fifty percent Alphas! He supported her pro-Omega planks of her platform, but stupid was stupid. And in his house no less! The nerve. The gall. Shadow took a slow breath. If the Omega didn’t know this was going to happen, then there was no way Rouge would have either.

Shadow had stayed at the periphery of the fundraiser, not particularly eager to get pulled into a conversation that would be soaked in subtext about business deals or requests for investment. He’d lent the house to Rouge, not himself. When he’d spotted the photographer running, he’d been concerned. She had looked so frightened.

Maybe it was his Alpha instincts, maybe he was already gripped with her scent, but he had to follow her and make sure she was okay, to fix whatever it was that was bothering her. He hadn’t a clue he be hit in the face with the most concentrated Omega scent he’d ever encountered. A metal bat splattering his brains against the wall, leaving his loins to run the show.

Shadow had been lucky his rut was so far off and he was on blockers. He shuddered to think what could have happened otherwise. He…didn’t want to go back to how he had been.

Raising on an elbow, Shadow looked for his jacket. It lay near the door and, connected as he was, effectively on the moon. No getting to his cellphone anytime soon. He sighed. He imagined how many messages from Nicole were piling up. He had no doubt that she handled the situation downstairs with the upmost professionalism. What he didn’t care for was how certain he was that she knew exactly where he was and exactly what he’d been up to. His executive assistant had the habit of demonstrating a startling level of omniscience. 

Absently, he realized he had his arms draped over the woman. He pulled them away and the movement jostled his knot. The shiver rattling up his spine shook all his muscles loose again, another reward for fulfilling his body’s demands. His tongue slipped out of his mouth as he laid as limply as his partner.

Partner? What was he thinking? Shadow thought back on the encounter, a grimy distaste of his impulses growing inside. He’d been far too familiar with the woman. There was no way she would have consented if she had had a clear head.

He’d fingered her into an orgasm. Shadow’s face heated with shame at the fuzzy memory. He should have just gotten in and finished as quickly as possible. But there was something in the way she snapped at him, the way she so clearly fought against her instincts. It was…impressive. Endearing. Respectable. So very un-Omega-like. Shadow was intrigued. To be desperately wanted and intensely despised at the same time. The complexity was…fascinating.

No begging. It had always turned his stomach, the mindless begging. The puddle of please and Alpha! Omegas seemed to dissolve into. It wasn’t their fault. The impulse was a compulsion, a tactic to attract an Alpha. The biological imperative was so incongruent with modern life. The ice age that inspired the evolution was a hundred thousand years in the past. Still, the event claimed victims every day, like her.

Why had he called the woman his peach? Why was he still leaning closer to smell her? Vanilla and strawberries. Why did he want to see her smile? He didn’t even know her name. Shadow was setting himself up for trouble. Best to push all these thoughts away. Let this encounter end and let the past envelope it whole.

It was a moment in time. Nothing more.

Shadow was exhausted. It had been a long day and a more eventful night than he had originally planned. In the quiet of the room, the bed warm with their close bodies and him still so snug inside her, he found himself drifting off.

Bad idea! He shook his head, trying to throw off the fatigue. He was going to exit the moment he could. Pull out, make sure she was okay, then leave her to her privacy. To lay a moment longer beside her would be crossing a line.

His knot was starting to shrink, but they were still stuck for a bit yet. He tried to think of mundane things (ongoing lawsuits, regulatory red tape that need to be addressed, expenditures needing approval) to distract himself from thinking of strawberries and vanilla.

---

Amy awoke to the sound of running water. She faded up into consciousness lightly, like a feather in an updraft. She blinked a few times to clear the blurriness from her vision. The bedroom, still darkened, but somehow much cooler and mundane than she remembered.

She lifted, a motion her body resisted, not violently or painfully, but with a cozy heaviness that urged her to go back to sleep, that she was safe.  Her dress, very crusty, had been pulled back down over her hips. The bed was a mess, the pillows scattered, the coverlet in ruins, and her and the Alpha’s scent (dark earthy tones) lingered, but none of it was forcing her to do or think or be anything. Amy, at least in that moment, was free.

Amy felt at peace. Relaxed and herself. Her heat was fully defeated. She could cry from relief.

The sound of running water ceased. She turned her attention to a door across from the bed. It opened and the dark hedgehog exited from the on-suite bathroom. His trousers were back on, and he was finishing buttoning his white shirt, though she could see sweat stains. His quills were mussed and disheveled, though Amy was sure she looked no better.

Catching sight of her, a look of relief shaped his face for a moment before it dissolved to some of neutrality. He said “You’re awake.” It was the same deep voice, but it held no magic now, no command over her. “How are you feeling?”

Amy blinked. She felt…nothing? No fear. No anxiety. No anger. No disgust. No- A thought erupted in her mind, one that would, under normal circumstances, freeze her to her core, but now only contained mild discomfort.

Amy felt the nape of her neck, feeling the fur at both sides. One side was a little damp and mussed, but there were no puncture wounds. That must be the side with her claim gland. The man had fulfilled his promise.

He considered her patiently through the silence of her examination. “Much better.” Amy finally answered, letting her hand drop.

His eyes scanned her, and he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry to have to ask this, but-“

“There’s no chance.” Amy interrupted. “I’ve already taken afters today.” He nodded and did not press.

He moved to the door as if in a hurry to leave, pausing a step to retrieve his jacket from a small chair by a table. “Please take all the time that you need. There will be a car out front waiting to take you wherever you wish to go.” He turned and grasped the handle.

“Wait!” Amy found herself speaking. He stopped and turned. His sharp red eyes met hers and she looked down. He waited again, through an increasingly awkward silence for her to continue.

“Thank you.” She said it so simply that Amy wasn’t sure what she was thanking him for. For breaking her heat, for abstaining from Claiming her, for asking after her health, for use of the room, for the free ride home. The two words seemed grossly inadequate.

“You’re welcome.” He answered mechanically, completing the cordial, distant incantation of two strangers interacting. He turned and opened the door. As he went to step through, he paused, looking down at something. She heard him chuckle and mutter to himself. Amy’s brow knitted as he bent down.

Straightening, he first brought her coat and a large black bag into the room and set it by the door. Her camera bag! Amy’s eyes shot to the bedside table. Her camera sat as she had left it, thank god!

Next, he brought a silvered tray into the room laden with a plethora of goodies. Several bottles of imported spring water, a selection of flavored electrolyte drinks, a collection of energy and protein bars, and…a small bowl of…Were those coffee beans?

He placed the tray on the table and addressed her once more. “Feel free to have anything you’d like.” With that, he grabbed one of the bottles of water and the dish of coffee beans and left.

As silence flooded the room, Amy found herself a little shaken. A creeping fear grew inside her. Was this a dream? What was the catch? But even the fear was dulled by the calm she felt. She was not at odds with her body for, perhaps, the first time in her life.

Amy slid off the bed. She felt disgusting. Dried slick clung to every part of her. Washing it off would be a task and a half. The fluid served several purposes, the relevant one now being leaving an enduring mark of the Omega on their surroundings. Any Alpha to happen by would know an Omega was in the area, in heat or otherwise.

She drank a full bottle of water. The liquid tasted amazing. She downed a second bottle. An Omega’s heat and dehydration went hand in hand. Heat sickness, a common malady, was really a mixture of malnourishment, vitamin deficiency, and dehydration. The body really meant to disincentivize failure to mate.

Amy slipped out of her dress and entered the bathroom. She was surprised to find it large, hosting a bathtub and shower, and well appointed. The counter was lined with small individually wrapped toiletry items and inside the shower were bottles of expensive shampoos and conditioners for a range of pelt, fur, and feather types. It was the most accommodating guest bathroom she’d ever seen. Lives of the rich and famous, holy shit.

Turning on the shower, setting the temperature high, she retrieved her underwear from where she’d dropped them by the bed. The pad was discarded, and she rinsed the cotton garment in the sink with scented hand soap. They’d be damp, but serviceable. Her dress she’d have to wear as is. Unless…

Under the sink she found a hairdryer in a silk bag. It was a fancy salon grade one with many attachments and multiple heat settings. Amy frowned. Washing the dress in the sink and drying it with the hairdryer would take a lot more time than she wanted to spend. What time even was it?

Going to her camera bag, she found her phone. She had a number of notifications, the most important being from Rouge. Amy decided to deal with that later. It was very late. The fundraiser would already be over. Amy sighed. She needed to think of something to tell Rouge. Something great or else she would lose her job.

Amy stepped into the shower and doused herself with hot water. The hygiene products smelled amazing as she thoroughly cleaned herself. As she scrubbed, her mind wandered. Was she a different person now? Had something fundamentally changed in her life? She had been incredibly lucky. What were the odds that she’d get snagged by someone who could maintain a semblance of decency whilst drunk on her vapors?

Amy frowned. Semblance? No, he’d been more than decent. He’d been nice to her. Courteous. Kind. And she’d been…Her memory of their coupling was a little fuzzy, but what she remembered saying wasn’t…polite. She’d been sharp, assuming him to be the worst of her fears, and he hadn’t deserved that.

Toweling herself off, Amy left the bathroom, hungry for one of the energy bars. She stopped. A garment bag was hung over the chair beside the table. Someone must have left it there while she was in the shower. A card lay on top of the bag. ‘Don’t worry about returning this. Consider it a gift.’

Inside the garment bag was a light blue dress. It was an older style, but very nicely made. Cotton and perfect for everyday wear. A trail of white stars decorated the bottom hem. She held it up to herself in front of the bathroom mirror. It was just about her size and tailored for hedgehogs.

Amy’s ears drooped. She had spent so much time thinking about the terrible things that could happen and how she could avoid them that she was simply unprepared for kindness. This is an exception. I’ll never be this lucky again.

She donned the blue dress and her coat. Stowing her black dress and underwear (the dampness would show through the light colored cotton) in the garment bag and storing her camera safely away, she shouldered her camera bag and left.

Finding the stairs took a bit. Back on the first floor, she found the front door and stepped out. A black car was parked right in front and a mongoose with a chauffeur’s cap exited it. The mongoose greeted her good night and reached for her bags. Amy meekly gave them up. She felt grotesquely out of her depth. She’d never been driven anywhere like this before.

Inside, seated comfortably on pristine leather seats, Amy realized the whole surreal ordeal was almost over. Soon she’d be back at her apartment and it would almost be like it never happened at all. That was how it should be. The universe had given her a single-use pass, and she’d cashed it in. Tomorrow everything would go back to normal. She needed to forget the black and red stranger. It was for the best.

Amy tapped on her phone. There were several missed calls from Rouge and one text message. ‘Please come into the office tomorrow at your earliest convenience.’ Amy recognized the tone. The detached cordiality underscored her displeasure.

Leaning her head against the window, watching the night lights of the city twinkle by, Amy realized she never learned the man’s name.

Notes:

Vibe check audience, how is the smut/spice hitting with you?

Tumblr @aloftinthebreeze

Chapter 5: Free Range

Summary:

Amy is suffering the consequences of her choices and has to return to work to face the music. Rouge is not pleased.

Shadow finds himself preoccupied during a very important meeting. He discovers his problems have been multiplying.

Notes:

Thank you for reading! We're going heavy on the plot with this one folks!

Also, a big thank you to my beta reader: Bitter_Sweet0ak! Please check out their work!

Amy’s body returned to its regularly scheduled torment early the next morning.

She regretted her decision to intentionally double her hormonal suppressant medication the day before. Awakening with terrible abdominal cramping saw Amy in the restroom for several hours, worshiping the porcelain throne. The after pill had her womb emptying anything and everything and her stomach had decided to join in on the spring cleaning. To add insult to injury, the spot that dispensed slick right inside her entrance was inflamed from overuse. A truly banner day.

When a second text from Rouge came through, Amy knew she needed to make an appearance promptly. Quickly drinking one of Sonic’s protein shakes and fighting through the lightheadedness, Amy spent the bus ride (the beta bus, the omega bus was too late again) trying to order her thoughts. Should she throw herself at Rouge’s feet and beg for mercy? Should she burst into tears and mewl about how terrible her body treated her? Lie about a beloved relative dying?

The walk across the campaign office floor to Rouge’s office in the back was excruciating for Amy. Staffers worked away as usual, manning phones, organizing stacks of fliers and piles of yard signs, and discussing bussing strategies to get the elderly and Omega population to the poles. The first televised debate between Rouge and her opponent was on the horizon and the office was abuzz with energy.  A few smiled and waved at her as she passed and Amy struggled to mount a friendly response.

She found her boss busy signing thank you cards for the attendees of the previous night’s fundraiser. The bat’s teal eyes flicked up as Amy entered and then quickly returned her task. “Close the door.” Rouge ordered. The bat was dressed sharply as usual in another well-tailored, brightly colored pant suit. Rouge refused to blend in with any crowd.

Amy complied and then sank into one of the chairs in front of Rouge’s cluttered desk. Her head swam and her face flushed as she felt her stomach redoubling its efforts to expel the protein shake invader. Rouge did not speak and the silence drug on into awkward territory. Finally, to distract herself from her laundry list of discomforts, Amy asked, “Can I help you with those?”

Rouge’s fountain pen stopped. Amy recognized it, an elegant tool with a gold basket weave filigree along the cap and barrel. A friend had given it to her when she passed the bar years ago. She meant to use it to sign bills into law. “You can stuff envelopes.” Her eyes flicked to Amy’s gloves and Amy’s gaze followed. What was wrong with her- Oh. Rouge was making sure Amy’s gloves were clean. Rouge resumed writing.

“S-Sure.” Amy shifted forward. Each thank you letter had been written by hand on fancy card stock paired with an equally fancy envelope. Amy lifted one of the cards and watched as the teal ink shimmered with golden specks as the card tilted in the light. “Wow, that’s gorgeous.”

“Emerald of Chivor.” Rouge stated matter-of-factly.

“What?”

“The ink, dear. Those who know know.”

“O-oh.” Amy slid a signed note into its envelope and went to lick the seal.

“Stuff them only, please.” Rouge sighed. Amy quickly put the stuffed envelope down. “I’m playing with fire as it is letting you touch these. Your saliva is a bridge too far. Especially after last night.” Of course…even off her heat, Amy’s spit would still carry her scent. Rouge’s displeasure was apparent in the tone of her voice. A strained, annoyed iciness. Amy hoped that her allowing Amy to help with this small menial task was a good sign.

They worked in silence for a few minutes more. Finally, Amy decided to bite the bullet. “About last night-“ She started.

“Besides the shaking, you look well.” Rouge interrupted, her tone suddenly casual. “Are you feeling alright?” Amy nodded. “Did you make it home last night?” Another nod. “Good. Good. Safe and well. Wonderful, then you should have no trouble-“ Rouge’s fangs came out, “telling me what in the hell you were thinking showing up last night in a fucking raging heat!”

Amy cringed back, her ears lying flat at the Alpha’s expression of displeasure. The compulsion to capitulate and roll on her belly was far weaker now, but still present. “I didn’t know that was going to happen.” Amy offered, lamely

Rouge sighed. “I would have expected you to know your own cycle. I would have found someone else.”

“The heat was off cycle. And even then, I had spent the whole day trying to break it.” Her words came out faster and faster. “And I took a second dosage of my suppressant right before I left home. I brought a scent mask. I stayed backed. I did everything I could and still it…it…” Amy swallowed a sob, but it only irritated her stomach, and she fought back a gag.

Rouge placed her pen back in its stand and leaned back. “You did everything except go home, Amy.”

Hot indignant tears pricked the sides of her eyes. An Omega’s place is in the home, is that it? Unseen, unassuming, mute. Never to leave without permission, never to participate in public life?

No. Amy bit back the disdain welling inside her. Rouge didn’t mean it like that. Rouge was furious, but her recrimination was an equal opportunity lender. “I would have left you in the lurch.”

“You did leave me in the lurch, Amy. If Shadow’s cyborg of an assistant hadn’t produced a camera and a bartender who does the videography for his Promptagram influencer-wannabe girlfriend, I’d have been up shit creek without a fucking paddle, Amy.”

Amy’s gaze fell to her hands in her lap. Her fingers dug into the fabric of her slacks and Her throat grew tight. If she vomited right then and there, would she get out of this conversation? Yes, but she’d probably be out of a job as a bonus.

“Look, I get it. It’s not your fault you were born this way. It’s not fair. But nothing is fucking fair. It never was and it never will be. My heart bleeds for you. It really does, Amy.” Once Rouge got going, there was no stopping her until she’d said her piece. “It’s shitty, you and every poor fuck out there suffering for no god damn reason.”

“That’s why I sprain my wrist signing insincere thank you cards and why I get on my knees and gobble Alpha cock for pennies. So I can convince just enough shit-for-brains Betas that I won’t raise their taxes, and they, in exchange, give me a truly terrifying level of power and then maybe, just maybe, I can finally change something for the better in this godforsaken Potemkin village.”

Rouge gesticulated to a phantom jury; a habit kept over from her days with DA’s office. “To make this all come about, I need hearts and minds and hands and feet and fuck tons of money. You’ve got the first four in spades and I appreciate that, Amy. I really do. I need that from you and you give it to me.” The ‘but’ was coming. If Amy could survive the ‘but’, she just might have a chance.

“But you know what I don’t need from you, Amy? It’s a small favor really, I think you’ll agree.” Rouge’s wings flared open, increasing the space she occupied. Amy’s ears pressed against her skull. “My fucking photographer starting a rapid fucking rut-riot with ten percent of the city’s net worth in attendance. I don’t need that shit, Amy. Sure as fuck not when St. John is three points ahead in the poles and outspending me in key demographic areas.”

The bat paused and Amy opened her mouth to speak, but Rouge pressed on, her wings settling back behind her. “It’s not your fault. I know that. I get that. I can accept and overlook a lot of shit because you’re a really fucking good shot with a camera and know how to open a file in Photoworks. But, I swear on my mother’s grave,” Rouge looked up to the ceiling, “god condemn her soul to hell,” and then returned her glare to Amy, “if this ever happens again, I will fire your ass so fast that time dilates and your pink slip slaps your grandchildren in the face fifty years in the future.”

Silence descended on the cramped office and Amy was nearly too distracted by still being employed to realize it was her turn to talk. “I’m sorry.” She said, trying to keep the elation and relief out of her voice. “I swear to god that it won’t happen again.”

Rouge snorted. “God doesn’t do shit. Swear to me.”

“Rouge, I swear to you this will never happen again.”

“This may not have been your fault, Amy, but it sure as fuck is your responsibility.” Rouge sat up and opened a drawer. “Open the window.” Amy jumped up and wrestled with the small window over a table piled up with posters of Rouge’s slogans. Rise Together! Air from the back of the strip mall rushed in a rankled Amy’s nose.

When Amy sat back down, Rouge was tapping out a cigarette from a pack and sticking it into her mouth. “So, what are you doing about it?” She covered the tip with her hand as she flicked on her lighter.

“I have an appointment at my Omega clinic this afternoon.”

“And?” Rouge took a drag.

“I’m going to see my herbalist.”  Rouge exhaled a cloud from her nose.

“And?” Rouge took the cigarette out of her mouth and brandished it at Amy, arching her eyebrows.

Amy frowned. What more could she do? And why did Rouge care about Amy’s quest to riddle out the mystery of her early heat? Unless…”I will also be volunteering to do door knocking to make up for the hours I missed from the event.”

“There you go.” Rouge took a long drag, the end flaring, and then leaned forward. Taking the pen back up, cigarette between her lips, she returned to the thank you cards. Curls of smoke lifted to the tiles of the drop ceiling.

Amy’s everything relaxed. Crisis averted. If she ignored how badly her organs were trying to take a vacation outside her body, it was almost like the previous night hadn’t happened at all. Something in Amy shrank away from the thought. That’s a shame, it seemed to whisper. “Thank you.” Amy said sincerely. Rouge hummed quizzically. “For calling a break when you did. I…I wasn’t doing so great.”

“Don’t mention it.” Rouge’s gold nib raced across the thick card stock, her large and sharp signature dominating the surface. “So, what happened after you bailed? A few people seemed compelled to follow and address your…distress.” Rouge’s eyes grew wide for emphasis, but she did not look up.

Amy blushed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just do better. Also, answer my question.”

“Someone helped me.”

Rouge sighed. “Helped you or helped you?”

Amy’s blush intensified. “T-the latter.”

“Fuck a duck. Who was it? I’ll need to put a little extra oomph in my thank you card to them.”

The black and red gentleman sprung to forefront of Amy’s thoughts. His deep voice, his gentle hands, his blaze of white chest fur. Amy bit her lip and looked down at her hands. Stop it. Nothing good will come from trying to hold on to last night. Let it go.

“Honey.” Rouge brought Amy’s attention back up. “I’m gonna need a name.”

“I didn’t get his name.”

Rouge rolled her eyes. “Classy, Amy. Fine. What did this mystery man look like?” She slid a completed card to the side and reached for another.

Amy swallowed and focused on keeping her voice flat, factual. Any inflection would just give Rouge fodder to tease her with. “He was a hedgehog with black fur with red markings in his quills and near his-”

“Shit.”  Amy looked up at Rouge’s abrupt utterance. The tine of Rouge’s nib had bent apart, depositing a large blot of teal ink onto the card stock. “Shit!” She hissed again. Rouge put the pen down and picked up the ruined card, a large splotch marring the surface. “That’s a redo right there.”

“I think he was a guest.” Amy offered as Rouge fussed with her calligraphy set.

“I know who you are talking about.” Rouge sounded irate. It must be troublesome to switch out the nib.

“H-he was really nice to me.”

“He sure as hell better have been.” Rouge protectiveness of her tickled Amy’s Omega brain and a warmth grew in her chest. Still, Amy’s brow knitted.

She didn’t press. If she was trying to forget about the dark furred hedgehog, she needed to let him it go. “I’m sorry about your pen tip.”

“Don’t be. The person who gave it to me owes me a replacement now anyway.” Rouge’s gaze suddenly snapped up and behind Amy. Amy pivoted. Through the window on Rouge’s door, she saw a large, barrel-chested red echidna making his towards them. “Look, don’t you have a medical appointment to get to?” Rouge sounded like she was asking, but she was most certainly telling.

Amy fished her phone out of her satchel. “Shoot, yeah. I need to go get to the bus stop.” She stood. Rouge had leaned back in her chair and was massaging her temples. “Bye, Rouge. Thank you again. I’ll have the pictures I took cleaned up in a few days.”

The bat hummed in acknowledgement. As Amy left, she heard Rouge mumble, “Stupid fucking son of a bitch. I’m going to kill him.”

---

Shadow couldn’t seem to force himself to give a shit about the meeting he was currently attending. His best people were presenting a new product idea, his new product idea, to the board of directors and it was all he could do not to think about strawberries and vanilla. The decadent smell choking him. The luscious taste rolling down his throat. While his CMO heralded the next generation in oral hormonal suppressants, Shadow salivated.

It was a problem.

The preparation for this meeting had taken months to compile and that was after several years of reformulation trials and pre-clinical testing. Financial projections, marketing plans, supply chain mapping, public education campaign, medical professional education campaign. An immense effort, a staggering accomplishment just in bringing it together. Shadow couldn’t be more proud of the brilliant men and women who worked for him.

Alpha Hormonal Suppressants. Affordable, oral solid dosage, extended release, over the counter, safe, effective, minimal side effects (he should know, he was on them). A completely open and untapped market. A literal cure for rut-rage. The number of lives saved directly and indirectly per annum was breathtaking.

Kintobor Life Sciences was going to change the world.

If the board would fucking let them.

This whole ordeal was just to ask for permission to move forward on a massive investment (two to three hundred million, probably more, but scope creep and overrun were a problem to deal with later) to bring the drug to market, at least another five years of effort. That is, if governmental regulatory bodies didn’t bury them in red tape. Then they were looking at seven to ten years while the lawyers sorted it out. Ah, the joys of the pharmaceutical product life cycle.

From the moment Shadow took leadership of the small (but profitable) company, a largely forgotten subsidiary concern acquired by Kintober Holding via acquisition of its previous parent company, he’d wanted to make, he’d been fixated on developing something, anything, to blunt especially violent ruts.

And yet he couldn’t seem to drag his attention away from replaying the memories of the mysterious pink hedgehog over and over again. Her voice ringing in his ears. The way she pushed into him. The soft brush of her fur under his fingertips.

As Rouge would say, Shadow was down bad.

And over a woman he’d met only briefly and whose name was still unknown to him. Yes, he knew he could ask Nicole and have the woman’s entire genealogy in a matter of minutes…but that felt intrusive. Disrespectful.

His brother tapped Shadow’s shoe under the table. “Écoute un peu.” Eclipse muttered. Shadow cleared his throat, refocusing on Dr. Horatio Quentin Quack’s (yes, unfortunate that, but it’s a family name) presentation on the marvelous pre-clinical trial results.

As both a member of the board and horribly biased, Shadow remained silent throughout the whole presentation. His younger brother Eclipse sat beside him. Nearly Shadow’s twin if it weren’t for the location of his red colorations, slightly lighter fur shade, and yellow eyes, Eclipse was unofficially representing their parents in absentia.

“I think that’s enough gentlemen.” Shadow’s ears perked and his vision snapped to the screen showing the faces of the remote board members on the video conference call. Of course, it was her. “Thank you very much, Dr. Quack. Could you please give us the room?” Ms. Sally Acorn smiled. The tight little smile a monarchist such as her gave to her servants.

Horatio turned to Shadow, his beak still open from stopping halfway through a sentence. Shadow nodded. The CMO gathered his materials and ushered his team out of the room. Shadow squeezed his hands into fists, the leather of his gloves creaking under the abuse. Eclipse tapped his shoe again and he forced himself to relax.

Once the board was alone, the squirrel started speaking. “You’ve laid out a very nice plan, but I just don’t see the market, Mr. Kintober.” Ms. Sally Acorn waved a dismissive hand from her square on the video call. “No Alpha is going to willingly inhibit themselves like this. And that’s if they even buy it. I can’t even see a self-respecting Alpha bring this product up to a cashier. Its…indecent.”

The Acorn’s sovereign wealth fund was a major shareholder in Kintobor Holding, ostensibly KLS’s parent company. Ms. Acorn’s place on Shadow’s board was purely a favor his parents were doing for hers. That fact in itself did not bother him in the slightest, but her habit of exercising her B.A in Marketing did.

“Indecent?” Shadow repeated. “I’m afraid I do not follow. Could you please explain what you mean by that, Ms. Acorn?” Shadow refused to call her by her title. They were not based in her family’s country.

“It’s just not right. It goes against so many social norms, not to mention nature itself.”

“You are aware that KLA is a pharmaceutical company, Ms. Acorn? Going against nature is the crux of our business model.” Out of the corner of his eye, Shadow spotted a subtle motion from Eclipse. Tone it down. Shadow swallowed his next remark.

“Further, I wouldn’t be surprised if a product like this attracted protestors outside KLS offices. In fact, that makes it a safety concern.”

“Sally, that’s a bit much don’t you think?” Eclipse spoke up, ever the mediator.

“No, I don’t think it is-“

“I think we’re splitting hairs here.” Mr. Mammoth Mogul, a representative of Emerald Investments, the massive private equity firm, spoke up from his box. Shadow had traded that board seat for a significant injection of capital right at the start of his tenor as CEO. He’d yet to regret the decision. Mr. Mogul had a shrewd eye for opportunities, albeit a coldhearted one. “The fact of the matter is that current operations simply do not generate the profits to cover an investment of this size.”

“KLS has been profitable for the past twenty quarters, but growth in EBITDA has steadily been increasing as well.” Shadow tapped his forefinger on the rich mahogany of the conference table. He could quote performance numbers for days.

“All true and every well led, sir. However, it does not go beyond the board’s notice that a significant amount of profit is simply left on the table so to speak.” Mogul’s use of ‘the board’ was concerning. Where was this going? “It is disgusting.”

Shadow’s quills flared and his snout wrinkled. “Prudent…” Eclipse muttered. Shadow allowed the sharp retort he’d cultivated to languish on his tongue. With effort, he forced his quills to relax. At the end of the day, this was an informational meeting. Yes, board approval was required, but the Kintobor family held four of the seven seats.

“I am not sure I understand your meaning.” Shadow said, giving Mogul a chance to backpedal or rephrase.

“I think what my colleague means to say is that we think there might be a disservice being done to our shareholders.” The third and final outside member of the board, Professor Dillon Pickle, spoke up. A renowned researcher in pharmacology, but the man had never worked outside the ivy encrusted wall of academia.

Eclipse kicked Shadow under the tables before he even had a chance to react. His annoyance with his brother collided with his disgusted confusion and reacted destructively. A moment of silence passed. “Professor, I’m not sure I understand your meaning. I was unaware that this privately owned corporation held a fiduciary obligation to maximize profit.”

The old terrier sighed loudly though the speaker system. “Shadow, this feigned ignorance ill befits you. When I speak of shareholders, I am speaking broadly. The employees of KLA, the customers, the vendors, the creditors, and, yes, you and your family. Everyone who depends on KLS to continue existing for their livelihood or their continued health. When you stubbornly keep the retail price of our highest volume products so close to cost, it opens the whole business up to risk.”

“Please allow me to summarize so that I can be very, very sure that I understand your position. Keeping our products as affordable as possible for our customers, some of them limited in income and access to alternatives, somehow harms said customers? Do I have that correct?”

“Yes,” Mr. Mogul’s baritone reverberated through the speaker, “You do. This is a for-profit enterprise, Mr. Kintobor. I have long turned a blind eye to your charity, but to then come to us to rubber stamp such a large expenditure on a product with no market…well, it’s concerning.” Shadow did not like that tone.

“And there is also the issue of losing the National Health Service contract for Omega suppressants to Starline Pharmaceuticals.” Of course, Ms. Acorn deemed it necessary to bring up that cocklebur.

“An investigation is underway regarding the NHS contract recension. As I have said before on that matter, I will provide a full report when it is ready.” Shadow was fighting to keep an irritated edge out of his voice. How had this meeting gone so far off track?

“Be it as it may,” Ms. Acorn continued, “you have exhibited a string of poor judgment calls in recent memory.” A threat hung in the air.

Shadow’s eyes narrowed. “What are you getting at?”

Ms. Acorn gesticulated at her webcam. “If you are unable to improve, we, as governors of the interests of this company, will be forced to bring forth a vote of no confidence.” She turned up her nose.

Shadow laughed.

“Shadow…” Eclipse growled.

Just then, Shadow’s phone began to vibrate. He slipped it out of his pocket and looked at the caller ID. He stood. “Excuse me. I need to take this call.” Shadow left the board room amid a cacophony of insulted noises.

Closing the door and leaning against the wall, Shadow answered. The voice on the other side spoke immediately, “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Hello, Rouge.” Shadow dead panned. “To what do I owe the honor, esteemed future Mayor?”

“You fucked my photographer, you prick!”

“You brought an unclaimed Omega in heat into my house, Rouge.”

“And that gives you the right? She’s only twenty-five, you fuck!”

“You almost turned my foyer into a crime scene, Rouge.”

“I’ll turn your ass into a crime scene! Leave Amy alone. You owe me a new pen nib.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I love you. Fuck off.” The line went dead.

“Good to talk to you, Rouge.” Shadow said to no one.

Amy

The woman’s name was Amy. Strawberries and vanilla. Amy. Pink fur and sharp, guarded green eyes. What had those eyes seen? His quills tensed at the barest thought that anyone had ever hurt her.

Amy

Twenty-five and unclaimed. That was possible? Shit, how young did he think she was? The fuck was wrong with him.

Shadow had scrubbed himself raw in the shower after their joining and again this morning after his morning run. He’d used his favorite scented products and breathed deeply from his dark morning coffee. All the scents he loved, he shoved his snout into them. And yet he could still smell her!

Amy - Amy - Amy

Fuck…

The door opened and Eclipse exited. “The meeting has adjourned.” His brother leaned against the wall opposite Shadow. Eclipse had his own projects and company to manage but made the time to come support Shadow in person anyway. Or to keep an eye on him.

“Let’s have it.” Shadow sighed. Likely some commentary on Shadow’s distracted and aggressive demeanor. Again.

Eclipse sighed. “There is going to be a vote of no confidence.”

“Bullshit. Acorn throws that threat around every time she feels slighted in the least.”

“Yes, but the low profit margins have finally worn Mogul’s patience thin.” Shadow frowned. Ah. Now that was a threat. “I know why you do it and I know you won’t stop.” For her. ”This was inevitable.”

“They don’t have the votes.” The four members of the Kintobor family outweighed the three outside board members. Father had filled Shadow’s board with annoyances, yes, but he wasn’t stupid. Nothing that was the family’s would be taken from them by force.

Ecplise leveled his piercing gaze at Shadow. “When was the last time you talked to Mother?”

Shadow blanched, looking away. “I-“

“Her birthday and holidays do not count. When did you last call her without being obligated to by custom? Or because I begged you?”

Shadow did not answer. He did not remember.

Eclipse blew a breath out of his nose slowly. “Mother can get Father to vote however she wishes. Get her to vote for you and there will be no problems. Besides, she’d like a call from you.”

“How do you know?”

“Other than that’s generally what mothers would like from their sons, she has hinted as much to me on our calls.”

Shadow’s brow knitted. “How often are you talking to Mother?”

“Weekly.”

“Weekly?” There was no fucking way his brother could be telling the truth. That much Irena Kintobor would put a noose around anyone’s neck.

“Like a good son would.” Eclipse locked eyes with Shadow again, his almost luminescent yellow boring into Shadow’s resentful red.

Shadow broke the stalemate first. “I’ll call her.” He huffed. “But there won’t be much for us to discuss.” He crossed his arms. “Do you really think Mother is so displeased with me as to vote against me?”

Eclipse shrugged. “I have a sinking suspicion that Father is growing impatient with you wasting your time, his words mind you, not mine, here when you could be preparing to succeed him, frère aîné.” Shadow’s quills bristled and his gaze hardened. “This would be a convenient way to buck you off your pet project.”

“You make it sound like Father is behind this.”

Eclipse shrugged again. “He very well may be.” He checked the time on his phone. “I need to be away. Call Mother.” He enunciated clearly. “You know how to make her happy, so bite the bullet and do it.”

Shadow growled and his snout wrinkled in disgust.

Eclipse gave Shadow a tired and pitying look. “Who knows? Maybe whoever she sets you up with might actually bring light into that dark heart of yours.” His younger brother smirked. But then his expression faded to a snarl. “Which reminds me. Fin is out of jail.”

Shadow stood straight, his heckles rising. “How is that possible? He got the full twenty-five years!” His lips peeled back, revealing his fangs.

“I’m looking into it. But in the meantime, keep an eye out.”

“If I see his wretched face, I’ll show him how it’s done correctly.” A tingle ran up his spine. A postcard arriving from an excitement long departed. Still here.

Eclipse frowned. “Shadow, is that who you want to be?” He asked softly.

He was, of course, right. That wasn’t who Shadow wanted to be. Not anymore. Never again. Shadow took a deep breath and willed himself to relax. “Thank you for letting me know. I’ll let Nicole handle it.”

“Now I really need to be gone.” Eclipse opened his arms.

The brothers embraced and then went their separate ways.

Notes:

It's French, by the way. If you want to know what to tune your google translate to, its French.

Professor Pickle is a Scottish terrier. Look up a picture of both and tell me I'm wrong. Also his field of study is changed b/c it would be weird as hell to not have a medical expert on the board for a pharmaceuticals company. Looking at you Theranos...

Also, sorry Sally Acorn enjoyers...I guess I'm pulling Pender's Sally? Idk, @ me in the comments about it.

Tumblr @aloftinthebreeze

Chapter 6: Mechanically Separate But Equal

Summary:

Amy goes to the clinic.

Notes:

Some references to human trafficking and domestic abuse in this one.

As the Beta bus trundled through the city, Amy leaned against the window and stared at her phone.

The ‘In Memoriam’ thread on the OO forums contained five new posts. Amy stared at the face of a young raccoon, only nineteen. The baby is doing well, at least, his Alpha reported. Next was an older woman, a gazelle in her forties. Complications from an unexpected heat erupting in public. The Alpha is in custody, but everyone knows rut related homicide rarely gets past the grand jury.  Two heart attacks, right out of the blue. A fifty-three year old woman and a thirty-three year old man.

The last one made Amy pause and focus. A panther, her face greying and wrinkled with age smiled in the picture, her arms around an equally old ermine. ‘Ivory passed peacefully overnight surrounded by her three children and nine grandchildren. She is survived by her doting Alpha, Pearl, her constant companion of sixty-five years. Services will be held at-‘

Amy scanned the obituary several times. It was rare to read about a happy ending. What was it called? Survivorship bias. Or maybe the reverse of that. The early or violent deaths dominated reporting, but countless Omegas lived out full, long lives. Silently. Unseen.

For every abusive Alpha, was there a loving one too? If the department of health literature was to be believed, most Alpha’s were predominantly stoic protectors of Omegas, with a few bad apples cropping up here and there. But, the saying was ‘a few bad apples spoil the whole bunch.’ What kind of apple was her dark stranger?

Firm but gentle hands guiding her hips. Hot breath licking at the shell of her ear. Gloveless hand ghosting over her stomach, down to her-

Amy’s breath hitched as a strange tightness pulsed low in her abdomen. She grimaced and found her face had gotten hot. Oh god, she would just fucking die if she was going into heat again. Luckily, as her panic rose, the sensation receded, and she was left clutching her phone tightly and feeling foolish. Maybe it was another side effect of doubling her heat blockers yesterday?

Most Omegas only took suppressants in the week or so leading up until their heats, but Amy’s monthly cycle qualified for a lower dosage daily suppressant. Heavy duty blockers could neutralize a heat, but Amy’s only muted the front end, giving her a chance to break it before it crippled her. The general sentiment was that shorter cycles provided weaker heats, but Amy frankly thought that was bullshit. Maybe she just had bad heats. Maybe they were getting worse the older she got. There was no way to know for certain.

Diving back into the OO message board, Amy saw she had a private message from one of the moderators, pseudonym Orion, the board owner’s son. They communicated occasionally. Amy didn’t post on the board and the owner was intolerant of lurkers, who could be perverts, predators, or bots. Amy had provided proof years ago of her legitimacy. Since then, the owner or Orion reached out occasionally to check on her.

The number of out-of-cycle heats had been spiking recently, and he was reaching out to see if she was doing well. Did she need any support? Amy typed out a quick response. She experienced an off-cycle heat as well, but she was handling it. Any support should be given to others, but thank you for thinking of her.

Amy scrolled listlessly, not focusing for long or reading very closely. The general help board was flooded by off-cycle heat questions and crash outs. What was going on? How could this happen to me? Students were getting kicked out of class. Marriages were at risk as the Omega partner suddenly coupled with a stranger. Amy wasn’t alone in her misery.

Ex-Mayor Jewel resigned under pressure applied for the perception that her response to the building crisis was inadequate. The non-domestic rut-related homicides rate was sharply spiking. But how could anyone address that problem if the cause was unknown? Still, someone had to pay, and the mayor was as good as any to put up against the wall.

She focused on a panicked post regarding a slick spot.

The young Omega was frantic. She wasn’t in heat, but she’d been sexually active with her Beta boyfriend and now her slick hole was leaking yellow fluid flecked with red. The next available appointment at her local Omega clinic wasn’t for three weeks. Something about her issue not being ‘urgent’? None of the regular doctors in her town would see Omegas. Should she go to the ER? She’d already hit her coverage limit with her public insurance this year, so going to the hospital was going to be more than she could afford, but also, like, she didn’t want to die. What should she do?

The sympathetic replies contained a laundry list of remedies. Did she have a Beta relative (or her boyfriend even) who could lie to a doctor to get a prescription for antibiotics? (Amy had used that trick with Sonic’s help in the past) Try these herbal concoctions. This online pharmacy’s authentication system is shit; you can easily get what you need there. Next time have him wear a condom, dear. Where are your parents in all this?

Amy felt overwhelmed just reading about the girl’s situation. Amy’s irritation issue wasn’t as bad as all that. Thank god for small blessings. As if responding to her thoughts, her stomach lurched. The lightheadedness and cramping were starting to ease. That or the painkillers she’d been downing like candy were kicking in.

She saw a notification that Orion had replied. He was sorry to hear that she was having trouble. Was she on the new Starline suppressants? There was a rumor that a bad batch had been sent out. (Amy arched a brow at that. Bad batch? Could that be it?) If she needed anything, he was available to help however he could. He and his mother were always rooting for her, their oldest unclaimed Omega on the message board. She was an inspiration.

Amy darkened her phone and shoved into her bag. Her gut clenched. Inspiration? Was it inspiring to spend her life hiding in plain sight and denying to her last breath what she was? Maybe he had some romantic notion that she somehow was free? Free of an Alpha maybe, but certainly not of the fear of Alphas. It was a different cage, but still a cage. Inspiration.

Amy’s assigned Omega clinic was located about twenty miles from her apartment in a rundown office building catering to medical professionals. Before stepping off the bus, she wiggled into a hoodie and a cloth mask. Heading through the maze of corridors, she passed the Alpha waiting area, little more than a collection of chairs and a television, and absently pulled on the drawstrings of her hood, tightening it further. Omegas weren’t required to be escorted to the clinic, but most still needed a ride. Or their Alpha didn’t trust them.

She approached the clinic door. It bore a placard with the rare struck through ‘A’. No Alphas. Here was a safe space, one of the very few such places.

Inside she lowered her hood and checked in with the receptionist who handed her a clipboard full of forms to fill out. Why was she there, how would she be paying, had her home address changed since her last visit? The last form always soured her stomach. It was a list of questions with yes or no boxes.

Does the person who is with you today make you feel unsafe? N/A

Can you leave your current relationship if you want? N/A

Can you come and go from your domicile as you please?   Yes

Have you been threatened if you try to leave? No

Have you been physically harmed in any way? No

Have you ever been deprived of food, water, sleep or medical care? No

Do you have to ask permission to eat, sleep or go to the bathroom? No

Are there locks on your doors and windows so you cannot get out? Yes

Are you allowed to contact your family? Yes

Has your identification or documentation been taken from you? No

Is anyone forcing you to do anything that you do not want to do? No

Would you like to be discreetly and safely separated from the person who is with you in the clinic today? N/A

Amy handed the completed forms back to the receptionist. Every time Amy filled out the last page, her heart ached for those who gave opposite answers. Did the receptionist dread reading that form? What would they do if it contained too many red flags? Would the lady in the window ever get so numb to the suffering of others that she’d overlook Omegas in need because it was a hassle?

Her head heavy with thoughts, Amy found an empty seat in the crowded waiting room and pulled out her laptop. The pictures from the previous night weren’t going to edit themselves. Amy was early for her appointment, but even so she’d yet to be seen on time at this clinic.

Her status as an ‘aged unclaimed’ Omega granted her access to ‘urgent’ slots at the clinic, but her issue had her low on the priority list. On the phone, the scheduling associate said ‘off-cycle heats’ were taking up all the emergency slots and most of the urgent ones as well. The mounting crisis had every clinic in the greater metro area packed and all appointments book for week.

Amy glanced around the room.

A wombat in the corner sat hunched over, visibly sweating and glassy eyes staring blankly at the floor. Beside them a caracal clutched the wombat’s hand and quickly tried to cool them with a handheld fan.

A zebra, no older than thirteen, played on a tablet with his mother, who looked stricken, beside him.

A couple whispered excitedly to one another. The ermine woman gestured at pictures in a magazine with a smiling baby on the front.

A mouse, ripe with child, wore large dark sunglasses and long sleeves as she ran her hand through her young daughter’s hair as the girl watched cartoons on a cellphone, the sound loud enough to be annoying.

A brown fox in a dark suit leaned his head back against the wall and snored quietly.

Beside Amy, a pair of elderly sheep knitting and gossiping about someone’s niece who ran off with a good-for-nothing so and so. She held her arms close to not brush into either of her neighbors. The Omega scent was heavy in the air, and it gave Amy a comforting feeling even through the mask. A heady, cozy aura of togetherness and serenity. She settled into it and focused on her laptop.

Amy was disappointed to see how many of her photos from the previous night were useless. Out of focus, skewed angles, washed out. Certainly not her best work, but by virtue of the sheer number of shots there would still be plenty to touch up roughly and send off to Rouge’s communications manager. Then she’d get back a further narrowed list that she would really go to town on to make them print ready.

The local news droned from television high on one of the walls. “Mayoral Candidate Geoffrey St. John is set to unveil his plan for addressing the current public health crisis at a townhall meeting with his supporters later this week. St. John, a former top official in the Department of Public Health and Safety, has long advocated for mandating daily hormonal blockers for all Omegas, but detractors want to know who will pay for it. The upcoming televised debate with his opponent, former assistant district attorney Rouge Baton, is coming up swiftly.”

As Amy flipped through the hundreds of photographs, doing a rough sort, she stopped. Zooming into the far back of a wide shot of the whole dining area, she found him. Moonless midnight fur with blazing red streaks through his quills. He wasn’t in focus, so his facial features were obscured, but his crossed arms betrayed a stoic aloofness.  Amy added the file to her touch up pile.

Her The dark gentlemen was strangely scarce. As she scanned each posed table shot and candid snaps, she couldn’t determine where he’d been sitting. Image after image, she tapped her arrow key rapidly, searching for glimpses of the man. At every instance, that tightness pulsed in her abdomen, giving her the urge to shift her hips to relieve it.

The television’s volume was annoying, but not loud enough to make a fuss about. “In economic news, the share price of the Robotnik Operations Consolidated Corporation continues to climb, buoyed by continued good news from its recently acquired subsidiary, Starline Pharmaceutical. Starline Pharmaceutical was recently awarded contracts to supply prescription medications for the NHS.”

The only photo in which the black hedgehog was forefront and in focus was a shot Amy had taken of Rouge towards the beginning of the event. She was talking to the man, her hand lightly touching his arm as she bent forward mid-sentence, a mischievous smile splitting her face and a teasing glint in her bright teal eyes. The man’s soft ears were back slightly, and he wore an irritated grimace across his handsome muzzle. Rouge did seem to know him. Who was he?

Rouge could tell Amy his name. Maybe even give her his phone number.

Danger! No! Stop! Terrible idea! Stop it, stop it, stop it!

Amy tilted her laptop lid down, hiding the stranger from view. Her face was flush and that feeling between her legs was there, urgently trying to tell her to do…something. It wasn’t painful, more like an itch. She squeezed her legs together and shifted her hips back and forth, but that wasn’t helping. Wasn’t giving her what she needed down there. It was almost like she wanted to-! Like he had-!

Amy froze. Embarrassment and shame cascaded over her. Her eyes darted around as if she’d find someone leering at her, aware of her desires. Amy pulled her hood back up over her quills. She needed a distraction. She looked around trying to find something, anything to pull her thoughts away from the handsome hedgehog (no!) nice gentleman (NO!) stranger.

Amy’s gaze slid over the many colorful posters plastered to the walls of the waiting room. She’d seen them so many times they barely registered anymore. Attractive actors pretending to be Omegas smiled widely from each, as if it was the greatest thing in the world to be learning about different suppressant options.

Know your responsibilities! Safety is in everyone’s best interest.

Ask about Alpha pairing services! Safe and anonymous Claiming covered in part by public insurance.

Uh-oh, is this covered? Know your health insurance coverage before you receive a surprising bill.

Do you know the signs of an oncoming heat? The more you know, the safer we’ll all be.

Watch Out, That Alpha is rutting! What to do when you see an Alpha rut-raged.

Short of cash for the moment? Some fluid donations come with cash compensation.

Amy looked up at the television. “Moving on to culture and entertainment,” A handsome gazelle smiled as he read off the teleprompter. “Odyssey Moon’s latest single ‘Unclaimed’ is topping the charts this week, supplanting Odyssey’s previous single ‘Heat Rush’. Here she is talking about her inspiration on the red carpet at the recent City Music Awards.”

Odyssey’s lithe body was wrapped in a sheer red dress sparkling with rhinestones, leaving her distinctive Claim mark bare on a patterned shoulder. Her Alpha, another recording artist (and her manager, producer, and agent if the rumors were to be believed), draped a protective arm around the cheetah. “I just wanted to tell all those young Omegas that their true love is out there, you know? That their perfect mate is out there looking for them, you know? And, like, they can have it all, you know? The romance and the happy endings and everything.”

The black bear pushed his snout into her ear. “Like us, babe?” His sultry baritone got picked up by the microphone the interviewer was holding.

“Yeah, like us, baby.” Odyssey confirmed, leaning into his touch. The scene faded back to the newsroom.

“Wow, she sure is pretty, isn’t she? It’s great that young Omegas have her to look up to, right?” The anchor bantered at his co-host before turning to the camera. “We’re going to take a quick break and then it’ll be a look at this weekend’s outlook with Walter the Weather Walrus.” A campaign ad for Geoffry St. John started playing and Amy felt her phone vibrate.

A text from Sonic.

[Blue Blur]: Movie night tonight? Fast and the Furriest: 9 Lives is streaming on Petflix now! They go to space in this one!

Amy smiled. Sonic loved those dumb racing movies that really weren’t about racing anymore. Just things exploding and macho Alphas talking about how important packs are. Even though she really should be working on cleaning up these pictures, movie night sounded amazing. They would watch whatever Sonic dug up, cracking jokes the whole time, a big bowl of popcorn between them. A normal evening.

TO [Blue Blur]: That sounds great! I’m still at the clinic, tho…I don’t know when I’ll get home.

[Blue Blur]: I’ll get you some take out. Chun-nanese?

TO [Blue Blur]: Sounds like a date!

Amy saw she had a message from Vector.

[Vector Magnitude]: Got a stakeout job for you if you’re up for listening to podcasts while staring at a nondescript apartment building for hours. Oh, and taking pictures of some bloke.

Vector, a private investigator, threw Amy photography jobs on occasion. Despite Amy’s bright coloring, she’d developed a skill for avoiding attention over the years. The jobs mostly involved following the partners of suspicious spouses, hoping to confirm fears of cheating or adultery. Generally boring work, hours of sitting and waiting for the chance to snap a few pictures from across the block, but Amy needed the money.

Regular employment was rare for Omegas. Retail was out of the question because contact with Alphas was a ‘safety risk.’ Office work was generally unreachable because it was rare for Omegas to finish college, and the lack of a degree was an easy way to disqualify them from consideration. Manual labor was also hard to come by due to the general belief that Omegas were weaker than Betas and, of course, Alphas by default. Freelance work was really the only viable option.

TO [Vector Magnitude]: I’ll take it. Tho I have some times I’m not available b/c other gigs.

The door beside the check-in window opened and a mandrill in colorfully patterned scrubs stuck her head into the waiting room. “Amy Rose!” She called.

“Here!” Amy called, furiously stowing her laptop into her satchel.

She followed the nurse through the door. They stopped by a scale and collected Amy’s weight before she was led to an examination room. “I’m going to get your vitals and ask you a few questions about what brings you in to see us today. After that the doctor will be in to see you shortly. Sound good?”

“Yeah.” Amy put her bag beside the examination table and pulled off her hoodie and mask. She held as still as she could as the nurse took her blood pressure even though her skin burned under the contact. Luckly the temperature reading was one of those forehead scanners.

When she was done, the nurse settled into a rolling stool and booted up the computer in the room. “So, what brings you in today, Miss Rose?” She asked as she scanned Amy’s file. “Oh, unclaimed? Poor dear, I’m sure Mr. Right is out there for you.”

Amy did not acknowledge the comment. “Yesterday, I had an off-cycle heat that wouldn’t break with my, uh, normal methods.”

“Another off-cycle.” The nurse muttered and sighed. Amy could see bags under her eyes. “What is your normal method? Intercourse? It says here you have a Beta partner. Was it intercourse with your partner?”

“Yes, but it didn’t work.” Amy looked down. “We tried three times.”

The nurse did not look at her and typed away at the computer, pecking at the keyboard slowly. “I’m sorry to hear that, honey. That must have been really difficult for you and your partner. I know heat breaking sex isn’t much fun.”

“Y-yeah.”

“Did it finally break?” The nurse turned to Amy and looked her over quickly. “You look like it did.”

Amy blushed. “Yes, it did after I…had intercourse…with an Alpha.”

“That’ll do it.” The nurse returned to her typing. “Knotted?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my, it says here you’ve not been knotted before. Was this your first time?”

“I don’t- Y-yes, it was.”

“Good on you, girl. I’m sure that felt really satisfying.” Amy grimaced. She really didn’t want to go into details. “Can I see your shoulders?” The nurse stood and put on a fresh pair of neoprene gloves over her cotton ones.

Amy leaned back. “I wasn’t claimed.” Don’t touch me!

The nurse tilted her head, holding up her hands. “Any bite marks?”

“No.” Amy shook her head.

The mandrill took a step forward and Amy leaned further back. “Are you certain? Not every Alpha has the best dental hygiene. Even if it’s just a nick, you don’t want to get an infection.”

“He didn’t bite me.” She insisted. Amy did not want her shoulders touched to look for marks that weren’t there.

The mandrill searched her face and then sighed. Sitting down, she asked, “Do you have anything else concerning you?”

Amy hugged her arms around her. She tried to slow her heart rate. “My, uh, the area where my slick comes out is really, uh, itchy and it hurts.”

The nurse nodded as she typed. “You were very sexually active yesterday. It’s pretty common for the plasma duct to get irritated by prolonged stimulation. Anything else?”

Amy frowned. Should she mention that she stupidly took double her daily suppressant? If she did, she was guaranteed to get an embarrassing lecture. “My afters are making me bleed and my stomach has been upset all day.”

“Took morning after pill.” The nurse said out loud as she typed. “How was your liquid intake yesterday? Proper hydration helps a lot with the afters sickness.”

“Probably not as good as it should have been.”

“Dehydration.” The nurse added to her chart. “Anything else?”

Amy tried to think. Her mind had gone blank. Why was she even here? “No.”

The nurse stood. “Okay, please strip from the waist down. The doctor will be by shortly. I hope you feel better soon, dear.” She left the room before Amy could thank her. Amy looked about awkwardly. She slipped off the examination table and looked through the cabinet to find a thin paper sheet and an absorbent pad.

Forty-five minutes later, a knock proceeded the door opening and an elderly male squirrel entered. “Hello, I am Dr. Chambers. What seems to be the trouble today?” He said in a rush as Amy scrambled to bag her laptop. The doctor plopped down on the rolling stool and quickly scrolled through her chart. “Another off-cycle heat!” He said with a click of his teeth.

“Yes, yesterday I-“

“Ah, but here’s something interesting,” He interrupted her. “You’re unclaimed, I see. Beta boyfriend. Yeah, that’ll do it. Well, that means you have a proper reason to be here.”

“I’m sorry, wh-?”

“Let’s have a look at you.” He pulled up a pair of stirrups on the table. “Lean back, please.” He asked, while he pulled off his gloves and stowed them in the pocket of his coat before putting on a pair of examination gloves. Amy obeyed, averting her eyes from the man’s bare hands. When she took a moment to position her heels in the stirrups, the doctor reached for her ankle, and she jerked it away. “Oh, come now, I’m just trying to help.” He chided and Amy’s ears went back as shamed heated her face.

He lifted the paper sheet. “I see you’re bleeding quiet a bit down here.” His brown eyes raised and locked with her green. “Could you please confirm to me that all sexual intercourse you have had recently has been consensual?”

“Uh, y-yeah.” Of course it was, but the directness of the question still threw her for a loop.

Dr. Chambers sighed. “I need a clear answer, Miss Rose.” He pressed, flatly. Clinically. ‘Required-by-law’ly

“I wasn’t- Yes, it was all consensual.”

“Thank you.” He looked back down. “The kits take forever.” He muttered. “I’m glad Melody gave you this pad, it’s pretty rough down here. Afters shouldn’t cause this much bleeding. Did you take anything else yesterday? Maybe a lot of ibuprofen or any other NSAIDs?”

Amy frowned. “Yes, I’ve been taking painkillers today and, yesterday, I…took an extra dose of my suppressant.”

Dr. Chambers popped up and gave her an irritated glare. Wordlessly, he rolled back over to her chart, holding his hands away from himself. He nudged the mouse with his elbow, awakening the screen from the saver. “Oh, good. You’re on low dose.” He rolled back. “Do not take more than you are prescribed. Ever. Suppressants carry an increased risk of stroke and heart attack. Taking more than you should could damage your heart, especially if you make a habit of it. You don’t want that, do you?” Amy shook her head like a child. “Good! Don’t do it again!” He tapped her knee and Amy sucked in a breath.

Pumping some lubricant onto his fingers from a container on the counter, he positioned himself between her legs. “I’m about to go in. You’re going to feel some pressure.” Amy tensed and grit her teeth as the cold lubricant contacted her insides. It burned. “Oh, you got knotted. I’ll update your chart.”

“H-how can you tell?” Amy fought her body’s urge to writhe. Cold fingers spearing her most tender parts. He was touching her. He was inside her. The panic was mounting quickly as he pressed down on her abdomen whilst continuing to feel around inside her.

“The texture of the vaginal wall changes after knotting. It’s a reflex that makes it harder for the Alpha to pull out. Things will return to normal after a few days.” The doctor explained, unphased by what he was doing to her. “Part of your discomfort and bleeding is from shedding your vaginal lining. That only happens after the first time. Think of it like a hymen, but for knotting.”

Amy felt the fingers come out and she gave a little sigh of relief. She pulled her feet out of the stirrups and sat up. Her lower abdomen ached from the intrusion.

Dr. Chamber removed his gloves, pulling the cuff to turn them inside out, the red mixing with the blue of the neoprene to give them a sickly purple color, like it wasn’t Amy’s blood all over her hands. He balled the gloves and tossed them into the trashcan. As he washed his hands in the sink, he said, “The entrance of your plasma duct is irritated. It’ll clear up on its own, but you need to drink more water when you’re in heat. I’ll print you out some literature on heat sickness.”

After drying his hands, he put his cotton ones back on. “The bleeding is a mix of your vaginal and uterine linings both shedding simultaneously. The vaginal is from losing your knot ‘virginity’ as it were and the uterine is from the levonorgestrel. Get some test, try not to stress yourself, and you’ll be better in no time.”

“But what about my off-cycle heat? It broke through my blockers.”

“Hold on, I’m getting to that.” He chastised and Amy flushed again, cowed. “You have a Beta boyfriend, right? He’s been helping you with your heats until now, right?”

Amy didn’t think it was worth the effort to correct Dr. Chambers about Sonic. “Yes.”

“Beta sperm isn’t going to cut at your age, miss. As you get older, your body develops an increasingly strong need for an enzyme in Alpha semen. If you insist on having a Beta partner, there is an artificial substitute for the enzyme, but it’s not covered by public insurance.” Amy was well aware of the seven hundred and fifty dollar per dose price tag. “I can give you a script for it if you’d like to give it a try.”

“I can’t afford it.”

“Well, you’ve found the cheaper option anyway. Intercourse to completion with an Alpha will effectively break your heats. For now, at least. Eventually that won’t cut it either.” Amy looked down at her hands. “The longer you go without being either impregnated or claimed, the more desperate your body is going to get. The heats are going to get more frequent and harder to break. I know you don’t want to hear this, but the only cure is one or the other.” Amy swallowed. Her eyes burned as tears threatened to gather.

Oblivious, the doctor continued, “I can give you some contact information for some charities that do anonymous short-term Alpha and Omega pairings, but you may want to look into some of the paid services. I’m sure your boyfriend will agree that your health is more important than his pride or sense of masculinity. I’m going to print you out some literature on heat death. I really think you should take it seriously, darling.”

“There isn’t any other reason my heats are breaking through my suppressant? I’m just getting old?”

“Miss Rose, I hate to tell you this, but it’s your body doing its job. It may not be a job you’re happy about, but it’s the one your body evolved to do. You know how to fix this. Either get pregnant or have your claim gland breeched by an Alpha. That’s the solution.”

Amy felt her throat tightening. The urge to cry continued to build. “But there’s a whole crisis going on with off-cycle heats-“

He waved his hand dismissively. “That’s other people, not you and your situation. You shouldn’t look for a diagnosis on the nightly news. Ever since the NHS changed the suppressant supplier, everyone has been claiming this and that. It’s just salience bias! Something changed and now everyone is hyper-vigilant about every little thing. In a few months it’ll all calm down and everything will go back to normal.”

He stood. “These drugs go through rigorous testing and the health department wouldn’t select faulty drugs for the NHS contracts. That just doesn’t happen. There are too many doctors and scientists working there far smarter than you or whoever is spreading these rumors.”

Amy felt exhausted and made no further comment. He pulled some tissues and moist towelettes out of the cabinet. “If there isn’t anything else, I need to get to other patients. I hope you feel better.” He said as he left.

Amy sat for a moment, trying to calm down and feeling lubricant oozing out of her. What was even the point of coming here? There wasn’t anything wrong with her body. It was working as intended. It was her that was abnormal. Numbly, she stood, cleaned herself, replaced her absorbents, and dressed.

As she checked out, she was charged a fee for using an ‘urgent’ slot without a legitimate reason. Amy meekly paid and left, pulling her hood tightly around her head.

Waiting at the bus stop, Amy thumbed to her contacts list on her phone and hit a number. After a few rings a warm voice answered, “Hello?”

“Mrs. Vanilla, it’s Amy. Can I come over this afternoon?”

“Of course, dear. My door is always unlocked for you.”

Notes:

Fluff next chapter, I promise!

I'm getting concerned at the chapter lengths creeping up...this is exactly what happened with my other fic.

Feel free to suggest more mobian flavored puns for real world analogues :P

Chapter 7: All Natural and Cage Free

Summary:

Amy visits with Mrs. Vanilla

Notes:

Hello! Welcome back! How's your day going?

Mrs. Vanilla’s kitchen was about the coziest place Amy had ever been.

Though pristinely clean, every inch of potential space was covered. Countless jars of herbs, spices, and other dry goods lined the backsplash along the counter. The walls were coated with small decorations: a pastoral scene painted on a smooth piece of driftwood, a wooden cuckoo clock shaped like a birdhouse, a sun and moon made from sculpting repurposed license plates. Nothing matched. Every mug in her copious collection was unique. Every spoon and plate and bowl the long-lost spare from a hundred sets.

The oven was always occupied, the aroma of fresh breads and pastries infusing the air. Conveniently packaged leftovers infested the refrigerator, ready to be given away at the slightest provocation. A nest of hand knitted scarves lurked by the door, ready to spring on an unsuspecting visitor trying to escape into the cold outer world. Mrs. Vanilla made an honest attempt to mother the world.

Clutching the mug of tea, calming scents floating up at her, warmth permeating her fingers, Amy felt at ease for the first time that day. Dying sunlight trickled through the lacy curtain covering the small window above the sink, a forest of little succulents crowding the sill. Amy took a careful sip, finding the tea perfectly sweetened with honey (locally sourced and organic, of course) and just a breath cooler than unbearably hot.

Amy loved it here, even when it reminded her of home, of her parents, and of the lie.

With a sigh, she thought of calling home. It had been awhile, but thinking of home, of her parents, of her childhood…There was no way to avoid the resurfacing of horrible memories, so she just avoided her life before college altogether. It wasn’t fair to anyone. But life isn’t fair, Amy thought bitterly.

Mrs. Vanilla entered from deeper in her abode, rescuing Amy from her malaise. “You’ve caught me at a bad time, dear, but I think I can still field a solid defense for you.” The older rabbit placed a large wooden box on the kitchen table and retrieved a baking scale from the counter.

Amy lowered the mug (faded print commemorating a music festival held thirty years prior) to her lap. “Bad time?” She frowned, “Is something wrong?”

“It’s a bit of too much demand and too little supply at the moment. A commonplace commercial malady, really.” Mrs. Vanilla opened a cabinet and retrieved a roll of wax paper. “You’re not alone, I’m afraid. My phone has been off the hook with clients needing this or that.” Sitting down, Mrs. Vanilla began tearing off measured sheets of wax paper. “And at the same time, a number of my vendors have had…well, some trouble with the man as it were.”

Of course, Amy thought, abashed. How could she not realize something so obvious? She wasn’t the only Omega Mrs. Vanilla helped in…natural ways. “Off-cycle heats?” Amy offered, taking another sip of her tea. The warm liquid seemed to spread all through her. A gentle, relaxing flow.

The motherly rabbit’s chest swelled, and her eyes darted to the ceiling briefly. “Everything under the sun. Out of seasons, heavy scenting, heat fatigue, sudden knot shedding. So many poor souls navigating a cold world right now.” Mrs. Vanilla shook her head slowly.

Amy tilted her head. “Knot shedding?”

“Nothing you have to worry about, dear. When an Omega goes too long between knottings, the fanny can grow this protective layer that sheds off once you pick the habit up again.” Mrs. Vanilla began folding the rectangles of wax paper into envelopes. “Makes a right mess on the way out and it isn’t too pleasant a sensation either. Some of my clients have been shedding suddenly, even without partnership.”

That sounds like…Amy blushed but remained silent. She hadn’t told Mrs. Vanilla about her activities the previous evening. The doctor said this would only happen once. Who was right? Who should Amy trust more?

“Normally, I wouldn’t have trouble with an increase in requests, but I’ve had to reduce the number of plants in my garden.” Mrs. Vanilla’s hands worked away with practiced speed and precision. “You can grow acres of nightshade, but god forbid you have one sprig of an actually useful plant too many and it becomes grounds for a warrant.” She huffed.

While Amy stood to rinse her mug in the sink, the older rabbit continued. “The bounty of mother earth has provided succor for thousands of years, but suddenly anything ‘unregulated’” She spat the word with derision, “is suddenly’ unsafe’ by a faceless horde of bureaucrats, who couldn’t identify a sprig of calendula if it was choking them, by the way.” Mrs. Vanilla shook her head. “Steams my carrots.”

“I can see that.” Amy grinned, lowering into her chair once more. “Did you say a warrant?” The thought of kind Mrs. Vanilla having trouble with the law turned her stomach. There really wasn’t any justice in the world. Maybe she should bring up this sort of thing to Rouge.

“Don’t worry dear. One of Vector’s friends gave him a tip, and we were able to sort everything out. The hydroponics in the basement are safe.” She grinned slyly and winked. “But enough about me and my woes. What can I do for you, Amy?”

With a sigh, Amy explained her list of complaints for the third time that day. Mrs. Vanilla listened intently, her brows meeting in an arch over her sympathetic eyes, little ‘oh’s and ‘poor dear’s slipping out of her lips at appropriate intervals. When Amy was finished, Mrs. Vanilla reached forward and grasped Amy’s hand and stared into her eyes compassionately. “I am so sorry, Amy. That sounds awful! You must be so tired.”

Amy found herself choking up. She nodded. Mrs. Vanilla pulled away and brought over a box of tissues incased in a knitted cover. “Let it out if you need too. Tears are just the body’s way of helping the mind handle emotions. Let it help you while I take a look at what I can do for you.”

 Amy rubbed her nose and took a tissue. She didn’t want to cry. She was cross with her body. The thought made her eyes sting even worse and a few tears escaped. Swallowing, Amy dabbed them from the fur of her cheeks with the tissue.

Mrs. Vanilla lifted the lid of the wooden box. Brown eyes scanned over the contents.

“First, you need a very good night’s sleep.” The scale came forward and a measure of dried herbs fell into one of the wax paper pouches. “Make a tea of this. It’s my personal blend. Here’s enough for three cups but try less for the first cup to see how you take it.” Mrs. Vanilla sealed the pouch and then wrote the instructions on it with a grease pencil, her elegant script looping over the paper.

Amy watched, fascinated, as the older rabbit made several more pouches. For the bleeding, for the pain, for the anxiety. Take this with that, take this then, dilute this, keep this off your skin. The complexity of the instructions gave the pile of pouches a mystical quality, as if Amy was being taught how to mix potions. Normally she left Mrs. Vanilla’s with only one or two pouches. This was…get expensive.

“I can’t afford this.” Amy frowned.

Mrs. Vanilla did not slow. “Oh honey, don’t worry about money.” Writing instructions without looking, the older woman scanned Amy’s face. “How about this? I’ve a need for someone with photography skills soon. Perhaps we could make a trade? Some good old in-kind exchange.”

Amy brightened. “Really?”

“I need someone to take me and Cream’s picture for my Winter Solstice cards this year. The woman I normally go to retired this year and moved south.” She clasped her hands together and closed her eyes for a moment “God protect her soul from those heathens.”

“And,” she continued, “in the spring, Cream has her junior prom. I don’t particularly care for that bee, he’s a little on the,” She gesticulated incoherently, “side, but it’s not like I’ve got much say in the manner with that girl.”

Amy forced away the jaded feeling that Mrs. Vanilla was grasping at straws to make them ‘even’. Resisting the urge to look this gift horse in the mouth she said, “Sure, I would love to take portraits for you and Cream.” Crap. The doubt was too strong. “But do you really think that’s enough? You always help me so much.”

Mrs. Vanilla smiled, the edges of her eyes crinkling, and tilted her head, “I’ll just take the balance out of your next paycheck from Vector.” She closed the box.

Amy blinked. “Oh, t-that works too.”

“I’m glad we could reach an agreement.” Mrs. Vanilla’s smile remained as she stood. “Now, how about we pick out some scents for you?” She took the box with her as she left the kitchen.

Amy stared at the pile of small packets in front of her.

She wasn’t entirely sure all the herbs worked exactly like Mrs. Vanilla said they would, but being here certainly helped. Perhaps that was part of the whole effect. In a vacuum each packet was useless, but together with the ritual of following the instructions and having Mrs. Vanilla’s comforting presence the outcome was profound. She never felt like meat in Mrs. Vanilla’s kitchen. It was a relief to be treated as a single entity, like her mind and body were one solid being, especially when Amy couldn’t bring herself to.

An ugly thought bubbled up. Mrs. Vanilla returned with a bundle of gingham cloth. As the rabbit undid the tie on the bundle, Amy frowned and asked, “Mrs. Vanilla, do you think I’m getting too old?”

The older woman snorted. “Too old for what, dear?” The cloth opened to reveal a wide selection of tightly bound bundles of cotton articles. Scent patches. Each was a set of bandanas or similar objects scented by an Alpha in Mrs. Vanilla's allyship network. These worked way better than anything Amy had ever found in a pharmacy or bodega. The calming relief of the scent of an Alpha without the trouble of actually being near one.

Mrs. Vanilla handed Amy a bundle as she asked. “Too old to be unbound?” Amy pressed the cloth to her nose, closing her eyes. A wave of calm ghosted over her, and she sighed contentedly. The scent was deep and musky…but felt uncomplete somehow. She shook her head and handed it back.

“Amy, whatever gave you that idea? You’re still such a young and beautiful woman.” She handed Amy another bundle that she rejected quickly. “And besides, the right Alpha for you will love you not matter what. Real love is holistic and unconditional.”

Amy returned another bundle. For all her wisdom, Mrs. Vanilla had a romantic notion of the Alpha/Omega dynamic that Amy could never bring herself to contradict. Maybe she’d watched too many romantic dramas. “But what if I die of heat death first?”

Mrs. Vanilla straightened, and her eyes went wide. “Amy! Who told you that?” Her hands went to hips.

Amy’s ears pressed back, and she shrank away from the older woman’s sudden intensity. “A doctor at the Omega clinic.”

Mrs. Vanilla rounded the kitchen table in a flurry of her skirts and wrapped her arms around Amy, pressing pink face and quills into her apron clad bosom. Amy hissed at the burning touch but fought the urge to rip herself away. Mrs. Vanilla was the last person on the planet to mean to hurt her, but her body rejected the contact nonetheless.

Luckily, Mrs. Vanilla didn’t notice Amy’s rigid form. “Honey, no! Don’t you believe a word any of those fools say. Heat death is just propaganda for the modern medical industrial complex.” Uh-oh. Amy should have known she wouldn’t escape the comfy kitchen without at least one tirade.

Mrs. Vanilla pushed Amy back to look deeply into her green eyes. Amy tried to focus on her words to distract from the burning sensation crawling along her arms. “Just think about it logically. How could heat death be helpful for the survival of the species? Omegas can still have children by Betas, but that’s somehow not good enough? And think of how precise the population mix would have to be. A one for one ratio of Alphas to Omegas? That’s just unpractical at any scale.” Mrs. Vanilla shook her head. “Nature can be brutal, but it’s not spitefully cruel, Amy.”

That made a lot of sense, actually…

The front door opened, saving Amy from any further lessons. “I’m home!” A cheery voice called.

“Welcome home, dear!” Mrs. Vanilla released Amy (finally!) and went to the entrance of the kitchen. “I’m with a client.”

A young rabbit, almost the spitting image of Mrs. Vanilla appeared, a backpack slung over one shoulder. “Miss Amy!” Cream smiled. “How are you this evening?”

“Oh, you know.” Amy forced her face into a smile. “Hanging in there.” She rubbed her arms where she’d been held.

Cream glanced at the table and her eyes lit up. She pushed past her mother and dropped her backpack into a chair. “Trying out scent swatches?” She asked, excitedly.

“Yes, but none of them are hitting for me tonight for some reason.” Amy tossed yet another bundle back into the pile. All of the scents just felt…wrong. Empty. Missing something, but she wasn’t sure what. Amy was getting frustrated. In the past she’d never been this picky, almost always taking the very first scent.

“Well, when you finally find your perfect scent, you’re gonna want one of these!” Cream pulled a colorful mass from her backpack. She started to lay out her goods. Scent Masks. Homemade, reusable, masks made from the cutest patterned cotton Amy had ever seen.

“Cream.” Her mother chuckled, leaning against the door frame, her tone dotting.

“Oh my god, these are adorable!” Amy picked up one covered with a variety of happy cupcakes having a tea party, their cute little eyes and mouths cartoonishly big. “Did you make these yourself?”

“Yes, I totally did!” The young rabbit beamed. “I’ve been selling them to Omega’s at school and every sale comes with a free semester long subscription of-” She pulled out a large pencil bag and unzipped it. Out came a stack of small, rectangular swatches of cotton cloth perfectly sized to fit into the pouch of the masks. “My scent swatches!”

“I hope you keep it on the down low, sugar beet. Last time I had to spring you from detention, that vice principal had some words with me that I didn’t care for.” Mrs. Vanilla cautioned.

“I am, I promise!” Cream took one of the swatches and lifted her chin. She vigorously rubbed it all over the nape of her neck, infusing it with her Alpha scent. “Here, you can have this one for free, Miss Amy.”

“Thank you, Cream.” Amy took the swatch and gave it a sniff, the comforting aroma of cinnamon and nutmeg filling her. It still didn’t quite hit the spot, but Cream’s was the closest Amy had tried. “That’s so nice of you.” The swatch was covered in beautiful interlacing yellow and red roses.

“Do you see a mask you like? Do you want one of those too? I put extra batting in the boarder so it’s super soft on your nose. Look!” She plucked one up and squeezed the edge. “My friend Azalea said that the plastic ones, the ones you get at the grocery store or whatever, like, they rub your snout raw. Oh! And the strings have these little clips on them so you can change how they sit on your head, you know, if your ears get chaffed or something.”

“Oh, my little entrepreneur!” Mrs. Vanilla beamed.

Amy couldn’t help absorbing Cream’s exuberance. “Wow, these are really nice, Cream! I think you’ve put more thought into these that I ever have.”

“Would you like one?” Her light brown eyes looked at Amy expectantly.

“Oh, sure. How much are they?” Shit, she only had enough cash for bus fare home. Amy would figure something out…How could she say no to Cream when the young Alpha worked so hard?

“They’re super cheap! They’re-“

“Cream.” Her mother’s voice held an edge to it that Amy chose to willfully ignore.

Cream didn’t miss a beat, “-on the house for all of mom’s favorite customers! Uh, yeah!” She broke eye contact with Amy to turn and look at her mother.

“That’s really generous of you, Cream.” Mrs. Vanilla cooed.

Uninterested in inserting herself into whatever subtext she was witnessing, Amy just said, “Thank you.” She held up the cupcake mask. “I love this one. It’s so cute.”

“I’m glad!” Cream beamed. “I made them all myself. Mother taught me how to use her sewing machine, and I pet sat for our neighbor and helped Mr. Vector sort all his case files to make the money to buy the fabric and notions.”

“That’s really resourceful of you, Cream.”

Mrs. Vanilla straightened from checking the banana bread I the oven and crossed her arms. “My baby is building herself a community. I’m so proud.”

“I’m not a baby anymore, mother.” Cream huffed. She returned her goods to her backpack. “I need to go start working on my homework. I might, uh, be a bit behind on a history report.” Just as she was about to leave the kitchen, Cream turned to Amy, a huge smile cutting across her soft face. “Have a great evening and feel better!”

Amy’s eyes dilated and she choked as her body seized. “Amy!” She faintly heard Vanilla shriek as an intense ringing heralded a splitting headache. Alpha Voice. But something was wrong. Her body couldn’t understand enough to obey. The failure ripped through her, clouding her vision, raising her hackles, and spreading a cold sweat across her brow.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t to mean to!” Cream sobbed.

Amy gasped for air and slowly Mrs. Vanilla’s face faded into existence before her. The woman was cupping Amy’s cheek (burns!) and carding a hand through the quills covering her forehead. “There you are dear.” She said softly. “You’re a strong one. You’ll be fine in a moment.” The words drifted in the ether between Amy’s ears, but the ringing was fading, taking the stabbing ice pick headache with it. “What happened, dear?”

“Alpha voice.” Amy croaked, shivering and wince against Mrs. Vanilla’s touch again.

The hands left her head as Mrs. Vanilla straightened and rounded on her daughter. “Cream Hazel Cony, what have I told you about using that voice?”

“’Those who usurp the agency of others go to hell.’” Cream recited meekly. “But it was a nice thing!” She insisted. “It shouldn’t have hurt her!”

“Too…complicated.” Amy wheezed. The lightheadedness wasn’t so bad as long as she kept her eyes closed. “And…vague. The command has to be short and do-able right that moment or else…” Amy slowly opened her eyes, the cozy kitchen looking almost normal. “My brain just went crazy.”

“I’m so sorry, Miss Amy. I really didn’t mean to hurt you.” Amy could hear a whine underscoring her voice. Cream’s instincts were reacting to Amy’s distress, but Amy also knew Cream was being sincere. When instincts were involved, Amy always found it hard to trust that the actions and sentiments were real and not hormones hijacking the person’s brain.

“It’s okay.” Amy opened her eyes and gave a weak smile. “Just, please don’t do that again.” Thank goodness she was recovering quickly.

Cream wiped at the tears gathered in her eyes. “I won’t, I promise!”

Mrs. Vanilla placed the fresh cup of tea in front of Amy, who raised it to sniff the calming aroma. “Cream,” Mrs. Vanilla’s voice was chiding, “what am I always saying?”

Cream thought for a second. “ACAB?”

Mrs. Vanilla rolled her eyes, “No, the other thing.”

Cream frowned, her brow furrowed. “There is no ethical consumption under capitalism?”

“No, Cream,” Mrs. Vanilla huffed, “the other other thing.”

“Always be closing?”

The mother rabbit closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. “Don’t you have homework to be doing?”

The teenager rolled her eyes and apologized to Amy once more, before retreating up the stairs to her room. “I’m truly, sorry about that dear. I’ll have a chat with her. It really wasn’t right.”

“It’s not that big of a deal.” Amy’s headache was fading quickly.

Just then, the front door opened again. “Vector?” Mrs. Vanilla poked her head out of the kitchen. Turning back to Amy, she gave a weary smile. “I’m sorry to have so many distractions, Amy. I’ll bag up your things here quick.”

The large green crocodile appeared behind Mrs. Vanilla, grasped her hips to rotate her, and caught the rabbit in a passionate kiss. Amy looked away. After a long moment, Mrs. Vanilla pushed away, giggling. “I’m with a client, dear.”

Golden eyes fell on Amy. “Sorry, Amy. Didn’t see you there.”

“It’s okay.” Amy grinned meekly.  

The large green crocodile smiled, his long snout parting to reveal sharp teeth. “This is great, though. Glad you’re here. I can give you the details on that job I texted you about.”

“Oh, sure.” Amy sat up straight. “Thank you of thinking of me for it.” She dug a notebook and pencil out of her bag. Mrs. Vanilla gathered up the scent patches and took them away.

Vector settled heavily into one of the chairs. “Now, I know you said you wanted the job, but let me give you the details first.” Vector pulled out his phone and pulled up his photo archive. He took notes on paper when talking to clients, said it was more personal and ‘stylish’ than clacking away on a keyboard. Later he took a picture of his notes to have a portable copy. Not the best system in Amy’s opinion, but if it works it works, right?

He squinted at his screen before using his finger to zoom into the image. “So, the target is an Alpha ex-con just out the joint.” He looked pointedly at her. “You got that taser I gave you still, right?”

“Yes.” Amy nodded. It was in her closet somewhere. Vector had given it to her for her very first tailing job. She hadn’t yet needed it.

“Good. Carry it. I don’t want you within fifty feet of this guy but it’s good to be prepared. You remember how to use it?”

No, she didn’t. “Of course, I do.”

“Great. Remember, if you ever feel like you want a refresher, come by the office. I’ve always got a bounty lying around that’ll give you grounds to shock a shit-head bail jumper until he pisses himself.” Vector chuckled.

Mrs. Vanilla returned and began bundling all of Amy’s packets into a single package.

Amy gave a lopsided smile. “Uh, yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.” She gripped Cream’s scent patch. Amy frowned, suddenly feeling a little trepidation.  “What did the target do?”

Vector leaned back. “The big attempted M.” He raised his brow as he spoke. “So, if you take this job, you got to promise me you give this jerk a wide berth. Normally, I wouldn’t give you work with this sort of target, but the client wants near constant eyes on him and I just don’t got the manpower.”

“Dear.” Mrs. Vanilla’s voice was quiet and calm as she worked.

“Er, uh. Personpower, I mean.” Vector corrected sheepishly.

“Thank you.” Mrs. Vanilla leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. Vector leaned into her and Amy averted her eyes again. Was she being polite, or did she just not like looking at things she couldn’t have?

Vector’s attention returned to Amy. “Anyway. As bonus, the client is some rich fuck, so it’s cart blanch on billable hours and I know you got rent to pay same as all of us.” No question there.

“How long was he in jail?” Attempted murder must have a pretty long minimum sentence. Maybe the target was a wither old man. No threat at all.

“Ten years there abouts. Got out way ahead of schedule, which is strange and I’m looking into that. If it’s on good behavior then he’s probably not looking to reoffend.” Vector pointed at Amy. “Don’t give him a reason, though, that’s for damn sure.”

Not an old man then. Amy thought about it. She was good at blending in, but she didn’t have access to a car. All her tailing work was done on foot, while concealing her camera with a telephoto lens. “How old is he then?”

Vector shrugged. “I’m still working on the full background details, but this guy was early twenties when he got thrown in, so early thirties there abouts now. A shit-for-brains kid then and now an ex-con with fuck all for a life. The system doesn’t make people better sure as shit stinks, but maybe he went and did it on his own.” Vector shrugged. “But don’t count on it. You want the job?”

An Alpha with a history of violence. Amy looked at her hands as she pulled at the fabric of her gloves absently. Vector knew she was an Omega…he was a detective after all, and Vanilla had a particular type of clientele. He was like Rouge, willing to treat Amy like she was a Beta. Willing to give her a chance to be something other than what her body and society wanted her to be.

“Yes, I do.”

“Good. I’ll send you more details.” Vector stored his phone. “I want you to start your clock the moment you walk out your front door and don’t stop it until you’re back inside. Keep receipts for every little damn thing while you’re on the job. If you buy a stick of gum, I want to see an expense report. It’s not every day you get a client who so thoroughly does not give a fuck about the bill, so suck that teat dry while you can.”

“Uh, sure. Yes, I will.” Amy didn’t spend much when she was on a stakeout. There was bus fare and maybe a cup of coffee. She always brought a peanut butter and jelly sandwich from home. Or three depending on how long she’d be sitting on a park bench or leaning against the wall under a convenience store awning, eyeing a closed door or window for any sign of her target.

“Here you are, dear.” Mrs. Vanilla placed a nicely wrapped package in front of her. “Oh, and take some of these as well!”

Amy found herself back at the bus stop, balancing a covered paper plate of fresh home-made carrot and cinnamon muffs on top of her paper bound cache of unregulated and potential illegal herbs. As if summoned by miracle, the Omega bus rolled up and Amy squeezed into to the packed interior.

Notes:

I seem to have an obsession with tissue box covers. I learn something new about myself nearly every chapter with this fic.
***
Question for you:
How much of a horny gremlin should Sonic be over Shadow’s picture?
A: Not at all. This is a Shadamy fic! OTP OTP!
B: Just a little. It’s funny and ironic
C: Go ham, author. Make Amy squirm.
D: Stop engagement farming, author. It’s tacky.
Next Chapter: Fast and the Furriest: 9 Lives watch party

Tumblr @aloftinthebreeze

Chapter 8: Skinned Flick

Summary:

Amy and Sonic share popcorn, a movie, and something else.

Notes:

The majority of commentators wanted Sonic to be a dirty little freak, so enjoy :O

Amy slipped through the front door of her and Sonic’s shared apartment and went to the kitchen to put down the covered paper plate of fresh muffins.

“Hey Ames!” Sonic called and waved a hand from the couch. He was laid out, sock feet propped up on the cushions, headset on and game controller in hand. “Hey guys, this is my last one, okay.” His eyes were back on the tv screen. “Ames, your takeout is in the fridge! Can you make the popcorn?” He called.

“Sure thing.” Amy said as she approached and placed her camera bag beside the couch.

“Thanks, Ames!” Sonic returned to talking into his headset. “Is your name Amy? Didn’t fucking think so.” Sonic continued to banter with his friends as they fragged newbs or whatever they were doing behind all the sounds of gunfire and bright flashes. “Ha. Ha. Ha. Don’t threaten me with a good time, Mighty.”

Amy started the popcorn in the microwave and then turned on their electric kettle. She retrieved Mrs. Vanilla’s bundle from her bag and sorted through the packets. She selected one labeled ‘For calm and tranquility’.

“Oh, really?” Sonic’s voice was laced with derision. “You better watch yourself, dude. I will wear that ass out! I’ve got stamina to go all night!” Amy blushed but pushed away the thought.

The popcorn finished in the microwave and Amy dumped it into a large plastic bowl. She tapped a little of the ‘calm and tranquility’ into a reusable tea ball and poured hot water over it in the mug Sonic gave her for her birthday years ago. You’re Picture Perfect! Sonic’s chicken scratch scribbled in glaze along with what could generously be described as a camera.

He’d made it himself in a pottery class his mother made him take. Art therapy to get his mind off losing the track scholarship to City University. The one he’d been a shoo-in for before he got disqualified at the National finals because he’d…

Amy cherished the mug. If it was reduced to dust, she’d find a way to put it back together.

“Alright, that’s it for me tonight, guys. I hope you feel better, Ray. I’m sorry about your dad, man. Hit me up if you want to talk about it an’ junk.”

Amy brought the bowl of popcorn and cup of tea over to the living room and placed both on the coffee table. Sonic sat up to make room for Amy. She sank into the cushions and placed a throw pillow between them. Her best friend regularly got animated while watching a movie and a little extra buffer helped avoid unintended contact.

“I’m out, later gators.” Sonic pulled off his headset and leaned forward to grab a handful of popcorn and the television remote. “How’d it go at the clinic?” Sonic asked as he chewed, bringing up Petflix on the screen.

Amy sighed. “About as expected. Nothing’s wrong, except that I haven’t got an Alpha. Apparently, that’s the cure for everything.” She picked up the mug and took a slow inhale of the vapors. The tea smelled divine.

“Fuck em’, what do they know?” Sonic slowly typed out ‘fast’ into the search bar with the arrow keys on the remote.

“Half the day and a co-pay and nothing to show for it.” Amy took a sip. A lightly bitter with earthy undertones. Mrs. Vanilla had very specific temperature and steep times prescribed on the packet…but Amy wasn’t in the mood to get a thermometer and timer out.

Sonic turned and gazed at her over the pillow with his brow pinched. “I’m sorry, Amy. That blows.” He huffed. “They seriously gave you nothing after everything you went through yesterday? That was seriously nuts.” He leaned back, a grimace marring his face. “Not gonna lie, Ames, thrice is not nice for this hedgehog.”

Amy’s grip on the mug tightened. “I’m sorry, Sonic.” How many thousands of times had she said that over the years?

Sonic sat back up and leaned against the pillow. “Don’t apologize, Amy. It’s not your fault. Its just shitty for you to go through all that and they just tell you to get fucked by some rando. Like, what kinda’ medical advice is that? That’s some shit bedside manner if you ask me.”

Amy recognized the early stages of a Sonic ramble. Much like Rouge, once he got going, it was hard to derail him. And unlike Rouge, Sonic could not hold a plot. All topics were free game. “I went to visit Mrs. Vanilla afterwards.” Amy said, trying to segue him.

It worked. “Oh? How’s the old witch doing?”

“Sonic…” Amy snorted.

“The lady deals in potions and stuff. Total witch vibe.” He leaned forward to grab more popcorn.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Uh-huh. And what did she give you, pray tell?”

Amy smiled and tried to cover it with her tea mug. “An assortment of herbs and powders.”

“Totally a witch!” Sonic laughed.

“It’s always such a contrast, that’s for sure. I wish going to the clinic was like going to Mrs. Vanilla’s.”

Sonic shrugged, back to navigating the television. “Her whole deal isn’t scalable. Most of the stuff she gives you was used to make the stuff they prescribe at the clinic.”

“How do you know that?”

Sonic looked sheepish. “I might, ah, have had a peek at some of the wrappers you tossed. Just to make sure you weren’t getting swindled,” His face hardened, “Or poisoned.” The brightness returned. “Any way, the witch is legit. Regular meds are all artificially manufactured now, but they’re the same compounds. Less witchery though for sure.”

“I feel like everybody knows more about this stuff than I do…” Amy complained ruefully.

“BS in Bio-Sci, baby!” Sonic flicked his nose and gave her glowing grin.

Amy closed her eyes. “I’m so tired after all that.” The tea was helping.

“Oh.” Disappointment laced Sonic’s voice. “We don’t have to watch this if you don’t want to.”

Her eyes flashed open. “No, I need this, Sonic. I just want to not think about…” She motioned at her lower abdomen. “All this for at least an hour and half.”

He winked at her. “Well, mindless distraction is something I can provide.” Sonic got up to dim the lights but stopped “Ames, you remember what happened in the last one, right?”

Amy laughed. “They were fast and furry?”

“Ames!” Sonic feigned offense. “This is important! How can you expect to follow the story without an encyclopedic knowledge of all prior texts?” He spread his arms out in disbelief.

Giggling, Amy shook her head. “I think I’ll be okay, Sonic.”

“No, you won’t, Ames!” He grinned, struggling to maintain the bit. “Don’t worry. I’ll just have to give you the cliff notes version for all eight proceeding movies and one spin-off so you are adequately up to date on the FNF cinematic universe!” He took a large, exaggerated breath.

“That’s so not necessary!”

Sonic ignored her. “Movie one! The Fast and the Furriest- Pay attention because the naming convention is not consistent!” He waved his hands over his head in a wide arc. “Scene opens at night on an underground illegal street race somewhere between two warehouses in Lost Angles. Cars, tits, and ass for days!”

“Sit down!” Amy threw the pillow at him, snickering laughs shaking her.

Sonic dodged the pillow effortlessly and continued. “Golden retriever of my heart Brian O’condor is there to make a name for himself against reigning champ, more muscle than man, the main mole rat himself, Dominion Tornado!”

Amy stood up and retrieved the pillow. “We don’t have time for this!” She swiped the pillow at Sonic, who leapt over the coffee table and ran into the kitchen.

“Yadda yadda car race, yadda yadda hit the nos, yadda yadda oh shit it’s the feds!” Sonic babbled out, desperately trying not to laugh as Amy chased him. “Flagrant beer ad placement.” He expertly slipped under the table and dashed back to the living, jumping onto the couch in his sock feet. “More short shorts and strategically placed cleavage!”

Amy flung the pillow, finally catching Sonic in the face right as he turned. He released an exaggerated oof and fell backwards into the cushions. “Dom emerges from a fatal explosion completely unscathed!”

Amy approached and plucked up the pillow once. “They race a tank, a submarine, and jet plane and none of them compared to good old purring steel!” She loomed over Sonic, pillow held high and eyes wild as if to ask ‘any last words, punk?’

Sonic waved his hands in defeat. “Okay! Okay!” He gave Amy an exaggerated look of disgust. “Fine, remain ignorant, philistine!”

Amy smiled smugly and Sonic scrambled out of the way so she could sit. She leaned forward and hit play on the remote.

Movie night was a tradition that dated back to their freshman year in college. Sonic had been assigned a quad room and made quick friends of all three of his roommates. They would arrange ad-hoc movie nights and Sonic would invite Amy. Unfortunately, the close quarters and gaggle of rowdy young men left Amy more frazzled than entertained.

So, Sonic showed up at the security desk at the Omega dorm with a package of microwave popcorn and a roughed-up DVD of Velocity from the library. Every week they piled onto Amy’s tiny single bed and traded picking the movie. Sonic fell asleep almost every time it was Amy’s turn, but he’d snap awake suddenly and claim he’d been watching rapturously. Amy would stoically endure any action or b-movie horror flick Sonic chose, more engrossed in Sonic’s enjoyment than anything on the screen.

A nice punctuation to every week. A throughline stitching them together.

Yeah…it comforted Amy knowing there was more tying them than the Promise.

“Why is the series called the Fast and the Furriest when the lead guy has no hair?”

“Well, originally the series was supposed to be anthology that changed cast each movie and that lasted for the first three and by then they were stuck with the name.”

“Mmmm,” Amy hummed, “Got it. It’s ironic.”

“Amy!” Sonic “Don’t make me rewind this movie, young lady!” Amy laughed so hard she started choking on her popcorn.

Amy had been surprised to learn that almost all actors were Betas, even the ones typecast as Alphas. This led to some wildly inaccurate portrayals of Alpha and Omega dynamics. Amy and Sonic loved pointing out every wonky detail as they watched. Amy’s favorite was when an Omega’s claim mark was either really strangely shaped (heart shaped was popular) or located anywhere not on the nape of the neck (secret Omega revealed I the third act). Sonic’s was when an Alpha could smell an Omega from long distances away, like across a whole frickin’ city, or when the slightest drop of Omega blood would start a rut riot.

“Wait,” Amy gestured at the screen, “how can he be Dom’s brother? He’s not even a mole rat!”

“Don’t be racist, Amy.” Sonic chided.

Halfway through, the popcorn bucket ran out and Amy paused the movie to make some more and reheat the takeout container of shrimp fried rice. Sonic called out, “Oh, hey! So, my parents are renting that cabin again, you know, the one on the lake from when we were kids.” Amy’s spine straightened. The cabin. Another poisoned memory. “And I was gonna go. You want to come too?”

“When?”

“For Winter Solstice. The lake’s supposed to be iced over really good so we could go skating. Uh-“ Sonic’s brow knitted at Amy’s expression, “No pressure or anything though.”

“I’ll have to think about it.” Amy answered. “Can I get back to you?”

“Sure, it’s not for a while yet.”

The microwave chimed. Amy pulled the paper bag open and refilled the bowl. Settling back onto the couch, she said handed Sonic the popcorn bowl and sat down with her fried rice, “Vector’s got a new job for me.”

“Oh sweet! Who’s cheating on who this time?”

Amy’s words caught in her throat. She couldn’t tell Sonic the truth, he’d go ballistic with worry. “Its, ah, actually a runaway case.” What was she saying? “This guy’s parents want to keep an eye on him after he ran off with a woman they didn’t like. Target is over twenty-one so they are paying Vector to keep eyes on him.”

“Talk about helicopter parenting. Poor dude.”

“Well, anyway, I should be able to cover my half of the rent this month.”

“Amy, don’t worry about that.” Sonic leaned forward and hit the play button. The sound of explosions and rubber screeching against asphalt refilled the room.

Part of the movie did, in fact, involve launching a car into space. Sonic leapt to his feet as the rocket blasted off, muscle car hanging off the side, duct taped to be airtight. “Let’s goooo!” Amy watched in awe at the sheer ridiculousness as the muscle car then ‘drove’ through the bad guy’s satellite.

“Did you see that?” Sonic’s massive grin sparkled down at her. “Absolute Cinema right there, Ames. You’re witness the equivalent of the Renaissance.” Amy fought hard but couldn’t fully keep her snickers in her throat. Sonic eagerly ate each one up and just kept going. “This is the Birth of Venus of action movies, Amy! The Creation of Adam of car-based media!”

Amy laughed until she thought she was going to pass out.

Once the credits started to roll, Amy hit the power on the remote and stood. “Man, I really want a beer now.” Sonic commented. Amy snorted as she stretched and yawned. She checked the time on her phone and groaned. It had been a long day, and she didn’t really have any business sleeping too late into the next morning.

“Goodnight, Sonic.” Amy said as she went to grab her bag from beside the couch.

His eyes lit up. “Aren’t we gonna look at your pictures first?” Amy froze. Oh right. Damn it. He smirked at her, “Oh, you thought I forgot, didn’t you?”

“Sonic…”

“Come on, Ames. I just want to appreciate your art.” He grinned his big stupid toothy grin that got her every time, the bastard. “I’m your biggest fan.” It was both sad and true.

With a big sigh that was only a little bit performative, Amy set her bag down and fished out her laptop. It was almost dead so she had to clamor over the couch to plug it into the wall socket hidden behind the couch. Sonic crawled out of her way quickly, avoiding contact.

“You have to promise to not share any of these with anyone.” She lectured. “If Rouge finds out, I’m so fired and not only that, no one will ever hire me again.”

“Oh, come on, Rouge can’t be that nasty. Wait, she’s both a lawyer and a politician…scratch that.”

Amy twisted back to sitting. “It’s a matter of professionalism, Sonic. If I get fired for breeching trust, no one is going to want to have anything to do with me.”

“Yeah, okay, I can see that.” Sonic rubbed the back of his neck, but the seriousness only lasted a moment. “I super, duper, double-dog, cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye promise not to share any of your amazing photos with anyone.” He leaned towards her. “I’ll even pinky promise.” He proffered said pinky finger.

Amy rolled her eyes. She placed the computer on her lap and opened it. Sonic placed the pillow between them and scooted as close as he could without pressing into her. “Most of them aren’t any good.” Amy sighed as she navigated to the ‘rough touch up’ folder and lifted the laptop for Sonic to take.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Amy.” He grinned as he carefully received it. Settling it in his lap, Sonic began rapidly tapping the arrow keys, flipping through the photos at a blistering rate. Amy watched in awe as his eyes darted across the screen as if he was actually looking at each one.

Amy hadn’t told Sonic about any of her trouble from the previous night. He’d just feel guilty for not being there for her and she really didn’t feel like talking about her the Alpha who helped her. Sonic was fiercely protective of her, to the point of giving the stink eye to any Alpha that got close to her when they were out and about. It was better for everyone if she just pretended it had been a normal night. Just a regular gig. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Amy watched Sonic speed through the photos for a minute then shook her head and took out her phone. With a frown, she saw she had a missed call from her mom and a text. ‘Hello Dear. How are you? Tomorrow is your father’s birthday. Do you think you could give him a call? Give my regards to Zephyr and Maurice. Have you been eating well? I heard there’s been trouble in the City recently with Omegas. Maybe you could come home for Winter Solstice? Love you!’ Amy sighed. She set an alarm for the next day to call her dad.

Just as she was about to type a reply Sonic jumped. “There!” He pointed at the screen. Curious who could possibly get Sonic’s motor running this bad, Amy looked over and froze, her veins running with ice.

No! No, it can’t be!

“He’s not in a tux, but still, nice!” His gloved finger tapped the screen prominently displaying the picture of Rouge with Amy’s that Alpha. Blazing crimson eyes, sleek black quills immaculately groomed, perfectly tailored dark suit outlining all the right parts. “Damn, Amy. Great shot! He looks like a snack.”

No…that means he’s-

“That’s the guy. Shadow Kintobor. Dude’s richer than god. Damn, I bet he smells nice.” He does. Amy bit her tongue to try to gain some focus. Shadow. The man’s name was Shadow. Suddenly having a name for the man who’s haunted her thoughts all day was jarring. As if naming the beast made it more real somehow. But those feelings were quickly brushed aside by the wave of panic and shame that rushed in.

Oh, god. How could she have been so stupid?

Sonic took out his phone and held it close to the laptop screen to snap a picture. “I might even get to meet this guy sometime, you know? Like in real life. Maybe I’ll get a proper whiff then.”

That’s why he wasn’t in that many pictures, he wasn’t attending. He was the host!

“Dr. Prower says the KLS contract is long term and almost certainly going to be part of a lawsuit. He gave me this whole lecture about keeping my lab notebook current and clean because it’s probably going to be turned over during discovery. Pain in the ass ‘cuz I have to get every page viewed and signed same fricking day.”

He knew where to take her because it was his house!

“Shit, do you think I’ll have to testify, Ames?”

“W-what?” Was all Amy could to stutter.

“Dr. Prower normally handles all the ‘expert witness’ stuff. I don’t think I’d do good in cross-examination. I mean, a client once told me to shut the fuck up during a presentation once. He’d been such a nice old koala until then.”

Rouge had been so mad when Amy described Shadow because she was close to him. Close enough to have him lend her his house for an event.

Amy’s ears were ringing. Rouge knew Amy fucked Shadow! Oh god, she was going to be sick. She tried to swallow the knot growing in her throat.

Sonic tapped the screen. “And if you’re going to be a pain in my ass, mister, I’m going to be a pain in yours.”

And if Shadow was such a larger donor for Rouge, then he would surely be at more of her big events. The debate, the election night party, any number of fundraisers, or appearances. Amy wouldn’t be able to avoid him. Should she quit? Run? Hide?

“I did get to meet this really cute paralegal. The guy is in the lab like twice a week picking up and dropping off stuff. I think I might ask him out…Do you think that’s a good idea, Amy?”

There was no way Shadow didn’t know who Amy was by now. She signed those documents for that lynx woman. He knew her face and name and blood type and weight and probably everything else about her. What if he wanted to see her again? There was no way for her to stop him. A man with that kind of money could do anything he wanted.

And yet the tightness in her throat eased. Replaced with something…something-?

“Wait, would that be a conflict of interest? Wait, shit! I’m not supposed to be talking about any of this! Forget I said anything, Ames. Except about Silver. You think I have a chance?”

Amy should have been horrified. She knew she was supposed to be revulsed, ashamed, catatonic with fear. But she wasn’t. The idea that Shadow might be out there coming for her, this big, strong, powerful Alpha on the hunt for her, excited her. Filled her with a fluttery, tingling sensation and stoked a fiery tightness deep in her abdomen. Roiling, sucking need! Why did he make her feel like this? This confusing sensation delicately balancing on the line between pleasure and pain. Desire and repulsion. Control and submission.

“But for now it’s just me and this guy. With as hard as I’m working for his company, I think Shadow owes me a little something something. Don’t you handsome?” Sonic ran a finger over Shadow’s face.

With a sudden shattering clarity, Amy realized she wanted to see Shadow again. Her fur raised at just the thought, the very notion, of Shadow’s fingers (touching her! she wanted to be touched!) running along the curves of her chest and waist all the way down to-

“I mean, just look how fuckable his mouth is.”

Amy choked.

“I don’t know which would be better. Choking him with my cock or cumming all over those pretty boy quills. I mean, he’s probably got a real rich boy voice. I think I’d like to hear that while I’m crushing his uvula.”

“S-sonic!”

“No, you’re right. Bent in half with his ankles on my shoulders would be so much better. That way I can really see how much he likes it while I rail that ass. Amy, how tall you figure he is?”

Amy’s voice took on a desperate shrillness. “Sonic!” He turned and beheld her horrified face.

“Oh fuck, oh shit, I’m sorry, Amy. I d-didn’t mean to make it weird. Forget I said anything!” Sonic had the grace to look bashful. “It’s just…well, yesterday really messed with me a bit. I have no idea where my head is right now.” The corner of his mouth quirked as he obviously capped the statement with something lewd in his mind.

Amy looked down. It was her fault. “I’m sorry, Sonic.” What was she doing to him? How could she keep asking this of Sonic. Expecting him to be there for her. She hated it, but every month she called on him.

“Amy, don’t be. Yeah, it blows, but it’s not your fault.”

“It’s my responsibility.” Amy sighed and stood.

For once, Sonic appeared to be speechless. He looked up at her, his shinning emerald eyes dimming, “Amy…” He closed the lid of the laptop and handed it to Amy.

She took it and turned to head into her room.

“But what do you think about Silver?” Sonic asked in a rush.

Amy blinked and pivoted. “What?”

“Normally I just don’t look around any, cuz’, well,” Sonic waved a hand between them and Amy clutched the computer tightly against her chest, “But like, Silver’s super cute and funny and sweet and I want to see if maybe he, I dunno, felt the same about me.”

“That’s great Sonic. I’m happy for you.”

“You think it could be okay if I ask him out?”

Amy squinted, unsure of what to make of the question. Sonic was asking her for permission? “Why are you asking me?”

“Well, ‘cuz, you know. If I’ve got somebody else,” He frowned sheepishly, “I might not be there for you when you need me…like I said I’d be.”

Oh.

The Promise.

Amy looked at the floor, holding her laptop so closely as if to hide behind it. “Sonic…If you like someone, you shouldn’t be thinking about me at all. I’m so thrilled for you and I want you to be happy.” She looked up to meet his gaze. His glittering green eyes implored her, release me. “That promise you made…we were just kids…I am so grateful, but…Sonic, I…You shouldn’t limit yourself on my account. Please don’t!” Amy didn’t have the words.

Suddenly, Sonic was in front of her and she took a step back. “Amy.” He said softly and turned, exposing his back to her. Slowly, Amy turned and backed into him. The contact sent shivers through her as his back quills pressed into her. The heat of another body there but not threatening. She was in control. The contact lasted only as long as she wanted it to. She gritted her teeth, willing the burning to stay away!

Amy couldn’t stand hugs. They made her want to scream, to tear herself away and run. This was the compromise she and Sonic had developed over the years since... No eye contact. No entrapment. No encompassing, crushing arms. He’d stand still and she’d press in as long as she could. This was how they hugged. This was their thing.

“Thank you, Amy.” Sonic said, remaining still.

Amy pulled away, but didn’t turn around. “Goodnight, Sonic.”

“Goodnight, Amy.”

Amy fled to her room and closed her door. She sank down on the cheap carpet. She couldn’t hold Sonic to his Promise. But without him she was thoroughly lost. Except now…

Her heart raced.

Her abdomen throbbed, constricting involuntarily.

Her dark gentleman, with his touch and his words and his smell and his…

Shadow.

Amy felt her face. It burned! But not like…not unpleasantly. Her heart was racing. Her legs clenched together. She needed-! She wanted-! Please, if he could only-!

Could she dare to dream that there was a solution?

Amy bit her cheek. If she had Shadow, Sonic would be truly free of the Promise, of any obligation to her.

Sonic would be free.

However, Amy would be trapped permanently, at the mercy of her Alpha, in the embrace of dark arms. Holding her, binding her, wrapping around her, smothering her! Shadow encompassing her! Shadow devouring her! Shadow loving her!

And Amy found herself shuddering uncontrollably with desire…

Notes:

Am I overdoing Amy’s touch aversion, chat?

Apparently, in all my AUs, Sonic thinks he can top Shadow while giving off the harshest bottom energy.

As I wrote this, I was also writing the latest chapter for my other fic, in which Amy and ‘Sonic’ are going at it for real. Girl’s got some range with that hammer.

Readers, you get some choose your adventure for Ch 10.
What plot do you want to see advanced?

A: Amy’s new job for Vector.
B: Shadow works to deal with the vote of no-confidence, i.e. Calls his mother.
C: Fuck it, more Rouge!
D: Nice try getting us to do your job, author!
E: Whatever gets us to smut faster.

Next Chp: Two Hedgehogs think about each other. Really, really hard and fast thoughts.

Chapter 9: Self-Serve

Summary:

Amy thinks about Shadow.

Shadow thinks about Amy.

Notes:

We now return you to your regularly scheduled spice. Thank you for your patience.

Amy stared at her ceiling. With the lights off, her eyes had adjusted and her room had taken on the haunting muteness of lowlight, granted definition by the faint illumination of harsh streetlight blaring through the cracks in her blackout curtains. It had been a long, fraught day and Amy wanted to get up early to start working cleaning up the photos of the donor dinner.

It was very late. Amy was very tired.

And yet she simply could not fall asleep.

The heat. Oh, god, the heat! It had been threatening her throughout the day and then in the living room with Sonic, it had fully bloomed. Shadow. Amy had stripped to her panties, but she couldn’t escape the cloying, sticky heat caught right below the surface of her skin. She should be shivering, they kept the apartment cold to lower their utility bills, but she simply wasn’t. Amy was baking. Stewing. Marinating.

And she didn’t know why. Shadow.

This wasn’t the heat of which she was accustom. Her mind wasn’t dissolving into wanton lust and her sheets weren’t getting soaked with slick. It was something else. And it almost felt…almost like…was it possible that…?

Amy.

Amy gasped. He hadn’t said her name, hadn’t known her name. But she could hear it nonetheless in his deep, warm baritone. The short syllables held so much meaning. I want you. I need you. Her insides clenched and a shudder shook her.

Amy.

She had hardly seen his face when they had been joined, yet she could picture it so vividly now, hovering above her, his smoldering crimson eyes glowing from the darkness. So close. She could almost reach up and touch his cheek, run her fingers along his sharp jawline.

“Shadow.” She whispered.

He’d touched her. Touched her in ways she couldn’t even comprehend. Ways that didn’t hurt or burn. His hand sliding over her belly, lightly pressing against her fur, traveling deeper, deeper, deeper towards…

Amy’s fingers twitched. One of her hands lifted to her hips, fingers lightly pushing at the small valley between her hip bone and the rise of her belly. Slowly, she messaged the flesh there with short stroking motions. This led her under the elastic of her underwear to the crease where her leg met her torso.

The fur was short, soft, well washed after the previous day’s excursions. Is this what he felt as his ungloved hand traveled deeper? Had he…liked that?

She explored further. To the peak of the center of her hip, below which lay her sacred valley. Fingers descended and she found the road to her deepness moist. The pain of her system cleaning itself had settled and the bleeding had reduced substantially. Spotting didn’t feel this wet. What did it mean?

Her destination wasn’t her dark, tortured place. Her middle finger followed in Shadow’s wake and graced the same spot, so small and guarded by a lip of flesh. Amy sucked in a breath as a jolting sensation raced through her and she pulled her hand away. A strange blend of pleasure and…not pain? A shuddering tickle. A prickling longing.

She knew about the clitoris only as an afterthought. A part of her anatomy labeled on the black and white slides in fourth grade health class. No attention was drawn to it. Never mentioned, never explained. What was it? Why was it there? None of that was important. Here, put this condom on this banana. Oh, you broke it. Don’t worry, dear, you don’t really need to know how to use one anyway.

Amy placed a hand against her chest, feeling her heart race. One little touch and she felt like she’d been running a race. The temperature suffocating her only intensified. As if summoned by her confusion, the tingling itch reemerged somewhere deep inside her. Scratch me, it simpered.

She swallowed. Running her hands down her stomach, she pulled up the elastic of her panties and froze as her nails lightly pressed in her skin. Amy. Her legs clenched together, and she rolled onto her side.

What if it was his claws dragging against her as he slowly slipped off her undergarments? When she arched her back, could his hands lift her up? When her head twisted to the side and rolled back, his chest pressed to hers and his lips graced her ear, her cheeks, her jaw, her neck. Down, down, down until-!

Amy curled, both savoring the thoughts and trying to push them away. Stop it! She had decided to forget about last night. It meant so little that it didn’t even happen. But then she’d learned his name. Shadow. He was real. All of it was real. NO! None of it was, not when she was sick with heat. She could never trust what she felt when she was like that. Not now. Not ever.

But then why, now that she was clear headed, she still felt…what did she feel?

Amy!

She could still smell him like he was in the room with-

The realization had Amy on her feet before her logical brain could register it. The waste basket. She’d tied the bag close but hadn’t taken it to the trash chute yet. Amy ripped it open and pulled out the crumpled remains of her black dress. She’d thrown it away, both as a lost cause for getting cleaned but also because it would serve as a reminder of such a terrible day.

Unfurling the garment, Amy saw dried slick flaking off onto the carpet and sweat stains marring the wrinkled dress. Gingerly she brought it to her nose. What was she doing? Amy wrinkled her nose at how thickly her own heat scent wafted off the mess of black cloth. But there-! There, below her own smell, was the most intoxicating aroma. Dark, deep, earthy. Safety, affection, fulfillment.

She couldn’t help breathing deeply. “Aah!” She whimpered. Amy could contain the sound as her womb tightened sharply, nearly bending her over. The itch in her became a throbbing need, a yearning, sucking, chasm that had to be filled.

Strong arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly, securely. She was led to her bed and thrown onto it. Amy rolled to her back and her limbs fanned out like a flower in bloom. The dress was still clutched in her fist. She brought it to her nose and inhaled the Alpha scent. Coffee, sandalwood, lavender. Amy’s breath came in quick gasps, bringing more and more of him into her, as if she wanted to etch the scent onto the inside of her skull. Hold me. Have me. Love me.

Shadow was above her, his piercing red eyes pining her in place. Not with fear. Not with malice. With excitement. Anticipation. Amy shuddered, her chest tightening.

Amy. Her name was a spell in his mouth, teleporting them far away to a world just for them.

A hand returned to her darkness. A light, gentle caress and her back arched. She clenched her teeth to keep treacherous sounds from escaping. His arms wound around her in a warm embrace. His face pressed into the crook of her neck. Goose pimples rose across her scalp. The finger moved in a lazy circle. Slow and small, but it was dragging her to the moon and back.

She gasped as his teeth pricked her neck. Ma pêche, he whispered into her flesh. So sweet. A second finger joined its compatriot, fully covering the small tender spot. A light bit of pressure and her hips bucked up. Her fingers twitched, longing to dig into dark fur.

“Sha-“ She moaned, trying desperately to bite back the sound. She knew exactly how thin the walls were.

Let me hear you, my dear. “Shadow…” She whispered. She felt the heat of his gaze on her cheeks. The hunger. The burning desire to claim. Her stomach clenched as his fur pressed into hers. The terror and excitement flowing her senses braided into a sensation she couldn’t describe. Tell me what you want. She wanted to melt, but the fingers kept her tense, chasing the feeling!

“I want...” Tell me. Anything, I will give it to you. The words caught in her throat, fighting a rush of saliva for freedom. She ordered-

“Faster.” As you wish. The circling intensified, now utilizing a full hand. Finger pads rubbed and tantalized, pushing sharply then backing away to ghost along her impossibly responsive flesh. Another hand explored further, sliding past the first, brushing the inner lips protecting her deepness. The valley was flooded, a stifling lake boiling in her depths.

Building pressure! Stoking flames, higher and hotter. Her insides clenched and Amy gritted her teeth. Tears pricked to edges of her eyes. She was being led somewhere, the hand guiding her, charging her flesh with an electric ecstasy. She demanded-

“Harder.” Of, course. His deep voice murmured in her ear, sending cascading sparks through her scalp. His hand pressed into her, fully cupping her, a firm yet gentle touch. Amy’s feet dug into the mattress, raising her hips and grinding into the motion. She was going to go insane. She couldn’t stand it. Still not enough! She commanded-

“M-more!” Everything. Shadow’s hands were all over her. Caressing her hips, gently squeezing her breasts, running through her quills, gently ghosting nails over her scalp. The flood of sensations left her breathless, gasping for air as she sought shore. His hand did not stop its relentless pace. The tension just built tighter and hotter, screaming for release. It was torture beyond her feeble comprehension.

Too much! Too much too much too much!

“A-hah” Shadow slammed his mouth to hers and swallowed her ecstatic cry. Roiling waves thundered through her. His arms encircled her, holding her tightly against his chest, their hearts beating fast as one. That’s right, Amy. Just like that, he murmured into her. Her hips jumped and twitched involuntarily. Her toes curled as her head was bashed to blissful bits.

Mind blown, Amy floated in an ethereal haze where everything just felt nice. Nothing was wrong right now or ever was wrong or ever will be again. But with all nice things, the euphoric haze started to fade, rushing away from her like a pleasant dream in the light of morning.

The spell broke. The cold of the room rushed in, gripping her tightly. Every drop of sweat was an avenue for the chill to enter her. Slowly, Amy uncovered her mouth. Her lips stung from how hard she’d slapped her hand over them to mute the disgusting shriek that had erupted from her.

Amy blinked. What the hell was she doing? Amy lay in a damp patch in the center of her twin bed, completely naked, except for socks. She looked to the side and saw the disgusting dress. Pulling herself up, she tossed the garment back into the waste bin. She took a few wipes and cleaned up her hands and loins. There was a little blood, but not enough to besmirch her sheets thank god.

She retrieved a thin dressing gown from where she’d draped it on her desk chair. She slumped down and placed her head into her hands. She lifted and looked at her hand. The fingers she’d stuck inside herself were wrinkled.

That had been an orgasm, right?

What. The. Fuck.

Why wasn’t that taught in health class?

Shadow had given her one so casually. Almost as a tease. Almost like it was normal. That didn’t make any sense. Sex could be…like this? For how long could she have been doing something that actually felt good?

Shadow had changed her life. Rescued her from almost certain calamity, taken care of her with no regard for himself, and reformatted her knowledge about herself not once, but twice in a single encounter. She sighed. Good job, Amy Rose. You’ve fallen for the first man to get you off. Desperate much?

It was a beautiful fantasy. Romantic. Stereotypical, if she was being cynical. Dashing, wealthy man sweeping into her life and taking her far away from all her problems. A loving, caring man to protect her from the violence of the world. Doting on her, wrapping her in affection. A fairy tale ending that also freed Sonic from his cursed promise, allowing him to go live his happily ever after as well. A two-fer.

Yes, a beautiful fantasy…but little else.

With her luck, Shadow was already married or gay (that would be par for the course with her luck). There was no way he’d be interested in her anyway. Shadow was probably surrounded by prettier and better educated women. Especially as kind as he was. Amy felt herself become envious of this imaginary other woman, as if Amy somehow had any claim on Shadow’s attention. Amy knew she was being stupid…but it still hurt.

This was a wakeup call, Amy decided. Her heats were getting stronger and more frequent. It was cruel to rely on Sonic…and some day soon he might not even be able to help her anymore. She needed to take responsibility for finding a longer-term solution. Amy reached for her phone and thumbed to the app store. She scrolled through the plethora of Alpha/Omega matching apps. She selected one at random and hit download.

Amy needed to forget all about Shadow. Besides, Shadow had probably already forgotten all about her.

---

Shadow stared at the door to the guest room with, frankly, an irritating level of trepidation. It was a fucking guest room in his own fucking house. Why was he even here? Boggled the mind. He had a million better things to do and plenty of problems needing his immediate attention.

And yet he was here.

Here.

Where’d he been with her.

With Amy.

What the flying fuck was wrong with him?

Shadow had barely kept it together the entire day. Every spare moment, the thought of her wafted through his mind. Nothing he did engaged him because he could have been, at that very moment, with her. Where is Amy? Why isn’t she here? Why aren’t you making her smile right now? Incessant, ridiculous thoughts.

It was pathetic. It was downright absurd and, what’s more, fucking creepy. Violating. Lusting after a woman he’d met once under surreal circumstances. A guest in his home. A woman who’d been vulnerable, been having a truly terrible time. Amy. Last night might have been the worst of her life. And he just couldn’t seem to make himself understand that fact, like some loathsome, wretched, sex-crazed fiend.

They’d not even had a proper encounter. None of it would have happened if her instincts and his hadn’t smashed them together like two tectonic plates, fountaining lava (and other things) all over the place. If anything, it had been a hostage situation, with both of them hogtied, at the mercy of powers beyond their control, their bodies puppeted by the mindless need to reproduce.

But that wasn’t right, was it? She’d been far further gone than he had been. Shadow had had all the power, all the control in the situation. As was his right. Fuck, no! He gritted his teeth, trying to force the thought away.

The encounter was nothing. Nothing important happened. It had meant nothing. It had to mean nothing!

And yet he was opening the door to the room they’d shared looking for…what the fuck was he looking for?

The room was immaculate. Nicole (despite supposedly being off today) had already worked her hyper-efficient personal assistant magic. The bed was made and pristine, the coverlet changed, the pillows plumped and delicately arranged. The air was thick with floral tones with a thick current of industrial cleaner and scent suppressants. The waste bins emptied. The bathroom scrubbed top to bottom.

Through his socks he felt a dampness to the carpet. Damn that woman, she had the carpet steam cleaned already. Whatever he was paying her wasn’t enough. But also, damn that woman!

Erased. Every trace of Amy, every trace of last night, every trace of what they had shared been forced to do eradicated from existence. Plausible deniability. Maybe they hadn’t even fucked. There wasn’t any evidence of it, so why not? Shadow knew what Nicole was guarding against: Amy showing up later, demanding money or, worse, pregnant.

Shadow flopped onto the bed, pushing some of the pillows off. He covered his face with his hands. He hated how distantly he had to hold the world. There was always the risk, due to his wealth or status or whatever the fuck else, that any person who interacted with him was predatory. Duplicitous. Fake. That he wasn’t a person, just a mine from which to extract treasure.

But Shadow couldn’t believe that about Amy. His mind simply rejected the notion. There wasn’t anything logical he could pin the conviction on. Shadow just knew Amy wasn’t like that. Knew it in his goddamned bones.

Why’d Rouge have to let slip Amy’s name? The knowledge gave Shadow something to latch onto, something to cling to as a memento, as proof that those sounds, those hips, those sharp eyes, those tight, hot, sinuous, silky insides were a person. A real, living flesh and blood person out there in the world somewhere. A person who could be found. Could be held. Caressed tenderly.

Shadow pulled at the collar of his dress shirt began unbuttoning it. His breath was coming fast and rough, especially given he was just lying supine doing nothing at all. He lifted to pull off the white shirt, taking care not to press into the wound dressing on his forearm, and, with a sigh, acknowledged the thickness that had been swelling against his abdomen.

Well shit. Maybe…if he dealt with that…maybe then he could let her the idea of her go. Yeah, that could work. He was just pent up. That’s what this was.

He undid his belt, pulled his pants and boxers down, and kicked them to the ground beside the bed. After pulling off his gloves, he fished out the little tablet that control the automation in the room from the nightstand and killed the lights. If he was going to do something so shameless, he sure as fuck didn’t want to see himself.

Shadow ran a languid nail along his aching bulge aching. He closed his eyes.

Amy was in the kitchen, facing away from him. She was chopping fruit or something. Maybe baking…it doesn’t matter stop overthinking it. Shadow wrapped his arms around her, one lacing between her breasts and the other crossing her belly to clutch her hip. She smelled amazingly fresh, like a crisp, ripe peach.

Amy giggled.

Shadow grunted. His shaft eagerly dispensed into his hand. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the tip, spreading the stickiness there. Of course he’d bitten near through the flesh of his dominate had, so he had to start off-handed.

Shadow? Amy’s voice is full of mock outrage. Why did his name sound so musical on her lips? “Amy…” He groaned, struggling to keep his opening volley slow.

He pressed her tightly to his chest and nuzzled through her pink quills to locate the crook of her neck. He pressed his hips against her, grinding into her firm ass with a rolling motion. Fuck it had felt so good to knot her.

Shadow! The abolishment was colored with a laugh. Shadow pulled her away from the counter. “Amy.” He growled, desire outlining his words. He lifted her like she was nothing and took her somewhere soft. Couch, bed, lawn, plush carpet, maybe all at once. It was a fantasy, wasn’t it?

Shadow rose and twisted, getting on his hand and knees. He tried to ignore twinge from his injury and pressed his head into the pile of pillows to compensate.

Amy was spread out below him, bright blush coloring her cheeks, an alluring feast just for him. Her shining viridian eyes twinkled with mischief. She’s going to make him work for it. Maybe there’s a dusting of flour on her nose. So fucking cute! He picked up the pace.

Shadow buried his face into her neck once more and ran his tongue up the delicate curve, relishing her scent and leaving plenty of his own. His mouth watered. In his mind his claim mark on her was red, his red, and matched perfectly with her natural pink. Beautiful. Done with her neck, his tongue traversed the edge of her face up to her twitching ear, tasting her.

“Ma pêche,” He murmured. “So sweet.” All for him. His. No one else. His forever. A flavor, impossibly sweet, all his own. He could be possessive in his mind. That was fine, wasn’t it? In his mind, she loved it.

Her fingers lightly dug into his shoulders. Amy pressed her claws into him and slowly drug them downwards to tangle in the patch of white on his chest. Shadow’s spine tingled and he bucked up into his hand. Shit! Had to slow down.

Sha- Amy gasped. He lifted to look into her sparking green eyes, while his hand traveled down, pulling up the edge of the white apron (embroidered with little strawberries). She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. She giggled again. Here he was thinking he had surprised her, but Amy was always a step ahead. She knew she was a delicacy from which he simply could not abstain.

His hand found her depths and she gave him a little shuddering whimper.  “Let me hear you, my peach.” She pursed her lips and with a teasing smirk she moaned his name, just the way he loves, Shadow. The woman knew him to a T.

His face pressed against the pile of pillows and a breath brought a scent into his mouth that blinded him with a sudden spark of his instincts. He rooted through the pillows face first like some kind of burrowing animal. The scent bloomed thicker and thicker. Why were there so many fucking pillows? What was the goddamned purpose of so ma- That one! Shadow grasped the tiny, overstuffed thing and shoved against his nose.

Strawberries and vanilla.

A shudder rushed through him from head to loins, reverberating along his spine. He ached. His strokes sped up, more desperate now. Had to relieve the pressure. Had to cool the inferno eating him from the inside.

Nicole, with her giant, merciless efficient eraser, had missed one tiny remnant of Amy. Amy had been here. Had been with him, for better or worse. Amy. It had been real. Amy. Did that mean what he felt now was real, too?

Shadow buried his face into Amy’s pillow. The scent of her still infected every inch of him, but the fresh waft flared all his baser impulses. He let her get away! Why did he do that? Find her! Bring her back! Don’t let her leave, never ever ever again!

He gasped. Shit! Cramp. Shadow changed hands. Fuck! His bite wound did not care for that one bit. He settled back into his impulses, letting the instinctual eagerness dull the pain. He bit down on the pillow, digging his fangs in.

Her eyes squeezed close as Shadow entered. He choked, his mouth full of fabric, at how tight and moist she was for him. Amy’s legs came up and gripped Shadow around the waist with a vice-like strength. He was stuck. No escape from the cave of pleasures without permission.

I want… She mewls. “Tell Me.” Shadow gasped desperately. “Anything, I will give it to you.” Please, tell me! The sun, the moon, everything in between. Tell me, Amy!

Faster, her desire a filthy noise ripping through his mind. “As you wish.” He savaged the pillow like an animal. Oh god. He could taste her. Delicious, sweetness. Luscious, perfectly ripened.  At this speed, his hand drew a wet sound.

Harder, she shrieked. “Of course.” He moaned. She knew what she did to him. Every brush of fingers over his chest. Every flirtatious twitch of her lips. Unraveling him. Unmaking him. Breaking him into base components to be reformed later into the shape of her choosing.

M-more! She writhed, her back arcing, her legs clutching him tightly, drawing him deeper. “Everything.” Amy had it all. Everything he was or will be. He couldn’t stand it. The heat and the pressure and the disgusting desire to bite and claim and possess!

A-hah The gorgeous expanse of pink below him, his entire world, his entire universe, quaked. “That’s right, Amy. Just like that.”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

He couldn't breathe.

It's-!

He’s about to-!

I love you, Amy whispered like Shadow deserved it.

The abused decorative pillow muffed his mindless noises as Shadow spilled long white ropes all over the fresh coverlet. The cramped hand tried to keep him aloft as rode out the waves of his orgasm.

Finally finished, he released the pillow, spitting out some torn stuffing, and flopped over away from the mess he’d made. His throat felt raw and he stared blankly at the dark ceiling. Thank god his knot knew he was alone. He did not have the proper equipment here to deal with that.

With a shiver, Shadow realized his imagination wasn’t through with him. Amy curled close, her hand creeping over his chest and her leg wrapping around his. That wasn’t so hard, was it? She teased. Wha-? Why? But he’d- He should be free of her. That was the whole point of this.

You’re done when I say you’re done, mister. Shadow choked and felt himself start to quicken again.

Fuck, me!

He shot up and crawled out of the bed. He went to the on suite and splashed cold water onto his face. He noticed a few glistening drops on the fur of his belly and chest. With an irritated hmph, he turned on the water in the shower and left it tuned to cold. This bathroom didn’t have his favorite products, but he just needed a quick rinse anyway. He stepped in and didn’t leave until he was shivering, but fully settled.

Toweled off, Shadow pulled his pants back on. All done. Back to the real world. The fight with the board. Procuring his mother’s endorsement. Getting his Alpha blockers project back on track. Getting Rouge elected without getting caught violating too many any laws.  Asking Amy what she would like for breakfast.

His fingers tightened around his belt. How would her smile shine in a bar of morning sunlight filtering through delicate curtains? Stop. Did she take coffee or tea? How did she like it? Stop it! What would they do later? Whatever she liked. Stop stop stop! Did she play tennis? What about chess?

He needed help. This…infatuation wasn’t stopping, wasn’t even dulling, despite his best efforts…Shadow ran a hand down his face. Perhaps masturbating to the thought of Amy hadn’t been the best idea if his goal was to forget about her. What the fuck is wrong with you? He heard Rouge’s words so clearly. He didn’t know. He simply didn’t know.

How long had it been since his last roll I the hay? It had been…coming off his last rut? Nearly five months then. Shadow was hardly celibate, but his guests rarely stayed past a perfunctory breakfast and none were invited back. Through no fault of their own, of course. Shadow simply had not felt interested in a repeat visit before.

But he hadn’t had an Omega in over ten years. Not since he’d vowed never again. Slumping into a plush armchair, Shadow hung his head and ran his hands through his damp quills. The memories of his sins bubbled up. How could he think he had a right to ever touch an Omega again?

And yet he had. And wanted to, again. Couldn’t stop thinking about it. Could not stop thinking about Amy!

He really needed help.

Fighting to slow his haggard breathing, Shadow pulled out his phone and texted his brother. Message sent, Shadow looked at the time and grimaced. Great timing…He cursed himself. Eclipse would be with his family, enjoying the scant few hours a day he could give his pack.

Before Shadow could text again to tell Eclipse to forget it until the morning, his phone lit up with a call.

“Brother.” Shadow answered.

“What’s wrong?” His brother’s voice was low and, in the background, Shadow could hear one of the children talking. Sounded like Nox. Shit, his nephew’s birthday was coming up. Nicole probably already had a gift lined up. “Shadow?” Eclipse asked with more urgency.

“Tu avais un minute pour parler? I have a personal matter I would like your opinion on. Rouge isn’t available.” She’d splash him with liquid nitrogen and smash off his cock with a hammer if she knew.

“Un instant s'il te plaît.” Shadow heard Eclipse say something away from the phone receiver. “If you are interrupting me to complain about Mother, so help me, Shadow, I will make you suffer.”

Shadow rolled his eyes. “Your turn first.”

“What?”

“Are you away?” Shadow heard the closing of a door.

“Yes. Now, what is this about?”

To his credit, Eclipse remained silent while Shadow described his previous evening’s activities and the maze of thoughts he’d been trapped in all day. When he’d finished, Shadow waited for a response. After a pregnant pause, he asked, “Eclipse?” If the call had dropped, Shadow was just fucked. He would never repeat what he’d recounted.

“I need a moment to finish mulling through all the uncharitable and unhelpful thoughts I have.”

“I see…”

The silence drug on. Eclipse would occasionally snicker softly. Shadow found his ears burning with growing irritation. “You are a saint, resisting the urge tease me to this extent, plagued as you are by a legion of, I’m sure, biting snipes.” Shadow hissed. Once the words were out, he regretted them immediately. He was the one asking for help, goddamn it, act like it.

“Oh, you have no idea, Shadow. You’d have found the means to teleport through the radio waves to strangle me three times over by now.”

“Are you finished?”

“Yes. I am ready to provide useful advice. I now understand your...preoccupation earlier today. First, though, congratulations, Shadow. From the bottom of my heart, I’m thrilled for you.”

Shadow blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Is the lucky woman a hedgehog?” Shadow wasn’t sure if he’d describe Amy as lucky, given her circumstances.

That was irrelevant information. “She is…” Where was this going?

“Mon dieu, Shadow, you’ve the luck of the devil himself. I’ve half a mind of accusing you of making a pact like Father. So many of your problems solved at once. You’ve finally decided to end your self-imposed loneliness and, what’s more, Mother will be pleased. I shall have Meridian talk to Nicole regarding your wedding colors.”

“Eclipse-“ Shadow growled, not appreciating his brother’s jokes.

“Fine, perhaps Mother won’t be pleased, but she’ll at least not be openly hostile to the girl. You should knock her up quickly, though. Grandchildren will help. I have been firm that three is enough for me, but she still niggles me like a mosquito.”

Shadow sighed and pinched the bridge of his snout. “You’re not listening to me. I want to forget about Amy.”

There was a pause. “Why the hell for?”

Shadow expressed his frustration with a growl. “Why do you think? I don’t know her, not really, and yet I can’t stop thinking about her. And she’s an Omega. I can’t be trusted- How do I even know these thoughts, these feelings are even real?”

Shadow laughed, short and bitterly. “She’s probably terrified of me.” An idea struck him like a bolt of lightning. “She might even be taken. By another Alpha or maybe she’s got a Beta. A boyfriend. A spouse. She said something about her helping too far away. I don’t know. Nique-moi!”

“No, thank you. You could just ask her, you know.” Eclipse’s tone was so casual, Shadow wanted to reach through the and throttle him.

“Be serious.”

“I am being serious, you fucking coward.” Shadow blanched at the venom in his brother’s voice. “How else do you purpose you gain that information? Elucidate me.”

Nicole would know, for one, but that option was repugnant to Shadow.

When Shadow did not answer, Eclipse sighed. “Here. Perform a thought experiment for me. Imagine for a second that you and she are Betas. No heats nor ruts. No socially or genetically imposed hierarchy. In that situation, what would you do?”

It was an absurd hypothetical. Completely irrelevant. Still, Shadow found himself enjoying the thought. How much simpler this whole situation would be. Quaint almost. Fuck, Eclipse was right. “I-I’d ask her if she’d like to go on a date with me.” Shadow felt downright childish even speaking the words.

“My god, you are smart, frère aîné.”

“Fuck you.”

“If you must. You will need Meridian’s and Aphelion’s permission, though.”

Shadow ignored the bait. “It’s not that simple!”

“I see. And you are comfortable making these decisions for her?”

“W-what? I-m not-”

“You seem very stubbornly sure that you know what’s best for her. What she feels. What she wants. Not once even considering just asking her. Surely, she would hate to have to be presented with a choice. Very Alpha of you, brother. Father would be proud.”

Shadow found himself hissing at the comparison. He’d let the first slide, but now Eclipse was pushing his patience. His brother chuckled, satisfied with his baiting.

“You’re right.” Shadow admitted.

“It happens more than you would like to admit.”

 Shadow was tired with bantering. “I have a lot to think about. Thank you, Eclipse.”

“You’re welcome. Good night, Shadow.”

“Good night.”

“And, Shadow.”

“Yes?”

“Unless it’s a matter of life or death, I never want to be interrupt when I’m with my family to hear about your sex life ever again. I will castrate you.” Shadow was aware of Eclipse’s skills with a knife. It was not an empty threat.

“Noted.”

Notes:

Pardon my French.

The poll from last chapter is still open if you'd like to double down or change your vote.
What plot do you want to see advanced in Ch. 10?

A: Amy’s new job for Vector
B: Shadow works to deal with the vote of no-confidence, i.e. Calls his mother.
C: Fuck it, more Rouge! -> Shortest path to smut
D: Dealer's choice

As always, thank you for reading!

Chapter 10: Forbidden Fruit

Summary:

Rouge and Knuckles share a totally normal, totally chaste moment.

Notes:

None of ya’ll should be surprised by Rouge’s internal monologue after her actual monologue in Chp. 4. I bear no responsibility; ya’ll were warned and voted for this anyway.

Ngl, stretching my skills and comfort zone a bit with this one, folks. Let me know what you think at the end. This fic is predominantly Amy/Shadow POVs, so any extra POVs are more ‘bonus’, ‘experimental’, and ‘comic relief’. I’d say non-fanonical, but we both know I can’t go three paragraphs without shoving lore in there somewhere.

Rouge was getting a little fucking tired of Knuckles thrusting his knot into her face. The distraction complicated her current task: taking his staggeringly long dick so far down her throat that she lost her lipstick tickling his inner thigh with her nose. After all these years, he still needed to learn to keep his fucking hips still. God as her witness, if Rouge had a bruise on her lip from his incessant crushing of his throbbing, hot knot into her teeth, she was going to bite his cock off and feed it to him piecemeal.

The confined quarters exacerbated matters. The backseat of Knuckles’ squad car had born witness to just about every depravity the two could manage, but the space was picked for convenience, not comfort. Cramped and hemmed in by bullet proof glass and steel meshing, it reeked of the city’s violent, deranged, and unlucky refuse. An utterly disgusting venue, a shameful situation to find herself in. Again. And again. And again and again.

But fuck all that noise, she’d punch a constituent in the face and push a baby pram down a flight of stairs to have her idiot’s snout up her snatch. Luckily, she’d not had to go to such lengths.

Her sharpshooter’s treacherously long tongue (evolution looking out for a girl, hot damn!) hit the exact right spot(!!) and Rouge arched her back. Ah, f-fuck! She shuddered as the hot, icy sensation sliced through her, her wings slapping against the sedan roof as they flailed. His grip on her thighs held her down, forcing her to endure his ravages.

Involuntarily, she tried to gasp, and her throat tensed, his stupid hips jumping up again (the motherfucker!). Incensed, Rouge held her teeth just a little too close as she came up for air. Her throat revolted with a raw ache as air, freezing in comparison to Knuckles’ searing hot length, rushed in. The piteous whine Knuckles expelled like a deflating balloon nearly had her gobbling the whole damn thing back down.

“Stop…” She hissed between gulps of air, “fucking try to…know my goddamned mouth!” When he didn’t make any sign that he’d heard her, she clamped her thighs so tightly around his head he had three minutes before he’d drown in her cunt. That would be a fun one for the public relations team to smooth over. ‘It was a self-defense drowning. Rouge had the right to stand her ground.’ Serves him right, the asshole.

She lowered her head and looked through her pendulous breasts at his chiseled physique. Well cultivated muscles twitched and tensed under his rusty red pelt and his crescent of white fur melding so well with hers that they might be indistinguishable as two entities. If you squinted. And had an astigmatism. Fuck, what was she thinking? The lame ass romantic shit that drifted through her head in the midst of otherwise pleasant, messy, meaningless sex got annoying quick.

Knuckles large hand detached from her thigh (she whimpered huffed indignantly at the sudden dearth of claws digging into her flesh) and swung around to slap her ass, hard. Rouge yelped but held firm, even tightening her grip on his head a little. He slapped her again, harder. The blow sent an electric shudder up her spine and her breath hitched. He must have felt her thighs quake, because he took the meat of her ass in hand and gave it a tight squeeze. He then wound his hand back and gave her such an ever-loving spank that demons could hear her moan in whatever ring of hell they had pre-booked for.

Rouge released her lover, still trembling from his punishment (that would leave a welt, giving her a reminder of their encounter every time she sat down for the next few days), and shifted forward. Knuckles gasped and hacked a wet cough. “God damn it, woman! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Her vision upside down, she glared at him through the tunnel of their bodies. “Keep your fucking knot away from my mouth, that’s what.” Huh.

He grunted, “Shit, is that it?”

Rouge narrowed her eyes. “I will bite down so hard your scream will break spacetime so badly your birth certificate will claim you’re a woman.”

“Fuck, fine, I-I’ll- gah!” Knuckles choked on whatever nonsense he was about to spew as Rouge took him to the hilt in one smooth motion. “Rouge! Fuck!” Knuckles writhed, an unassociated mess of limbs and abdominal muscles, but managed to keep his pelvis still like a good little boy. As a reward, she lowered herself back down, allowing him to get back to work. This meal would not savor itself.

Rouge hadn’t found sex particularly compelling in her younger years. Don’t get it twisted, she’d had plenty. Like, just a disgusting amount of sex. A truly shameful amount. Her body count had hit trips by the end of law school, but no matter how hard she fucked, she was a one and done gal. No breakfast, get the fuck out, she had work to do. The world wouldn’t conquer itself. That spine-tingling, brain-melting connection she was supposed to find as an Alpha just wasn’t there for her. Betas, Omegas, men, women, all sorts of species. Nothing clicked.

Especially not Omegas. She tried. Fucking hell, she tried. Again and again, she felt nothing. Sure, she could smell them just as well as the next Alpha. It just didn’t do anything for her.

Eventually she just resigned herself to the fact that there was just something fundamentally wrong with her. Something abhorrent. An Alpha who didn’t lose their fucking mind over the smell of a random stranger off the street? Defective. Deviant. Disgraceful. She learned quick to not say a fucking thing about how utterly indifferent she was to Omegas or else she’d get that look, the one that said what’s wrong with you?

After watching Shadow go through his shit, she counted herself lucky. The whole Alpha/Omega dynamic was a fucking crap shoot, lined with every sticky substance a body could produce. Rouge might have been the only sane Alpha on the planet. That’s fine. She didn’t need a partner. She’d just rule the whole fucking world on her own. Inject some god damned justice into the malformed chimerical machine they called society.

But then she laid eyes on a young Officer Knuckles coming into the DA’s office to prep for a minor upcoming court appearance. The world fucking froze, grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. The heavens opened up and the righteous hand of god reached down to slap Rouge across the face. Look here, you stupid bitch!  Ah, that’s what everyone had been creaming themselves over. Rouge didn’t consider herself sentimental, but she was instantly certain that she’d found the last face she’d ever want to sit on.

After everything was said and done, and the conference room had emptied out, she placed herself in the doorway. He knitted his brow in adorable confusion. She gave him a coy smile. “My name is Rouge Baton. Would you like me to sit on your face?”

The handsome echidna short-circuited. Utterly hung like an old computer. His eyes didn’t move, he wasn’t breathing, he lost all signs of life. Rouge was getting impatient and mildly concerned when he finally blinked, looked her in the eye, and said, “Yes, ma’am. I would very much like that.”

So, they took their business to Rouge’s office, which was a third-floor janitor’s closet in those days. She’d since moved to nicer digs but never moved on to a nicer man. Straight out of a romance novel, right there.

Rouge released the death grip she’d been maintaining on his taunt thigh and reached around to grasp the bulging, monstrous knot. She chuckled (with difficulty, mind you, but her oratory skill were developed) with satisfaction as he hissed and twitched underneath her. “F-fuck, Rouge!”

The future Mayor disgorged him and panted, blowing away a string of saliva still connecting them. She leaned her head against his bent knee and listened to his blood march to the beat of his heart. Rouge took to stroking the long, glistening length with languid fascination. Fuck, it never ceased to amaze her how big the damn thing was. How the fuck she got her nose to his knot was its own, separate, miracle.

Her impending orgasm tapped her on the shoulder, drawing her rapt attention. Knuckles made muted protesting noises as she ground her hips into his face. She grunted, clenching her insides. Sensing her approaching climax, Knuckles tightened his grip on her thighs, holding her in place as he intensified his painting efforts. The portrait was almost done, just a few more finishing flourishes.

An errant thought wormed its way through the building tension and plucked the taunt strings of her mind, sending a whole new wave of shivers to reverberate through her. Rouge worked so hard. Put up with some truly stiff competition. Burdened herself with quiet the load. She deserved a treat and, now that she thought about it, she hadn’t had a double orgasm in a long time. Too fucking long.

One of the few upsides of being a female Alpha or male Omega (take what you can get ladies and gentlemen) was the ability to orgasm with both sets of their reproductive organs simultaneously. It wasn’t easy, of course, taking and releasing at the same time. But successful execution was literally the best thing that existed in the entire universe and second place wasn’t even close. People with only one set of organs couldn’t even begin to imagine, the poor motherfuckers.

Whilst maintaining the clenching pressure inside, Rouge relaxed the front of her pelvis. Her clit slipped forward, the thin prehensile appendage unsheathing into Knuckles’ hot, wet maw.

Instead of allowing Rouge to wrap her tip around his uvula, the fool started choking and shoved her off. Rouge squeaked as she lost her balance and fell into the footwell. “Fucking hell!” Knuckles snarled as he shot up, his purple eyes burning with disgust. “What the fuck, Rouge?!” He whipped furiously at his soaked mug and stuck out his tongue as if he wasn’t just reveling in the taste of her.

Her head (both of them) throbbing from the sudden, involuntary edging, Rouge scrambled to right herself and return to the seat. “Oh, you get all my holes, and I get jack shit, is that it?”

“You can’t just shove your Alpha cock in my mouth, Rouge! I’m not- I can’t- It’s just not-” He stammered, his chest heaving, and his member still very present and accounted for.

Kunckles’ shame stoked a sudden rage in her. “If you didn’t want dick, you shouldn’t be fucking with me, Knuckles.” It wasn’t an entirely fair statement. Knuckles (who’s fist sized knot left no room for interpretation) hadn’t known Rouge’s second gender until probably twentieth (thirtieth? she wasn’t counting in those days) time, but at the end of that first month Knuckles had the ridiculous and ill-conceived idea of expressing how he’d caught feelings for her Beta charms.

Rouge had been startled to realize they were on completely different pages. Here she’d thought she’d found another busted Alpha, just like her, with the perverted attraction to the same second-sex. She hadn’t had the courage time to correct him for a few more months, because she was so afraid scared terrified anxious busy. So what if he rejected her, she didn’t care, fuck ‘em. If he looked at her with revulsion, whatever his loss she didn’t need his handsome gob at all anyway. He was dumb and stupid and she didn’t care like at all.

Unfortunately, once their entanglements hit trips about six months in, the ‘misunderstanding’ was probably starting to ripen into (alleged) ‘dishonesty’. Rouge figured he’d get mad and storm out and that would be the end of it. Instead, he squinted at her, confused. “No, you’re not.” When she confirmed that, no, she was not shitting him, Knuckles just got more confused. “But…that’s wrong. How would that even work?”

Rouge had shrugged. All she knew was that she still wanted the garden hose he called a dick. Befuddled, but very, very horny, Knuckles had agreed to ‘one last time’ for the road. After thirty to forty ‘last times’, even the thick-headed officer of the law couldn’t quite reconcile the clash between his thoughts and actions. They were two Alphas into each other in a way that flew in the face of god and biology. Oh well, they had fun with it.

Until they fucking didn’t!

Knuckles sat up and Rouge sat beside him. She crossed her legs, giving her spurned member some consolation pressure. “Look,” She started, “We’ve been doing this for like, fuck, I don’t know, like seven years at this point-“

“Seven years and three months.”

“Whatever, like seven years. I want to fuck you crossed-eyed until one of us in the motherfucking ground, but I also got needs. We’re getting on. I’m not going to role-play a Beta for you for the rest of my life.” She huffed and looked away. The windows were fogged over, the rest of the world locked out. “If you can’t handle all of me, well, then it’s just not working for me anymore.” She turned and looked at him, eyes stinging from holding back tears with irritation at herself for putting up with this shit for so long.

Knuckles his hands, laying palm up in his lap (where she should be right goddamn it!). “I love you, Rouge.” He said, like it was easy and not a phrase that couldn’t be ripped from her throat by wild horses. She looked away just as he tried to look into her eyes.

Her fucking cheeks! Why was it so hot in here? She was going to melt with how insufferably hot it was. His voice was low and serious. Fuck. It was the feelings voice. “But you can’t go jumping that sort of thing on me…I just can’t- You can’t expect me to-“ He sighed. Knuckles was so cute when that little head of his was beating its single brain cell like a rented mule to come up with a coherent thought. She couldn’t stand it.

Rouge rolled her eyes. “Fuck a duck, yes. You’re right. I’m sorry. But that’s like the only way I get any action outside of my own fist.” He growled, low in his chest. Crap, shit, she was being an inconsiderate cunt. It happened. On occasion. Rarely. Rouge took a breath and sighed. “I’m…really sorry, Knux. I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that.” Her teal eyes found his purple.

“Look…I need a minute to think.”

Rouge frowned. “Go for it, hun.” She leaned her head back onto the incredibly uncomfortable head rest.

Knuckles crossed his arms over his chest and lowered his head, eyes closed. It wasn’t fair that he was cute doing the stoic monk act too. It had been some strange gift (or curse, jury was still out) that Lieutenant Knuckles had been placed in charge of managing the security and oversight of the special election. The threat of scandal was not lost on Rouge, but she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

Rouge moved forward and treaded her hand through the small gap in the plexiglass that separated the front from back seats. With effort, she grabbed her purse and pulled it through. Putting it on the floor, she fished out her pack of smokes and a lighter.

“Don’t smoke in my service vehicle.” Knux growled as she lit one up. Rouge took a long drag and then offered it to her lover. Knuckles took the tiny cigarette with his big hands and put it between his lips. Rouge lit a second for herself.

The silence drug on, floating in perfect coexistence with the gathering haze of smoke. Rouge looked through her email on her phone. Espio wanted to start debate prep the next day. Amy was super duper sorry but she wouldn’t have review shots ready until the next day. Strangely, Shadow hadn’t replied to her text of ‘this one’ and a link to a vintage eighteen-karat gold pen nib with a floral design she liked. She sent ‘im waiting’.

Now that they weren’t tussling, Rouge was starting to get a little cold, bare-ass naked as she was and the autumn chill running rampant outside. And she was getting to the end of her second cigarette and that was her third for the day, which was too many if she didn’t want to end up eating it to throat cancer like her mother. She glanced at Knuckles.

The burly red echidna remained still. Arms cross, eyes closed. The urge to say something snarky and shitty was maturing at the tip of her tongue, like an insufferable teenager. I know you’ve got to asexually breed your last brain cell to get enough to form a thought, but this is stretching things. You’re really making me concerned that you’re allowed to carry a firearm with a reaction time like this. You stupid motherfucking coward, just say you don’t want a cock in your mouth already so I can move on with my life.

“So, do I need to call a cab?” She asked, settling on literally the nicest statement she could think of in the moment.

“I’m not ready.”

Rouge sighed and pulled up her Unter app to check pick-up times.

“But,” Knuckles continued. “I might could be in the future.” He turned to her and she lowered her phone, meeting his gaze. “I don’t know how long it’ll take, but I promise I’ll try, Rouge. I love you and I want all of you…but I’m going to need some time. I don’t know if it’ll be a month or year, but I promise I’ll try. Is that…is that okay with you?”

Was it okay with her? Rouge found herself at a rare loss for words. He…he said it like he wasn’t fucking with her. Like he meant it. She looked down at her phone. God damn she was a stupid bitch to try to force this issue now. What had she been thinking? There was simply too much shit going on. Why’d she have to get all relationshipy all of a sudden?

Now it was Rouge’s turn to not say a fucking thing for a minute like some kind of hypocrite.

“Tell me a secret.” Knuckles asked, pulling Rouge out of her reverie. She blinked, taking the out and shelving the whole issue.

Fuck, she loved and hated the secrets game. It was their stupid little thing from back when they’d just got together. Rouge though speed dating questions were fucking terrible, but she wanted the blast past the empty and boring conversations of the first dozen or so dates. She had the brilliant idea of exchanging secrets. Build a little trust and speedrun emotional intimacy. What could go wrong?

They started out with small stupid things. I once stole a candy bar. I know where the best Shamanese food is. Then things started to get a little more colorful. I know who is sleeping with the Mayor’s husband. I know who to bribe to fake a police report. Then it got serious. I know a murderer. I don’t feel anything when someone dies in my arms anymore.

Now they were so entangled she really didn’t know she ended, and he began on occasion.

“My best friend fucked my photographer last night.”

“I’m sorry?” Knuckles’ voice lilted up at the end.

“That’s not the secret.” Rouge tossed her phone into the hungry maw of her purse. “The secret is that I’m actually thrilled for both of them.” Fucking Shadow. The universe buried that asshole in wins and he still had the gall to bitch about it half the time. And Amy…well, all the kudos. She could certainly do worse. Rouge hoped Amy would eat his heart…once, you know, when he showed her where he buried it.

“Huh.” He huffed. “Good for them, I guess. But you’re going to make them suffer?”

“Of course. How fucking dare they?” She rolled her head along her shoulders and smiled at him in the dim lighting. He, stone-faced, stared back.

Then they both erupted into a fit of snickers. Rouge laughed until she felt tears forming. From how funny what she’d said had been. Not from the release of tension from something that wasn’t important at all.

Rouge wiped her eyes. Knuckles smiled at her. His hand traveled over the bench and touched hers. She lifted her fingers and allowed their digits to interlace. “Alright, alright. Your turn, big guy. Tell me a secret.”

“This fucker in vice lost his service weapon because he wouldn’t stop demanding freebies from street ladies in because was looking the other way for their shitty, abusive pimps. News 7 got sent a shot of him with his pecker down some poor woman’s throat behind a run-down bodega off Ninth. The Chief quashed it, but he might not be able to turn a blind eye once it gets around the fucker’s gun’s gone.”

Rouge snorted. “Don’t worry, hun. Your father will find a new way to fail the city, I’m sure.”

“Thanks, Rouge.” Knuckles grunted, flatly. “That’s not the secret.”

“Oooh?”

“The secret is I took that jackoff’s gun.” He grinned at her with stupid handsome mug that was really begging for a-

She leaned over and kissed him. A short peck. But he pursued her when she retreated and the next moment her fingers were lacing through his quills while their tongues fought. He twisted and she pushed him over and clamored on top. The wings were a good excuse to always be on top where she liked it.

Rouge drug her pelvis along his pouch, one long, wet motion, magically summoning Knuckles’ smarter head like some sort of sexy snake charmer. She could taste herself in him, that complex flavor of impending rut and departing ovulation. She slid far forward to get above the erect length. Old hat as she was, Rouge could line up flawlessly backward, forwards, upside down, or underwater without assistance, so her hands ran through the short-trimmed white hairs on his chest.

Poised to settle into the saddle, she hissed, “You knot me and I’m going to pry you out with a rusty screwdriver.” And then she slammed herself down before he could form a coherent rebuttal other than screaming her name.

When she was seated on his knot and his eyes returning from their trip to the inside of his skull, he had the audacity to jeer at her and say, “Tell me more.”

Rouge narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. His purple eyes twinkled in anticipation of whatever disgusting diatribe she was about to unload upon him. Instead, Rouge released her flexible length and wrapped it around his knot. Knuckles’ eyes flew wide, but before he could say something ridiculous, she squeezed his knot with all her might.

Knuckles fucking howled and bucked so fiercely her head cracked against the roof. “Shit!” She snapped and then slapped him across the face.

“My god Rouge, wha-“ Rouge smirked, reveling in how his eyes glazed over. She kept her lifts short to maintain her grip. A downside of their pairing was neither had knotted in over seven years. Rouge didn’t give two shits, but Knuckles clearly forgot what he’d been missing. He was basically a knot virgin again and he sure was babbling like one. Downright adorable. She drank up every lite utterance.

“See what happens when you experiment?” She chided him, though he was pretty sure he couldn’t understand spoken language at the moment. “You might find something new to love.” Rouge leaned down and ran a nail around his lips. “Or you might learn something new about herself. Maybe you’d love sucking me off?” Knuckles’ eye darkened and he shot up and took her throat between his teeth. “You don’t have the balls.” She hissed, unable to funny hide her ecstatic smile.

His huge hands cupped her ass cheeks, and he took control, lifting her up and slamming her down. Rouge moaned, her voice moving strangely through her constricted airway. “Balls enough to fill you up.” He murmured into her flesh. She felt his hot breath and could feel his racing pulse through the slight movements of his fangs pressing into her esophagus. Fuck that was hot.

Rouge ran her fingers through his quills and dug her claws in as deep as they would go, relishing the wild, savagery in his eyes. Her animal. Her absolute beast. She’d goad him until they were a hot, sticky mass of lust, aggression, bone-rattling pleasure. Fuck you, kill me, coward.

Raw and panting, Rouge rode her man into the night.

Notes:

Soooo, how are we feeling? I might have gone a bit further than I had originally planned based on the aggregate enthusiasm I was picking up.

Wow. So, we’re finally done with the first full day of the fic timeline. I did not think it would take over 40k words to get through that. That does not bode well for the overall length of this fic ladies, gentlemen, and others.

When I first sat down to outline this fic, I read a primer on ABO somewhere on AO3 and in it they said that no one talks or thinks about female Alpha dick and I shouldn’t either. Of course, I said ‘bet’ and here we are.

Chapter 11: Sustainably Sourced Sabot

Summary:

Shadow finds more trouble instead of what he was looking for.

Rouge makes her position clear.

Notes:

I'm sorry the wait was a bit longer than normal. I alternate writing chapters for my fics and the last chapter of Awakening needed some heavy rewriting.

Shadow found himself drifting towards the part in the heavy curtains, the one that led to the stage and podium, and angling himself just enough that he could squint through the bright sunlight at the gathered crowd. Neatly arranged rows of folding chairs were filled with a mix of congenial looking adults and high school students, many of whom wore scent masks. Parents, staff of the community center, and the target audience for the planned annex.  

To the side was a thick forest of members of various forms of media there to capture the even for posterity. The pack writhed amongst themselves in their tight cordoned areas. Like animals not yet domesticated. As much as he wanted to deny it, he was gravely disappointed at the lack of pink in the thick throng of media.

He became aware of a presence next to him far too late. “If I didn’t know any better,” the bat clucked, “I’d say you were looking for something.” Her tone dropped, taking on a threatening iciness, “Or someone.”

Shadow stepped back into the semi-privacy of the backstage area. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” He straightened to his full height and stared down at Rouge, indifferently. Her pant suit was a pastel tangerine and, as always, she had her fingernails painted to match. When asked now, Rouge would say going gloveless was a statement about dated societal expectations, but the real reason was far more Rouge-flavored.

She’d taken them off to harass a particularly ‘traditional’ economics professor back in undergrad who had called her out for ‘revealing clothing’. Shadow believed the term ‘immoral vixen’ was what really set Rouge off. She countered by nailing a copy of the University’s dress code and student’s bill of rights to his office door. He gave her next paper a zero, citing ‘evidence of plagiarism’ and threatened an official investigation and potential expulsion.

From then on, Rouge sat in the front row every class, flaunting her bare white phalanges until he ejected her. The Dean didn’t care for the expertly organized student protest that followed, but the whole affair sputtered out when an old editorial the professor had written resurfaced. Contained in where a few choice phrases that had absolutely nothing to do with the professor amicably parting ways with the university to spend more time with his family. Rouge never wore gloves again.

Rouge rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. Sure. Like how I don’t know why you’re here today? This is the one event you never attend. You can hardly fault me my curiosity.” She was right, of course. Not that he’d ever admit it.

Shadow looked at the crowd once more. “Maybe I’m here to support you? Or to make sure you don’t besmirch the Foundation’s reputation?” Though the Foundation did not take an official political stand, Rouge’s friendship with Shadow was not a secret. Several donors had pulled their support due to how openly Shadow allowed Rouge to exploit the non-profit’s reputation and events for visibility.  

Rouge huffed. “I don’t think I’d be the one doing the besmirching.”

His quills bristled, and he rounded on her, a growl building deep in his throat. Rouge met his eyes with equal intensity. Neither faltered or backed down. Shadow could smell her through his mask. Who the fuck did she think she was? Coming into his space and insulting him? He should teach her-

A cough made Shadow blink. He looked away and cleared his throat, forcing himself to relax. Though he couldn’t see her, he knew his personal assistant was near, probably clutching that tablet she could type over two hundred words per minute on with one hand.

Nicole spoke softly at his elbow. “Sir, the scholarship awardee has arrived. I believe she would be very honored to meet you.” Right. Put on the face. Say the words.

“Of course.” He looked at Rouge, who had the audacity to be examining her cuticles. He scowled. “Excuse me.”  

As Shadow turned to leave, Rouge’s fingertips brushed the sleeve of his jacket, and he paused as she leaned in. “I’m sorry.” She murmured. “That was uncalled for.”

“I don’t know to what you are referring.” He walked away.

Shadow strode passed Rouge’s manger, the chameleon simultaneously tapping away at two separate cellphones, one in each hand. Espio had the same ruthless intellect as Rouge but several times the cynicism. The dead eyed calculation gained from years as a political operator.

Shadow descended a small set of steps to a covered area with a small table with refreshments. A number of the community center and Foundation staff were there, chatting amongst themselves. Shadow nodded and smiled as he was spotted, ignoring the surprised expressions. Across the space he saw the center’s Director with a young woman in a unique, but very stylish, red dress and matching neck gaiter.

He paused and Nicole’s voice came clear and low. “Honey Vipers. Senior at Central City High School. Accepted into City College of Art and Design for fashion design. Father is deceased. Mother is a librarian. Honey’s heat is quart-“ Shadow moved forward, having heard plenty.

The Director, a dove, recognized his approach first and his face lit with a large smile. “Mr. Kintobor! I am so happy you could join us today!” Shadow shook the extended hand.

“I had an unexpected opening in my schedule.” A lie.

“It’s an honor, sir. Truly it is. I cannot express my thanks enough. We’d never have gathered the fund for the extension without your support.”

“I’ll have to defer any thanks to the Foundation’s allocation committee. I just rubber stamp their recommendations.” He donned a practiced small smile. He turned his attention to the teenager. “You must be Honey. Congratulations.” Extended his hand and she snatched it up with surprising exuberance.

“Thank you! I simply can’t tell you how honored and grateful I am!” The cat struck a pose, jutting her hip out. “The fashion world won’t know what hit them!” Honey smiled, her eye sparkling with a hungry energy. Shadow had seen it first in Rouge, all those years ago, a completely alien situation to him until then. The restlessness born from being confined by circumstances. Her age, her second-sex, her family’s socio-economic status. Being told ‘no’ her entire life until today when the world of ‘yes’ opened up before her.

Shadow felt a growing warmth in his chest, like a balloon inflating. He loved the work the Foundation did. He would keep Maria’s smile alive by spreading it to as many faces as he could. A ray of sunshine cutting across the darkness.

Then a razor of guilt popped the balloon as the memory surfaced of the one who had been told ‘no’ for the last time. A decade of distance had dulled the shame, but the guilt cut clean because Shadow honed it daily. Still, he did not let the pleasant smile slip.

Honey nearly glowed with youthful passion. “I’m already in talks with this girl at my school who’s been making scent masks. Her designs are practical and clever, but could use a little zhuzhing up. I expect to be in commercial production in a year and by the time I’ve graduated, I’ll have the capital to start my own studio! In five years, anyone who’s anyone will be wearing Honey Brand clothes and accessories!”

Shadow laughed. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out. I will tell my stylist to look forward to it.” His gaze shifted briefly to the girl’s covered neck. Nicole hadn’t mentioned an Alpha and he wasn’t going to ask, that’s for damn sure. He couldn’t smell her through his mask and he hoped she couldn’t smell him through hers.

Honey was studying his face. “It’s so rare to see an Alpha willing to mask.” Damn, this girl was brazen. “Did you know there isn’t an established brand for Alpha scent masks? That’s an untapped market right there! Times are changing. You know there is no reason Alphas shouldn’t mask like Omegas? It’s purely a social construct.”

“Yes. I am aware.” Acutely.

“Miss Honey…” The Director tried to cut in, but the girl could not be deterred.

“Don’t you think it’s time for that old fashioned inequality be dissolved? All that’s needed is a push to make Alpha masks fashionable.”

“Oh? Is that all? And what is the difference between an Omega mask and an Alpha one?”

She gave him a large, conspiratorial grin. “Marketing.”

Shadow chuckled. This girl was going to tear the world up with her teeth.

“I could work up a pitch deck, if you’d like?” Ah, there it was. The solicitation.

Without letting his smile fade, he dismissed her with a curt nod, “Congratulations, Miss Vipers. It was wonderful to meet you.” Shadow turned to the dove. He needed to get his name from Nicole. “Always a pleasure, Director.” He looked between them. Honey was uncowed and about to start again. “If you will excuse me.”

“The ceremony is scheduled to start in ten minutes.” Nicole reminded them all. She followed Shadow as he returned to the area with Rouge.

She stood near Espio, speaking in hushed tones, but moving animatedly. Espio shook his head and Rouge stopped. He said something and Rouge started the motion again, but with slight variation. Debate practice. Shadow loathed public speaking. There was so much more to it than simply reading off cue cards. And then there was his ‘resting contempt face’ as Rouge called it.

Rouge spotted him and broke away from the purple chameleon. Shadow rolled his eyes as she approached.

“How are you doing?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I am fine, of course.” He replied flatly.

“I may have…” She sighed, “realized that you may be especially frustrated. Annoyed.” How perceptive of her.

“You are certainly annoying me right now.”

“Disappointed?”

Shadow’s ears canted back before he forced them forward. A tightness was growing in his chest. Disappointed seemed like an understatement. Fuck it, fine. The former prosecutor would keep prodding until she got what she wanted, a confession. “You seem especially against my interest in Amy.”

Rouge sighed. “I suppose it’s a reflex. Perhaps an unfair one. An old and expired fear that you’d...” Shadow was sure what he’d have done if she finish that sentence. Better not to think about it.

The anxiety mounted, forming a tight ball in the base of his throat. Was it more than that? “Did she…say anything about me? Was I unkind?” Just thought had his stomach clenching.

“She said you were nice to her.”

The relief was instantaneous. Warmth radiated through his chest and dissipating tension left a euphoric haze permeating the corridors of his mind. She said he was nice to her. Amy thought he was nice. “I’m pleased she thinks so.” It was a struggle to keep his tone level.

Rouge rolled her eyes. “She was supposed to be here but asked off to catch up on the photos from the dinner. Apparently, she spent nearly all day yesterday at her doctor’s. Omega problems.”

Shadow started as ice knifed through him. Turning and speaking before he could catch himself. “Is she alright?” How could he so stupid? Amy had been in a panic, had been in an intolerable situation. Of course she would have sought medical attention. He could have helped her! He could have had a doctor to see her that night. W-why hadn’t he? Was he stupid? The guilt brought a sweat to his brow.

Rouge’s eyes narrowed and scanned his face. “My god, Shadow. You are smitten.” If that was pity in her voice, he was going to throttle her.

He looked away. “Is that really such a bad thing?” He did not have the courage to see Rouge’s reaction.

“No, that’s not what I mean at all.” There was an unsettling softness in her voice. Shadow found he much preferred her usual jeering sarcasm. He understood the stick, not the carrot. “It’s just…I suppose you could say I’ve developed a soft spot for her.” A low growl escaped Shadow’s chest before he could stifle it. She gave him a flat stare. “Really?”

Fuck he was an idiot. “Apologies.”

The softness had evaporated by a bad dream. “Shadow, you are about to give a speech in front of a pack of rabid journalist. You need to get your shit together.” Ah, back in familiar territory. “Have your mood swings after you introduce me.”

Shadow swallowed. It irked him how often Rouge was right.

“Have you called her?” Rouge’s teal eyes bore into him.

“She did not give me her number.” He answered.

Rouge snorted. “Like that means you don’t have it.”

Before Shadow could retort-

“Thank you everyone for coming!” The Director commanded their attention. “It is time to begin!” He passed them and passed through the opening in the current. The gathered crowd outside began to clap and cheer, filling the space with a muddled cacophony.

A soft touch on his arm drew Shadow’s attention. He bent down and Nicole’s voice was barely intelligible over the din. “The Director’s name is Blue Rhapsody.” Shadow nodded.

The Director approached the podium at the center of the stage and, after the noise quieted down, began the same speech Shadow had heard hundreds of times before with slight variations for the benefit, the project, or whatever else he’d signed a check for. This particular event was the groundbreaking for a community center annex that would provide support for Omega high school students with the goal of increasing graduation rates.

Shadow blinked as Nicole light touched his arm. Any second it be his tur- “Now, to give a few word on behalf of the Maria Kintobor Memorial Foundation, I would like pass the microphone to Mr. Shadow Kintobor!”

Shadow emerged from the protection of the curtain to an audible gasp from the press cage. Jackels. The sound of shutters nearly covered the polite applause from actual attendees, few, if any, of whom would be familiar with him. The reports and journalists, however? He’d just handed them fodder to rekindle the popular tabloid conspiracy regarding his relationship with Rouge. Nicole would probably be using discretionary funds to buy printing rights and quashing shitty half-ass hit pieces by the end of his portion of the proceedings.

All this trouble and Amy wasn’t even fucking here. She would have been if he had just done the smart thing and gotten her a doctor when he had the chance. All of this was his fucking fault. Amy had been suffering and he had done nothing.

Stop it, focus.

Shadow approached the podium and shook the Director’s hand once more. The shutters did not stop. He took his place behind the microphone and looked out of the gathered crowd. Directly in front of him, at the back of seating area, was Lieutenant Knuckles in his sharp black uniform, fulfilling his duty of providing police protection for Rouge. She never denied the claims about her and Shadow. Why would she when it provided perfect cover for her actual conflict-of-interest-ridden relationship?

“I would like to thank you all for coming out on this lovely day. I would like to say what an honor it has been to work with Director Rhapsody to bring this project to fruition. It is the sworn mandate of the Maria Kintobor Memorial Foundation to strive to create a world where all Omegas have a chance to be happy. We are more than thrilled to partner with the local municipality to secure the funding for this annex.”

“And, in keeping with that mission, to present this year’s winner of the Ruby Fantasy Memorial Scholarship for the Arts, I would like to introduce my good friend and mayoral candidate Rouge Baton.” Shadow stepped back as Rouge burst from the dark curtains, her hands held high waving to anyone and everyone. The crowd erupted again. Shadow and Rouge shook hands and embraced in a brief, chaste hug for the cameras.

“You sound like an angry robot.” She whispered in his ear.

“I’d send an android of myself if I could.” He rarely actually spoke at events, but he had to come up with some plausible reason to be here even if Rouge discovered his true motive immediately.

“But you show up anyway for me.”

Then they were apart and Shadow was back in the semi-privacy of the backstage. He was done. He’d done what he needed to do and there was no reason to stay. In fact, he had all the work and appointments that he’d had Nicole cancel to that he could be here waiting for him.

But he stood beside Espio and listened to Rouge anyway.

The effortless way she could grasp a crowd, alternatingly by the heart and throat. The unbridled passion shrouded in congeniality, with the sharp wit that drew anyone and everyone in. The way she that seemed to be sharing an intimate in-joke with a hundred people at once.

Simply put, Rouge was an artist. Words her brush, ideas her paint, hearts and minds her canvas, and the future the only worthy critic. Rouge’s voice rose and fell, pushing and pulling the crowd like the moon directed the sea. Then she dove like an eagle at the heart of the matter.

How important equal access to education was. How one’s second sex shouldn’t determine one’s prospects in life. How terribly low the graduation rate of Omegas was. How the fight was far from won. How she needed all of their support to make a better world a reality.

Honey entered the stage at the appropriate time and more pictures were taken. They looked made for one another, sharply dressed, immaculately curated, and born for the camera. I’m going to rule this whole fucking world, Rouge had told him not long after they had met. God damn did she mean it.

As Rouge’s speech died down, the Director went to retake the microphone and conclude the proceedings. But then some dumb fuck shouted from the press box. “Isn’t this all performative?! Paying lip-service to easy social issues just to get elected?! What would you actually do?!”

Rouge stopped half way back to the protection of the curtained area. Shadow raised a brow. Uh-oh. The media was learning how to push her buttons. “You want policy?” She smirked at the fool who asked the question and pivoted on her sharp heels, returning to the podium.

“What the fuck is she doing?” Espio looked up from his phones. Nothing good. Shadow recognized that look in her eyes. The blazing ire that squeezed guilty verdicts out of so many juries.

Rouge leaned towards the microphone to make sure every one of her syllables was carried as far as possible. “On day one of my administration, I will issue an executive order prohibiting the preferential treatment Alphas receive during jury selection due to the precedent set by Drago Wolfe v. The City. I will eliminate the unconstitutional and disgusting bicameral state of our judicial system.”

The audience erupted. The reporters screamed over each other to try to get Rouge’s attention, begging her for a follow-up. The center staff, Omegas, and their allies were on their feet cheering their lungs out.

“God damn it.” Espio hissed, clutching the dark curtain. “Now the whole debate is going to be about this. Fucking perfect.”

Shadow felt a light touch on his arm. “You should leave, sir.” Nicole suggested, urgently. He nodded and turned away from the growing frenzy, his last sight being Rouge basking in the glow of the torrent of emotion she’d spawned.

As he followed Nicole through the back area and towards where Bruno, Shadow’s chauffeur, had pulled up his town car, Shadow’s mind raced. It was out in the open now. She’d said she’d do it. Fill the loophole. All the slurred threats and promises, both of them deep in their cups over the years. Shadow could never scrub his soul clean, but as penance, he was helping Rouge pull up the ladder on this particular form of heinous injustice.

And that was just the start. Oh, she had so many ideas.

“Sir.” The bear in the chauffeurs cap said as he held open the back passenger door of the elegant black sedan for Shadow. He slid in and adjusted his jacket to sit more comfortably on his frame. Nicole entered on the other side and they were quickly moving away from the Community Center.

Rouge’s declaration would be blowing up on social media by now. He had no interest in any initial coverage or haphazard rushed analysis, but Nicole’s fingers blazed over her device. Shadow often wondered what she was actually doing half the time, but quickly realized it would be foolish to learn how the sausage gets made. Still, he stole a quick glance.

Nicole was in deep collaboration with KLS’s public relations team, the messages coming in quickly in their joint chat, working to get a press release out ahead of any potentially unfavorable coverage of his appearance. Not just of his connections to Rouge. The yearly scholarship always drove up interest in Ruby. Who she was. How she died. Past awardees and where they were now.

“Sir,” Nicole drew his attention. “How aggressively should I be managing the narrative?”

“Don’t engage in any negativity. Run interference for Miss Vipers. She especially doesn’t deserve the attention Rouge has drawn. As for anything…else, use your own discretion and I don’t want to hear about it.”

“Yes, sir.

Shadow being included in any exhuming of Ruby’s memory could only be harmful. Hopefully Rouge’s declaration drowned any of that out. No. What was he thinking? It was going to make things so much worse. Shadow pinched the bridge of his nose, fearing the tension headache he felt brewing.

Think of something else. Think of work.

The official motion to hold a vote of no confidence had been filed and the board members had been notified. The terms were being set, but Shadow held no illusion that he’d have until the next normal board meeting to address the issue. Ordering the legal department to slow ball the affair would be morally grey at best and absolutely out of the question when he realized that that would be exactly what his Father would do.

No, he had at most a few weeks. What a waste of time. Not just his personally, but everything in development at KLS was taking an unofficial pause. If he was ousted, no one wanted to be caught dead working on the colossal money pit that had been Shadow’s magnum opus. Even if he emerged victorious, precious weeks of development would have been lost at the cost of millions of dollars.

We watched the city rush by through the dark tinted window. The Community Center was far from the city center, in one of the less economically blessed areas of the metropolitan area. Boarded up business, graffiti covered walls, bars on windows, and barbed wire topping fences. The graduation rate for Omegas at the closest high school was 10%. But the crowd had been filled with hopeful faces. Hopeful that past results were not indicative of future ones.

He withdrew his cellphone. There was a text message from Eclipse with a picture attached. A clumsy shot of Vanta practicing for her recital with her private tutor from an adjoining room. Would mean a lot to her if you could attend. Shadow smiled. He replied that he would make every effort.

“When is my niece’s violin recital?”

“In six weeks at six in the evening. I have your calendar blocked for the entire evening and a florist engaged.” Nicole replied without looking up. “I will send you a mockup of the bouquet for your approval.” Her hands did not slow.

“No need. I trust your judgement.” And Nicole probably knew what flowers Vanta would like better than Shadow.

Eclipse replied with thanks and Mother is expecting your call. Shadow furrowed his brow. The sting of Amy’s absence returned. He’d hoped…

Shadow shook away the thoughts and opened his email app. Some good news was due from the third party testing lab on the whole Omega blockers NHS contract debacle, but instead…The email from Blaze was long and detailed, but Shadow had only skimmed it thus far. Prower Labs had gathered extraordinary results needed additional time to confirm. No conclusions at this time. Fuck.

KLS had lost the contract out of the goddamned blue. Their price was better than Starline Pharma by a wide margin, but suddenly some Department of Health report had found that KLS’s product did not pass some very suspiciously timed and vaguely defined efficacy test. The contract was unceremoniously broken mid-term contravening a number of clauses. The lawyers reacted immediately.

Over 85% of the City’s Omega population lived near the poverty line and drew their hormonal medication through Public Insurance. It was not a minor hit to KLS’s bottom line. Now the City was going to risk not making payroll with the legal hellfire Blaze and her team would be raining down on it over the next five to ten years as the case worked its way through the courts.

In the meantime, Shadow needed to maintain control of his company.

“I need to make a private call.” Shadow said.

“Yes, sir.” Nicole jabbed at her tablet with lightning fast and precise pecks. She unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned forward, navigating Bruno to a deserted side street. The chuffer pulled the town car along the curb and parked. He and Nicole exited, leaving Shadow alone.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Navigating to an entry in his address book, he hit call.

Notes:

Sorry, the conversation with Irena got pushed to the next chapter. I need a little more time to work on it and I'm trying to keep these chapters below 5k words.

Chapter 12: Mother's Milk and Honeypot

Summary:

Shadow talks to his mother. It goes about as well as you'd expect.

Notes:

Okay friends, time to pull out your narcissism bingo cards. Let me know how many tropes you spot in the comments.

His phone rang so long, Shadow dreaded he would be thrown to voicemail. Not only would he immediately hang up, cursing his own foolishness for leaving evidence of his attempt in his mother’s missed call list, but it was indeterminate when he could muster the endurance to try again. By then his situation would almost certainly be more dire and his bargaining position much weaker. He resented how much power Mother commanded without direct contact.

The call went through, and Shadow felt a wave of apprehension slam into him. It had been a long time since he last navigated this mine field. Hopefully his memory served.

«Who is this?» His body tensed involuntarily at the demanding soprano, marred by age. «How did you get this number?» Ah, this game. He laid the phone on the arm rest between the two back seats.

“Bonjour, Mère” Shadow struggled to keep his tone neutral. Any positive emotion was straight out the window, but he had a chance to not sound downright hostile. At least for a few sentences.

«You’ll get nothing from me.» The tone did not soften. «I am just a poor, lonely woman who has nothing of value for anyone, least of all powerful, important men who wouldn’t be caught dead expressing gratitude to the one whom gave them blood and breath.»

Don’t acknowledge the act. She’ll grow bored soon. «You sound energetic, Mother.»

«Hmmm, your voice sounds familiar, I must admit, but must be a fraud. My eldest son would never, in this life or the next, deign call his mother! Such sentimentalities are beneath him.» The aged hedgehog clucked.

Shadow’s nose wrinkled. «Then I’ll hang up, shall I?» Merde, keep it together.

«Don’t be nasty. You’d truly waste both our time, petite ombre?» Shadow’s lip twitched at the pet name. «How childish. Can’t even allow me a moment of shock before you threaten to leave me once more? It’s my fault, really, to expect anything better.»

Shadow did not trust himself to say anything pleasant, so he remained silent and focused on taking slow breaths. The best move was to say nothing at all. His fingers pressed into the flesh of his forearm, right above the still healing puncture wounds. Pain he could understand. Pain he could control.

“Allô? Allô?” Irena broke the silence, passing the advantage to Shadow. Good, she was receptive to having a conversation rather than a fight.

«Are you done?» He asked like she was the child.

Irena ignored him. «Eliza sends me articles about you. You look well, but you are too thin. If you had a woman, she would not allow that.»

«I am perfectly healthy.» Shadow’s gaze drifted across the windows of the towncar. Bruno had them alongside a public park. Leaves fell gently in a breeze he could not feel. A few young children clamored over a play structure whilst caretakers looked on. A jogger passed a professional dogwalker sprouting leases in all directions like a sea anemone.

«If you believe so. I am just looking after your image, you know. Too small and trash will try to take to advantage. You should eat more. The trends these days, they have men looking so frail and effeminate. It’s disgusting.»

«If you believe so…» Hold the line, she’ll grow bored soon.

«I’ll have Eliza send you one of her mutton pies. Where are you?»

That actually sounded nice. Eliza’s pies were magnifique. «Do not trouble yourself on my account, Mother.»

«Fine. Of course you would refuse a mother’s simple kindness. You weren’t so ungrateful when you were suckling at my teat like a greedy piglet.» A blatant lie. Any milk Irena Kintobor ever produced curdled inside her from the vinegar that flowed through her veins.

Shadow sighed. He spotted Nicole standing a few yards away, nose buried in her work. «I am not traveling.» Shadow admitted.

«Obviously, ombre,» Then why ask? «I’m looking at a photograph of you being altogether too close to that little school friend of yours.» Fuck me, already? «You really shouldn’t be getting so close to another Alpha like that. People already think you’re queer, darling. It just hands ammunition to all these garbage rats calling themselves journalists these days. Anything and everything gets printed these days. I’d tell you how your Father would handle this, but I know you’re bizarrely sensitive about that subject.»

«I do not require any lessons in tactics.» Shadow said, ice knifing through every phoneme. God damn it! He thought as he fumbled the advantage.

«Bite my head off, I see? Can’t you see I’m just trying to help you? This is how you reply? So stubborn.» She tutted infuriatingly. «Luckily, your mouthy charity case seems to be making more a spectacle of herself than you. Judicial reform? Really, ombre? You are wasting your money on a lame horse.» Shadow groaned internally.

He looked through the park, trying to break his sense of being trapped. «Rouge is going to be Mayor soon.» Under the shade of tree, Shadow saw Burno smoking a cigarette and talking on his phone. Probably with his girlfriend. Their boy had a speech delay or some other developmental issue. Shadow was pretty sure he was funding therapy, but that would be something Nicole handled. If not, he should offer.

«How quaint.»

Shadow couldn’t help being goaded. «She is going to do great things for the people of this city.»

Irena hrmph’ed and said, «If you believe so, dear.»

He dug his fingers into his wound. «How is Father?» He asked, eager to change the subject stupidly choosing the most painful topic.

«How is it that should I know that? He has been abroad since Midsummer, playing with his new computer company.» Ah, so the great Black Kintobor was truly on the hunt for new economies to conquer. AI models needed training data and there weren’t any active warzones in this hemisphere after all.

«Artificial Intelligence, Mother.»

Irena snorted. «The world has little natural intelligence, why should anyone bother making fake intelligence. I told him it was a fad and that he shouldn’t waste his time. Do you know what he said to me?»

«I haven’t the foggiest.»

«I shan’t repeat it, lest you start picking up bad habits. He’s going to be apologizing when he learns I evicted his whore from the southern villa.» Now there was a game Shadow had absolutely no interest in acknowledging, let alone participating in.

His Father would acquire young, beautiful Beta paramours almost in lockstep with his dissatisfaction with his wife. She, in retaliation, would toss them back to the streets as quickly as she could locate them among the family’s large portfolio of real estate. A sick, decades long argument they played out on an international stage, leaving a trail of broken hearts in their wake.

«I expect something grand when he returns for Winter Solstice. We will be having it on the Island this year.» We will, will we?

«I shall have to check my schedule.»

«I see.» Came the fridged reply. «That I am so low on your list priorities tears my heart out»

“Mère …”

«Yes, I am your mother. I thank you for noticing. I bore and bled for you.» That was a trap. Everything was a trap. There was no comment too innocuous to be twisted and transformed into a weapon or barb to be flung back at him. Shadow was playing tennis with grenades. «The least you could do is spend the Solstice with me. A single day. A evening, even. But no, I see even that is too much for you. You must consult your schedule. Of course, I understand. I will always understand for you, my dearest son.»

Enough preamble. It was time to get into the meat of the conversation. Shadow took a deep breath.

Shadow could lie. He should lie. Say that he was seeing someone. It could have been true if Amy had attended the event. He was going to approach her, invite her out for dinner. It was a terribly selfish motive for attending the event, but it was all he could do to pause the fantasies of Amy running through his mind. But she hadn’t been there. A hiccup, to be sure, but not an insurmountable set back.

He would lie to Irena.

…

…

Hell no, that was a terrible idea.

Shadow didn’t consider himself a particularly deceitful individual, but with his generally stoic demeanor, he was rarely challenged. He could even get the odd falsehood past Rouge on occasion. However, nothing, utterly nothing, passed his mother’s notice. Either by her naturally suspicious manner or by some corrupted maternal magic, Shadow had never been able to successfully lie to Irena.

And it would be disrespectful to Amy. It felt disgusting, actually, how he was using her, even the idea of her, the hope of being with her, to try to get what he needed from his mother. Deplorable, really. What had he been thinking?

So, what the fuck was he supposed to do? To what length was he willing to go to keep his company?

Time to get it over with. «Listen, Mother-» Shadow frowned. There was a police officer looking at his vehicle. With the window tinting, Shadow was hidden from view, but he still disliked the appearance of scrutiny. Ignore it, Nicole will deal with it.

«Ah, here it is.» She interrupted. «The request. The price of your attention.» Everything prior was small talk. Combat began now.

«Mother-» Shadow growled. Nicole approached the officer. What was he gesticulating at? A fire hydrant? Focus!

«But of course I can deny you nothing, my first born, my dearest child. What is it that you want from little, old me? My heart? I will fetch a clever. My eyes? There is a cocktail fork around here somewhere. I’ll only be a moment.» Irena could not be faulted for creativity. Even after decades, she found new ways to dig her claws into him.

Shadow’s patience snaped. «Mother!» Shit. His footing slipped.

«Why are you yelling at me?» Her voice warbled, scratching at some primal in his traitorous wretched heart. Fuck. She feigned, her main-gauche finding purchase right between his ribs.

«Mother, I-» He was stumbling now, she’d nearly gotten him to the ground already.

«What kind of man are you to yell at your own mother?» A worthless, heartless, ill-deserving little monster.

Shadow swallowed. «I’m trying to-» Her grip tightened his throat.

«I did not raise a heartless brute.» She hardly raised him at all. «Where is my sweet petite ombre? Where is my little underfoot?» She mewled.

«I am sorry for raising my voice, Mother» He rolled over, showing his belly.

«Is this why you called me? To yell and bully me for your own amusement? You’ve become just like your Father.» A killing blow.

Shadow gripped his injured forearm with a crushing grip, his claws pressing through the leather of his gloves. A searing agony jolted up his arm and he clenched his teeth to avoid crying out. He needed the pain to distract him from the near blinding rage threatening to overtake him.

His Father’s oppressive force ever loomed over him, reminding him that he’d only ever be Black Kintobor’s Shadow. Made in his image, destined to follow at his heel. The power, the influence, the money. Each a chain to bind Shadow, but also a chisel to break him down in the exact right way. Every strike a testament that without his Father, he’d be little more than rubble.

Shadow covered the receiver as he wrestled his haggard breathing back into line. Ignore it. Push it away. She was just riling him. There was never any truth to her venomous words, only malicious intent. It wasn’t true! It wasn’t true!

 «I know why you’ve called.» Irena began to revel over his corpse, unwittingly exposing her neck as she raised her nose in disdain.

Like the undead, Shadow rose. «Oh, you do, do you?» Black was only half his blood. He had another lineage to draw from. «Pray tell. I’m dying to know.» He drew out the end of his statement, signifying danger like the flared hood of a cobra.

There was a second police officer. Shadow noticed the colors of lights flashing behind the town car. Nicole continued to talk and gesture calmly. Bruno was twisting his hat in his hands. What the hell was going on? Never mind, Nicole was handling it.

Irena hesitated. «Well, you are the one calling. How is it that I should-» She shifted onto her back foot, suddenly uncertain of the terrain.

«No, no. I insist, Mother. I am begging for your insight. You know me so well that I shan’t have to speak at all. You can just intuit my needs, like a good mother.» Arms laid aside, it was time for claws and teeth.

«Quit being a pest! Get on with it then.» That almost sounded like genuine frustration.

«I would if only you’d let me finish a sentence.»

A moment of silence passed where Shadow waited for a response. Just as he was about to start speaking, Irena asked, «Well, are you going to say something or shall we just wait until I am in my casket? You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Then you’d-»

«I will be forming a family.» He kept his volume and cadence level, neutral, unassuming. Conversational.

The effect was immediate. A moment of stunned silence, then, «I see.» Irena clutched her throat, lifeblood flowing away, utterly baffled. Eclipse had not betrayed Shadow. Irena had been purely blindsided.

«I had called you to inform you of my decision.» Shadow laid it on thickly. «I had thought you, as my sweet mother, would wish to be informed first.» Hook.

«Of course.» Her words were slow, cautious. He was offering her everything she ever wanted. Clearly it was a trap. But could she risk that it wasn’t?

Now for the actual request. «However, it is as you say, I am very busy. I do not know when I will have the time to begin looking for a partner. I’m just surrounded by so many eligible women, you see. It will take so long to properly vet them all for the perfect match.» Line.

«That sounds very frustrating, dear.» Sink her.

«Yes, I simply do not have any idea where to start looking. Perhaps I will hire a match making agency. Do you think that is a good idea?»

«Absolutely not!» The indignation in her voice was delicious. «No, no. Do not bother yourself. I have many well respected friends with perfectly beautiful and fertile daughters. I will have Eliza send you details. You need not waste your time. Allow your mother to curate for you.»

Shadow bit back the tang of bile rising his throat. «You would do that for me, Mother?»

«Of course! Anything for my favorite son.» Even pleased, she couldn’t help pitting him against Eclipse, as if it was second nature. Right below her compulsion to breath was to foment resentment via competition. «I am so happy for you, petite ombre. You’re finally taking a long-term view of your life. I understand your desire to install your own politician now. To better sculpt the world you will leave your children. Your Father would be proud.»

Ignore it! Shadow clenched his jaw and felt his quills push into the supple leather interior. Ignore. Disregard. Move on! Fuck, is she right? Is that what he’s doing? Stop it, no. Fuck. That’s not what he’s doing. There would be no way Rouge would allow it. She’s full of shit. She’s always full of shit!

«Yes, this will do nicely. Did you know your brother is trying for his fourth? This time next year will be so joyful with two new babies. Perhaps I will find twin wet nurses for them, that will be very charming, don’t you think?»

«Yes, very charming…» It was all Shadow could do not to dwell on the implications.

«Yes. That will do. You will, of course, need as much time as possible to devote to your budding family. Minimize your distractions, as it were.» Thank god, here it was. «I’ll talk to your Father about this no-confidence business. A needless waste of time, in my opinion. There are far more important matters you will be focusing on.»

Why did victory still taste so bitter? «You needn’t trouble yourself, Mother. I have that matter well in hand.»

«I’m sure that you do, but you must forgive this old woman her maternal concern.»

«If you insist, I have no place to stop you.»

«Good. That is settled. You can bring your fiancé to the garden party.»

And now for the cost. «Garden party?»

«I will be holding a small garden party at the Family House a few weeks ahead of the Solstice this year.» Telling. Not Asking. Shadow was in no position to offer resistance.

«I will have Nicole reach out to Eliza to make arrangements.»

«No need. Eliza knows the property well. Just tell your staff to stay out of the way.»

As little as Shadow wanted her mother anywhere near his home, the deal wasn’t yet signed. Irena knew the value of what he’d asked of her.  Resisting now risked upsetting the agreement. Irena knew he was only humoring her by agreeing to a few blind dates, but she was too desperate to miss the opportunity. Still, she wanted something properly tangible in exchange.

And so, Shadow said, «Very well.»

«Have your girl block off your time for it. It will be a fine time to introduce your future wife to society. Your rut is soon, isn’t?»

Shadow grimaced. Fuck, even ignoring the horrible idea of his mother tracking his cycles, he loathed to be anywhere near the nest of harpies Irena was going to infest his house with. However, he had few options. Agree now, escape later.

«I would love nothing more.» He heard himself say.

«That’s my good boy. I don’t know why you don’t call more often. This has been such a lovely conversation.»

«It is a mystery, Mother.» Shadow’s jaw hurt and he was losing his ability to resist the headache building along the top of his skull. «I’m afraid I must have taken too much of your time. I will let you get back to what you had been doing, Mother.»

«Yes, yes, my busy little boy. Go build your empires. I love you.»

“Au revoir, Mère ”

The line went dead.

Shadow darkened his phone screen and kneaded the flesh between his eyes. One problem solved by the acquisition of several other, potentially worse, problems.

He was much less adept at social engagements than navigating the cutthroat world of corporate politics. And, without a change in board members, he’d forever be at risk of another no-confidence vote. He was lucky neither Father nor Mother seemed to be blamed for the current situation, but that wouldn’t stop them from instigating another in the future. The exposure irked Shadow.

And then there was Amy. Amy, whom he seem bent on thinking of a solid part of life, whom was only, literally, a thought, a concept.

His conviction to engage with her remained. He would entertain however many potential mates Mother would send his way until the no-confidence matter was settled and then look for Amy. Bringing her into this mess didn’t seem like a good idea.

Oh god.

Oh god!

All Irena would need was a whiff of Amy to start circling her like a shark. Blood in the goddamned water. Fuck, think about that later. Deal with that later.

The two police officers seemed a lot less irritated now. One of them handed a cell phone to Nicole, who pocketed it. That was…ugh, ignore it.

To escape his racing thoughts, Shadow exited the car. He didn’t particularly like the idea of his employees being questioned by the police, for a number of reasons.

Nicole noticed him the moment he left the car and Bruno put his cap back on as Shadow approached. “What seems to be the problem, Officer?” He asked.

“Mr. Kintobor, sir,” The otter straightened and took off his cap, “I didn’t know this was your vehicle. I’m really sorry for the inconvenience.”

Shadow looked at Nicole. “I have resolved the issue, sir. We can depart at your convenience.” She said, her eyes meeting his, but her fingers continued along her tablet.

“Sir,” The second officer, a civet, stepped forward, “I-if I may. Chief Knuckles told us about your support of the Officer’s Relief Fund and I just wanted to express my gratitude. Last year, my wife got injured on duty and she hasn’t been able to return to active service. Without the Fund I don’t know how we’d make ends meet.” 

Oh. So, that’s what happened. Shadow glanced at Nicole and she nodded subtly. “It is my honor to support the individuals who keep our city safe. I hope your wife makes a full recovery.”

The civet dipped his head. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate it, sir.”

Shadow glanced at his subordinates and both got the hint. “If you’ll excuse us, Officers. Good day.”

“Sir, we could escort you to wherever you’re going. To make up for us holding you up.” The civet offered.

“Thank you. You’re very kind, but that won’t be necessary.” Shadow gave his tight, small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He turned and returned to the vehicle. Bruno passed him and opened the door for him.

Soon they were back on the road, heading for KLS’s headquarters downtown. He was craving the view of the river from his office. It was unlikely he’d get much more done today, but his presence maintained a certain decorum. “How much?” Shadow asked, his eyes lazily watching the scenery pass.

“Enough, sir.” Nicole answered.

Shadow did not press. “I have agreed to allow Irena to hold a garden party at the house.”

Nicole nodded absently. “Yes, sir. Your mother’s assistant had already sent over a proposal, but I had rejected it. I have not yet received a revision.”

Shadow raised a brow. Not surprising, but his curiosity was peaked. “What did she want to do?”

Nicole’s fingers paused and she lowered the tablet to her lap. “The proposal involved changes to the rose garden.”

The fucking bitch! Shadow’s neck snapped around so quickly pain shot through him and he grimaced. And good thing too, the sudden discomfort dulled the venom in his exclamation. “No!” Nicole slowly turned to face him, her emerald eyes staring unflinchingly into his. Shit. Shadow broke eye contact first. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have raised my voice.”

“As I said, sir, I rejected the proposal.” She kept her voice level, mercifully ignoring his outburst. He didn’t deserve her. He simply didn’t.

“Yes, I’m sorry,” Shadow cleared his throat, “Well done.”

Fucking hell. Had Irena really had this ready? She’d been playing a completely different game, stringing him along the whole time. This was her real cost, a chance at snatching away the last remnants of the past and dashing them to bits of memory. He dared dangle a grandchild in her face with no intention of following through? Well, she had a metered and completely reasonable punishment in store.

How close was he to losing that space? There was no doubt in his mind his mother would have the whole area plowed under and paved over merely for spite. Thirty-two years in the ground and Irena still refused to relinquish the grudge she held against Persephone.

His rage chilled to a cold fury. Fuck it. “Under no circumstances is anyone entering the property under Irena’s aegis allow to step foot in the rose garden. No one. All vendors and guests are to be informed that lack of compliance will result in prejudicial criminal charges of trespassing. If I find even one bush disturbed, I better see police reports to accompany the discovery.”

Nicole remained silent. He refused to look at her. She was giving him the chance to change his mind, to back pedal. It was harsh, he knew. Unreasonable. Petty. Wide range in its scope and collateral damage. He was helpless to harm Irena, so taking a page from her playbook, he would strike at anyone unfortunate enough to accept her patronage.

Eventually Nicole acknowledged, ”Yes, sir.”

He was disgusted with himself, but Shadow would be feast for the crows before he allowed that shriveled hateful harpy anywhere near Maria’s rose garden.

Notes:

We're back with Amy next chapter and we'll stick with her for awhile.

New poll!
What extreme urban sport should Sonic be into?
A. Skate boarding because the Sonic Riders references both write themselves and allow for the introduction of Jet and his crew.
B. Inline skating so he can show up Shadow later.
C. Hard Core Parkour!
D. Very clearly it should be (insert your own detailed answer here)

Chapter 13: Deep Kopi Luwak Roast

Summary:

A chapter about making pancakes and absolutely nothing else.

Notes:

Look at me imbedding images.

This Chapter is brought to you by:

Try our new menu item: Kraken Eggs! They’re technically delicious

Like a river evening out into peaceful flow after raging rapids, Amy’s life returned to a comfortable routine. Predictable. Controllable. Unassuming. Safe. Boring in all the right ways. Her next heat loomed on the horizon of her calendar, but for a few weeks she could cosplay as a normal person. A normal person who was in no way haunted by every pairing of crimson and ebony she happened to see. No siree.

Sonic was slowly making his move on the handsome white hedgehog, Silver, and Amy was enraptured by his frenetic accounts of his efforts. It was both heartbreaking and endearing to see her best friend so unsure of himself, as if courting Silver was the first thing Sonic had ever wanted to take seriously. Amy helped, however she could, always quick with advice like she knew anything about romance.

A media storm still roiled around Rouge. Her bold policy declaration at an otherwise routine campaign appearance had sent the City into a frenzy. Rouge’s events attracted protesters now and Amy tried her best to weave between the growing tensions to take her pictures. She approached every appearance with a racing heart. She was sure it was due to the extra security and absolutely nothing else.

She worked on herself every night with thoughts of no one running through her head. No one had introduced Rouge at the event, no one had hugged her and posed for photos, and no one’s handsome mug was splashed across the tabloids and conspiracy theory riddled caverns of social media. The disgusting, stupid things they said about no one, when Amy knew no one deserved it. She had missed no one by skipping the event. She did not regret it, and she certainly wasn’t thinking about no one nearly every dark moment of the night.

When unoccupied with work for Rouge, Amy tailed Vector’s ex-convict jackal through the shabbier parts of the city. She’d been confused at first, watching him enter every business on a street one after another, but then Amy remembered a time when she’d done the exact same thing. Looking for a job when no one wanted you around was soul crushing. Amy found herself wishing the next corner store, the next gas station, the next flower shop would be the one for him.

With the extra work from Vector, Amy was determined to make good on her claim to Sonic that she’d fully cover her half of the rent and utilities this month. Her days were filled with normal, boring everyday stuff, and she cherished every second. It wasn’t flashy or exciting, but it was her life, and she was free, if only for a time, to live it exactly however she wanted. Exactly. However. She. Wanted. Right?

The cat alarm clock on her bedside table loudly expressed its displeasure at the current hour. Amy grumbled and rolled over. With practiced accuracy, she reached out and poked the temporal feline on the nose, silencing it for another twenty-four hours. The pink hedgehog lifted herself from her warm sheets and stretched. Waking at this early hour wasn’t strictly necessary, what with her work being rather flexible, but it allowed her to continue a tradition that had begun nearly every morning since she and Sonic moved to the city.

Tying her quills into a messy bun, Amy entered the kitchen dressed in her sleeping shirt and a black pair of leggings. She took down a big container of premixed dry ingredients from the cabinet and pulled two eggs from the refrigerator. She heard Sonic exit his room and enter the shared bathroom across the hall. She deftly whisked the eggs while tipping in just the right amount of the premix.

Setting a skillet on the stovetop, Amy lit the burner and knifed a slab of butter from the dish on the counter into the pan. Sonic took showers like he did everything: quickly, so she didn’t have too much time. She poured part of the batter into the pan, butter sizzling at the sudden intrusion, before fishing a silicon coated spatula from the cluttered utensils drawer.

“Mornin’ Ames!” Sonic entered the living area, working closed the buttons on his shirt. She waved the spatula at him as she returned the greeting. As he slipped into a chair at the passthrough, Amy slid a plate stacked high with fluffy pancakes in front of him. “Looks amazing as always!” Sonic gave her a massive smile before laying into the stack with a ferocity that might convince uninformed observers that the blue hedgehog was chronically starved.

While he ate, Sonic talked about this and that and Amy half-listened as she continued to produce pancakes. She absconded a choice few to a plate on the side for her breakfast and the rest found their way, briefly, in front of her roommate before meeting their timely end. The former track and field star inhaled thrice the amount Amy could stomach but never seemed to gain a kilo. Probably burned plenty of calories keeping his jaw gabbing nonstop.

Once Sonic finished, they traded places. Amy ate while Sonic packed his lunch. Three chilidogs. Everyday the same thing. Three chilidogs. Certainly not Amy’s cup of tea, but she had to admit that Sonic made a mean chili after years of practice. Each component went into separate containers to be assembled in the perfect ratio later. In the past, he’d joked about using a highly sensitive laboratory scale to make sure each of dogs were exactly the same. At least, Amy thought Sonic had been joking.

His hands’ occupation left his mouth free to talk, or rather, in the case of this morning, complain about work. “And I totally calibrated the assay machine doing the immunosorbent tests. I showed Dr. Prower my access logs and everything, but he didn’t believe me. Said that it was impossible the ELISA results were accurate. I got pissed as shit because I totally did them right. Not my fault this shit we’re testing is wack. So, anyway, now I’ve got to babysit a bunch of techs from the machine vendor coming in to do a full overhaul and calibration. Super lame.”

“That sounds frustrating.” Amy drug a piece of pancake through a glob of strawberry jam.

“It blows major donkey wang, I tell you what. Though, there’s a ‘Silver’-lining.” He grinned as he zipped up his lunch bag. “A certain someone has to observe the whole process because the client is fucking pissed about the delay.”

Amy smirked teasingly and made an elongated, undulating ooOOooOOoo noise like they were still in middle school. “Sonic and Silver, sittin’ in’a la-bra-tor-y, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” She sang, stirring her tea. “First comes love, then comes marriage, next comes a pink slip because exchanging bodily fluids in the lab violates safety policies.” She deadpanned.

Sonic cracked up, howling the whole way out the front door.

Amy finished her breakfast and tidied the kitchen. She took a quick shower, not bothering to do anything with her face or hair. Not like she wanted anyone to see her today. Amy lined up the three different deodorizers she used every day. One was a standard scent neutralizer, another specifically targeted Omega pheromones, and the final one was an activated enzyme that consumed any organic compounds that escaped the first two. Amy wanted to smell like a void, a vacuum. An empty depression where a scent was supposed to be.

Amy spent the rest of the morning piddling around the apartment. Cleaning the bathroom. Responding to requests for touch-ups from Rouge’s media team. Doom scrolling the latest rabid discourse about the election on Flutter. Gaggling no one’s name to see what they were up to. Catching up on that show on Petflix her cousin seemed obsessed with. Eventually an alarm went off on her phone. Time to go to work.

She dressed, choosing a drab ensemble. A dark navy knit sweater, old grey jeans, and one of Sonic’s beat up maroon hoodies from goodness knows when. The emblem for their high school was cracked and peeling on the back and right breast. She completed the disarming disguise with a black scent mask. The final look was unassuming, shady, and androgenous as long as no one noticed the back quill vents were suspiciously empty. Not a bit of pink to be seen with the hood up.

Her camera fit securely in the hoodie’s pouch pocket if the telephoto lens was detached. Amy hadn’t needed the full set up yet, being able to get away with her phone’s zoom, but she carried it just in case. Double checking memory cards and spare batteries, she slipped her phone and wallet into an inner pocket. She strapped her taser securely to her waistband and covered it with the bulk of the hoodie’s hem. Lastly, she grabbed her backpack and slipped her laptop inside. Good to have it if she got a chance to work on photo touch ups.

The Omega bus was running its ‘reduced’ schedule again and after skipping several previous Beta buses, Amy gave up and boarded. She found her favorite spot by the window. Her eye slipped lazily over the landscape of the passing city. Drought conditions remain, a temporary roadside sign declared, Conserve water. Take shorter showers. An electronic billboard advertised a payday lender. Cheetah Loans! Get money FAST!

Liam Null, Amy’s target, currently resided in a halfway house a few transfers north. It was a quiet and unappealing part of the city. Gentrification would consume the area eventually, once the capitalists ran dry of healthier prey, sucking everything flavorful and noteworthy from the marrow of its bones. But for now, the way things had been were the way things would remain. Elderly on fixed incomes and working-class families struggling to make rent and pay school fees.

Details on Liam had been trickling in from Vector. There wasn’t much to be found on the guy as it turned out. Much of the details of his trial were sealed. No family to speak of. Bound to an Omega, but said partner was nowhere to be found. Knowing the Alpha was already bound left Amy relieved. Even if he caught her scent, the draw wouldn’t be anything above mild curiosity. The most important part was that his Voice would have shifted long ago, matching up with his Omega and losing potency over others.

Did some digging, Vector had texted, and found the target used to be in some sort of ‘squad’. Military cosplay crap. Code name ‘Infinite’. What kind of edgelord shit is that, right? Liam was twenty-two when he began his thirty-year sentence. Not much younger than Amy was now. The moniker sounded like a gamer tag Sonic would snidely quip about while he played with his online friends.

The means of Liam’s early release were interesting; in the way a deep, dark sinkhole or empty elevator shaft was. Seemingly from nowhere, he recently gained a very potent legal team who orchestrated a nearly unprecedented early release. Loping twenty years off a sentence took some doing.

After that discovery, Vector said he stopped digging. “Money is fucking with other money over this guy.” He told her on a phone call. “Us shit-eating ameba need to just pretend the leviathans aren’t eating our whole universe on the daily.” Amy couldn’t argue with that. “Follow the prick and cash the checks until I tell you to stop. Don’t get close. Remember, this fucker went away for attempted murder in the first degree. No firearm kicker, so tooth and claw shit.”

Amy leaned against the bus window and scrolled through her phone.

The OO forums burned with renewed fervor for Rouge, declaring her the champion of the downtrodden. The political discourse infected unrelated threads and the moderators struggled to keep the discussion contained and civil. Disputes were breaking out. Who do you care is running? You’ll just vote the way your Alpha tells you like a good, little Omega. User was banned for this post.

Amy had a fresh message from Orion. What do you think about this? he asked, attaching a link. Amy wasn’t surprised to find an article about Rouge loaded. Kinda funny the Alphas are starting to eat their own. Inevitable, really.

Amy hadn’t divulged to Orion her affiliation with Rouge, nor would she. The less of her pasted across the web the better. I think the exposure for Omega issues could be good. She typed out a reply, It’s really easy for people to forget or ignore us. I bet the average Beta doesn’t even know who Drago Wolfe is.

Rouge’s declaration to dismantle Wolfe v. City captivated the public discourse.

The online reaction had been a divisive spectrum from Rouge being the paragon of justice that the City needed, to disgust over the focus on Omega issues that election had taken, to how Rouge was an Omega-less, fake-Alpha, race traitor fascist who was just distracting from her ties to international weapons and drug smuggling. Still, Amy preferred the obvious lies over the questions of ‘do we really want a mayor who ruts and PMSs regularly?’

And then there were all the usual ‘step on me, mommy’-flavored comments that seemed to pop up faster than could be flagged for deletion or reported by the PR team, but Amy had gotten fairly blind to those by now. There was one gentleman in particular who offered increasing amounts of money for pictures of Rouge’s bare feet. The man’s tenacity and audacity had garnered him his own population of supporters. The internet was a wild place.

Geoffrey St. John, Rouge’s opponent, responded predictably. How dare Rouge disrespect the intelligence of the hard-working taxpayers of the City by distracting them from the real issues? The economy left by Mayor Jewel was in shambles and Rouge wanted to talk about undermining the judicial system? Sounded like Rouge had a chip on her shoulder from her time at the DA’s office. Leave it to the Alpha to make the election all about issues that only concerned her. And doesn’t she look tired?

Thanks to the internet miasma, Amy learned about a whole new group, the Alpha Rights Activists. Though they were more a spectrum than a cohesive group, their general opinion was that, actually, Alphas were the ones whose rights were getting restricted by any alleged ‘reforms’. Amy had asked Rouge about the ARAs and she rolled her eyes. “When you’ve been at the top of the pyramid for so long, suddenly getting less than everything feels like oppression.” She clicked her tongue. “Ignore them. I only want the votes of useful idiots.”

Wolfe v. City, though. Amy still couldn’t quite believe it. Sure, Rouge had brought up her detestation for that legal precedent plenty behind closed doors, especially when she was few beers down, but to actually promise to obliterate it? Amy felt a flutter in her chest and along her spine. It was the feeling that had led her to initially volunteer for Rouge’s campaign.

Hope.

The People of the City and Confederated Providences v. Drago Wolfe was a decades old case, from a ‘different time’. Drago Wolfe, an Alpha, was arraigned on charges of Manslaughter in the First Degree for the death of his Omega. His lawyers argued that the charges be changed to Involuntary Rut-Induced Homicide, despite evidence that the defendant was between ruts during the events in question. The court rejected the motion and preceded as initially charged.

The case was open and shut. The coroner’s report was graphic. The witness accounts were heart breaking. A history of violence was irrefutable given the extensive record of domestic disputes, even in an era where domestic violence wasn’t even a thing yet. The Omega’s death was both inevitable and unnoteworthy. Nearly identical cases cluttered the bench docket.

However, at jury selection, by some fluke of statistics, zero Alphas and seven Omegas were selected to sit in judgement. After arguments, the verdict came back within the hour. Guilty on all charges. Maximum sentence recommended. Drago was a danger to society. He didn’t regret his actions and would likely reoffend.

While Drago rotted in a maximum-security Alpha prison, the appeal filtered through the courts, carried by a claim for a mistrial. The Supreme Court overturned the original verdict and granted a retrial, citing that Drago had not been tried before an impartial jury of his peers.

The second time around the fucker walked.

From that moment on, though it wasn’t enshrined in law or official doctrine, all juries would have at least one of each of the three second-genders. The rate of guilty verdicts for Alpha on Omega violence plummeted until only the clearest cases made it past grand juries.

While Alpha conviction rates of fellow Alpha remained artificially high for non-violent crimes (the prevailing theory was that Alphas subconsciously sought dominance over all other Alphas to some degree), conviction rates for violent crimes, especially those committed against Omegas, were near zero. The explanations were myriad, but the general idea was that, in this specific case, solidarity overrode both competition and the low-grade affinity an Alphas had for all Omegas because the Omega in question was dead and therefore unbreedable.

More damaging, Wolfe v. City established the legal precedent that Omegas were not peers to Alphas. That the separation of the two was both legal and correct.

Overnight Omegas became explicitly second-class citizens.  The case became the foundation for countless policies restricting Omega access to spaces, to services, to travel. Separate Buses, separate bathrooms, requisite escort. The red O with black slash. The blue O with black A.

Every Omega was told the same thing by the government that claimed to represent them: You can’t be here alone. You can’t be here at all. You should be home. Out of sight. Out of mind. Quiet and pregnant and submissive. The world is for your betters, for your Alpha. You were meant to be on your knees with your head pressed into the dirt.

The ‘dated’ explanation for the doctrine was Omega inferiority.

The modern explanation was for their ‘protection.’

No matter the why, then and now, the walls remained.

But now Rouge claimed to have a sledgehammer and the City was losing its goddamned mind.

Amy transferred buses. After trying for a while, Liam had finally found a job. He was the second shift watchman for a nondescript warehouse near the City limits. Amy wasn’t sure how he’d gotten the position, given his ‘feet on the ground’ approach, but maybe he finally figured out how to use his phone.

Smartphones had been around for longer than ten years, Amy was pretty sure, but the jackal still stared at his dated model like he was in his eighties, squinting at the screen and slowly jabbing it with a single finger. Amy’s confusion had morphed into secondhand embarrassment before settling on sympathy. He probably wasn’t allowed a phone in prison and now every part of life required a device of some kind.

Technology wasn’t the only thing the attempted murderer struggled to adjust to. Amy spotted him covering his nose and grimacing frequently. She recognized the behavior, the reaction to olfactory overstimulation, but it was bizarre to see an Alpha doing it. Any time Liam passed by a crowd, his muzzle crinkled in disgust. “Just get a scent mask.” Amy mumbled, her finger holding down the shutter button.

Amy closed out of yet another article about Rouge as her bus got stuck in traffic. Her brow furrowed. All the new posts in the ‘In Memoriam’ thread were heart attacks. That…seemed strange. What were the odds? Why wasn’t this in the news? She sent a new message to Orion. What were you saying about a bad batch of suppressants?

The reply came quickly. The Starline pharma stuff is shit. Stop taking it.

Easy for him to say. Amy had checked the price of her old brand now that it wasn’t covered by Public Insurance. At the cadence she needed for her frequent heats, she was looking at nearly a hundred rings a week. Maybe she could afford it if she stopped eating. If she went off her suppressants without an alternative, there was no deodorizer on the planet that could cover her scent.

At the rate the bus was crawling through traffic, Liam would be well into the first hour of his shift. Amy intentionally took a circuitous route to avoid being on the same bus as him too many times and today it was biting her in the ass. In previous tailing sessions, she’d watched him count out change for the fare under the smoldering glare of the bus driver who was no doubt wondering why the jackal didn’t just tap his phone against the reader like everyone else.

The bus rolled by a Kraken Koffee branch and, before Amy could look away, the stupid red and black color scheme drug up unwanted thoughts from the depths she kept trying to drown them. “REJOICE MORTALS!” the marquee read, “PUMPKIN SPICE RETURNS ON THE TIDE!” She bit the inside of her cheek and opened the latest A/O pairing app she was trying.

Finding a viable partner that wasn’t a bot, scammer, or certified creep was a Sisyphean effort with the added indignity of the boulder running her over every time it rolled back down the slope. You don’t have to be doing this! The giant rock taunted as it pressed her into the dirt. Still, she’d resolved to redouble her efforts to find an Alpha to replace Sonic every time the very much unwanted fantasies of certain hedgehog reared inside her.

Amy was on her third app. AO Cupid was overrun with bots so badly that she wasn’t sure the few connections she had made had actual people on the other side. Stumble seemed a bit better because it required both the Omega and Alpha to ‘like’ one another’s profile before messaging could begin. Amy spent several days uncertain about what to put on her profile.

Sonic was no help. “You just put the goods in your profile pic and some random bullshit in the text box. Like, you like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain. Shit like that. I’ve got a humble brag about how short my refractory period is on mine, but that might not work for you.”

Amy had snorted. “Does Silver know about that?”

Sonic blushed and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “W-well, I want to date Silver, so, like…” His traveling gaze finally returned to her face and beheld the flat, unamusement there. “Uh, I mean, don’t listen to me, Ames. I’m full of shit, you know that.”

Amy watched some videos on taking a good profile picture and immediately hated the one she posted. It didn’t end up mattering much because most of her matches ‘liked’ her just so they could leave disgusting comments in her inbox. Damn, girl, yur oooold. Fucking you is community service. 25? wtf is wrong with you? Prob cobwebs up there and shit. Ill do you a favor and claim you, but I don’t want to see that face unless your ass is in the air. Don’t worry pink, ill have you pregnant and barefoot in a hot sec.

eBond was pay to play, which did put a damper on the spam and scams. The lowest plan wasn’t that bad, and with the work from Vector, she could afford it for a few weeks at least. So far Amy had encountered much less vitriol, but the entitlement was still quite high.

Amy thought about quitting the whole business multiple times. But every time Sonic waxed poetic about Silver, her conviction renewed. If she tried long enough she might meet someone nice, someone she’d actually make a connection with…but all she really needed was a willing dick. As her heat drew closer, she worried she might need to swallow her pride and commit to enduring a night with the least offensive creep. At least she had a new memory to visit when she didn’t want to in the now.

Luckily, a recent pairing seemed to be baring some fruit. Their chat log wasn’t that long yet, but the non-binary sound engineer seemed nice if a bit dorky. He - wait, no! - they were cute in their picture, with their goofy smile. Almost like an introverted Sonic to be honest.

A text alert chimed. Speak of the devil.

[Blue Blur]: free on sat? I might have asked Silver to hang but then fumbled like a newb and said it wasn’t a date date and like bring a friend. Now he says his roommate is gonna come. Can you help me out?

TO [Blue Blur]: Sure, I’ll keep that mean ole’ roommate off your back

[Blue Blur]: 👍 Yur the best Ames

A thought struck Amy. She typed it out and pressed send before she let her doubts swallow her conviction.

TO [Blue Blur]: Can heat suppressants cause heart attacks?

[Blue Blur]: Uh, totes a real weird question there, Amy. But yeah, its on the list of side effects

Amy was about to reply when she realized she was at her stop! Her hand shot up to pull the cord. The driver slammed on the brakes. “I’m so sorry!” She called as she exited. The bull snorted at her and shut the doors a bit aggressively behind her.

She looked at her phone and grimaced. She had several new texts from Sonic in such a short span of time.

[Blue Blur]: are u ok?

[Blue Blur]: ames?

[Blue Blur]: r u OK amy? If you think your havin a hrtattk call EMS!!!!!

Amy quickly typed out a reply as she started walking.

TO [Blue Blur]: No no, I’m fine!

[Blue Blur]: where ru rn? home? shud I cum home????

TO [Blue Blur]: No! Sorry, I’m fine, I promise. I’m just curious.

[Blue Blur]: givving me a fuken myocardial infarction over here amy god damn

TO [Blue Blur]: I’m sorry…I know it was a weird question. But…can you look up the probability of a heart attack for those new suppressants? The ones with the colorful box?

[Blue Blur]: Amy. Look, I told you I’m not supposed to talk about work stuff. Dr. Prower is getting hella pissy about security all of a sudden. You can check the label database on the Dept o Helth website. All the clinical trial info is there.

Amy frowned. The light changed for the intersection she had been waiting at and she crossed and entered the riverside park. Sonic was working on some suppressant testing for Kintobor Life Sciences. The same KLS who used to make her suppressants before the public insurance changed to the new Starline ones. She sighed at not having made the connection before now. Of course, Sonic would be working on the Starline drugs.

TO [Blue Blur]: Okay, thankyou. Sorry again.

[Blue Blur]: I got to go. See u @ home

The warehouse Liam worked at was hem by the Redrum river on one side. The flow was tiny given current conditions but could be tumultuous in wetter time. Conveniently, a long city park ran along the other side, utilizing the flood plain. From a wooden bench facing the river, Amy could just get a shot of the security booth through the thick trees lining both sides of the riverbank, thanks to the double punch of defoliations from the progressing autumn and ongoing drought.

The setup was strangely perfect. If anyone asked, she could claim to be an amateur artist taking photographs of the river and color changing foliage over time for a project. It wasn’t even that much of a lie as the long hours of sitting and watching had given her plenty of time to appreciate the quiet beauty of the place. So, she took some extra pictures and edited them on her laptop. Never a bad time to fluff her portfolio.

Today she strolled through the park at a lazy pace, enjoying the serenity of the afternoon. Amy passed the foot bridge over the river that accessed the road the warehouse sat along. The massive building was nondescript to an aggressive degree. Tall, grey, and angular, no emblems blazed on its blank faces. Trucks rarely went in or out and those that did were blank as well or generic carriers doing contract work.

The beauty of the tableau swirled around her and Amy smiled.

Then she froze.

Ahead, Amy saw her bench and perched on the wooden seat was a red coffee cup.

Her brow furrowed, alarms inside her coiling, ready to blare. That was weird. This spot wasn’t particularly close to anything of note and the nearest trash can was about a quarter mile behind her. It was just a coffee cup, right? Still…something deep in her brain stem told her not to trust.

Amy slowly approached the bench. Maybe someone had left the coffee cup sometime that morning? The idea did nothing to settle her unease. She turned in place, scanning the trees. She was alone save for the gently falling leaves. The warehouse stood still in the background. The light was on in the guardhouse, but Amy couldn’t see into it at this distance without her zoom lens.

She swallowed and lowered onto the bench. As her angle changed, she saw something was written on the cup. The name of the person who ordered it most likely. Amy glanced around again and, seeing nothing, reached for the cup. Pressing her fingers into the plastic top, she rotated it until the name could be read.

Miss Stalker

Amy shot to her feet, her heart pounding hard against her sternum. The cup and its boldly scribbled accusation remained on the bench. She fumbled at her side, trying to free the taser from its pouch, as she backed away.

“Well, hold on.” Amy spun, white hot adrenaline flooding her veins. The black and white jackal leaned against a tree just off the path, chimeric eyes gazing lazily at her. “You’re not even going to take the coffee with you?”

Notes:

One of these chapters I’m going to figure out how to exposit someway that’s not Amy looks at her phone while riding the bus, but not this chapter.

New Poll!

Who should Amy go on a date with?
A: Barry the Quokka
B: Barry the Quokka
C: Barry the Quokka
D: Barry the Quokka
E: Barry the Quokka

Chapter 14: Commuted Proteolysis

Summary:

Amy has a surprise coffee date.

Notes:

I had a bit of catastrophic computer failure, so this chapter is half of what it was supposed to be. Also, the Shadow POV to follow this chapter grew some really crazy legs, so it needs to stay in the oven a bit longer.
But that also means the next chapter is already half written.

No one said anything about the Snapcube reference in the last chapter and I’m hurt, chat. I’m really hurt. (It’s okay…It was a terrible pun anyway)

FAN ART! STOP THE PRESSES! THIS FIC NOW HAS FAN ART!
Also! Check out Chapter 1. I have added another of @MonArt3s's works as the defacto fic cover.

This chapter is brought to you by:

Bare Witness to the Birth of a New World of Possibilities.

Now accepting Public Insurance

“Don’t you dare come any closer!” Amy shrieked as the snap clasp opened and she drew the gun-shaped taser from its holster in a rehearsed, fluid motion. She held it out securely in both hands, finger on the trigger, pointed directly at her ambusher. Searing hot fear rushed through her veins and her instincts screamed at her to RUN!

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.” The black and white jackal stared at her impassively as he leaned against a tree trunk, his hands in the pockets of his poofy dark blue jacket. A blocky emblem was stitched into the breast that Amy couldn’t make out other than a large red ‘B’. He wore a ballcap and Amy knew the logo from the company’s terrible packaging choices. Starline Pharmaceuticals.

What? Why was she seeing that company everywhere? It was like fate was mocking her, shoving her difficulties into her face! She forced away the thought because she currently had much more important things to focus on. “That draw wasn’t half bad on the backend.” The man who used to be known as Infinite quirked a brow.

“I’ll scream! I mean it!” Amy’s mouth was dry and her pulse pounded in her ears, a rapid rushing sound, as if prompting her feet to match the beat as she fled. Her mind had devolved into a battlefield of competing urges. To run away as fast as she could, to submit to the Alpha, to advance and eliminate the threat, to scream bloody murder. With effort, she remained still, observant, and alert.

I am in control.

Intentionality created reality.

The jackal huffed derisively. “Yeah, that’ll really bother the five squirrels and three birds who’ll hear you.” He grimaced. “Shit, I mean- Yeah, sure, do what you want, but I’m not gonna do anything to warrant you getting all bent out of shape, sweetpea.”

Amy brandished the taser. “Try anything and I’ll give you the shock of your life!” She bluffed with more forceful venom than she could back up. She knew he was out of range, but maybe he didn’t know that.

“Doubtful.” The Alpha snorted. “Also, I’m about three meters out of range of a little civvy zapper like that one” Well, shit! “and back in the day I could take a shock like that to the heart and keep trucking just fine, but that’s neither here nor there.”  He shook his head. “Fuck, what I mean is, I’ve got no intention of coming any closer, so you might as well ditch the twitch switch before you hurt yourself.” The ex-convict looked like the words tasted fowl in his mouth. “Goddamn it, why is this so hard? What the fuck is wrong with you?” He mumbled, seemingly to himself.

“You think I don’t know how to use this?” Amy forced herself to take a step forward even as her body screamed in protest. Her bristled quills pressed against her hood and her puffed fur made her clothes feel tighter, more confining, restrictive. Was she getting enough air? It didn’t feel like she was getting enough air. Her fingers were starting to hurt from gripping the handle so tightly. My actions are deliberate.

Breathe, Amy reminded herself. I know this panic is unhelpful. She felt like the ground was trying to toss her off her feet, but she knew that was just the dizziness caused by her hyperventilation. Amy knew well every sign and symptom of her body in abject turmoil, and she possessed the experience to reject them all. I am not my impulses. I will not be defined by my biology. I am not my body.

Liam rolled his eyes and sighed. “Look, cupcake, I just came over to introduce myself, okay? Just say hi, is all, right? This doesn’t have to be dramatic.” He slipped his hands out of his pockets and held them up. His claws were visible through the thin, cheap cotton. “I’ll even put them behind my head if that’ll calm you down.”

I am calm! Amy frowned, but didn’t lower her stun gun. Breathe. “This is public land.” I am not prey. Her heartrate was slowing. The tunneling in her vision eased. Her lips still felt a little numb, but that would fade. The chill of the autumn breeze bit through her clothing and she began to shiver as her adrenaline ebbed. “I have every right to be here.” I will not be cowed.

Liam Null smiled. It was a crooked, pained thing, old and shabby, like it had been pulled out of a deep closet after a decade of disuse. “You sure do, shortstack. You sure do.”

Amy swallowed down the lump in her throat. “And we’re still inside City limits.” Her words were becoming easier to release, weightier, fuller. “It’s a single-party consent territory. I can take pictures of whoever I want.”

“Again, no contest.” He slowly lowered his hands. “If you’re gonna just state the obvious till the sun goes down, do you mind if I smoke?” Amy but the inside of her cheek, but kept her grip on the taser handle tight. “I’m going to reach into my back pocket, okay? See? Real slow-like.”

What was she doing? What was really going on right now? Amy’s mind raced in circles, rapidly swinging between terror of being cornered and horror of how silly she must look. If anyone came upon them right now, she’d look like the unhinged one, the dangerous one. A small part of Amy seemed pleased with the prospect. A stranger stumbling into the scene would be wary of her.

But that wasn’t important right now. She needed to focus. Determine a course of action.

Infinite was a convicted criminal and ex-gang member. A dangerous Alpha with an establish history of violence. A known threat to society. He had been lying in wait for her. He was standing between her and the way she’d leave, pining her in. Everything she knew about him told her he was vicious predator then, now, and forever. Everyone knew incarceration only made people worse.

Liam Null had just been released from spending nearly the entirety of his adult life in a concrete box for a crime he’d committed barely out of adolescence. The world was different in strange ways and apathetic towards his predicament and confusion. He was all alone and no one wanted him near, as Amy had born witness to. An Alpha without his Omega was hardly an Alpha at all. And someone was paying good money to have his every struggle recorded.  

And now Amy was holding him at something adjacent to gunpoint because he had the audacity to confront his stalker and offer her a coffee. What was she doing? Was she…was she the one in the wrong right now?

“’Sides, you’ve got maybe thirty, forty seconds before them skinny little arms give out.” A fang slipped loose of his condescending smirk.

Amy gulped. Her arms were getting very tired, very quickly holding the stun gun aloft. “People know where I am.” She lied. The idea of someone, anyone tracking her movements made her skin scrawl. And then the irony of how that’s exactly what she was being paid to do to Liam hit her and she had to shelve that shame for a later date. “They’ll notice I’m missing and know you were involved.”

“Gumdrop, I sure as hell hope someone’s got your back. You’d be seriously stupid doin’ what your doin’ otherwise.” Amy hopped her hood hid the embarrassed flush on her cheeks.

Her arms were starting to really scream. Amy needed to make the decision to escalate or back down. Slowly she lowered her weapon, but kept it at the ready to be raised again. “Like I said, this is public property.” She repeated. “You can do whatever you want within reason.”

The monochromatic mammal snorted, his hand disappearing behind him. Amy flinched, but remained rooted, her vision focusing on a potential threat emerging. “You can always do whatever you want, sugarplum.” He produced a crumpled pack of smokes and corner store lighter. Amy relaxed and felt foolish. “The question is if you get punished for what you end up doing.”

He shook out a cigarette and placed it between his lips. “I ain’t pissed at you or nothing, by the way.” He said through crooked lips as he lit the cigarette.

Amy’s brow cinched. “W-what?”

“For following me around all sneaky-like. Getting all up in my business.” When Amy grimaced, he added, “Don’t beat yourself up. I’ve got an eye for shit like this. I dunno what all you know about me from back in the day, but let’s just say I know how to work with shadows.” A shiver ran down Amy’s spine and she gripped the stun gun’s handle tighter.

Noticing her discomfort, he shook his head and cursed himself again quietly. “Anyway, I’m not mad, gross as it is. Fuck, now that I think about it,” His heterochromic eyes, one yellow, the other blue, lost focus, “kinda comforting if I’m being honest.” Amy grimaced and she felt herself shrinking inwards, alarm bells in the back of her mind starting to vibrate again at the strangely intimate admission. She did not like to adjacent to such sentiments. Not from him, not from anyone. Unless it was Sh- “Reminds me of home, in a messed up sorta way. No privacy in the joint.”

Again, Amy had to shovel away a drift of shame. “Home?” She felt her heart clench. “You mean prison?”

Liam blew out a long stream of smoke. “That’s fucked up, isn’t it? Being homesick for a cell where you’re always being watched?” He snorted. “I keep getting sidetracked. Whats I was trying to get at is you can take a million pictures of me, girlie. I don’t give a fuck. The last fucking thing I’m gonna do is reoffend. I might miss that box, in some weird fucking way, but I’m not going back. Not today, not in a million years, you hear me?” He jabbed a thumb at his chest. “I am rehabilitated.” He said with a bit of mocking derision.

As much as she felt like it, Amy couldn’t let her guard down. “If you’re so changed then why is someone wanting to keep tabs on you?”

Laim smirked. “Why indeed. I know who I work for and I know who you work for. Let’s just say someone is covering all their bases.”

“Who I work for?” Amy frowned.

“Naw, naw, I don’t mean whoever’s signing your checks or slipping you bills under the table, or whatever. I’m talking about the real fucks at the top of the food chain. The big swinging dicks. I’d bet you dollars to donuts you haven’t got a clue who looks at your pretty picture of little, harmless, old me.”

He was right. She didn’t. “Our clients are confidential.” Amy found herself saying, a bit defensively. Should she be more curious about who Vector’s clients were? Vector had always been good to her. Though…he had said he’d stopped looking into the details of Liam’s release, so he must have found something he didn’t like.

“Convenient that. But, hey, that means you and me ain’t got any beef, you feel me? We’re just itty bitty cogs trying to make enough scratch to keep turning another day. I mean, if either of us had anything better, we wouldn’t be here. So, might as well be all neighborly about it. I do my job, you do yours, everyone gets to eat. Sounds like a great plan, right?” He gave her a crooked smile again. “Keeping eyes on me can’t be particularly interesting, and I sure as hell mean to keep it that way.”

The idea was inviting, Amy couldn’t deny. The arrangement he proposed had a harmony to it that was downright appealing. Still- “You tried to kill someone. Premeditated.”

The jackal snorted, a puff of smoke issuing from his snout. “Oh, don’t get me wrong pinkypie. I’ll be real honest with you. I’ve done in plenty of undeserving blokes. Never lost a wink of sleep, never got even a slap on the wrist about it ‘cuz I never shat where I ate.” He laughed, short, gasping, mirthless snorts. “I only got tossed into the house when I fucked up killing the first person in my crosshairs who actually deserved it.”

Amy shifted uncomfortably. Did he…Did he just admit to murder?

“But that’s ancient history, lollipop. I ain’t that cocksure son of a bitch anymore.” He looked away, his lips contorting at the memory. “I was young and dumb and thought I could fuck the world. I had a great girl and was stacking paper like we might could have that two car garage, picket fence kinda life.”

Liam Null exhaled a thin, steady stream of smoke. “Now I got shit all and I sit in a little box getting paid nothing to look at a bigger box. But,” He grinned sadly, “I don’t gotta wear a muzzle to get within five feet of another body and I can see the sky whenever I want, so I’d say things are pretty peachy, all considered.”

Her ears wilted slightly in the hood pockets. “You…you had to wear a muzzle?” Amy knew the penitentiary system was bicameral, with separate facilities for Alphas while Omegas and Betas were allowed to mix. However, she had never considered what that separation meant. But muzzles? That couldn’t be, right? That was…unconscionable.

Liam’s ears tipped back slightly. “But don’t worry your little Beta brain about Alpha max, sweetcheeks. That’s a horror show you’ll never have to watch….” He glanced away, a mix of sadness and disgust curling his lip. “And, believe me, you’re better just not thinking about it.”

“I’ve seen you. You don’t do well in crowds…That’s because of the smells, right?”

“Fuck, I hate that.” Liam grimaced. “I’ve been breathing industrial strength institutional deodorizer for so long, I can’t fucking stand how smelly the real world is. Drives me nuts. Can’t stand being inside hardly. Makes my head spin.”

 “Why don’t you wear a mask?” Sure, it wasn’t common for Alpha’s to mask, but if the smells of others bothered him that much, appearances seemed a small concern in comparison.

The jackal tensed, his hackles rising, and his eyes went wild. “I’d rather die than ever be masked again!” He hissed, lips curled to reveal his fangs, and he took a single step towards her.

The aggression hit Amy like a tidal wave, and she struggled to not be swept away. She took a step back and raised the taser once more, fresh adrenaline cutting through the ache in her arms.

Laim’s ears laid back, “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t- Look, I just don’t like thinking about it. I’m sorry, okay? For snapping and shit.” He shook his head. “The point I was trying to make is I haven’t got any real fight left in me. The system broke my fangs and snipped my claws.” He grinned slightly. “They would have taken my fucking dick, too, probably, if I’d ever whipped it out.”

Amy inwardly curled once more. Slowly she lowered her weapon. Confusion reigned inside her head. Sympathy and fear. Desire and revulsion. Flattery and indignation. I am in control, she reminded herself. I will not freeze or run out of fear. Affirmations the logical part of her brain tried to insert into the madness like partitions, demanding order.

The ex-convict shook his head. “Look, I’ve said my piece.” He threw the cigarette on the ground and pressed it out with the toe of his boot. Amy’s gaze flicked down to it, a strange sense of civic duty making her confirm he wasn’t about to start a fire with the drought dried leaves. “Thanks for listening, I guess. It was…nice talking to someone for once…even if, you know, it was like this.” He said in a guarded voice. He looked up and met her eyes, “Enjoy your coffee, buttercream. I don’t know what you’d like, but broads like sweet shit so I got something that sounded more like desert than coffee.”

The emotions coiling in Amy were difficult to get a hand on. Her suspicion slipped through her fingers. “You probably spiked it.” Amy regretted the words the moment they left her mouth. She didn’t like the person she was acting as, but she wasn’t sure what to do otherwise.

He gave a great guffaw that revealed his sharp canines once more. “Do you think you live in a fucking spy novel, minimuffin? I just got out the slammer. Why the fuck would I go back over some skinny, pink broad? Spiked. That’s a good one. You know how much more a loaf of bread is now than a dime ago?” Amy grimaced, but the jackal pressed, “More. Doesn’t matter how much, just that it’s more and the minimum wage isn’t. Shit, I wish I had the money for crap like that, ‘cuz I’d spend on something else.”  

The ex-convict started snickering. “Damn, you made me laugh good. I’mma take off on a high note.” He turned and raised his hand in a casual wave. “Drink it or don’t. Come back or don’t. No skin off my nose. I’ll be where I’ve been, when I’m supposed to be there.” Liam Null left.

Amy watched him thread through the trees back to the footbridge over the river. She pulled out her camera and affixed the telescopic lens. A series of shots captured him going over the bridge and back to his security booth. Before entering, he turned and looked in her direction. Through the lens, she saw him smirk and wave. Then he disappeared inside.

What was she going to do now? She should be on the phone with Vector already as she ran at a dead sprint back to the bus stop. Amy bit her lip. But then she’d be off the job and out of a descent paycheck. And Vector would probably never give her another assignment if she got clocked so badly. And for what? Sure, the target knew he was being tailed…but that wasn’t really a deal breaker. Vector had eyes on Liam most hours of the day and night.

Should she call the police? The very idea clenched her jaw. Absolutely no good would come from involving the authorities. The man hadn’t broken any laws and the whole ordeal would come down to he said, she said. If anything, Amy had been unlawfully imprisoning him. She’d been the one with the weapon out. Further, any police report would require herself to identify herself, and she didn’t even have her real ID on her. Hell, having her fake one instead would rise all sorts of suspicions. She’d have no credibility, and her name would be out there.

And there was the risk that the 21 law would be brought to bare against her.

No.

No police.

The fear of being known curled around her like a vice. The fear of the thin façade she built for herself crumbling. Everything she worked for, all the sacrifices she made for her freedom. It was nearly more than she could bear. Amy’s throat constricted and she had to take a few labored breaths.

No. Absolutely nothing good would come from drawing attention to this incident. She needed the money and she didn’t need the scrutiny. Liam was right. Neither of them would be here if they had something better to do. Amy swallowed away the lump.

Amy looked at the coffee cup. The red cup just sat there. She’d been afraid, terrified even, of a stupid coffee cup, one just like literally billions of others, on a park bench. Amy sank into the seat, set down her camera, and finally slipped her backpack off her shoulders.

She ran her hands through her quills and pushed back her hood.

What. The. Fuck.

Her head felt fuzzy. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, trying to make some space for coherent thoughts. Separating her preconceptions from her actual observations was a muddy chore, but, resigned to just letting the incident go, she had hours to work with. After enduring the shock of discovery and fighting her flight instincts into submission, Amy was exhausted. She needed a pick-me-up.

Amy picked up the coffee cup and took a sip.

The pumpkin spice latte was cold.

Notes:

What is this? Infinite the Jackal apologia?

!!NEW POLL!!

****There are no humans in this AU!****

What species should the Robotniks be?
A. Emperor Penguin
B. Star-Nosed Mole
C. Hedgehog, duh
D. Tamarin
E. Walrus

Thank you for taking part in our managed democracy, Citizen.

Chapter 15: I'll Have The Lamb

Summary:

Three times Shadow hated having dinner and one where he might not.

Notes:

A good friend of mine is having a hard time right now, so if you could put a little extra positivity or kindness out into the world in their honor, I’d really appreciate it.

In case it’s no obvious << >> lines are in French.

“Here you are, sir.” The bartender expertly placed the coupe glass on top of a thick napkin with the restaurant’s logo printed on it. The cloudy amber cocktail was Shadow’s standard go to for a predinner libation. Bitters, 3 parts top-shelf high-rye bourbon, 2 parts sweet vermouth, 1 part triple sec, straight up, with an orange twist garnish. Shadow disliked repeating himself, so he kept a note with the recipe on his phone that he could just slide across the bar for particularly deaf or slow mixologists.  

He lifted the glass to his lips and took a perfunctory sip. Floor to ceiling windows displayed the City in all its nighttime glory, glimmering lights stretching out into the distance. The Empire on display, as it were. The restaurant occupied the whole top floor of a high-rise hotel and offered amazing views along with the privacy commanded by a strict dress code and sixty floors of elevation.   

Mother had quickly leapt at the opportunity to provide assistance in finding Shadow a partner. She seemed eager to wring whatever chances of grandchildren she could (short of milking him herself, though he couldn’t be sure, so best not give her the chance) from him before the ‘emergency’ board meeting for the no-confidence vote would be held. Until then, Shadow found himself unable to protest for fear of provoking some unforeseen trap to snap tightly around, steel teeth digging deep into new and creative places. He needed to reserve his strength for the inevitable battle over the rose garden. Or so he’d initially thought.  

Shadow had found himself on a sequence of three ‘dates’ in the weeks since the phone call. Awkward, rigid affairs that filled him with a potent cocktail of disgust for himself for allowing these events to occur in the first place and deep, heart-wrenching sadness and pity for the poor ladies that had been forced before him like prized cattle at show. When he had constructed this ploy, he had not thoroughly thought through the rocky sholes of complicated emotions he would have to navigate, nor the impact of the sucking whirlpool that was his continued fascination with Amy.  

After the event with Rouge, Shadow had avoided any public appearances, especially those adjacent to Rouge. The public relations risks were simply too high to surmount. He could not allow himself to be embroiled in petty political squabbles or be the target of baseless relationship speculation. Truth be told, he shouldn’t have even been at that event...  

Shadow knew it wasn’t kind or fair, but he was angry with Rouge. If she had just kept her fucking mouth shut, he could still be coming up with stupid excuses to potentially be in the same place as Amy. His thoughts always seemed to return to the petite pink hedgehog. She was in him so deeply, he’d stopped struggling and Shadow was afraid that he’d been so utterly possessed that he’d cursed himself. That the real Amy, once he could finally see her again, talk to her even, wouldn’t be the creature he’d become obsessed with, wouldn’t be interested in his crooked soul, and he would be forever after damned to crave the company of a ghost, of a fairytale.   

A fucking pathetic existent, he knew, but, frankly, also very fitting given his myriad of sins.  

Thus far, Shadow had been able to resist the urge to locate Amy via his ample means and swoop down upon her like an eagle plucking an unsuspecting rabbit from a grassy field. Such an advance, he was certain, would be wholly unwanted, revolting even. If she had wanted to be snatched in such a way, carted off to be blissfully ravished and possessed, he had no doubt some other lucky bloke would have already had the honor.  

But Amy had been terrified of him, of her situation. Of losing her freedom. All this, coupled with her, for unbound Omegas, advanced age, painted a vivid picture for Shadow. Amy had to make the first step forward. He could only place himself in her line of sight and hope for the best.  

No matter how much he longed to hunt her, obtain her, claim her so completely that no one dare think she was anything but his , he had to abstain. Their next meeting (which would come, he had to assure himself or he’d go insane) needed to seem serendipitous. Not seem . Be serendipitous. Amy needed to be there of her own volition, and it needed to make sense that he, too, was there for reasons other than her.  

But the fucking wait was killing him! Fucking Rouge!  

He wasn’t an unadulterated fool. By now, Shadow knew that he had imprinted upon her and little short of a lobotomy was likely to expunge Amy from his brain. He’d spent a decade denying that portion of himself, so it stood to reason that his instincts only grew stronger in repression. His ruts certainly were, if Eclipse was to be believed. To Shadow, those bi-annual periods had become hazy, confusing affairs from which he emerged each time with sharper aches and injuries and weaker memories. With Amy on the brain, he was not looking forward to his quickly approaching rut.  

In the meantime, he allowed Irena to torture him. Rouge had had a good laugh upon learning of the arrangement. “You possess a self-loathing so refined that it has become a connoisseur of suffering. One that always pursues new and unique flavors because your misery is simply not multi-faceted enough yet, you glutton .” He didn’t have the energy to argue. Or, really, the grounds to.  

Shadow had gone into first appointment with as an open mind as he could muster. He wasn’t genuinely looking for anyone. This was just a pleasant dinner with a new acquaintance. The elegant restaurant setting was inoffensive for a first, effectively, blind, date. Shadow had arrived early and been seated. When he spotted the host approaching, he stood, ready to offer a gentlemanly introduction, and promptly froze.   

It wasn’t Amy’s shade, but the young hedgehog’s pink was close enough to fill him with an extreme feeling of wrongness , a punishing sense that he was in the act of a heinous betrayal , that persisted for the entire dinner. Despite his efforts, he had not been able to force the feeling away and he was shamed to have been a poor companion to the young woman for the evening. They parted ways having formed no connection.  

The second was equally disastrous as the first. The young hedgehog with a pale blue, almost silvery coloration, was diminutive, nearly two heads shorter than Shadow, and so slight a strong wind might take her away. They got along fairly well at first, but Shadow could tell she was both very nervous and, also, strangely tired. Some gentle inquiry towards her health revealed that she was jet lagged, having been flow across the world by her parents for the dinner. She would be heading back to the private airfield should he ‘find her inadequate’.  

His guilt beheaded his appetite, and he spent the rest of the dinner boiling in a nasty vat of emotions. As he watched the private car take the tired woman away, he wondered if he should have offered for her to rest at his home for the night, before she returned home…but the appearances of that would be unwanted to say the least.  

Both women had been Omegas. Off their heats, yes, but still identifiable as such via smell. And both uninteresting to Shadow. It seemed his appetite had narrowed to a pin prick. Strawberrys and vanilla or nothing at all. He felt himself responding to their distress as well, but not strongly enough to force him into uncalculated action.  

The third date, in retrospect, was a demonstration of Irena’s impatience. Frankly, Shadow later admonished himself, he should have seen it coming. It was his fault to forget the cold war he was engaged in. Shadow was not adequately prepared for the gut-wrenching catastrophe that awaited him. Nicole even tried to ward him off, suggesting that he cancel the dinner because of some early meeting the following morning. He’d frowned, a bit confused at Nicole’s commentary on his personal life, and dismissed her concerns. The next morning, he did not attend the meeting due to illness.    

Shadow’s first impression of the honey-colored woman was how…designed she was? Every aspect of her appearance seemed just a touch overdone, just enough prickle the back of his neck, as if every pain had been taken to form the woman into a perfect, lady-like shape. Make-up, hair, clothing, even the way she held her hands or tilted her head. Constructed. He should have known then.  

Her name was Marie. Her family-owned agricultural products conglomerate. About 75% of the world’s palm oil was harvested on their land. Land that first had to be tamed with the machete. Marie was well spoken and elegant, choosing her words carefully, but attending to whatever Shadow said with a rapt attention that border on off-putting. Inexperienced, perhaps encroaching on desperate. He really should have known then.  

She played the violin. She enjoyed making oil paintings. Shadow struggled to keep a crease out of his brow as the dinner devolved further and further into a pure, unadulterated interview. She mentioned that she would be finishing school the next year. Marie said she hope to study Classical Literature at a prestigious private university the following fall.   

Oh .  

Oh, no.  

A growing sense of dread convinced him to foolishly (and crassly, one shouldn’t forget that) ask her age.   

Shadow had placed his cutlery down and excused himself to the restroom. Securing the lock on the door, he fell to his knees. Once the full contents of his stomach were washing away to the water treatment plant, he ran the sink and, ripping off his gloves, splashed water on his face. Gripping the marble countertop tightly, he glared at his reflection in the mirror.  A fucking fool of the highest order stared back .  

The rage wrestled with the self-loathing inside of him and he wasn’t certain which he preferred to win.  

Marie was sixteen. 

Just like Maria had been when she’d been…given away to that monster .  

And Shadow was older now than that demon had been then.   

Shadow gagged again.  

Irena, you truly are the Queen of Hell.  

His quills would not settle. He wanted to crawl out of his own skin. Spit blood. Spill blood . Something destructive. She had to pay for this insult! He’d finish what he started on his birthday. That she thought she could serve this girl to him on a platter and somehow expect him to partake! The nerve! The audacity! The vindictive fucking gall !  

Something dark and viscous was boiling deep inside him. Something long hidden and denied, deep, deep down in the recesses of his soul. It overflowed the levees and surmounted the barriers he’d built. A venomous, scalding hatred that gripped him with such steely talons that he could barely breath.   

And it whispered, now, as it had before those long years ago, that absolutely everyone and everything was below him. That his whims were law, were right ! That transgressions against him were be treated with the highest severity. That he was to suffer no insult without reparations in blood.   

Shadow slammed his forehead against the countertop.  

When he recovered, Shadow found himself on his knees before the sink, a little blood trickling between his eyes, and, most importantly, a fairly clear head, terrible thoughts halted. He would not go back, even at Irena’s provocations. Wetting one of the cloth wash towels, he dabbed at the bleeding spot and sat on the lidded toilet. Almost on impulse, he retrieved his phone from his pocket and typed out a plea for aid to Eclipse.   

Right before he pressed send, however, Shadow paused. Sighing, he backspaced the message into oblivion. As much as he wished for his brother’s counsel and allyship, injecting Eclipse into the conflict was cruel, unfair, and likely lead to further escalation from Mother in retaliation. Shadow would have to fight this battle on his own.  

But first there was the matter of Marie.   

The poor girl was only a pawn in this game. An Omega, even that of sufficiently wealthy or powerful stock, was still only a good to be commodified. A work of art commissioned to be traded and sold, valuable only for the connections she could bring, the children she could birth. Worth only what someone would pay for her. Just like Maria.    

Shadow tidied himself. Straightened his jacket, rubbed creases and dust from his trousers, checked his collar and muzzle for errant, exiled particles attempting to escape their watery demise. Took a few deep breaths to gain enough control to banish the scowl contorting his lips. Return, at least in appearances, to the refined gentleman he’d been not too many minutes before.  

The wound on his head stopped bleeding and the minor swelling was hidden under his dark colored fur. The headache he’d generously given himself was growing in intensity, but the pain kept him grounded to the moment and, thus, was welcome. He shelved his anger and indignation for later processing. He was being terribly rude to be apart from his dinner companion for so long, and he needed to make his amends.  

Back at the table, Shadow apologized profusely for his absence. Marie made all the proper noises of forgiveness but then said in a small voice. “I’m sorry if I said anything that displeased you.” She stared down meekly.  

Shadow’s chest throbbed and every fiber, every sinew of his being wanted to do something, anything to change Marie’s fate. She was a dish being offered to him and if he refused to indulge, someone else would. This, he was sure his mother would inform him, was how these things were done. Love, as requisite for matching, was a very modern concept.  Would Marie find herself behind a door that locks from the outside as well? His stomach roiled and threated to revolt upwards again.  

“Not at all.” Shadow smiled reassuringly. “It was something I must have eaten that was displeased with me, I’m afraid. You were talking about studying literature. What has drawn you to that subject?”  

Shadow’s eyes unfocused as he watched Marie’s town car take her away. Bruno pulled up soon after and patiently waited to open the sedan door as his employer stared absently into the middle distance of the night. His coat folded over his arm, Shadow did not feel the chill.  

What could he have done that would have really helped? Anything more than a courteous rejection carried heavy implications. He couldn’t even give her his contact information, an offer of aid (but not that kind!), without both falsely raising her hopes and enticing both his mother and Marie’s family into further highly unwanted action.  

It had been a long time since Shadow had felt this powerless. How everything he had, everything he was, everything he’d worked years to accomplished, were nothing in the face of the unyielding machinery of the world. The invisible hand that divided every one of them into two categories: the meat or the butcher.   

Shadow had to be very careful in how he confronted Mother. Her tactics, once confronted, would be predictable. Feigned ignorance (<<Oh, I had no idea she was so young! The name similarity never crossed my mind!>>) would be swiftly followed by an attempt to inspire guilt in him (<<How can you attack me so for such an honest mistake? Brutish!>>).  

Then would come the rationalization. What did he expect? This was how things were done, after all. It wasn’t her fault he’d waited so long. The only viable Omegas were all below twenty, that was just a fact. What did he care anyway? He would need to see her if he didn’t want to, after a certain, important point.   

Shadow leaned his throbbing forehead against the cold glass of the car window, the lights of the city streaking by. What do you do with the evil that cannot be vanquished?  An opportunity had to be hidden in her predictability, if he had the mind to find it, surely.  

So eager was Irena to learn of the effect of her villainy, that Shadow had a message from her already on his phone. He contemplated his reply long into the night, ice pack balanced in his head as he slumped in an armchair, the silence of his childhood home draping over him like a shawl. Finally settling on a course of action, he retired, leaving Irena on read, and slept late into the next morning. Nicole had the decency to pretend to be surprised at the request to reschedule his meetings for the day.  

<<Mother,>> He texted, finally, <<I am very grateful for your help thus far, but if you are not going to take the matter seriously, I’m afraid I must insist that I explore other options.>>  

When the reply came quickly, he knew he’d gotten her. <<Excuse me?>>  

<<These girls, Mother, and I do mean girls , are frankly, unacceptable. I am seeking a life partner, partner being the operative word. I need a woman much closer to my equal or what is the point? The world is full of beautiful young Omegas and more mature every day. I have many years left to fill that part of my life, but at this time I am simply not in the market.>>  

<<I see.>> An indication of retreat, but he was not done.  

Shadow pressed his advantage. <<Further, as your eldest son, I should think there would be much more potent matches to be made. Frankly, I’m a little disappointed at the goods on offer thus far. I was under the impression that you had developed quiet the catalogue of friends and admirers.>>  

The words sickened him to type, to even think up in the first place, but the effect could not be diminished: No more young ladies would be forced before him. Thank god .   

And so, Shadow found himself at the bar of a trendy restaurant, overlooking the expanse of the City at night, waiting for his mother’s latest volley.  This ‘date’ threatened to be something different.  

First of all, his perspective companion’s people reached out to Nicole to make arrangements, rather than Mother’s assistant sending him instruction directly. A wonderful display of weight. Secondly, Berenice L’Hérissonne was a Beta and of an age with Shadow. If his Father wasn’t a pariah from ‘polite society’, she and Shadow would have traveled in the same circles growing up. In an alternate universe, where Shadow’s great-grand father hadn’t been exiled from his family and Shadow’s last name were inverted, Berenice might be the one pursuing him.  

Finally, and most impressively on Irena’s part, Berenice was the CEO of Breeze Media, the fastest growing arm of a massive family-owned mega-conglomerate. Breeze Media possessed sweeping coverage of nearly every medium. Digital, television, what was left of print and radio, if eyes could see it or ears could hear it, Breeze Media had a quickly growing stranglehold on it.  

Further, the L’Hérissonne family was old money, perhaps the original money that emerged after the revolution overthrew the old monarchy centuries ago in Shadow’s birthland. Under normal circumstances, such an old family wouldn’t even entertain a match from a family with such ‘muddy’ blood, but in modern times money over road all traditions. The lengths to which Irena must have gone to arrange the meeting would be laudable if Shadow wasn’t still nursing a deep-seated resentment towards the woman that blinded him to any potential positive qualities she most certainly did not possess.  

Out of the corner of his eye, a flash of color drew his attention and Shadow turned to the hostess’ station. Dressed in a bright red pant suit, styled so sharp it could cut diamonds, was a female hedgehog with dark teal fur and muted violet coloration at the end of her ample quills. The woman had walked right passed the hostess and was surveying the dining room. The hostess, a blond chipmunk, was attempting to draw the woman’s attention, but the maître d'hôtel intercepted the chipmunk and moved in himself.  

The self-possessed hedgehog ignored the maître d and, spotting Shadow at the bar, moved directly to him.  Shadow stood, habitually buttoning his jacket.  

Berenice L’Hérissonne stopped a few paces away from him and the intensity of her grimace murdered the greeting Shadow’d been preparing in its crib. Her pale purple eyes ran over the length of him from bottom to top in a single smooth motion. Berenice smirked, her frame sliding as she shifted her wait to one foot and jutted her hip out. “Alright, not bad. Let’s get on with it.” With a flirty twist of her shoulders, she jabbed a thumb at the dining room.  

Shadow snorted. “Not one to mince words, I see.”  

“Congratulations,” She sneered, “You look like your picture.”  

Shadow’s brow knitted. “I should hope so.”  

“Spoken like a true fool. You’ve got good bone structure, but I’ve got people who could touch up your glamor shot in fifteen minutes so good, your office’ll be drowning in used ladies' panties.” She planted a hand on her hip, a collection of golden bangles chiming against her silken gloves.  

My god, she sounds like Rouge, Shadow mused. “I see. And remind me again, which side of this argument is your preference? Truth or the affect? I’m getting the impression that there is no correct answer.”  

Berenice scoffed. “Of course there’s a correct answer, and, what’s more, it's the only answer you ever really need.” She leaned in slightly, almost conspiratorially. “The right answer is always the one that gets the most hits, the most clicks, the most eyeballs, love.”  

Shadow straighten, momentarily at a loss at how to reply to that.  

Undaunted, she took the conversation to the mother tongue. <<Now grab your little drink and let’s get on with it. I’ve been meaning to case this joint to potentially host my niece's birthday party, but don’t let on to these fucks, got it?>>  

<<Ah, how efficient. Very well.>> Shadow lifted his glass from the bar countertop. <<I’m glad that you will not find your time to be wasted. It is wonderful to make your acquaintance, Berenice, if only in passing.>> He lifted the glass in a mock toast.  

She snorted, <<Please. I’ve fired men for calling me by my given name. We might fuck later, so you can call me Breezie.>> She winked and turned on her heel, leaving Shadow with a bit more heat in his face than he cared to admit.  

Notes:

I swear to Rouge that Breezie isn’t a self-insert OC. Google her. It 100% is a coincidence.

Chapter 16: Fourth Estate Emblements

Summary:

Breezie propositions Shadow.

Notes:

Sorry to my twitter followers. This took a few more days that I had anticipated.

Thank you all for your kind words last chapter for my friend. They are doing much better now, thank goodness.

(A/N: par exemple seulement)

The view from their table by the window was breathtaking. No matter how many times he had seen it, no matter the angle or circumstance, Shadow was always struck, at least for a moment, with a sense of awe. In his twenties, when cynicism colored everything with a grimy film, he chided himself for falling prey to such a childish feeling. Now, he just let himself be gripped.

A sharply dressed waiter approached their table while someone in a dark suit watched them intently from afar. The owner, perhaps, or the business manager. Someone who wasn’t normally front of house. With practiced effort, Shadow kept his irritation off his face. Most establishments had the decency to fret and simper over ‘VIP’ guests out of sight.

“Madame et monsieur, may I present to you the prix fixe menu?” The young, but not too young, waiter opened and offered Breezie a leather folio. “Tonight, we are offering three sets. Traditional, vegetarian, and vegan. Each is eight courses.”

Breezie hmm’ed, unimpressed. “None of those. I’m not very hungry. I will be ordering à la carte.” She took the menu and scanned the courses. Shadow bit the inside of his cheek to keep from snorting or smiling at Breezie’s brazen display of difficulty. She was conducting what Nicole called a pressure test. An unkind, unrelenting, and unfair string of requests to judge an establishment’s adaptability, attention to detail, and endurance of abuse. Shadow generally avoided participating in such practices.

Frankly, Shadow was just surprised that Breezie’s comment regarding her niece’s birthday was genuine, because he had chalked it up as bullshit banter. That Breezie really was using their encounter for something useful filled Shadow with a sense of relief. It made the whole affair seem less transactional. Friendly, almost.

“Madame, I’m afraid that we-“ The waiter began as he handed Shadow a menu. Shadow’s eyes shot to Breezie for her response to the sound of resistance. It was time to see just how much of a bitch Breezie was going to be.

Breezie looked up, her expression mild, bored even. Le visage d'un dieu indifférent. “Is there a problem?” It was not a question. The growing pack of faces watching from, what they must consider, a respectful distance tensed. One strode a step towards the floundering waiter.

The waiter sputtered. “No, madame.” He emitted a small chuckle to hide his nervousness. “I am just afraid that we do not have an updated à la carte menu so the lady must needs use the prix fixe menu to make her selection.” Good save.

Breezie’s eyes moved back to the menu. “That’s fine.” She seemed mildly irritated, as if begrudging the opportunity to dig into the poor man. Such impatience when there was still a very long way to go.

The waiter relaxed. “Very good.” He clearly did not know what was about to happen, the poor man, that he was about to be the butt of a joke only those above a certain net worth were in on.

Taking a deep breath through her nose, her chest swelling behind the bright red of her blazer, Breezie began. She listed off a selection of dishes, a disjointed set gathered from across all three offerings, every one needing some adjustment of some kind. Sear the bass rather than grill it. Beluga caviar, not Ossetra. No, I don’t like broccolini, substitute white asparagus. Quail eggs? Where are they sourced from? I don’t like that farm. Use duck eggs instead.

Shadow watched with growing amusement. He knew he should be aghast at Breezie’s treatment of the waiter, but he couldn’t help himself. On one hand, he was impressed at her thoroughness, and, on the other, disgusted at the excess, hypocritical as that may be. She was the unbridled entitlement of an entire banquet hall of wedding attendees, tables full of stringent wives and spinster aunts, an encyclopedia of specifications and exceptions.

The waiter, who seemed to be realizing the magnitude of his situation, nodded profusely, offering punctuating affirmations occasionally. Wonderful. Of course. Superb. Shadow watched a sheen of sweat mat the fur on his brow under the weight of Breezie’s customization of the meal. Despite claiming to not be hungry, she appeared to be indulging.

Finally, Breezie released him with a “That’s it.” and returned the menu. He took it with a final bob of his head and a “Thank you, madame.”

“And for you, sir?” The waiter turned to Shadow, his smile bright and in place, but his eyes betraying his anxiety. Please, the young man begged, go easy on me.

“I’ll have the same.” Shadow said, handing the menu back. He could almost hear the hiss of a released tension making way for relief.

“Very good, sir.” The waiter nodded. “I will get this started for you.”

After the waiter scuttled away, Breezie leaned back and lifted her arms to run along the top of the plush booth. Her dark eyes, nearly black in the dim lighting, considered him with a chagrined intensity that he found himself resenting.

<<Your mother’s a cunt.>> She opened, and Shadow choked. He slapped a hand over his mouth to hide the utterly involuntary grin that split his muzzle. With great effort, he did not laugh audibly. Breezie continued, <<She harassed my dearest aunt, whom I love actually, to tears. I have a million better places to be than here, but here I am, nonetheless. For my love of her, to end her suffering by a billion bitchy needles. Not for you, you bastard.>>

Shadow clenched his teeth against the rabid snickers trying to force his jaw open. Tears pricked the edges of his eyes. Across the table, a massive shit-eating smirk spread wide across Breezie’s face, accenting the deadly sharpness in her eyes. His vision started to blot out and Shadow realized he was suffocating. Airways had to be unblocked, but that led to the laughter manifesting. Shadow found his diaphragm aching as he fought to maintain some dignity and not disturb the dining room.

Breezie had no such qualms. Her deep, luscious voice rippled out, sentencing the conversations around them to silence.

<<I see we already have something in common.>> Shadow finally managed to speak, between sips of air to catch his breath.

“Well, there’s an understatement.” Breezie rolled her eyes. “Let’s cut the stuffy shit and have a proper go at having a decent evening.”

Shadow raised his glass. “Very well. I can drink to that.”

The conversation moved forward comfortably. Breezie was funny in a brash, bold-faced, and crude way. She clearly had some deep-seated resentments towards her family (or dynasty, rather) as a whole, but liked her parents and siblings well enough. For Shadow’s part, he discussed his nieces and nephew, their interests and accomplishments, but had little to share beyond. The Kintobor’s was a short tree.

“What do you do beside work?” Breezie asked.

Ceaselessly yearn after a woman who like as not never wants to see my face again. “Glad hand for my charitable foundation, mostly.” Shadow took a long drink from his glass. He’d be needing another soon.

“I said, besides work.” Breezie sneered. Shadow crinkled his snout in mock irritation. “Never mind, I’ll have my girl ask your girl.” She sat up and squinted at the bar. “Where is your girl, anyway?”

Shadow quirked a brow, feigning ignorance. “My girl?” He knew to whom she was referring, but to acknowledge the pejorative seemed extremely disrespectful to Nicole.

“Your work mother.” Breezie rolled her eyes, doubling down. When Shadow scowled, she continued, “Whatever, you know what I mean. The girl who makes sure you wake up on time for school and schedules playdates for you like this one.”

Shadow’s snout wrinkled in disgust. “My assistant has the night off.”

“Shame.” Breezie shrugged. “Mine’s at the bar getting shots of us for one of my tabloid rags.”

With a jolt, Shadow twisted in his seat and beheld a woman at the bar holding a smartphone up as if to take a selfie, conspicuously aimed at their table.

“Hey, turn back around!” Breezie snapped, “The pictures are supposed to be low quality and candid. You want to give my editing team more work?”

Shadow returned his attention to his dinner companion. “I didn’t consent to this.” He growled.

“The City’s one-party consent, I’m afraid. If you don’t like it, get your bat woman to change it.” She shifted suddenly, right as Shadow had raised his glass to his lips again, <<Speaking of which, are you two actually fucking?>> She raised a brow.

Shadow choked once more. He quickly placed down the beverage and retrieved his napkin to cough into.

<<I don’t give a shit either way,>> Breezie continued. <<I’m just curious how that works. Is it true what they say? Alpha bitchs have cocks?>> She seemed to be intentionally trying to rile him now.

Shadow ignored that question in favor of the first one. <<It seems counterintuitive to be simultaneously constructing a scandalous and serendipitous narrative around us having dinner while also supporting the narrative that I am in a sexual relationship with my best friend.>>

Breezie smirked, leaning her head against her hand. <<I have a lot of pages to fill and multiple outlets. Mouths to feed. I’m sure you understand. A single narrative is boring. Speculation drives viewership like crazy.>>

Shadow huffed. <<Of course, truth has nothing to do with it?>>

Breezie snorted. <<What intrinsic value does the truth provide? How many people’s lives are improved by knowing the truth of who you’re fucking?>>

Shadow wrinkled his snout and narrowed his eyes, <<I should like to minimize both the number of people who know and who are even spending time thinking about such a thing.>>

<<Boring.>> Breezie stabbed a finger at him. “But throw in a little creative license and thousands of people’s day gets a little better. The entertainment value is in speculation, gossiping conspiratorially with their friends and randos online. Picking their favorite object of your affection and then fighting to the death about in with complete strangers. Drama! Excitement!” She splayed her hands out and wiggled her fingers. “And you want to steal all that away for something as useless as the truth? That’s very selfish, Shadow. I thought you were a good person.” Breezie’s smirk climbed high on her face, revealing her canines on one side

Shadow did not answer immediately, contemplating whether to rise to the bait or lean into the bit. He tilted his glass back, finishing it. His gaze swept across the dining room and caught the eye of the unfortunate waiter who’d been assigned to watch their table like a hawk. Shadow held up the glass and flicked finger at it. Despite the fabric of his glove, it gave out a satisfying ring. The waiter nodded and dashed away to the bar.

<<You sound like my mother.>> Shadow answered finally.

Breezie’s eyes grew wide for a moment before her face melted into a bright smile briefly, before erupting into cacophonous laughter that beat the rest of the dining room into silence once more. <<Ah, the greatest of honors.>> She smirked, and Shadow found himself grinning back.

Though delayed in starting, perhaps so that runners could be sent out for missing ingredients, once the parade of dishes began, Shadow quickly became satiated and resorted to only brief bites thereafter. The waste, as each nearly untouched dish was removed, was almost as nauseating as finishing each would have made him.

Breezie rarely took more than a mouthful of each and kept a running conversation, if it could be called that, of what she liked and what she didn’t care for, with Shadow. He knew none of the information was for him, but for the waiter, who had a pad of paper now (Good on him), lingering at her elbow. A second, older waiter, stood behind and out of sight of Breezie, listening intently. An extra set of ears. The second man looked down whenever he caught Shadow’s gaze.

Eventually the fountain of expensive calories ebbed and the pair found themselves looking at several small desserts that could easily be mistaken for abstract works of art. “By the way,” Breezie said, spoon shattering a swan wrought in delicate sugar work, “I like your bat. She seems fun.”

Shadow huffed dryly. “I would not describe Rouge as mine, by any stretch of the imagination.”

<<The lord doth protest too much, me thinks.>> Breezie teased.

<<Rumor is a pipe. Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures.>> Shadow recriminated.

“You understand me exactly!” Breezie exclaimed, her usual teasing smile replaced with something lighter and brighter, accompanied by a glint in her eyes, though that could have just been the candle light. “And my god, the rumors around white, spunky, and self-righteous are delicious.”

Shadow sat back. <<I suspect a flurry of reciprocity is about to befall me.>> He did not want to talk about Rouge, let alone what he feared Breezie was about to explicitly ask for.

“Not at all.” She grinned and narrowed her eyes, <<Unless you’re into that sort of thing.>> There it is.

<<You’ve somehow made quid pro quo sound even more morally murky.>> He swirled the dregs of his final cocktail.

<<You talk like you’re not poised with a hand up her ass.>> When his ears pinned back aggressively, she added, “Metaphorically…”

“I have no idea why anyone thinks Rouge listens to me about anything.” Shadow shook his head. “The sun would sooner rise in the west.” No one, not god or the devil himself, could force Rouge in a direction she wasn’t already heading.

“I know you’re new to this whole economics thing, but it’s considered polite to receive goods and service when you exchange money, but I guess you are a modern man, aren’t you?”

Shadow leaned forward, smirking. “Jealous?”

Breezie smiled, her dark eyes sparkling in the dim lighting. “Yes, actually.” Shadow raised a brow. “Miss Baton reminds me of myself, you know, if I had something as cheap as a soul. I’d love to meet her. I bet she’s a riot, but we’d likely go together like grease and a spark.” Explosively.

“You have no idea.” Shadow chuckled at the idea. For as relaxed and self-possessed as Rouge presented herself, she’d likely seem like a coiled mess when confronted by Breezie’s blatant trolling. If he wasn’t certain the encounter would result in a trip to the hospital and a police report, Shadow would be interested in conniving to get the two together.

“Mon dieu, that woman is such good content, though. Her actual actions are more entertaining than all the scandal pieces I’ve been rejecting.” Shadow’s ear twitched. He was getting too relaxed. He needed to stay vigilant for when the request came. The solicitation of collaboration or, even cruder, just a flagrant request for capital in exchange for favorable coverage.

Rouge would chew him out for allowing himself to be cornered. As he mulled over how far he was willing to go for his friend, he commented, “I shudder to think, given what trash is out there already.”

Breezie groaned. “Flimsy, isn’t it? And that’s the shit that gets past the editors. It would be easier if she wasn’t the squeakiest clean politician I’ve ever had the misfortune to cover. No corruption, no spouse to cheat on, and her only money tie is so desperate to prove he isn’t his daddy that he’s about to lose his company.”

Shadow narrowed his eyes.  Breezie’s teasing grin grew longer. <<But her opponent…>>

“Perhaps we should talk about something else.” Shadow didn’t care for the skunk Rouge was running against, though that might be because St. John had worked at the Department of Public Health and Safety and that agency was on his shit list.

<<As you wish, but I’ll just say that I’d love to have her on for an interview. And who knows what she could learn off the record?>>

Coffee was offered and it became Shadow’s turn to be an obnoxious snob. The selection was adequate, but it took several tries for Shadow to receive the appropriate brew. The food was excellent, but they couldn’t make a proper cup of coffee? He managed to swallow a biting remark about sending someone to the nearest Kraken to learn how the adults do it. Breezie laughed louder and louder each time he rejected a cup.

During the coffee service, Breezie’s phone chimed, and she thumbed it on. “Oh, look at this.” She placed it on the table and turned it towards him. “I told you my people work fast.”

Shadow beheld the rough copy for a print tabloid article with the headline Money in Love? Embattled drug lord dating beautiful heiress! Shadow quickly scrolled through a series of pictures of him and Breezie earlier in the dinner. His jaw clenched.

“You can’t be serious.” He said as he slid the phone back.

“Of course not. Obviously, I should be first on the call sheet.” She grinned.

Shadow narrowed his eyes. “Embattled drug lord?”

Breezie sighed, “Whoever had to stay up late in the writer’s room clearly thinks they are clever. That’s cut, obviously. I’m a raging cunt on the daily, but I’m not so uncivil as to not offer a profession curtesy. Besides, it makes me look like some little finishing schoolgirl struck dumb by danger. Obvious rewrite.” She rapidly typed on her phone, probably sending editing notes.

Time to get this over with. Shadow growled low in his throat. “What do you want?”

Breezie arched a brow, barely looking away from her phone. “Oh, I’m a very simple woman, really.” She put down her device. <<I want every single eyeball in the world on my company’s content.>> She smiled like she loved getting that question. <<I’m just an attention whore, sir. The signal. The noise. It’s all the same to me so long as everyone is paying attention.>>

“At least you are honest, I suppose.”

Breezie hummed. “More than you, at least.”

“Is that so?”

“Every time you look at me, it’s clear you’re thinking of someone else.”

Shadow blushed, the heat piling in for a raucous pool party at the tips of his ears and on his cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He denied poorly, “The whole point of this dinner-“

“Yeah, okay, you’re a shit liar, you know that?” Breezie smirked at his glare. “I’m in media, Shadow. The full goddamned spectrum of falsehoods, from pure fantasy to shit that could almost be describe as ‘true’. Let me spell it out for you.” She leaned forward. <<You look at me like we’re both gay.>>

Shadow’s flush changed flavor to indignation and intensified. “Je vous demande pardon?”

“You heard me clearly.” Breezie sat back, her elegantly clad arm trailing along the back of the booth once more. “I have a proposal for you, Mr. Businessman.”

Shadow grimaced but remained silent. Had he misread the situation? Was she about to blackmail him somehow? Why did she agree to this meeting in the first place?

“The fact that you’re here with me and not with her, him, or them, singular or plural, means you can’t be. That’s pretty clear.” Breezie’s brow lifted and a beat passed wherein Shadow was supposed to deny it. When he had nothing to say, she continued, “For whatever reason, I don’t care. It’s not my business and, besides, my imagination is far more entertaining than your truth could possibly be.”

Shadow looked down at his half empty cup of coffee. “And if it is as you say?” He said quietly. “What is your proposal?”

“Look. I get it a bit more than you probably know. There’s…billions of people my family would consider too low born to even consider allowing me to look at…” She trailed off, her eyes going, perhaps for the first time, to the window and view beyond it.

“And you’ve fallen in love with one of them.” Shadow finished for her.

It was Breezie’s turn to blush and grimace. “I didn’t say that. Fuck my family. I do whatever the hell I want.” Shadow’s brow raised at her fierce glare, and he briefly wondered if this was how he looked cross. As quickly as it erupted, the anger passed. “That being said, it’s simply more convenient to avoid needless shitty scrutiny, if you know what I mean?”

“I can agree with that sentiment. A mutually beneficial agreement then.” Shadow gestured to Breezie’s phone. “And this is how you propose to go about it?”

“Largely. We’ll have to collocate on occasion. Reinforce the narrative with new content.” Breezie shrugged. “It’ll have to be public. I have some ideas if you’re interested.”

Shadow sighed. He gestured to the phone once more. “May I?”

Breezie unlocked it and brought the article back up before passing it to him. Shadow scrolled through the article. It was godawful. Violating, erroneous, borderline pornographic in parts. “Who reads this garbage?”

Breezie snorted. “Fucking everyone, you prude. You know my rags keep romance writers on staff just to juice up the copy, right? Those bitches know plenty about the body that isn’t taught in medical school, if you get my meaning.”

Shadow’s eyes hardened and gave her a pointed look. “There will be none of that.”

Breezie hummed noncommittally. “Slow burn still catches fire eventually.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms across his chest and closing his eyes. Though the proposition was, in many ways, disgusting, and irritated his sense of loyalty to Amy, the prospect of having Irena satisfied without having to follow through with anything that would jeopardize his chances with Amy was…well, it was impossible to turn down.

<<Very well.>> He sighed. <<We shall cover for one another.>>

“Shall we, now?”

Shadow rolled his eyes. “Though,” He pointed at her phone, “My office needs to review every word of anything you intend to publish.”

Breezie nodded. “Acceptable. I don’t see any harm in allowing you to squash journalistic integrity under your merciless heel.”

“Now you sound like Rouge.”

Breezie laughed at that. “You know, I thought this whole dinner was about your little drug company.” Shadow arched a brow. “Half the hostesses in the city accept my coin for pics and gossip of who’s eating with who. Most of the info gets sold to the finance fucks to wildly speculate on, but occasionally a truly bizarre pattern emerges.”

Shadow narrowed his eyes.

“Daddy Doom is thinking about the third generation, isn’t he? The board fuckery is a tug on the leash?” Shadow’s quills flared and his muzzle contorted into a bare fanged snarl. That Breezie was, thank god himself, wrong did nothing to temper the instantaneous rage that filled Shadow. Breezie held up her hands, a flash of actual fear glancing off her face. “Holy shit, fuck! I get it! Sensitive topic!”

As Shadow desperately struggled to rein in his emotions, he found he’d leaned forward. Pulling back, he ran a hand over his face and back into his quills. <<I’m sorry. I- Forgive me.>> He was breathing heavily. Fuck me!

<<Okay, okay. Off the record, you need to sort your daddy issues out, like, yesterday.>> She laughed. <<That was amazing content by the way. I’m gonna have to get the security camera footage, goddamn.>> She bared her fangs and mimicked Shadow’s growl, but her eyes were smiling.

A stab of fear arched through him. <<Please don’t.>>

<<I’m joking. I’m joking.>> She blew out a breath. <<Fucking Alphas!>> Breezie hummed. “Getting back on topic, I think this will do quite nicely. No contract, of course. I’m not stupid. One day one of us’ll get what we want and have no use for the other any longer. Until then, do we have an agreement?” She held out her hand.

Shadow thought for a moment more. This was dangerous, that was certain, but pretending to date Breezie L’Hérissonne had to be easier to endure than any further appointments his mother could muster. “We do.” He answered, taking Breezie’s hand and giving it a short shake.

Breezie smiled. “And who knows.” She stood and brushed wrinkles out of her trousers. “Maybe it’ll even be fun.” She gave him a wink and sauntered through the restaurant, waitstaff and other patrons parting before her.

Shadow watched Breezie’s wake of rarefied air dissipate for a few moments before turning back to the window. Absently he retrieved his phone and typed out a quick message to Nicole, who handled the technicalities, like paying the bill. 500% tip, commend the waiter. The corner of his mouth quirked down when her reply came immediately. You don’t have to reply when you have the evening off. He returned. Of course sir, she replied.

Shadow frowned, uninterested in arguing. He put his phone away and returned his gaze to the view.

Lights stretched far into the distance, cursing the stars to obscurity with their jealous luminescence. The City spread out before him like a glimmering blanket of steel and glass. Orderly lines and sharp angles pressing the world into the right and useful shapes. The power and persistence of society brought to bear against the chaos of the natural world.

But Shadow just wanted to see the stars.

Notes:

Next chapter we'll be with Amy and Sonic and finally meet Silver (and his roommate).

I want to once again thank everyone for their support and engagement with this story. It really means so much to me.

Chapter 17: Spun Sugar Entremet

Summary:

Sonic and Silver have a date. Amy and Blaze are there too.

Notes:

Parts of this chapter required several hours of research. You learn something new every day in this profession ladies, gentlemen, and others.

**Please note***
Catch all content warning at the beginning of the fic as been updated to include occasional slur usage

With a rush of crisp autumn air, Sonic launched over the coping of the half-pipe, azure quills splaying outward as gravity lost track of the speedster. The red boots of his inline skates glinted in the bright early afternoon light as he reached down for a grab. Sonic twirled a full rotation, massive smile spread wide across his face, and reentered the half pipe backwards. He winked at Amy as he pumped down the transition to regain speed and zipped up the other side. Amy’s camera drank up every frame.

Today, Amy was sporting her mirrorless camera. Lighter weight than her DSLR (newer, too), it also had faster autofocusing, allowing it to follow Sonic about as fast as Amy’s eye could. The shorter battery life was a bummer, but this afternoon being for fun rather than a gig meant Amy wasn’t stressing about that for once.

Cresting the opposite coping and facing away from it, Sonic twisted in the air. He landed on edge in a grind, his forward skate perpendicular and his back parallel, sliding along balanced on its soulplate. He threw up a quick round of finger guns across the pipe towards Amy’s lens before dropping down again. A few seconds later, he popped on her side again and landed onto table, bending his legs to eat up his momentum.

Straightening, he grinned, panting heavily, “You get all that?” He pushed a forearm back and over his head, smoothing down his unruly, wind tussled quills.

Lowering her camera, Amy sucked air through her teeth. “Oh, yeah about that. I’m all out of film. Sorry!” She gave him a teasing smirk.

Sonic blew a raspberry at her and Amy laughed. “Come on, come on, Ames. Let me see!” He rolled towards her.

“Okay, okay. You’re so impatient.” Amy unlooped the camera strap from her neck and navigated to the recent captures. Even as Sonic took the fragile device in both hands, she kept one of hers protectively gripping the strap. Replacing the camera would cost far more than what she had in her bank account.  

“Jeeze, Amy, I’m not going to drop it.” Sonic’s brow raised like he was rolling his eyes, but his irises were locked on the small screen.

“Famous last words.” Amy replied. “I can’t afford to let you drop it, mister.” She’d begged and borrowed enough from her parents to afford her equipment. She claimed she would pay them back, but the promissory note had several years of interest accrued so far.

Sonic’s thumb rapidly tapped through the images as fast as they could load, effectively making a video out of the thirty shots per second the camera had produced of his run. “Nice!” Sonic piled accolades on himself as he perused the album. “Sick! Damn, these are good, Amy.” Amy was used to receiving Sonic’s praise.

In her darker moments, she suspected he was leading her on, trying to artificially bolster her confidence. However, Sonic had never dimmed in his enthusiasm, so she just ended up feeling guilty of falsely accusing him of duplicity, even if just in her thoughts. Sonic could tell a fib on occasion, but he just wasn’t wired for a long-term lie. Amy on the other hand…

Reaching the end, Sonic returned the camera to Amy. “Great work as always, Ames!” His green eyes shone. “I can’t pick a favorite. I love ‘em all!” He gave her a thumbs up.

“Are you going to go again?” She asked, replacing the strap around her neck.

“Yeah, just gimmie-!” Sonic stopped midsentence, his eyes darting over Amy’s shoulder. For a moment, his face relaxed, smile dimed slightly, gaze focused away. Then all at once, his ear perked, a big dopey grin split his muzzle, and a slight blush colored his cheeks. “Silver.” He mumbled. Amy couldn’t help but smile as well, watching how smitten Sonic was.

She turned and spotted two new arrivals standing outside the fence of the skate park. A lanky hedgehog with an off-white coloration with a light purple cat beside him. So, this was the hedgehog Sonic couldn’t stop talking about the past few weeks.  

“Okay, Ames,” Amy turned back to Sonic, “Real quick. I met Silver on an app, okay? Ixnay on the whole work meet cute, okay?” He implored.

Amy’s mouth quirked incredulously. “What?” She leaned down to grab her camera bag and skate bag, shouldering both.

Without asking permission, Sonic took the skate back from her and slung it across his chest. Amy didn’t resist the show of chivalry. “Look, Silver’s roommate doesn’t know we met at work and it’ll be a whole thing, so can, like, just do this one thing for me?”

“Sonic…” Amy groaned as they decided the stairs of the halfpipe.

“Come on, Amy. I don’t want to ruin it with Silver on our first date.”

Amy sighed. He better stay far away from Silver’s roommate. Sonic had a bad case of vomit of the mouth. “Which app?” She asked.

“What?” Really?

Amy rolled her eyes. They both stopped as a trio of teenagers rushed past on trick scooters. “Which app did you meet on?” She turned to him.

Sonic stopped to think, but Amy kept walking. He caught up quickly, zipping by and leaping to grind on a round rail. He hopped halfway along, twisting to face her. “I dunno, it doesn’t matter. Rutter, I guess?” Sonic shrugged as he dropped off the end of the rail.

“Isn’t that a hook up app?” Amy crossed her arms.

“Shit!” Sonic braked to a stop. “I mean, one of the other ones.”

Amy lowered her voice as they approached Silver and his companion. “Does he know which app to lie about?”

Sonic began skating backwards beside her. His brow furrowed. “Damn it, Amy, cut me some slack!” Sonic threw up his arms.

“Cut you slack about what?” The cat beside the greyish hedgehog asked and Sonic jumped and turned. The cat raised a brow, giving Sonic an unamused look through the chain linked fence separating the concrete tricks area from the rest of the riverside park.

“Don’t worry about it.” Sonic said absently as he looked at Silver. “Hey.” The blue hedgehog managed.

Silver grinned back. “Hey.” He was bundling well against the cold by a light brown felted coat and a bright teal scarf wrapped around his neck. He sported a luscious head of quills, five anterior fronds flaring back over his head with long dorsal sets trailing down his back. Thin in a way that made him seem taller than he was, if Amy didn’t know any better (and she certainly did), she’d describe Silver as handsome. Though she wasn’t sure how much of that feeling was due to antiquated notions regarding hedgehog fur tonality.

When neither boy seemed interested in doing anything other than stare at each other silently, the cat gently coughed. She wore an especially fashionable wool pea coat a slightly darker shade than her fur with thickly feathered cuffs. Her companion started. “Sorry.” Silver apologized meekly. “This is Blaze, my roommate.” He said, motioning at her.

“Nice to meet you.” Her voice was deep and mature. Golden colored eyes considered him, taking in every inch of Sonic in minute detail. Sonic seemed oblivious to the scrutiny, but Amy wasn’t. She did not begrudge the cat her caution. “Silver hardly stops talking about you, Sonic.”

“B-blaze,” Silver looked away, a blush very apparent on his pale muzzle, “That’s not true.”

Sonic seemed to achieve even new heights of excitement. “Really?” He reached forward and gripped the braided wire separating them. Behind him, his tail wagged up and down eagerly. Amy had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from awww!ing. Instead, she jabbed him gently with her elbow. “And this is Amy!” Sonic was much more animated with his presenting flourish.

“Hello!” Amy waved.

“That is a very impressive camera you’ve got there.” Blaze commented, gesturing to the device hanging from Amy’s neck.

“Thank you!” Amy gingerly lifted it slightly, “I’m a professional photographer.”

“Wow, that’s cool.” Silver grinned, but his attention immediately pivoted back to Sonic. “You didn’t tell me you skated. Do you know any tricks?”

Sonic’s eyes fell half-lidded as his dopey grin turned into a smug smirk. “I know tons of tricks. Come on in, I’ll show you.”

Amy and Sonic followed Silver and Blaze as they circled the skate park to the entrance. Unhappy with the pace of progress, Sonic zipped ahead, peeling through the gap in the fence to backtrack to Silver. The male hedgehogs laced fingers and Sonic pulled Silver forward. “Oh gosh, slow down!” Silver protest was blunted by the laughter that shook every word.

“Eager, isn’t he?” Blaze commented dryly, finally reaching the entrance to the skate park herself.

Amy giggled. “That’s Sonic for you. He lives life on fast forward.” She retrieved the skate bag Sonic had abandoned by the entrance. “It’s charming when it’s not infuriating.” She grinned.

Blaze chuckled, mutedly. Silver watched as Sonic rolled around the deep bowl from the edge of the empty swimming pool-like structure the park featured. Blaze and Amy found an unused curb to sit on. The raised, elongated concrete block with a metal border around the top edge was great for slides and grinds, and, as it happened, doubled well as a bench.

They’d just settled when Sonic rolled over, pulling his maroon hoodie off over his head, messing his quills up further. He tossed it to Amy, who gave him a displeased stare, but bundled it up into her skate bag nonetheless. “You’ve got quite the flair, there.” Blaze commented.

Sonic grinned. “Oh, those were nothing. Amy’s kinda my official, unofficial camera guy. Uh, girl. Shit, I mean, uh, anyway, she could show you some of my sickest runs.” Sonic shot Blaze with finger guns.

Blaze smiled politely. “Maybe later.”

“That was awesome!” Silver exclaimed, coming up beside Sonic so close they brushed shoulders. Amy noted Sonic leaning into the touch. “Did you see him spin? I could never!”

Sonic flicked his thumb across his nose. “Don’t sell yourself short. I bet you could start catching air today.”

Silver frowned, turning to face Sonic fearfully and shaking his hands in a warding off motion. “Oh gosh, no way. I’ve never skated before.”

Sonic rolled closer to Silver, leaning towards him. “I could teach you.”

Amy heard Blaze making an unimpressed uh-huh…and glanced over to see the cat drilling into Sonic with a pointed stink-eye. Amy moved mountains to stifle her desire to laugh.

“Really?” Silver brightened.

“What a lovely offer, but I don’t see a rental establishment and sadly, we didn’t bring skates with us.” Blaze sounded mildly annoyed.

“That’s okay.” Amy broke in, winking at Sonic. “I brought my quads.” She dug in her skate bag and produced a pair of traditional roller skates. “I hope you don’t mind that they’re pink.” Bright pink. Eye wateringly, neon pink. The same pair she’d been using for years, having gotten them back when she didn’t mind to draw attention to herself.

Without missing a beat, Silver answered, “Not at all.” He took the offered skates, but then frowned and looked down at Amy’s boots. “I don’t think they’ll fit me though.” His ears wilted.

“Naw, you’re all good!” Sonic exclaimed. “I, uh,” He rubbed the back of his neck, “checked…”

Blaze snorted. She raised her hands in surrender. “Well, have fun, then I guess.”

“Don’t worry, we will!” Sonic pushed Silver down on the curb beside Blaze and knelt to help him get the bright pink skates on.

Silver let Sonic handle him like a doll. The blue hedgehog had the grace, in his haste to get Silver’s boots off, to pull up the cuff of Silver’s sock when his boot threatened to take along for the ride. “These look a lot different than yours, though.”

Sonic slipped on the first skate. “Well, duh, man. Mine are aggressive, but you don’t want to start with those. Learning curve or something, you know.”

“Aggressive?” Blaze asked, brow arching.

“Sounds, uh, violent.” Silver chuckled nervously. He squeaked as Sonic jammed the second skate on a little roughly. Sonic laid his ears back and mumbled a soft apology.

“It just means they’re designed for tricks.” Amy explained. “The wheels are smaller, and the soul is really reinforced for grinds. And the cuff is really hard like a ski boot so Sonic doesn’t snap his ankles like twigs.”

“Har har, like that’s ever gonna happen.” Sonic quipped as he laced the skates. A tip of pink poked out between his front teeth as he concentrated.

Sonic pulled Silver up and the lighter colored hedgehog wobbled and cried out. “Be careful!” Blaze scolded, rising to her feet to steady Silver.

“We will be, mom.” Sonic stuck his tongue out at Blaze, who bristled at the affront, the hair on her tail poofing out. “Kay, thanx, bai!” He took both of Silver’s hands in his, pulling him away.

Blaze sat back down in a huff and Amy couldn’t stifle her giggles anymore. “I promise Silver’s in good hands.” She managed to assure the protective purple cat. “Sonic is a goof, but he knows what he’s doing, believe it or not.”

“Sonic, slow down!” Silver was ridged as a board as he was dragged away, Sonic skating backwards to navigate them to a flat part of the park.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Blaze sighed. Then she chuckled, “Expertly done. Bravo.”

“Huh?” Amy feigned innocence.

“It’s rather convenient that you happened to bring an extra set of skates.” Blaze side eyed Amy, but the cat grinned knowingly, breaking the tension.

Amy laughed. “To be fair, me and Silver having the same shoe size was pure coincidence. It was fated.”

The pair watched Sonic skate lazy circles around Silver as the lighter hedgehog windmilled his arms, attempting to maintain his balance, despite remaining stationary. Every time Silver started to tip over, Sonic was there in an instant, gently pushing Silver back onto his feet.

Time to fulfill her role as roommate interference. “So,” Amy began, trying to make small talk, “What is it you do?”

Blaze crossed her legs. “I’m in-house counsel for a pharmaceutical company.”

Amy’s brows flew up, but, luckily, Blaze’s attention was still on the menfolk. Well, that explained Sonic’s request. “Silver works for a drug company, too. Is it the same one?”

“Yes.” Blaze grimaced. “I’m technically Silver’s boss’ boss. But that’s just when Silver’s on the clock.” Yes, Sonic wasn’t joking earlier. Him and Silver dating was a clear conflict of interest, one, if not disclosed quickly, was probably going to get them both fired…but it wasn’t Amy’s place to tell Sonic what to do. Now, she’d still tease him about it, though. And be there to commiserate while he whined once the whole situation blew up in his face.

A chime issued from Blaze’s pocket, and she retrieved her phone. “Speaking of work.”

“You have to work on the weekends?” Amy asked.

“I work the same hours as my boss. Which happens to be all hours.” She snorted. Blaze thumbed the security lock off her phone and angled it away from Amy. Amy looked away. Sonic was in the center now, with Silver slowly rolling a circle around him, their hands connecting them.

“Is that your boss now?” Amy asked absently. She raised her camera, zooming and capturing a few shots of Sonic and Silver. The unbridled happiness on Sonic’s face was heartwarming. Amy felt the corners of her own mouth rising. Silver wore a mask of ghostly panic.

“It sure is. We’ve got a project that keeps growing more and more legs.” She groaned. “And, simultaneously, the PR team is having a fit over some new media story. If I have to explain the difference between libel and slander again, so help me…” Blaze let the threat trail off.

“Oof, that sounds frustrating.” Amy sympathized as she watched Sonic slowly push Silver slightly up a gentle slope and then release him. Silver looked like a statue as he rolled back down. Then Amy heard something like I don’t know how to stop! and giggled as Sonic launched after him. Amy took more pictures.

“Comes with the territory, I’m afraid. You don’t survive law school without a high tolerance for enduring the anxieties of others.” Blaze put her phone away. “But enough about me. Sonic said you do action shots for him? Can I see?”

“Oh, sure!” Amy took her camera strap off over her head and navigated to the pictures she’d captured earlier. She handed the camera to Blaze, who began to look through them intently. “I’ve got more on my Promptagram account. Let me pull it up.” Amy fished in her camera bag for her phone.

Amy thumbed on her phone and saw a notification from her dating app. Barry had sent her a message. I got a plus one invite to this single launch party for an artist I did some editing work for. Want to come? I don’t really like going alone, but if you come it could be really fun! No worries if not though, just thought I’d toss it out there. Amy’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure how she wanted to reply.

She and the rusty red quokka had been messaging consistently for a while now, but hadn’t yet met in person. They had been so sweet so far and not pushy at all, allowing Amy to set the pace of their exchanges. Should their first impressions be at a party, though? It certainly wasn’t the type of event that Amy normally attended…at least not as a guest.

“These are…” Blaze’s voice snapped Amy out of her thoughts, “Really good.” Blaze commented, as if surprised.

Amy chuckled, trying to choose to be happy about the complement rather than annoyed at what it implied. “Well, Sonic’s always been an adrenaline junky, but he’s been practicing for years.”

“No, I mean- Well, yes. He’s really impressive. But what I meant was your photography. You’re really good.” Blaze held up the camera, the viewer showing Sonic mid grab in the air. “These are raws, too, right?”

“Sure are.” She brought up her Promptagram profile, which she used as a portfolio of all of her best work. “Here’s my other stuff.” Amy exchanged her phone for her camera.

Blaze’s eyes lit up as she scrolled through Amy’s portfolio. “You don’t just do sports shots.”

Amy chuckled. “No, I’ll shoot just about anything. I’ve even done some crime scene shots before.”

Blaze looked up suddenly, brow pinching. “Oh, nothing crazy. It was just a break and enter larceny case.” Blaze relaxed and returned to scrolling. Amy continued to explain, “The client thought the police would be useless, so they hired a private investigator who brought me in.”

“Did they catch the thieves?” Blaze didn’t look up, engrossed with Amy’s pictures.

“Sure did!” Vector had been pleased as punch. One of Amy’s shots of the crime scene had caught a tiny strand of fiber caught on the splintered shards of a broken chair leg. The little bit of evidence had led to a whole cascade of clues, leading eventually to the culprit: the client’s nephew.

“You do weddings?” Blaze’s tone suddenly contained a strand of excitement.

“Of course!” Amy laughed. “I love doing weddings. They’re so fun!” She lied. No one gave her more grief about her composition and shot angles than brides. “Here, let me show you.” Her finger expertly navigated her profile as Blaze held Amy’s phone. “If you happen to know anyone in the market for some freelance photography, I’ve got some openings coming up.” For once, she wasn’t bullshitting. Between shoots for Rouge and the increasingly strange job of watching Liam, Amy was actually busy for the first time in her career.

Blaze nodded slowly, but her eyes were lit, devouring the shots from a small wedding Amy had worked last year. “I just might know someone.” Blaze turned to her, her golden colored eyes almost hungry. “Do you have a card?”

“Oh, sure!” Amy leaned down, digging through her camera bag. Shit! Where were her business cards? Who even asked for business cards anymore? Whatever. Didn’t matter. Amy had had them printed years ago and barely handed out any. There!

Amy straightened and held out a card that was worn around the edges. “Sorry, it’s a little beat up. Normally people just reach out via my socials.”

Blaze took the card and looked at the front and back. “I don’t have a Promptagram account. Thank you.” Blaze held up the card and then slipped it into the pocket of her coat. “I mean it, really.”

“Of course! Feel free to rea-“ Amy froze as she caught a flash of green from the corner of her eye and her head snapped around. “Oh no.” She breathed. Blaze hummed in confusion, her brow furrowing. “That’s not good.”

“Well as I live and breathe,” A shrill voice called over the concrete, the green hawk dismounting his skateboard and toeing it into his hands. “Is that Sonic Hedgehog I see? How are you doing, faggot?”

Notes:

I rot your teeth with fluff and then knock them out with sudden pejoratives.

Is it weird that I feel the iffiest about including slurs than anything else thus far? I chickened out earlier actually. Irena was supposed to use the slur at least once in early drafts. But her use would be purely hatefully, Jet's is...well, you'll see.

Notes:

Thank you for your time and attention. Hit me up on tumblr if you like -> @aloftinthebreeze