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Devin had two sets of twins and a little boy by the time his latest heat approached. And, to be frank, he was done with the alpha carousel he told Harry. “If I never hear about how fertile my womb is and how rich I smell ever again, it’ll be too soon.” The glass of whiskey hit the top of the bar with a friendly thud and he leaned happily against the wood.
“Just tell them you’re going on suppressants,” Harry suggested.
“I wish that worked,” Devin muttered. “But they can always smell me, and they always go completely insane.”
Harry made a sound of sympathy. Devin had been tending bar at the Blue Moon since he was twenty-one, and the kind of clientele the place attracted meant he had plenty of well-connected baby daddies. Having a kid with Devin was a badge of honor among the regulars, and all of the men in his life were nice, stand-up alphas. But Devin hadn’t fallen in love with any of them, and no matter how many pups he bred up and gave them to raise, he was still an unclaimed omega at the ripe old age of thirty.
Devin knew he was a good breeder, which was why alphas loved him – loved putting babies on him. They, of course, didn’t think of the toll and wear on his body; his back ached and his feet hurt and he said he’d never felt the same after the first one. But he’d never been without male companionship, not since his first heat, but that, frankly, was all the alphas who pursued him wanted to talk about.
“At least they could buy me dinner first,” he laughed, handing Henry his tab. “Are you going out bowling tonight?”
“Nah. End of the month, I’m waiting for my next paycheck,” said Harry. He was about to go into rut, anyway, and god knew he couldn’t go anywhere in a rut.
“So uh...I’m going into heat next week, so I probably won’t be around next time you’re in,” said Devin awkwardly. “I mean you can always call me and we can like – talk over Call of Duty or something.”
Harry smiled. “Gonna miss me, huh?”
“A bit,” said Devin. His long blond hair hung forward and framed his sharp features, the low bright lights of the bar making him look like a misplaced elfin prince. OK, maybe Harry had a crush – fostered over shots of whiskey and rounds of games on long, lonely nights when they were both too miserable to leave the house. But it wasn’t as if he could act on it, especially not if...
“Um. Well. You don’t have to miss me,” said Harry. “I’m getting ready to go into a rut next week, maybe we could get together if you’d like?”
“I didn’t know you cared,” Devin smirked.
“You couldn’t tell from the way I keep raiding your team?” Harry asked.
“Call me blind,” said Devin. “I didn’t know attraction involved so much pointing and shooting.”
They laughed, and Harry agreed to show up at Devin’s place over the weekend.
***
When Harry showed up, he was already grinding his teeth. The wait just before his rut always started was the worst. When Devin opened the door to his place, he was wearing a pair of loose jeans and a grey sweatshirt, his sweaty hair tied back into a pony tail. Harry was hit with a wave of pheromones; he smelled delicious, like a slice of chocolate cake.
“Oh, thank God,” Devin said. “I’m burning up!” and with that, Harry was dragged into the apartment and kissed.
The next few hours ran by in a fast-motion freeway of touches and tastes and slick pouring hot and warm down pale thighs. Devin came rapidly when he was warmed up; Harry, meanwhile, didn’t last more than a few minutes before knotting him. But Devin went wild on a knot. The sheets were sopping with sweat and come by the time he pushed Harry’s hand away from his dick with a whine.
Slowly, his eyes fluttered open. “Hey,” said Devin. He sounded knot-drunk, his blue eyes barely open while Harry dripped sweat and heaved, stuffing him with every ounce of pleasure he had to give. “Is it…”
“You can’t tell that it is?” Harry asked. Devin laughed then – a sweet, musical laugh, his hand tugging at a handful of Harry’s dark Mohawk.
“Yes, but it’s always nice to hear,” said Devin lazily. He stared at the ceiling over Harry’s shoulder, lay there peacefully, waiting for the knot to deflate. “Uh...so if there’s...a result tonight’s activities – would you like to be a part of the kid’s life?”
“I…” Oh, he couldn’t tell him the truth, not yet. “That’d be great. Where are your kids, anyway?” Harry asked.
Devin smiled. “My mom has Emmett and Emily. Rico has Mary and Elaine. Tommy is on a scouting trip. And they’ll all be gone for a week. I only get quality alone time when I’m in the middle of a heat, so I’m going to enjoy it while I can.”
Harry grinned. Yeah, They were going to enjoy the hell out of the next week.
***
When the clock struck proverbial midnight the next week, they surfaced from their haze with that awful, fuzzy, hangovery feeling that accompanies every single rut and every single heat in known existence.
They bathed together and had breakfast and watched the sun come up. “I wonder what it’ll be like in nine months,” Devin mused to himself, nibbling on a french toast stick.
Harry took a deep breath. Time to be truthful. “You won’t have to worry about that.”
“Oh,” said Devin. “Are you on one of those implant things? I’m not complaining or anything, I was just…”
“I’m infertile,” he blurted out. “I’ve never been able to sire a pup, ever.”
“You mean you...can’t have them at all?” Devin asked.
“No. And yes, I’m aware I’m a pointless alpha with pointless equipment. You don’t need to remind me of that fa…”
Devin threw his arms around Harry’s neck, lurching over the syrup and eggs to kiss him quiet. “Do you know how badly I want to be with a man who can’t knock me up every year?” he panted.
Harry smiled. “So I guess I’m good for more than a quick roll in the hay?”
“I’ve got an hour before I have to pick the kids up. Want me to show you how much you’re good for?”
Harry nodded. He definitely wouldn’t fight him on this.