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Por goes into heat in the waiting room, less than an hour before Dexx was supposed to go on stage.
He had felt his preheat symptoms creeping up on him all day, but he just choked down a suppressant and told himself to ignore it.
It's the last show for this comeback's promotions, the very last one-he can't just bail at the last minute and disappoint his members and fans.
That'd be selfish, considering how everyone worked hard for this show.
Unfortunately for Por, suppressants aren't foolproof. The kind that idols typically take just simply slows down the frequency of an Omega's heat, because impeding it entirely isn't healthy for their already overworked bodies. Especially since Por is also an actor working in the entertainment industry.
And when his heat has already been triggered, there is not much he can do to prevent it from coming in full swing-so here he is, sweating and hunched over at a music show in a room full of stylists, staff, and other idol groups down the hall that are about to be exposed to the scent of an Omega in heat.
Ha. What a timing.
When he lurches forward, arms wrapped around his aching abdomen, he can distantly hear one of the stylists ask if he is okay.
His face screws up into a pained grimace, and he tries to reply, but the heat is starting to claw at his stomach and he knows he's too late. His scent blocker is still valiantly holding back his potent pheromones, but it won't be long before he starts leaking slick, and there will be no hiding it at that point.
The air in the cramped room begins to feel thin, the bright vanity lights overhead blurring into white streaks as a wave of dizzying warmth washes over him.
He can feel the thin fabric of his stage outfit sticking to his lower back, the first signs of cold sweat breaking out across his forehead. Every breath is a struggle, his lungs dragging in the sterile smell of hairspray and makeup, but deep down, his biology is already starting to override his senses.
The heavy, sweet scent of vanilla and brownies is beginning to simmer beneath the surface of his skin, pressing against the chemical barrier of the blocker like a flood behind a crumbling dam.
He squeezes his eyes shut, his knuckles turning white as he claws at his stomach, trying to stifle the low, involuntary whimper building in his throat.
fuck. Hold it.
Too overwhelmed, Por didn't realize the couch dips beside him, the sudden shift in weight a grounding force amidst the chaos.
A gentle, worried palm comes to rest on his back, rubbing in slow, soothing circles that contrast sharply with the frantic pounding of his heart. The hand slides upward, firm yet careful, uncurling Por from his defensive ball and coaxing him to sit up.
His head spins, his vision dissolving into a foggy, distorted blur, but as the world tilts, he manages to lock onto Teetee's troubled expression.
Teetee.
The younger Alpha's face is a mask of burgeoning concern, his brows pinched as he takes in Por's trembling state. At the same moment, James, their leader, drops to a kneel in front of him. James presses his cool, steady palms to Por's flushed cheeks, the temperature difference acting like a jolt to Por's system. The realization finally clicks in James's eyes, his expression hardening with protective clarity.
Turning away from Por to face the room, James's voice cuts through the noise of the stylists and staff.
"Guys, Por's in heat."
The announcement hangs heavy in the air, but the biological reality is already ahead of them. The sweat slicking Por's skin has begun to loosen the adhesive of his scent blocker. As if on cue, the stiff collar of his stage shirt snags against the edge of the patch, peeling it back just enough to break the seal.
In an instant, the floodgates collapse.
The room is suddenly, violently flooded with the scent of pure sugar-the deep, intoxicating aroma of warm vanilla and molten brownies hitting the air with the force of a physical weight.
Across the room, Auau and Tutor-the group's other two Alphas—instinctively pinch their noses, their faces contorting as they try to block out the overwhelming, thick scent of vanilla and brownies. James, ever the grounded Beta leader, fixes them with a sharp, warning look, his voice low and commanding as he tells them to control their urges.
Even with the warning, the air is too heavy for them to handle.
Yim, the band's oldest Omega, doesn't wait for a disaster to happen. He steps in with seniority, his eyes fixed on Tutor, his soulmate.
"Love, You should get out."
"But babe—" Tutor whines, his Alpha instincts clearly warring with his partner's command, his body hesitant to leave a distressed pack member.
"No," Yim says softly yet firmly, brooking no argument as he points toward the exit.
"Bring Auau out with you."
Auau, despite the grimace of discomfort on his face, looks over at James with genuine worry. Por isn't just a bandmate, he's his best friend.
"Are you sure? I won't mind staying to help calm him down," he offers, his voice strained as he fights the biological pull of the room.
James doesn't even need to use words. He simply cocks his head toward the couch, where the Por has completely collapsed into the space of their youngest member. Por is leaning his full, feverish body into Teetee, seeking the Alpha's warmth with a desperation that silences any further argument.
As the staff begin a frantic, hushed debate about schedule cancellations and emergency exits, the world narrows down to a blur for Por.
The voices around him are nothing more than static. his brain is too muddled by the rising heat to decipher a single word. He is consumed by the agonizing cramps in his abdomen and the terrifying speed at which his body temperature is climbing. Beneath the fabric of his stage slacks, he feels the tell-tale, humiliating dampness of slick beginning to soak through his underwear—a physical clock ticking down to his total loss of control.
Teetee's hand remains a steady anchor, his palm still resting worriedly on Por's shoulder.
"That's okay, deep breaths." Teetee mutters softly.
The younger Alpha's voice is gentle, but his expression is troubled, his pupils beginning to darken as the scent of the Omega hits him at point-blank range.
Hoping to help, Teetee reaches up toward the nape of Por's neck, his fingers trembling slightly as he tries to smooth the peeling scent patch back into place. But the skin there is already hypersensitive and swollen. The moment Teetee's fingers brush the inflamed scent gland, Por lets out a high, broken whine that vibrates through both of them. At the same moment, the slick finally soaks through to the seat of Por's pants, the heat of it startlingly obvious.
Teetee jerks his hand back as if he's been physically burned, his breath hitching as the reality of Por's condition-and his own reaction to it-finally hits him with full force.
"Tee.." Por whimpered, the sound thin and desperate as leaned heavier. The younger Alpha's eyes widened, a flicker of panic crossing his features, but James was already moving, sliding a steady hand behind Por's back to support him.
"C'mon, we're gonna get you out," James said, his voice firm but gentle.
Despite the haze clouding his mind, Por's brow furrowed in a weak display of professional anxiety.
"..but the show...?"
"That's none of your concern now, honey. Can you get up?" Yim's caring voice intervened as he stepped in on the other side.
They hooked their arms under Por's to hoist him up, but the moment his weight shifted, a fresh wave of heat-induced cramps tore through his abdomen. Por let out a pained groan, his legs buckling as he curled instinctively into Yim's chest, his body too frail and feverish to hold itself upright. He was a dead weight between them, shivering through the silk of his stage clothes.
As the small group began to shuffle toward the door, Teetee remained rooted to the spot. He stood in the center of the room, his hands half-raised and then dropped, looking utterly lost.
The internal conflict was written all over his face.
I shouldn't follow, right? He's an Omega in heat—I'm an Alpha.
What if he's not comfortable with me there?
What if I make it worse?
But just as they reached the threshold, Por's head rolled back. His neck was flushed a deep, hot pink, and his eyes searched the room until they collided with Teetee's apprehensive gaze.
It was a dazed, pleading look-the kind of silent call that bypassed logic and went straight to the bone.
Yim caught the exchange. He saw the way Por's scent spiked with a sharp, longing note of burnt chocolate the moment his eyes found the younger boy. Yim understood instantly; this wasn't just a heat-it was a heat that was already fixated.
"Tee? Hurry up,"
Yim encouraged, tilting his head toward the door. James opened his mouth, his protective leader instincts likely preparing a lecture on the risks of bringing an Alpha into the transport van, but one sharp, knowing nod from Yim was enough to silence him.
Teetee fidgeted, his boots scuffing the floor.
"Me?" he stammered, his heart racing. "I don't think I'm—I mean, shouldn't I..."He trailed off.
He was paralyzed by the fear of overstepping, of being the "clumsy" Alpha who didn't know his place.
He didn't have to stay conflicted for long. Por's fingers twitched against Yim's sleeve, and he croaked out a single name, the sound laced with a raw, agonizing need:
"Teetee."
The sound of his name, spoken with such total vulnerability, was the final snap of the thread. Teetee didn't think anymore.
He moved with them.
When they finally burst through the exit, the transition is jarring. The bite of the fresh air and the rush of the cool night wind hitting Por's feverish, sweat-slicked skin provide a much needed reprieve, momentary as it is. They are guided across the dark expanse of the parking lot toward the company vans, but just as they reach the sliding doors, P'Ker steps in to intercept them.
With a few hushed, authoritative words, she directs the rest of the staff and members to the second vehicle, insisting that only a small core group remain with Por. Specifically, she gestures for Teetee to follow them into the lead van.
Safe inside the cabin, Por collapses into the plush leather of the back row. He is drifting, his consciousness fraying at the edges, but he can vaguely hear the murmur of a conversation happening just outside the door. James is standing on the pavement, speaking to another manager, the door left ajar just enough for the evening air-and the voices-to filter in.
"—it's still risky," the manager's voice drifts in, sharp with professional apprehension.
"You're sure he'll behave? He's an Alpha, James."
"One hundred percent," James replies, his voice steady and devoid of doubt. "The other two? I wouldn't bet on it. But Teetee? He isn't going to hurt him. I trust him with Por more than anyone else right now."
The light spilling in from the parking lot is suddenly eclipsed as a tall figure climbs into the vehicle. The door slides shut with a heavy, metallic thud, sealing the world away-and then it hits him. The sharp, grounding scent of cinnamon and cool pinewood cuts through the cloying sweetness of the cabin, hitting the back of Por's throat like a tonic.
The reaction is visceral. A pitchy, involuntary noise escapes Por's throat-a soft, desperate chirp of recognition. Before Teetee can even find his footing, Por is reaching out, his fingers clumsy and trembling as they snag the thick fabric of TeeTee's hoodie. With a strength born of pure, heat-driven instinct, he hauls the younger Alpha down into the seat beside him.
"Por, wait-that might not be a good idea," Yim protests from the middle row, his voice laced with the protective caution of an older Omega. He moves to intervene, worried about the intensity of the contact.
"It's okay," Teetee insists quietly.
He offers a wobbly, nervous smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, though his hands are already moving to steady Por's swaying frame. "I've got him. Maybe...maybe my scent can help ground him. It's better than him fighting the pain alone."
Yim nodded reluctantly, his eyes lingering on the pair before he turned back around.
Not long after, the van pulled away from the curb, the gentle vibration of the engine and the swaying of the vehicle only serving to heighten the dizzying haze in the back seat.
The movement seemed to break the last of Por's restraint.
He leaned his entire weight into Teetee and let out a broken, rumbling sound-a true Omega's distressed purr-that made the air in the van vibrate.
Driven by a primal, desperate instinct, he turned his face toward TeeTee's neck.
He began to search, his nose brushing against the younger man's pulse point, inhaling sharply. He was starving for the grounding smell of the forest and spice to cut through the suffocating, burnt-sugar fog of his own making.
James looked over his shoulder, his eyes sharp and questioning as he monitored the younger Alpha's reaction.
"Tee," he warned, his voice low and serious.
"If it's too much, if you can't hold it, let us know right away, okay?"
Teetee just nodded, his expression focused and surprisingly calm.
His fingers began to stroke through Por's hair, the rhythm steady and soothing.
He was being remarkably respectful, keeping his touch light and intentional while he let his calming scent of cinnamon and pinewood bloom to its fullest, blanketing the Omega in a protective shield.
Por had kept his observations to himself for nearly two years now, but he found this specific trait of Teetee's incredibly attractive. Every time an Omega went into heat at the DMD building, Teetee was the one who kept his hands to himself, providing help without ever taking advantage. Por vividly remembered a time when Kim, another artist, had been hit with a sudden heat; Teetee had found him and stayed by his side, using his scent to ground him until Latte arrived.
Por remembered the bitter, ugly jealousy that had flared in his chest that day. He had been cranky for a week, avoiding Teetee entirely, even when the younger boy had approached him with a crinkle-cut bag of his favorite snacks and that signature, dimpled smile.
Always sweet.
Always caring.
Even though Por was difficult, egoistic, and notoriously hard to please—a hot headed Omega who wore his prickliness like armor—Teetee had always been his total opposite.
Driven by a sudden, feverish need, Por daringly licked over the top of the scent blocker patch on Teetee's neck. He mostly tasted the bitter chemicals and plastic of the adhesive, but underneath that, he could catch the rich, spicy trail of Teetee's cinnamon pheromones. His tongue traced the edges of the patch, desperate for the source of the scent, craving the raw Alpha power hidden beneath the medical tape.
"Por, hey—don't do that." Teetee grumbled, his voice cracking as his own body reacted to the wet, intimate contact against his scent gland.
The saliva began to loosen the adhesive, and when Teetee finally managed to get a grip on his shoulders to pull him away, Por's traitorous brain took over. He leaned forward and gripped the edge of the patch with his teeth, tugging at it.
A whine built in Por's throat as Teetee tried to peel him off, the Alpha's defensive, sharper scent making a wave of distress well up in his chest.
"Please, just wanna scent you..." Por pleaded, his voice a ragged whisper.
The heat was making him bold.
he wanted to tear the clothes off Teetee's back, or have the Alpha strip him bare right there on the leather seats, but he was still lucid enough to know that was impossible.
For now, he just wanted to bury his face in that neck and bathe in the Alpha's scent to tide him over until they reached the safety of his apartment.
Yim watches the exchange from the middle row, letting out a heavy, weary sigh.
"Alright, Tee, swap seats with me. I'll take him the rest of the way."
No.
Nononono.
The reaction is instantaneous and violent. Por perks up, his eyes snapping open with a feral glint.
He grips Teetee's hoodie with white-knuckled intensity, letting out a sharp, warning hiss. His teeth bare in a defensive snarl, and his clumsy, frantic fingers pull at TeeTee's hoodie until it stretched, almost baring the Alpha's shoulder.
Yim's eyes widen in shock, and even James looks taken aback by the sudden display of territorial aggression from their usually composed and most introverted member.
Teetee sits frozen, his breath hitching as he stares down at the Omega.
But then he immediately shushed the omega, the sound soft and vibrating, trying to anchor the Omega before his instincts could escalate any further.
"They won't take me away, I'm still here," he murmured, his breath warm against Por's hair as he felt the tremors racking the older man's frame.
Hesitantly, the young Alpha finally gave in, pulling Por flush against his chest and allowing him to nuzzle freely against his head and neck. The contact was instant magic.
James cleared his throat while Yim scratched his nape before they both awkwardly looked away.
Por let out a deep, rumbling purr that started in his chest and echoed through Teetee's ribs, the jagged pain in his abdomen finally beginning to mildly subside as he was enveloped in his Alpha's space.
he smells so fucking good,
Por began to lick over the area near Teetee's scent gland lazily, his tongue heavy and slow. He could feel the way Teetee's breath hitched in his throat, his heart skipping a beat under Por's cheek.
The scent was richer now, spicier than usual as it saturated the small cabin of the van.
Por could taste everything with a terrifying clarity.
Teetee's stress, his mounting concern, his sharp embarrassment—all of those anxious emotions were blatant and obvious, hitting Por like the top notes of a complex perfume.
But further down, buried beneath the layers of polite restraint, Por could smell it.
Arousal.
Desire.
It was tamped down and hidden well behind a wall of Pinewood, but it was undeniably there.
Por didn't know if it was simply a biological reaction to his overwhelming pheromones.
or if it was a genuine, deep-seated desire.
Either way, the realization caused another hot wave of slick to soak his pants, forcing him to bite his lip hard enough to draw blood as he reminded himself they would be home soon.
He just kept his face tucked into the crook of Teetee's neck, his pride completely gone as he drooled against the Alpha's skin, praying for the driver to push the van just a little bit faster.
>>>>>>
They finally reached the sanctuary of Por's apartment, the air in the hallway feeling thin and cool compared to the sweltering, sugar-thick atmosphere of the van.
The moment they crossed the threshold into Por's bedroom, Teetee moved with practiced care, his muscles tense as he slowly peeled the clinging Omega off his body.
He lowered him onto the mattress, making sure Por was settled and comfortable amidst the pillows.
Por's throat tightened, a protest ready to break free at the loss of direct contact, but as the familiar, comforting scent of his own sheets rose to meet him, his body finally went limp. The safety of his own nest began to soothe the jagged edges of his nerves.
He rolled onto his side, his dazed eyes tracking the movement in the room. Yim was already there, his arms full of at least five bottles of mineral water he'd raided from Por's fridge.
"Here, put them on his stand," Yim directed softly. Teetee complied immediately, his movements slightly jerky from lingering adrenaline as he carefully lined the bottles up on the nightstand in a neat row.
James emerged from the living room a moment later, carrying three boxes of tissues.
three.
three boxes.
He set them down beside the water with a clinical, no-nonsense thud.
The sight of them made TeeTee's face erupt into a deep, burning crimson. He wanted to look anywhere else, his brain vivid with the sudden, intrusive realization of exactly why Por would need those tissues later.
"Por, honey, do you want anything else?" Yim's voice resurfaced, breaking the heavy silence of the room.
But Por didn't even blink.
He didn't look at Yim.
He didn't look at the water bottles or the tissues.
Por's hand twitched on the duvet, his fingers curling into the fabric as his eyes remained locked on Teetee, his eyes still swimming with that hazy, unspoken plea.
"Want Teetee." He whimpered, small and weak.
James stood halfway to the door, his hand gripping the frame.
He looked at Teetee, then at Por, his protective leader instincts clashing visibly with the reality of what Por was asking for.
Yim, however, just let out a slow, knowing breath. He saw the way Teetee's entire body had gone rigid at the sound of his name, his scent in the room deepening into something dark, rich, and undeniably territorial.
"Por, you know the rules," James started, his voice cautious. "An unbonded Alpha staying during a heat—it's a lot to ask of both of you."
Por didn't argue.
He didn't have the strength to.
Instead, he just reached out a trembling hand across the silk duvet, his fingers searching the empty air in Teetee's direction. A soft, broken whimper left his lips-a sound of pure, unadulterated longing.
Teetee felt the sound vibrate in his very marrow.
Every instinct he possessed was screaming at him that his Omega was calling, and leaving now would feel like tearing his own heart out.
His omega.
Teetee shook his head at the thought.
He looked at James, his expression shifting from flustered embarrassment to a sudden, startling maturity.
"I'll stay," Teetee said, his voice dropping into that low, vibrating register that made Por's toes curl under the sheets. "I won't—I'll just scent him. I'll help him through the waves. I won't leave him like this."
>>>>>>>
James pulled the bedroom door nearly shut, leaving only a sliver of light as he motioned Teetee into the quiet, sterile hallway of the apartment complex.
Inside, he could hear the low, soothing murmur of Yim's voice as the older Omega stepped into his role as a temporary anchor, keeping Por from spiraling into loneliness the second Teetee left his sight.
James turned to Teetee, his expression more serious than the younger Alpha had ever seen it.
"Tee, listen to me," The beta commanded softly.
When Teetee focused his gaze, James continued,
"I am trusting you with more than just Por's health. I'm trusting you with his career, his pride, and his safety. You know how a heat goes—it's not going to be pretty, and it's not going to be easy to keep your head. The smell in there is going to triple in intensity within the hour."
Teetee nodded, his throat tight. "I know,"
"Control yourself." James said, poking a finger into TeeTee's chest.
"I will, I will." Teetee nodded.
"I need you to be brave, Tee," James continued, his gaze softening just a fraction. "And I need you to believe in yourself. You've spent two years worrying that you're 'too much' or that you'll mess up. But Por chose you. not the other Alphas. You. Trust your instincts."
James sighed, his shoulders finally dropping an inch.
"And call us. I want an update the second you both wake up tomorrow morning."
Teetee stood taller, the note in his scent becoming steady and solid, a silent vow of protection.
"I'll take care of him. I promise. I won't do anything he doesn't want."
James studied him for a long moment before finally nodding.
He reached out, squeezing Teetee's shoulder.
"I know you won't. That's why you're the only one allowed in that room."
James gave him a final relief nod before gesturing toward the door. As they swapped places, Yim slipped out of the bedroom, offering Teetee a small, encouraging smile and a pat on the arm that said more than words ever could.
The front door clicked shut, and suddenly, the apartment was silent.
Teetee took one deep, centering breath-and pushed the bedroom door open.
The heat hit him like a physical wave. Por was tangled in the sheets, his face buried in the pillow TeeTee had been leaning against earlier, his shoulders shaking with the first true peak of the heat wave.
He looked like a total mess.
He was flat on his stomach, his hips working against the mattress with a frantic, aggressive rhythm that made the bedframe creak. The dark, damp patch at the front of his light-colored slacks was undeniable now, a stark testament to how much slick his body was producing as it prepared for a knot that wasn't there.
"Ngh... hghhh-"
The whimper was broken, a jagged sound of pure physical frustration.
Teetee stood by the door, his heart hammering so hard it felt like it might bruise his ribs.
He felt like an intruder, yet the scent in his veins was thickening, turning into a heavy, molten heat that wanted to respond to every one of Por's cries. Seeing Por rut against the sheets-searching for a friction the fabric couldn't provide made a low, primal growl vibrate deep in Teetee's chest.
Slowly, Teetee began to move. He didn't want to startle him, but he couldn't let Por hurt himself by humping the rough bedding.
As the scent of the young Alpha finally began to flood the room in earnest, Por's head snapped to the side.
His hair was damp and matted to his forehead, his eyes wet with messy tears and unfocused as they landed on Teetee's awkward, towering silhouette.
"You're still here," Por breathed out, his voice a wrecked shadow of its usual self.
He stopped his frantic movements for a second, his chest heaving as he stared at the Alpha. The sight of Teetee-standing there with his hoodie and his scent flaring-caused a fresh, visible tremor to run through Por's legs.
"I'm here," Teetee confirmed,
"I'm not going anywhere."
Por's lip wobbled, and he reached out a shaking hand, his fingers clawing at the sheets.
"Please... it hurts. Alpha, it hurts so much."
The word Alpha-spoken with such raw, unfiltered submission-hit Teetee like a physical strike. He took a very deep breath, his lungs burning with the scent of vanilla that had turned sharp and acidic with Por's distress.
Control.
You got this, Teetee.
Suddenly, Por's back arched violently as a fresh, sharp pain shot through his lower belly. A sob broke from his throat, more a scream than a whimper, and he began to rut frantically against the mattress. The friction was abrasive and wrong, but his body was screaming for a release he couldn't find.
"Please, please, please..." Por choked out, his head thrashing against the pillow.
Seeing Por in such visceral pain made Teetee's heart squeeze until it ached. He moved towards him immediately, crawling onto the bed and hauling the trembling Omega into his personal space.
He didn't just sit near him, he pulled Por's feverish body directly into his lap, cocooning him against his broad chest.
The moment Por felt the solid, warm weight of an Alpha beneath him, his instincts flared.
"Alpha—" he choked out.
His hands scrambling for purchase on Teetee's thighs as he tried to resume the frantic rutting, desperate to find that blunt, grounding pressure against Teetee's lap.
Teetee's large hands came down firm and heavy on Por's waist, locking him in place.
The strength in his grip was undeniable, a physical manifestation of his Alpha authority that forced Por's hips to a jarring halt.
Por let out a loud, frustrated whine-a sound of pure protest that ended in a shaky sob.
"No, Por," Teetee grounded him, his voice softly commanded, rumble right against the Omega's ear.
He didn't let go, his fingers digging slightly into the soft skin of Por's waist to anchor him.
"Not like this. You're going to hurt yourself. We'll take this slow. I've got you."
The scent of Pinewood and Cinnamon surged, thick and heavy, acting like a chemical blanket.
Teetee began to release his pheromones in earnest, a soothing, rhythmic pulse intended to override Por's panic.
He held him tight, feeling the heat of Por's slick soaking into his own clothes, but he didn't flinch.
He stayed as a solid, unmoving mountain for Por to cling to, his heart beating a slow, steady rhythm for the Omega to follow.
Por's breathing was shallow and jagged, but as Teetee held him with that newfound, steady strength, the Omega began to synchronize his gasps with the Alpha's slow, deep exhales.
He was like a drowning man who had finally found a piece of driftwood, his fingers white-knuckled as they bunched the fabric of Teetee's hoodie, anchoring himself to the only thing that felt real.
The silence of the room was filled only by the sound of their shared breath and the heavy, humid scent of a mating high in its early stages.
But Por wasn't finished.
He tilted his head, pressing his nose directly against the hot skin of Teetee's neck.
He began to lazily lick the edge of the scent blocker again, his tongue tracing the line where the adhesive met skin, the taste of salt and Alpha pheromones making his head swim.
He let out a tiny, needy sound—half purr, half sob—and nipped at the corner of the patch.
He tugged at it with his teeth, a persistent, rhythmic pull that sent sparks of heat straight down Teetee's spine. Por didn't just want the scent; he wanted the barrier gone. He wanted the raw, unfiltered mark of the Alpha to flood his senses until there was nothing left of the pain.
Teetee's breath caught, his grip on Por's waist tightening instinctively. The sensation of Por's teeth grazing his scent gland was dangerous territory. It was the ultimate vulnerability, a plea for a claim that they weren't supposed to fulfill.
"Por..." Teetee groaned, his head falling back as he fought the urge to just rip the patch off himself and give the Omega exactly what he was begging for. "You're—you're making it really hard for me to hold myself."
Por didn't care. "Then don't."
He gave another sharp tug at the adhesive with his teeth, his body shuddering as a fresh wave of slick pooled between his thighs, his entire existence narrowing down to the taste of the man holding him.
The moment the patch finally gave way, the seal was broken.
The sharp, resinous tang of Pinewood and the rich, spicy heat of Cinnamon flooded the bedroom like a tidal wave, crashing into Por.
The air in the room instantly transformed, thickening into a complex, intoxicating aroma that felt like a forest bakery in the middle of a winter storm. It was the smell of deep, sturdy earth meeting the warmth of a kitchen, and it was exactly what Por's body had been screaming for.
Por let out a sound that was no longer a whine, it was a deep, guttural purr that vibrated through his entire chest and into Teetee's lap.
With the blocker gone, Por pressed his face directly into the raw, exposed skin of Teetee's scent gland.
He nuzzled frantically, his nose dragging across the heat of the Alpha's throat, inhaling so deeply it felt like he was trying to pull TeeTee's very soul into his lungs.
The grounding effect was instantaneous. The jagged, white hot pain in his abdomen began to dull, replaced by a heavy, languid warmth that made his limbs go heavy and his eyes roll back in sheer relief.
Teetee's head fell back against the headboard, his eyes fluttering shut as he let out a low, shaky breath. The sensation of an Omega—of his Por—scenting him so thoroughly, so shamelessly, was overwhelming.
"Better?" Teetee rasped, his voice dropping an octave as his arms tightened around Por, pulling him so close there wasn't a sliver of air left between them.
"Mmh, smells so good," Por slurred against the heat of Teetee's skin, his voice thick and syrupy with the onset of a true mating haze.
He sounded smaller than Teetee had ever heard him, it made the young alpha want to keep the omega with him forever.
Teetee's heart did a slow, heavy roll in his chest. Hearing those words and seeing the way Por was practically vibrating with relief made him feel a foot taller.
He shifted his weight, adjusting Por so the Omega was draped more comfortably across his lap, his large hands moving in slow, rhythmic strokes down Por's back to keep him grounded.
"It's all for you," Teetee whispered, his voice vibrating deep in his chest, a sound Por could feel as much as hear. "Just breathe me in. I've got you."
The room was a literal haze now. It was a perfect, private world they had built within the four walls of the bedroom.
Por let out a long, shuddering sigh, his body finally going almost entirely limp against Teetee. The aggressive rutting had stopped, replaced by a soft, rhythmic pulsing of his hips that was more about seeking comfort than release.
Teetee looked down at the top of Por's head, feeling a fierce, protective surge of affection.
Teetee didn't rush.
He moved with a devastating tenderness, trailing a path of soft, lingering kisses down from Por's sweat-damp forehead.
He pressed his lips to Por's flushed cheeks, then the bridge of his nose, each touch acting like a brand against the Omega's hypersensitive skin.
Finally, he hovered just millimeters away from Por's mouth, their breaths mingling in a hot, shaky cloud of cinnamon and vanilla.
"Can I kiss you?" Teetee whispered, the request vibrating against Por's lips.
"Fuck—yes, please," Por choked out, his voice a raw, desperate rasp. Any remaining icy reserve shattered completely.
He didn't wait for Teetee to bridge the gap. he reached up, his fingers tangling roughly into the hair at the nape of TeeTee's neck, and hauled the Alpha down into him.
The kiss wasn't shy, or tentative.
It was the hungry, possessive meeting of two people who had been starving and longing for each other in secret.
Por tasted like the sugar of his own pheromones and the salt of his tears, while Teetee was all heat and spice.
"nmmghh"
Por let out a muffled, needy moan into Teetee's mouth, his tongue seeking out the Alpha's with a feverish intensity.
The kiss sent a fresh jolt of heat straight to his core, making his toes curl and his back arch as a fresh, hot wave of slick gushed out of him, making his silk stage slacks feel heavy, sticky, and unbearably restrictive against his skin.
He didn't care about the mess. he only cared about the sensation of Teetee's tongue swiping against the roof of his mouth.
Each contact sent a jolt of electricity straight to his lower spine, causing his toes to cramp and even more slick to his underwear.
When they finally broke the kiss to breathe, they remained locked in each other's space, foreheads pressed together as they panted. The air between them was thick enough to taste.
But the reprieve was short-lived. The next wave of the heat hit Por with the force of a physical blow.
The coiling sensation in his lower abdomen tightened into a sharp, white-hot knot of agony that made his vision go dark at the edges. He let out a broken whimper, his body reflexively curling forward into Teetee's chest as the younger man's arms tightened around him like iron bands.
"Tee... it's hot. Too hot," Por gasped, his voice trembling as he began to restlessly roll his hips against Teetee's lap again, desperate to shed the layers that felt like they were trapping the fever inside his skin. "W-wanna take it off. Please,"
Teetee's eyes were dark, the protective Alpha instinct now fully at the helm, but he kept his movements steady and grounded. He didn't want to overwhelm Por further.
"Okay, baby. I've got you," Teetee murmured, the endearment slipping out naturally as he shifted them both. He reached down, his large hands finding the hem of Por's sweat-soaked shirt.
Por can't help but to purr at the pet name.
"Can you lift your arms for me? Let's get these clothes off so you can breathe."
Por nodded frantically, impatient.
"Help me," he pleaded, his gaze fixed on Teetee with a raw, heartbreaking vulnerability.
"Everything—I want everything off. I can't— I can't feel you through the clothes."
"I know, I know," Teetee soothed, his voice a low, vibrating hum that seemed to act as a tether for Por's fraying sanity.
He carefully began to peel the damp shirt away, his fingers brushing against Por's burning skin and sending fresh shivers through the Omega's frame.
"We'll get you comfortable. Just stay with me"
Without the armor of his stage clothes, Por was a masterpiece of soft curves and flushed, feverish skin. Teetee's eyes traced the elegant line of his clavicle, the dip of his navel, and the slight, trembling curve of his slim waist. He looked ethereal, like something carved from ivory.
When the final barrier of the underwear was discarded, Teetee's breath hitched, his lungs stuttering. The sheer volume of slick was staggering; it glistened against Por's thighs, sweet and heavy, filling the room with the scent of molten sugar and raw need. It was a biological siren call, a scent so potent it threatened to snap the last threads of Teetee's self-control.
His pupils dilated until his eyes were almost entirely black.
His Alpha brain screaming at him to mate the omega, mark him, knot him. claim him.
everything.
Por let out a long, shaky sigh of relief, the cool air of the bedroom finally hitting his overheated skin. He didn't move away; instead, he settled back down, straddling Teetee’s lap with renewed purpose. The direct skin-to-skin contact made them both shiver.
"Fuck," Teetee rasped, his voice cracking with a mixture of awe and suppressed hunger.
"You're so—you're so beautiful. I can’t even..."
A weak, breathy giggle escaped Por’s lips—a sound of pure, dazed affection that tugged at Teetee’s heart.
Even in the middle of a painful heat, the Omega preened under the Alpha's praise. But the pain was still there, a sharp, underlying throb that made his hips twitch rhythmically against Teetee’s thighs.
"Alpha, hurry," Por whined, his fingers digging into the hem of Teetee’s hoodie, tugging at the thick cotton with frantic impatience.
"Take yours off too. I need... I need to feel all of you. No more clothes. Please."
Teetee’s hands, broad and warm, came up to cup Por’s face, forcing the Omega to look at him through the haze.
His expression was a storm of intense desire and terrifyingly deep responsibility.
"Wait, before we really do this... we need to talk," Teetee rasped, his voice thick but firm.
"Hm?" Por made a confused, needy sound, his brow furrowing.
He was so far gone into the heat that "talking" felt like an abstract concept from a different lifetime.
"I mean it," Teetee insisted, his thumbs brushing over Por’s flushed cheekbones to keep him focused.
"I'm an Alpha, and you're in a lot of pain already. If I ever hurt you—if I’m too heavy, or if I’m too much—you need to tell me right away, okay? Don't just take it because you're in heat. Promise me."
Por blinked, the sincerity in Teetee’s eyes cutting through some of the brain fog.
He felt a surge of that same warmth that had made him fall for the younger boy years ago—the realization that even when Teetee was vibrating with his own rut-like tension, his first priority was still Por’s safety.
"I promise, Tee," Por whispered, his voice cracking. He reached up, covering Teetee’s hands with his own, his fingers small against the Alpha's.
"But you won't. I trust you. I've always trusted you."
Teetee’s hands were trembling where they rested on Por’s hips. The weight of the moment, the scent of the slick, and the raw vulnerability of his senior were all crashing down on him.
"I'm serious," Teetee choked out, his eyes glistening with a sudden, sharp fear.
"I don't trust myself, Por. I've never— I've never been with someone like this. Especially not with you."
"You won't," Por insisted, letting out a small, frustrated groan as he grinded his hips down into Teetee’s lap, trying to force the Alpha back into the present moment.
"I don't want to risk you," Teetee’s voice broke, the Pinewood scent turning slightly acrid with his mounting anxiety.
He looked around the room as if searching for an escape from his own thoughts.
"What if after you wake up tomorrow, you hate me even more? I know it's just the heat talking right now. You barely tolerate me most days... you've avoided me for two years. If I do this and you regret it, I’ll never forgive myself."
The honesty of it—the sheer, heartbreaking insecurity Teetee had been carrying—made the haze in Por’s mind clear for a split second. He realized then that his own act had done more damage than he thought.
He had been so busy protecting his heart that he’d made Teetee feel like a burden.
Por reached up, cupping both of Teetee’s cheeks in his palms. His skin was burning, but his touch was steady as he forced Teetee to look him in the eye, his gaze soft and unusually tender.
"I won't hate you," Por whispered, his thumbs stroking over Teetee’s cheekbones.
"I could never hate you, Tee. I avoided you because I didn't know how to handle my feelings. It's too—complicated, but I promise It was never because I didn't want you."
He leaned in closer, their noses brushing.
"And plus... we both wanted this, right? Not just the Omega and the Alpha. Us. Por and Teetee."
The way Por said his name—without any hesitancy made Teetee let out a ragged sob of relief, leaning into Por’s touch like a man who had finally found home. The anxiety began to drain away, replaced by a deep, resonant warmth that settled in his soul.
"Yeah," Teetee breathed, his hands slide to Por's waist. "I've wanted this for so long.
"Good Alpha." Por leaned forward to leave a wet kiss on his lips.
The praise hit Teetee like a physical jolt.
he had imagined hearing Por’s voice saying things like that in his private thoughts, but hearing it now—low, breathless, and utterly sincere—sent a violent twitch through his dick.
"Now can you please take off your clothes?" Por’s patience had finally evaporated.
He was pawing at the waistband of Teetee’s remaining clothes, his fingers frantic as they snagged on the fabric. His eyes were wide and pleading, the pupils so dilated they looked like black ink.
"Tee, please."
Teetee didn't hesitate this time. He stood up just enough to shuck the rest of his clothes, moving with a raw, unselfconscious efficiency that left him completely bare before the Omega.
The moment the last barrier was gone, Por let out a soft, appreciative sound—almost a whimper—as his eyes raked over Teetee’s broad shoulders and the lean, powerful lines of his body.
Without waiting for an invitation, Por crawled impossibly closer, his hands finding purchase on Teetee’s chest. The feeling of their skin finally meeting—unfiltered, hot, and slick—was like a circuit finally closing.
"Finally," Por breathed, his face buried against Teetee’s collarbone as he inhaled the concentrated scent of arousal blooming from the Alpha's skin.
Teetee’s hands came around to grip Por’s waist, his large palms spanning nearly the entire width of the Omega’s torso. He felt the heat of the fever, the dampness of the slick, and the frantic thud of Por’s heart.
"You're so hot," Teetee rumbled, his voice vibrating against the top of Por's head.
"Pants too," Por urged, his voice straining with the effort of holding back his own body’s demands.
"Patience, baby," Teetee murmured, his voice surprisingly steady now that he had a task. He leaned in to peck Por’s flushed cheek, his lips lingering for a second. "Can you be good and wait for me?"
"Mhm," Por breathed, his eyes fluttering shut as he tried to focus on the Alpha’s command.
"So cute," Teetee whispered, unable to resist the urge to nip fondly at Por’s shoulder. The Omega was usually so sharp-tongued, but in this state, he was all soft edges and compliance.
The transition was a blur of heat and shifting sheets. The next thing Por knew, the cool air of the room was gone, replaced by the crushing, grounding weight of Teetee’s body on top of him. The Alpha was everywhere—hands, lips, and that intoxicating scent.
"Yes, please—please," Por begged, his head rolling back into the pillows.
Teetee started his claim. He worked with a focused intensity, his mouth moving over the sensitive skin of Por’s neck. He was careful, avoiding the actual scent gland to respect the boundary of a permanent mark, but he didn't hold back elsewhere. He left a trail of blooming, red-purple marks across Por’s clavicles and shoulders, claiming the skin as his own.
"Tee, that—oh!" Por tensed, a sharp jolt of pleasure shooting through him as Teetee’s hand found his chest. The Alpha’s fingers were calloused and warm, swirling over his hardened buds and rolling them with a pressure that made Por’s vision spark.
"More... more more more."
Seeing the way Por reacted—the way his back arched and his breath hitched—fueled Teetee’s confidence. He latched his mouth onto the other peak, sucking and biting rhythmically. Por’s hands flew to Teetee’s messy hair, his fingers tangling in the strands and tugging with a mix of frustration and need.
"Tee—ah! Don't tease," Por choked out.
The sensation was becoming too much, the friction above only making the empty, aching heat below more unbearable. He needed the Alpha to move lower, to address the source of the slick that was now cooling against his thighs.
Teetee could feel Por’s desperation peaking in the way his legs reflexively tangled around Teetee’s waist, pulling him in with a strength that belied his exhausted state. The Omega was grinding up, searching for a solid friction that the air and sheets couldn't provide, his hips hitching in a frantic, uncoordinated rhythm.
Teetee let out a low, grounding growl, his hands sliding down from Por’s ribs to catch the back of his knees. He moved lower, shifting his weight until he was positioned between those pale, trembling thighs. With a firm but gentle pressure, he pried Por’s legs wider, exposing the heart of the Omega’s heat to the cool air and his own burning gaze.
The sight was enough to make Teetee’s head spin.
Por was flushed a deep, petal-pink, his entrance swollen and fluttering open with every shallow breath he took. It was slick, wet, and utterly inviting, the scent of vanilla and concentrated pheromones hitting Teetee like a physical force.
But Teetee wasn't going to rush this. He wanted to mark every inch of the man who had been out of his reach for two years.
Instead of going straight for the taste he craved, Teetee leaned down and buried his face in the soft, sensitive skin of Por’s inner thigh. He started with a trail of hot, wet kisses that made Por’s legs shake, before suddenly sinking his teeth into the plush meat of the Omega's thigh.
"Tee—!" Por gasped, his fingers digging into the mattress as the sharp sting of the bite sent a fresh jolt of arousal straight to his core.
Teetee didn't let go immediately; he sucked at the skin, marking the pale surface with a dark, possessive bruise before moving to the other side to do the same. He wanted everyone to know, and he wanted Por to feel, exactly who was holding him.
"I've got you, baby," Teetee rumbled against his skin, his breath hitching as he finally hovered over the weeping entrance. "You're so ready for me, aren't you?"
"Yes please, please, it hurts, wan' it so bad," Por pleaded, his head thrashing against the pillow as the slick continued to coat his thighs. The raw honesty of the pain—the physical ache of a body primed for a knot—was stripping away every last bit of his composure.
"Do you think we need lube?" Teetee asked, looking up. Even with his pupils blown wide and his own body trembling with the need to claim, his voice was soft, tethered by that persistent, protective streak.
"No need, already slick. Please just give it to me," Por gasped, his hips bucking upward in an involuntary search for contact.
"Are you sure? I don't want—"
"Alpha, just fucking do it, please"
Por snapped, the command breaking through his whimpers.
Teetee didn't wait for a second invitation.
He leaned down, his hands firmly gripping Por’s outer thighs to keep him open and steady.
He started with a slow, hot exhale of breath against the swollen, weeping folds, watching the way Por’s entire body shuddered at the mere proximity.
Then, he finally let his tongue swipe upward.
The taste was overwhelming—sweet like the richest vanilla cream, but sharp with the salt and musk of a male Omega in peak heat. Teetee let out a muffled groan against Por’s skin, his tongue working with a rhythmic, broad stroke that gathered the excess slick and pressed it back into the sensitive center.
Por’s reaction was violent. He let out a high, keening cry, his back arching so high his shoulder blades nearly left the bed.
"Oh god, Tee—"
Teetee didn't just lick, he pressed deep, burying his face into the soft, weeping heat of Por’s center. He pushed his nose against the sensitive folds, inhaling the raw scent of Por’s arousal as his tongue mimicked the deep, rhythmic thrusts the Omega’s body was crying for.
"That feels so good—fuck, Alpha," Por moaned, his voice a broken wreck. He was losing his grip on reality, his fingers blindly searching for Teetee’s hair again.
"Where the fuck did you learn how to do—to do this?"
The question came out like a half-hearted insult, but the underlying shock was undeniable.
Por had spent two years treating Teetee like a naive kid, but the Alpha between his legs was currently dismantling him with a terrifying skill.
Teetee didn't answer with words. He didn't need to. He focused all his attention on the mess Por had made, tonguing through the slick until his mouth finally met the swollen, hypersensitive clit. He laved his tongue over it with a slow, agonizingly wet pressure.
“Oh my god.”
Por was already spasming, his thighs trembling under Teetee’s large, calloused hands. The sheer psychological weight of it being Teetee—the boy who usually looked at him with puppy-dog eyes—now pinning him down had Por's heart racing at a dangerous speed.
Teetee adjusted his grip, hooking Por’s knees over his shoulders.
The change in angle allowed him to bury his face even deeper, his chin getting wet with the overflow of Por's slick.
He was unhurried, his tongue circling and sucking on that tiny, pulsing nub until Por let out a loud, high-pitched squeal that echoed off the bedroom walls.
He dipped his tongue inside the tight, fluttering entrance, tasting the internal heat before trailing back up to the clit. The repetition was exquisite torture.
Por yelped, his legs instinctively trying to squeeze shut, trapping Teetee’s head between his thighs.
Immediately, Teetee’s hands moved. He grabbed Por’s inner thighs with a firm, dominant grip and forced them back down against the mattress, pinning him wide open. He wasn't asking anymore; he was taking.
“Sorry,” Teetee mumbled against the wet skin, his voice muffled and deep.
“Need you to be still.”
The meek apology contrasted sharply with the forceful way he held Por down, and that duality sent a fresh surge of slick gushing out of Por.
The fire in his stomach was no longer just a dull ache, it was a roaring inferno.
His head spun as he watched the top of Teetee’s head move between his legs, the Alpha’s single-minded focus making Por feel like the center of the entire universe.
"Seriously—" Por forced his voice out. It came out breathless and airy.
"How are you so good at this?"
Teetee had to practically fight Por’s hands to lift his face, his neck muscles straining against the Omega’s desperate grip.
When he finally pulled back, the sight that greeted Por was the definition of ruin. This wasn't the cute Nong who did cutesy poses for the cameras. This was a predator who had found his prize. Teetee’s bangs were damp and matted, sticking to his forehead in messy clumps. his lips were a bruised, bee-stung red, and his chin—even the tip of his nose—was glistening with the sticky, iridescent evidence of Por’s arousal.
He looked feral. His eyes were dark, blown out until only a thin rim of iris remained, fixed on Por with a heady, possessive hunger that made the air in the room feel heavy enough to drown in.
Licking his lips—tasting Por’s vanilla-sweet slick right in front of him—Teetee didn’t even bother answering the earlier question. His voice was a wrecked, gravelly rasp.
“Can I use my fingers?”
Por could only let out an airy, dazed laugh, his strength failing him as his head fell back into the pillows. “Yes, please.”
Teetee didn't waste a second. He latched his mouth back onto that throbbing clit with a renewed, hungry suction, his hand sliding down from Por’s thigh.
He teased the entrance first, circling the pad of his finger through the overflow of slick to warn Por, before sinking the first digit deep into the tight, velvet heat.
The sensation was a spark in a powder keg.
Even though one finger was barely a fraction of what Por’s body was demanding, the novelty of Teetee being the one inside him made him breathless.
He watched through half-lidded eyes as Teetee began to fuck his finger in and out with an agonizingly slow deliberate pace, his tongue working in perfect tandem.
“C’mon, Alpha. need more,” Por whined, his hips bucking in a blind search for fullness.
Teetee’s movements faltered for a heartbeat—a flash of that lingering hesitation—before he shook it off and slid a second finger inside.
The stretch was divine.
Por nearly drooled as Teetee gained confidence, his thrusts becoming faster and shallower, his tongue flicking over the nub with a rhythmic cruelty that had Por seeing stars.
A flash of irrational, heat-fueled jealousy spiked in Por’s chest.
How is he this good?
Who taught him this?
The thought of Teetee ever looking at an ex with these dark, predatory eyes made his inner Omega snarl. He wanted to be the only one. He wanted more—more fingers, Teetee's mouth on his, Teetee’s weight crushing him, Teetee’s knot sealing them together forever.
“Oh, fuck—”
The words were cut short as the first violent wave of a climax crashed over him.
Por’s fists tightened in Teetee’s hair, his knuckles white as he hauled the Alpha’s face even deeper into his cunt. His legs clamped around Teetee’s head like a vice, his entire body convulsing in a jagged, electric rhythm.
He was shoving Teetee into the mess, but the Alpha didn't pull away; he leaned into it, his fingers working frantically to catch every spasm, his tongue lapping up the gush of pheromone-heavy slick.
As the orgasm began to subside into a numbing, buzzing aftershock, Por’s vision cleared just enough to look down the length of their bodies.
He froze.
Further down the bed, Teetee’s lower half was moving. He was lazily, almost unconsciously, grinding his hips against the mattress. It was a primal, rhythmic rutting—the sound of skin hitting fabric—that Teetee seemed completely unaware of, lost in his own Alpha haze.
Watching the "sweet" Teetee give in to that dog-like urge to hump and claim the space beneath him was the most obscene, erotic thing Por had ever seen.
It sent a final, powerful shiver down Por’s spine, his cunt pulsing one last time and sending a fresh, thick stream of slick over Teetee’s hand.
Por’s body felt like a spent wire, humming with the aftershocks of a climax that had left him boneless. He watched, dazed, as Teetee pulled away with an obscene trail of slick connecting them for a fleeting second before it snapped.
Then came the move that shattered Por’s remaining sanity:
Teetee, with eyes still dark and glazed, took his own fingers into his mouth. He sucked them clean, from knuckles to fingertips, making a wet, rhythmic sound that was more erotic than anything Por had ever seen on a screen.
The moment Teetee realized Por was watching, the bold Alpha crumbled.
“Sorry. I didn’t want to make the bed dirty…”
The sheer absurdity of the comment made Por let out a breathless, disbelieving giggle.
The bed was already a ruins of silk and sweat, and Teetee was worried about a few drops?
"You're so hot,"
Por countered, his voice dripping with newfound appreciation.
Teetee’s ears turned a violent shade of crimson.
"Don't say that," he whined, tucking his face into Por's thigh like a shy puppy.
It was a dizzying 180-degree turn from the Alpha who had just been pinning Por’s legs to the mattress.
"You should've fucked me instead of grinding the bed earlier," Por taunted, his fingers trailing down to cradle Teetee’s chin.
The younger man’s eyes went comically wide, and he scrambled upward, trying to hide his face, but Por wasn't letting him escape. He fisted Teetee’s hair, hauling him up until they were nose-to-nose.
The kiss they shared tasted of salt, vanilla, and the intoxicating reality of Teetee’s tongue. But Teetee was being too careful—too sweet.
And Por? Por was starting to burn again. The itch inside him was returning, a deep, internal throbbing that a gentle kiss couldn't reach.
He reached down, his fingers hooking into the waistband of Teetee’s jeans, which looked painfully tight over a massive, straining bulge.
"Take it off now, will you?"
"Okay," Teetee rasped, his voice dropping back into that dark, obedient register. "Anything for you."
The wait was agonizing. Each second it took for Teetee to shuck the denim felt like an hour. "Let me see," Por whispered, his voice catching in his throat.
Teetee paused, his gaze searching Por’s face—not for desire, but for a warning sign. He was looking for fear.
Finding only hunger and a desperate, flushed wanting, Teetee finally let out a low, guttural groan and pushed down his boxers.
Oh.
The visual was enough to make Por’s heart stop.
Teetee’s length sprang free, thick and heavy, already weeping at the tip from the sheer intensity of his restraint.
It was engorged, pulsing with his heartbeat, and so substantial it curved upward toward his stomach.
The two fingers that had just wrecked Por seemed like toys compared to the reality of the Alpha’s anatomy.
"My god," Por whispered, a genuine tremor of both fear and overwhelming lust vibrating through his frame.
He looked from the Alpha's length up to Teetee's face—which was now set in a mask of pure, focused intent. "Tee... you’re... you’re so big."
"You can tell me to stop now, if you want."
Teetee rasped, his voice dropping into that terrifyingly deep register. He stepped back into the space between Por’s legs, his thighs brushing against Por’s damp skin.
"I didn't want to scare you. You're so small, Por. I don't want to break you."
"No, I still want you."
The grip on Por's thigh tightened, "Are you sure? Last chance to tell me to stop."
Por swallowed hard, his throat dry. The initial shock was quickly being overtaken by a primal, heat-driven greed. His body felt empty, the phantom sensation of Teetee's fingers now feeling like a cruel joke compared to the reality of him.
"You won't break me," Por countered, his voice gaining a sudden, feverish strength.
The young Alpha let out a soft, hollow chuckle that didn't reach his eyes.
"Right." Teetee whispered, his voice dangerously low, "if it were a normal day, you wouldn't even try to come to me. You’d probably scoff and give me a side eye if I even tried to hold your hand."
"What do you mean by that?"
Por choked out, his voice small. He reached up, his fingers trembling as he tried to find Teetee’s hand, but the Alpha didn't move.
"I don't know," Teetee finally looked down, his eyes dark with a mix of desire and a long-festering hurt,
"that I’m terrified that when this fever breaks, you’re going to look at me with that same coldness again. I’m terrified that right now, you don't actually want me—you just want an Alpha to stop the pain. And what if I hurt you and you'll hate me even more?"
"Hate you?" Por blinked.
"I'm your Omega in heat, Tee. I'm literally made to take all of you. Don't you dare hold back now."
Teetee let out a low, sigh, his chest souring at what Por had said.
Sensing the displeasure, Por's squirmed in discomfort, a whimper escaped past his swollen lips.
"Don't say that."
"hm?"
"My Omega. You're not my Omega, Por. You are your own person."
Teetee’s words, intended to be a respectful declaration of Por’s autonomy, had backfired with catastrophic precision.
To a rational Por, "You are your own person" would have been a romantic validation.
But to an Omega in the throes of a peak heat, it was a verbal rejection of the soul.
In this state, Por’s biology didn't want independence—it wanted to be claimed.
To be anchored.
To belong to the Alpha who held his heart.
When Teetee said “You’re not my Omega,” it sounded to Por like a door slamming shut in a storm.
Por wilted. It was as if the internal fire that had been keeping him upright was suddenly doused with ice water. He shrunk into the mattress, his spine curving as he tried to disappear into the blankets. Tears brimming in his eyes.
His scent—usually a vibrant, sugary vanilla—turned sour and sharp with the acrid tang of distress.
Teetee felt like the world was collapsing when he finally picked up what's going on.
"Por—hey. No, that's not what I meant." He frantically tried to pet Por's sweaty hair to ease his anxiety.
"No, no," Por whimpered as he tried to twist out of Teetee's grip.
"Alpha doesn't want me," Por sobbed, the mantra repeating in his head like a death knell. "Alpha doesn't want me."
A sharp, jagged cramp ripped through Por’s abdomen, making him cry out—a broken, high-pitched sound that tore through Teetee's heart.
"Don't—don't touch—me."
Por kicked weakly, his heels dragging against the mattress as he tried to put distance between his aching heart and the man who had just accidentally broken it.
Teetee was horrified.
The sight of Por—usually so poised and sharp—crumbling into a pile of sobbing, desperate whimpers because of his words was more than he could bear. He was frantic, his large hands hovering over Por, reaching out only to be pushed away by weak, trembling palms.
"Fuck, baby, I'm sorry, That's not what I—That's not—"
Teetee pleaded, his own scent turning acrid with a deep, gut-wrenching guilt.
He tried to pin Por’s wrists gently to the bed, not to dominate him, but to stop him from hurting himself in his thrashing.
"I want you so much it hurts. I was trying to be good to you, I was trying to show you I respect you—"
But the logic was lost.
Por only felt the lack of a claim. He felt the absence of the word "Mine."
The dejection tasted like ash in their mouths.
Teetee’s face contorted, his jaw ticking in absolute distress as he watched Por struggled against his hold.
"Por, look at me, Look at me, please."
Teetee begged, his own eyes brimming with tears.
The dejection in the air was so thick it felt like a physical weight on his chest.
Every time Por flinched away from his touch, it felt like a knife twisting in Teetee's heart. He could feel the Omega's soul retreating, curling into a ball of shame and agony.
The Omega was dropping—the sudden, dangerous emotional crash that can happen during a heat if the bond feels threatened.
"Por, Please let me help you,” Teetee released more of his scent in hope to calm the omega down, voice pleading.
The struggle was brief but desperate. Teetee wrestled with Por’s thrashing limbs, pinning him against his chest with a strength that was finally, undeniably Alpha.
And then, the world simply... stopped.
Por’s head lolled forward. The frantic energy that had been keeping his body taut with anxiety vanished instantly.
It was as if a master switch had been flipped; he went completely ragdolled in Teetee’s lap, his muscles turning to water and his strings cut. His vision blurred, the room spinning in slow, syrupy loops like he was drowning in warm honey.
It took his muddled brain a long, sluggish moment to realize why his limbs felt like lead and why the air had suddenly gone quiet.
The realization came with a sharp, piercing sting at the nape of his neck.
A guttural moan spilled from Por’s lips as he felt it:
Teetee’s teeth, sharp and demanding, had sunk deep into his sensitive skin under his nape.
The Alpha was scruffing him—a primal, ancient method of enforced calm that few modern Alphas ever dared to use, especially one as polite as Teetee.
Por gave one final, weak twitch, a last-ditch effort for control, but Teetee’s jaw only tightened, the pressure increasing until a wave of pure submission flooded Por’s nervous system.
He went still. Dead still.
A heavy, hot rush of slick drenched his thighs, soaking into the sheets with a wet squelch as his body finally, fully accepted the Alpha’s dominance.
The scent in the room transformed instantly. The vanilla was no longer sharp, it was soft and yielding.
When Teetee finally felt the tension drain completely from Por’s frame, he slowly withdrew his teeth.
He didn't pull away, instead immediately softening to lick the tender, bruised skin he had just claimed. He kept his arms wrapped around Por, a fortress of muscle and heat.
"I... I'm sorry," Teetee whispered, his voice cracking with a mixture of shame and lingering adrenaline.
"I didn't know what else to do. You wouldn't listen. You were hurting yourself."
Por was still blinking hazedly, his eyes unfocused as he floated in the golden afterglow of the scruffing.
For Teetee, the sunshine boy who spent every day apologizing for taking up space, the junior who treated Por like a fragile porcelain doll to finally take control and use his strength to ground Por was so unlike him.
Por liked it. No, He loved it.
“S’okay... t’was good,” Por murmured, his voice a sleepy slurs. He pressed his sluggish, leaden limbs deeper into Teetee’s embrace, his breathing finally evening out, though the occasional hitch in his chest betrayed the emotional storm he had just weathered.
“Por.” Teetee breathed.
He buried his face in the crown of Por’s head, inhaling the scent of vanilla and brownies that was now pure and untainted by fear.
“I’m sorry,” Por whispered into the crook of Teetee’s neck.
“No, you—baby, there’s nothing you need to be sorry for,” Teetee’s grip tightened, his knuckles white against Por’s pale skin.
“I’m the one that fucked up. I’ll never say anything like that again. I'm sorry.”
A violent shudder suddenly racked Por’s frame, a wave of heat so intense it made his toes curl. Seeking the only anchor he knew, he began to nuzzle frantically against Teetee’s throat.
His movements were sloppy and uncoordinated—a side effect of the scruffing—but his intent was clear.
He trailed wet, desperate kisses from Teetee’s collarbone up to the side of his neck, finally mouthing at the Alpha's scent gland with a hunger that made TeeTee’s entire body go rigid.
Teetee’s scent flared—no longer sour, but sharp with a devastating, high-voltage frustration. He was shaking, his muscles jumping under Por’s touch as he fought to keep his own Alpha instincts from snapping.
Por could feel the sheer power Teetee was holding back. The Alpha was a coiled spring, vibrating with the need to claim, yet he was still waiting—still holding the line for Por’s sake.
“What is it?”
Por murmured, nipping at Teetee’s jawline, his tongue tasting the salt and heat of the Alpha’s skin.
“What's holding you back from taking care of me?”
The dam finally cracked.
Teetee let out a breath that sounded like a wounded animal.
“God, Por, I want to. I’ve wanted to fuck you the whole time—ever since I smelled you in the the waiting room,” Teetee blurted out, the crude honesty of it cutting through the room like a blade.
Hearing Teetee use such raw language to express his desire was more intoxicating than any pheromone. It made Por’s pulse thrum in his ears.
“I just–I don’t want it to be just because I’m an Alpha and it’s what I’m supposed to do. Everyone will think I’m just irresponsible Alpha that can’t control himself around an Omega in heat.”
Clumsily, his limbs still feeling like heavy lead from the scruffing, Por dragged himself up Teetee’s body.
He straddled the Alpha’s lap, his bare thighs sticking to Teetee’s heat. He cupped Teetee’s face, his palms hot and damp, and forced those dark, tormented eyes to lock onto his. He could see it now—the way Teetee’s gaze kept dropping to Por’s lips, the way his own were parted and wet with desire.
The walls weren't just falling, they were being demolished.
“Would that be so bad?” Por whispered, his voice a low, syrupy lure. “Helping me because your Alpha wants you to?”
“We’re not animals, I should have some self-control—” Teetee started, his voice cracking as he tried to cling to the last shred of his humanity.
“Alpha,” Por interrupted, the title sounding like a prayer and a command all at once. “Stop thinking and just feel. Come take care of your Omega.”
At that, something in Teetee’s expression snapped.
He reached up, his large hands catching Por’s waist with a grip that was no longer hesitant. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of Por’s hips, anchoring him.
"You're going to be the death of me,"
Teetee rumbled, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating through Por’s chest. He didn't wait for another word. He surged forward, his mouth crashing into Por’s in a kiss that wasn't sweet or careful—it was a claim.
A happy, resonant purr—a sound Por didn't even know he was capable of making—rumbles deep in his chest. It’s a primal vibration of safety and total surrender.
He grins against Teetee’s lips, tasting the salt of their shared sweat, before Teetee’s cold, steady fingers begin a slow descent.
They trace the line of his belly button, leaving a trail of electricity in their wake, heading straight for the heat.
When Teetee sinks two fingers inside him without warning, Por’s breath hitches into a sharp gasp. He collapses forward, his forehead hitting TeeTee’s shoulder as his hands scramble for purchase on the Alpha’s broad back.
"T-Tee..."
The friction is incredible. Teetee isn't being gentle anymore, he’s fucking Por with his fingers, the rhythmic squelch of the excessive slick echoing in the quiet room. It’s a wet, lewd sound that makes Por’s face burn with a mix of shame and intoxicating need.
He rocks his hips, chasing the sensation, and right on cue, a third finger slides in. The stretch is perfect—a fullness that makes Por’s toes curl and his back arch.
He bites down on Teetee’s shoulder, his teeth snagging on the fabric of the shirt, trying to muffle the undignified whines tearing from his throat.
Teetee is relentless, his palm grinding firmly against Por’s clit with every thrust, sending jagged sparks of pleasure straight to the Omega's core.
Por’s hands are trembling so violently he can barely hold on. He’s right there—teetering on the edge of a second, even more violent climax.
But the physical toll of the heat and the intensity of the stimulation finally win. Por’s legs give out. He collapses fully into Teetee’s lap, his body too heavy and overwhelmed to maintain the straddle.
The shift in position, however, made it ten times better.
Now seated directly on top of him, Por’s dripping, sensitive center is pressed flush against Teetee’s bare, pulsing length. The friction of skin on skin—wet, hot, and sliding—makes them both let out a synchronized groan that vibrates through their joined chests. Teetee is so hard he feels like iron, leaking enough pre-cum to mix with Por’s slick until they are a mess of shared fluids.
“Fuck me... Want you to fuck me,”
Por demands, his voice dropping into a feral, desperate rasp. He begins to rut his hips against Teetee’s, his movements uncoordinated and frantic.
“Need your knot. Tee, please, give me your knot.”
The mention of the knot—the ultimate, permanent claim—makes Teetee’s scent explode into a dark, spicy cloud of Cinnamon.
“Oh my god,” Teetee mutters under his breath, his voice thick with a hunger he can no longer hide.
His large hands span Por’s tiny waist, his fingers digging in just enough to anchor the Omega’s wild movements. “Okay. I know, baby. You’ll get it. I promise. Just lay down.”
Por obeys instantly, his body flopping back onto the pillows in a sprawl of pale limbs and flushed skin.
He watches with wide, hungry eyes as Teetee moves over him, the Alpha’s shadow looming large and protective.
Every second that passes without Teetee inside him feels like a physical insult.
“That’s enough,” he complains, the words breaking into a needy whine. “You’ve made me wait long enough already. Don't—don't make me beg more.”
Teetee finally withdraws his fingers, but before he moves to enter, he repeats the gesture that had nearly short-circuited Por’s brain earlier.
He brings his hand to his lips, sucking the iridescent slick from his knuckles with a slow, deliberate suction. His eyes are half-lidded, glazed with a dark, primal focus that makes Por realize the "clean sheets" excuse was a total lie.
Por reaches out, his hands searching for the Alpha’s heat, wanting to touch him, to feel the velvet weight of him, but Teetee is already moving.
He wraps his long, spindly fingers around his own length, his knuckles white as he guides himself to the weeping, fluttering entrance of Por’s center.
The contact is electric. The hot, wet head of Teetee’s cock presses against him, stalling at the threshold. It’s an agonizing tease of pressure and heat. Por’s breath catches, his lungs hitching as he waits for the slide, for the rupture, for the end of this two-year fast.
“Please, please, please,” he whines, the words a delirious, broken prayer.
“It’s okay,” Teetee whispers, his voice a low, grounding rumble as he runs a hand down Por’s spine, his palm searingly hot.
“Alpha will take care of you. I’ve got you, baby.”
Alpha, Por had heard him right, and he felt so giddy to the point his face flushed hot.
Then, his Alpha pushed.
It’s not a violent thrust, but a slow, relentless invasion.
Por’s jaw goes slack, his head falling back as his vision white-outs.
Teetee is so thick, so impossibly solid, filling every empty, aching corner of him. Inch by agonizing inch, he slides home, the friction of their wet heat creating a low, sliding sound that is the most obscene thing Por has ever heard.
The room is suddenly saturated.
The thick, heady vapor fills Por’s lungs until he can practically taste Teetee on the back of his throat. His Omega, pacified and finally claimed, lets out a continuous, vibrating purr of pure bliss when Teetee’s hips finally press flush against him, fully seated.
Por wrings the sheets in his fists, his knuckles aching, his body trembling from the sheer, overwhelming sensation of being occupied. He feels stretched, heavy, and finally—finally—complete.
“Move, hurry,” he urges breathlessly, his hips giving a desperate, involuntary hitch.
“Fuck me—your Omega needs it. Don't stop, Tee. Don't you dare stop.”
Each time Teetee pulls back—slowly, almost painfully so—and then slides back in, it feels like he’s trying to memorize the texture of Por’s internal heat. But when Por begins to push back, forcing their hips to collide with a wet, heavy smack, the Alpha’s composure finally shatters.
Teetee swears, a raw, guttural sound that vibrates against the back of Por’s neck.
His fingers, once so careful, now scrabble and dig into Por’s soft waist, leaving shallow crescents in the skin. He isn't muffling himself anymore; he’s moaning openly, the sound high and reedy with a surprise that borders on agony.
Hearing that sound—the sound of the composed Teetee being completely undone—makes Por’s core pulse in a violent, rhythmic contraction, gushing fresh slick that coats Teetee’s thighs.
The lazy, rhythmic pace they start with is a sensory overload.
The sliding friction, the way Teetee’s cock stretches him to his absolute limit before withdrawing, has Por’s head swimming. He’s drooling into the pillows, his mind a static-filled haze of cinnamon and sex.
“Harder,” Por demands, his voice a jagged edge.
''So demanding," Teetee leaned down and gave a lazy bite to his shoulder.
Obediently, Teetee’s pace shifts from a slow crawl to a punishing, heavy drive.
Every thrust is backed by the full weight of the Alpha’s frustration, his pelvis snapping against Por’s ass with a sound that is both violent and incredibly lewd. The slick is everywhere now—a lubricant that makes every movement effortless and loud.
“Just like that,” Por praises, his voice a honeyed lure. He can feel the Alpha’s heart hammering against his back, the heat radiating off Teetee’s skin in waves.
“Keep going... want you to breed me. Fill me up, Tee.”
The word breed hits Teetee like a physical blow.
His hips stutter, his rhythm breaking for a split second as his nails bite deeper into Por’s skin. He lets out a strangled, broken sound—half-sob, half-growl.
“Oh my god, don’t say that,” Teetee croaks, his voice cracking.
Wow, such a little freak.
Por thinks, his mind spinning with a dark, triumphant glee. He had spent two years seeing Teetee as a soft, bubbly, overly-cautious boy, but the Alpha currently vibrating with repressed filth against his back was someone else entirely.
“Why?” Por’s voice is a syrupy, teasing wreck, the giggle in his tone cutting through his own gasps.
“Because you like it? Because you want to see me swollen with your mark? Full with your pups?”
“Please just shut up,” Teetee begs, his voice breaking.
He keeps his head bowed, but his body is telling a different story. His thrusts have become erratic, heavy, and desperate, clearly fueled by the visual Por is painting with his words.
“Then breed me, Alpha,” Por goads, relentless now that he knows he’s winning. “Fuck me harder, knot me, put your pups in me, want it so b—ah!”
The air is knocked out of him as Teetee suddenly collapses his weight forward, pushing Por flat against the mattress.
The Alpha pins him down, his chest crushing Por’s back, their sweat acting like a glue between them, his breath coming in hot, ragged bursts against the sensitive skin of Por's nape.
He drives into Por with a mindless, animalistic hunger, his thrusts losing any semblance of control and turning into pure instinct.
Por can only drool into the sheets, his fingers clawing at the fabric as he’s used, exactly the way he wanted. All those mental barriers Teetee had built up have been completely demolished, leaving only an Alpha who whimpers into Por's neck as he tries to bury himself deep enough to reach the Omega's soul.
“Oh, yes—breed me,” Por cries out, his head thrashing.
“Fuck, Por,” Teetee gasps, his voice a guttural ruin.
The friction is becoming thicker, tighter.
Por can feel it—the base of Teetee’s length is beginning to swell, the knot pushing against his entrance with a terrifying, wonderful pressure.
It’s coming.
The permanent claim is only seconds away.
Suddenly, Teetee wedges a hand between Por’s belly and the bed, his fingers diving down to find that swollen, thrumming clit.
"Hhhngh—!"
Por jerks violently, a loud, high-pitched yelp tearing from his throat.
He tries to squirm, to escape the overstimulation, but he’s pinned—trapped by Teetee’s weight and the Alpha’s single-minded focus.
Teetee massages the nub with a firm, rhythmic pressure while his hips continue to hammer home, a dual assault that makes Por’s eyes roll back in his head until only the whites are showing.
“You feel so good,” Teetee groans, the praise sounding like a roar in Por’s ears.
Por glows, his inner Omega preening at the validation.
The knot is catching now, hooking against his internal walls with every push, creating a sensation of fullness that is almost painful in its perfection.
He needs it.
He needs to be locked, to be filled, to be owned.
Teetee’s thrusts become shallower and more frantic, his entire body tensing as the knot finally begins to expand.
“Gonna knot you now, okay?”
Teetee’s voice is the final spark. It breaks through Por’s sensory overload, sending a fresh jolt of electricity through his spine.
Por can’t even form a coherent sentence, he just babbles, his fingers twitching against the mattress as he clenches desperately around the solid, pulsing heat inside him. He's a mess of raw nerves and hunger, and the promise of the knot is the only thing he’s ever truly wanted.
“Just relax,” Teetee murmurs, and then he sinks his teeth back into that tender, marked scruff.
The effect is instantaneous and absolute. Por’s body goes limp, his consciousness retreating into a golden, syrupy haze. The world outside the circle of Teetee’s arms ceases to exist.
Teetee’s knot is a broad, heavy pressure, swelling until the rhythmic thrusting becomes impossible.
He stalls at the entrance, grinding his pelvis against Por’s slick-soaked thighs, nonverbally coaxing Por’s body to accept the stretch. When he finally drives forward, the sensation is staggering. Por’s breath leaves him in a long, shaky moan as the knot sinks home, hooking firmly behind his internal muscles.
It is a glorious, stretching fullness—a weight that anchors Por to the bed and to Teetee simultaneously.
Teetee’s forehead drops against Por’s sweaty shoulder blades, his entire frame racking with the force of his release.
Por can feel the hot, pulsing rhythm of Teetee’s climax deep inside him, the copious amounts of seed filling him to the brink.
It’s a warm, heavy flood that makes Por’s toes curl and his head roll back in a daze of pure biological triumph.
“There you go,” Por taunts, his voice a breathless, honeyed rasp even as he shudders under the weight. “Give me your pups... fill me up.”
“Fuck,” Teetee moans, the sound broken and raw.
He’s spent, his muscles twitching with exhaustion, but his hand—buried beneath Por’s stomach—is still working.
Even as he comes down from his high, his fingers find Por’s throbbing, overstimulated clit, circling it with a lazy, devastating persistence.
The dual sensation of being knotted and filled while his clit is being toyed with is the final blow. Por’s vision sparks. His eyes dilate until they are twin pools of black ink.
“Tee, I’m gonna—”
“I know, baby. Just let go.”
The orgasm hits Por like a tidal wave. The omega cries out, a loud, wanton sound that echoes off the walls, his body seizing in a series of violent, beautiful spasms.
He is gushing, his own fluids mixing with Teetee’s and overflowing past the seal of the knot, soaking the ruin of the bed. It’s messy, it’s primal, and it’s perfect.
“My Omega,” Teetee murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of Por’s ear.
"I'm so full—" Por gasped, while Teetee was busy trailing wet kisses on Por's back, marking him.
“Mine, mine, mine.”
Por doesn't argue. He doesn't have the strength or the will. He just purrs—a deep, resonant vibration that starts in his chest and spreads through his entire, sated body.
He is trapped, pinned, and completely claimed, and as the silence of the room settles around them.
He realizes he’s finally, for the first time in twenty three years, exactly where he belongs.
"...Don't pull out, please,"
Por pleaded, his voice a gravelly, breathy whisper that barely carried in the quiet room.
"I won't," Teetee reassured, his voice dropping into a soft, melodic hum.
"I'll be here. Every time you wake up, every time the fever comes back... I'm not moving an inch."
Por let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief.
"Good," Por whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own purring. "You better be."
Teetee tightened his hold, his nose nuzzling into the crook of Por's neck one last time before the silence of the room reclaimed them.
The heat wasn't over—it was merely a sleeping ember—but he's sure they both can figure it out later.
But the peace was shattered with a sudden, sharp intake of breath.
Teetee jerked upright, his arms locking as he propped himself over Por, still knotted and deeply connected, but his emotional state had pulled a violent 180. The dark haze in his eyes had vanished, replaced by a wide-eyed, frantic terror.
"Oh my god, I didn't use—fuck. I'm so sorry. Do you—I mean, are you on birth control right now?"
The sheer panic in Teetee’s voice was enough to pull Por halfway out of his post-orgasmic stupor.
He blinked, his eyelashes still wet, and turned his head slowly to look at the Alpha.
Teetee looked like he was about to have a heart attack.
His face was a ghostly pale beneath the flushed highlights of his climax, and his hands were trembling where they gripped the mattress.
"Tee." Por started, his voice a gravelly, sleepy rasp.
"I should've—" Teetee was spiraling, his moral compass finally catching up to his biology.
"I just—you said 'breed me' and I just stopped thinking. Oh god, Por, what if—what if I actually—I'm so stupid. I'm exactly the kind of Alpha I didn't want to be."
He looked like he wanted to pull away, but the knot was still firmly seated, holding them together in a physical reminder of exactly how much control he had lost.
Every time Teetee flinched in panic, the knot shifted inside Por, sending a small, dull spark of pleasure through the Omega’s cooling body.
Por let out a soft, tired sigh, reaching back blindly until his hand found Teetee’s arm.
He squeezed, trying to ground the younger man.
"Tee, breathe,"
Por commanded gently.
He shifted his hips slightly, a small, knowing smirk playing on his swollen lips.
"First of all, I'm an Omega in heat. Did you really think I was thinking about a condom?"
"I—"
"And second," Por continued, his voice softening as he saw the genuine distress in Teetee’s eyes.
"I'm on the pill. I have been for years, specifically because I didn't want 'heat accidents' with some random Alpha. But even if I wasn't..."
He trailed off, his eyes turning warm and hazy again.
"If it's you, I don't think I would have minded as much as you think."
Teetee’s breath hitched, a massive wave of relief washing over him so visibly that his shoulders actually slumped.
"You're not just saying that because you're still—you know?"
"I'm sure, you big idiot," Por rolled his eyes, light and fond.
"Now, are you going to keep panicking, or are you going to lay back down and hold me until this knot goes down? I’m still tired, and you’re very warm."