Chapter Text
Prologue
For Ethan, it was quite simple: there was no such thing as too much.
Perhaps his outlook on the matter was influenced by some unseen neglect, or a need not met when it should’ve been. Whether internal or parental, he’d yet to decide, but what he knew was that it led to an interesting transition through his adulthood. Biology aside, a part of him would always aim to please, even to the ultimate detriment of his literal body.
To dig deeper would be to admit his insecurities—a task best left for the professionals. It was easier to continue as he was, taking what was given to him despite it being overabundant. He didn’t expect to ever regret getting more of what he needed—he’d have to be terribly ungrateful to complain.
Still, acknowledging his fortune didn’t detract from the jagged spikes of overstimulation. Some of it was his fault, he was sure, as ignoring the increased frequency of his heats never sounded like a good idea.
Ethan wasn’t sure why it started, only that it’d become second nature. If he had to guess, he’d say it began as a convenient accident. His interactions with Alphas had been purposefully scant. He worked with a few—his father was one—but he’d never gone beyond surface-level conversations.
Even during heats, he avoided them like the plague, warned too often that they were brutish, cruel, and bit too hard. Ethan was better off alone than in dangerous company. Besides, ignoring his needs was nothing new, he was an expert by now.
Until he met Karl Heisenberg, that is.
Ethan hated him at first. The man was arrogant, sarcastic, and boiled his blood with every mean-spirited tease aimed his way. He’d been hired as a temporary fill-in for one of his co-workers, yet managed to impress their supervisor enough to become a permanent team member (and pain in Ethan’s ass).
Ethan nearly quit when he was passed over for the promotion, staying out of some misaligned loyalty to his company…and the fear of starting over.
What irked him the most about Karl was his ability to perform his job well whilst looking as if he weren’t working. There’d been countless times Ethan crossed his office and watched him do literally anything else, yet his portion of their assignment was often finished days before it was due. Ethan had to focus all his energy on getting it done that early, and even then, he took it home to make corrections.
Ethan laughed at his annoyance—well, in retrospect, he was quite busy at the moment filling out a questionnaire. He failed to recognize how it’d drawn him closer, how his constant hovering made him an easy target for Karl’s teasing.
And Karl had great aim.
He remembered their first lunch together—also an accident (he was sensing a pattern). There’d been a mix-up in their orders, their names getting crossed. Ethan spent his entire break scowling at the back of Karl’s head as they worked to fix the mistake, vexed once more that what was once his was now tainted by the arrogant man. He watched from the patio, tracking his co-worker with a hard pout.
And then Karl offered to pay.
Ethan was forced to fix his face, initially refusing the gesture, but given no choice when his food was already in his hands, and the receipt in Karl’s. The man sat in front of him, digging in as if Ethan hadn’t made him his sworn enemy. He wouldn’t let that be the end of it, though, repaying the favour by buying Karl his lunch the next day.
But then Karl returned the favour—
On and on it went for weeks, until their routine was so ingrained all Ethan had to do was ask, “the usual?” by Karl’s door, and the man would nod, waiting for him by the outdoor seating area. They’d made the spot their own, at least for the thirty minutes or so where they used it each day.
Ethan would notice when Karl couldn’t make it—either in a meeting or dealing with some hierarchical dispute—eating in silence and pretending he was fine with it. He sought him out more often, filling in the void of his absence with a few minutes of indulgent conversation.
If Ethan continued to do so even on days where they did have lunch together, then that was between him and his watch.
Karl began visiting his thoughts, stopping by and staying far longer than the actual man. Ethan would wonder what he did during the weekends, itching to find out on Monday, where he’d ask and listen. It’s how he found out Karl liked to tinker, that his “slacking off” was part of a larger, unseen project. It changed Ethan’s perspective, who saw Karl’s fiddling with more interest than disdain.
The disdain disappeared when Karl brought something for him—an endless, maze puzzle—saying it reminded him of their little back and forth with the lunches. It didn’t escape Ethan that it meant Karl thought about him after work hours too.
Perhaps that did more to him than he initially realized.
Karl stopped visiting his thoughts and moved in, living like a loud tenant in the back of his mind. It didn’t help that the real thing sat a few paces away, within reach if Ethan needed him.
There was that word again: need.
Ethan often wondered if he’d be the same were he born with any of the other secondary genders. It’s not as if being Omegan made needs exclusively a thing they experienced—he was human, after all. But his issue stemmed more with how Omegas were perceived as need-y—a stigma Ethan fought the moment he stepped into a room.
Perhaps that’s why Karl annoyed him at first, he assumed the man expected him to grovel and plea, to need him for even the smallest of chores. It’d been a stereotype Ethan assigned to Karl by mistake, having experienced it too often not to fall into the convenient bias, becoming the very same thing that vexed him about others.
He aimed to correct it as they grew closer, taking an extra moment to not assume Karl meant harm with his teasing. It made them easier to bear—to tease back—earning a few genuine smiles from the man.
Eventually, Ethan lost track of them, getting too many to count.
And that’s how it began: the cycle of too much.
They spent too much time together.
Ethan thought too much about Karl on his days off.
Karl spent too much money on a dessert Ethan had mentioned in passing.
Ethan grew to like Karl’s teasing too much, to the point that if he wasn’t blushing by the end of their lunch, he feared having said something to upset the Alpha.
He could feel it getting to him, wearing too much scent blocker to mask it.
Karl’s magnetism was overwhelming, and by the time Ethan realized how much, it was too late.
It reached its breaking point on a Friday afternoon, proving that the universe had a fair sense of humour. Ethan felt odd most of the morning, his collar choking him with each breath, and his clothes uncomfortable and itchy despite being the same things he wore everyday.
Not to mention, he was warm.
He’d taken his temperature before breakfast, sighing when it read back normal—not a heat then, but a cold wasn’t any better.
Still, he went to work, but his movements were sluggish, and he made more mistakes than he cared to admit. When he met Karl for their usual lunch break, he’d forgotten it was his turn to pay, prompting both the cashier and the man to look at him.
He now owed Karl two favours.
“Are you okay?” Karl asked after their lunch, placing a delicate hand on his shoulder. Ethan tensed, the simple touch zipping through him like a current. If Karl noticed, he didn’t say, but he did step closer, scenting him with a unique little quirk in his brow. “I think you should go home early,” he added after clearing his throat.
Ethan stepped away, squaring his shoulders and ignoring Karl—a mistake among many. “I’m fine,” he mumbled, pressing a hand to his chest, massaging the strange beating of his heart.
He found out soon enough he was not, waking up that Saturday drenched in sweat—but again, no fever.
His symptoms continued well into next week, evolving the more he neglected them. By the time he did have a fever, he was also leaking slick with worrisome consistency. Yet, he remained at his station until the rest of his co-workers were gone, wearing enough emergency scent blocker to drown a small animal.
Ethan wasn’t sure why he thought it’d fool an Alpha, though, especially one with which he’d unwittingly mixed his scent.
“I knew it,” Karl had said as he passed his desk, forgoing preambles.
“Knew what?” Ethan snapped, correcting another typo in his closing e-mail, since it seemed he’d be taking an unexpected leave for a few days. He couldn’t exactly call his heat early, seeing as he’d been due for one at any moment. Being single most of his adult life didn’t spare him from his heats—he just had them less often.
“You’re in heat,” Karl said, pointing out the obvious with a small snort.
“No shit,” Ethan grumbled, his fingers shaking.
“Then what are you doing here,” Karl asked, motioning around them.
“What do you mean?” Ethan asked, narrowing his eyes at the Alpha. His vision blurred at the edges, so he looked away to spare himself a headache.
“I mean, Ethan, that you should be at home with your Alpha, you know, ‘taking care of it’,” Karl began, “it’s not the Middle Ages anymore, there’s labour laws for a reason,” he continued, forcing Ethan to look at him again.
“First, I don’t know where you get off thinking I have an Alpha at home,” Ethan said with a dry chuckle, “and second, I’m fine. I’ll go home and ‘take care of it’ once I’m done with this.”
Karl wasn’t convinced, nor did he budge from the half-partition. “You don’t have an Alpha?” he asked, his curiosity innocent, his surprise more so.
“No,” Ethan huffed, saying fuck it and sending the e-mail without proofreading it, “and I don’t need one either,” he added, turning off the computer, “I’m done now, so I’ll go home like you want me to,” he mocked, rolling his eyes. He felt his blood boil again, but not for any anger towards Karl, if anything, the sting calmed when he was near.
“Isn’t it painful?” Karl had asked, cocking his head to the side, still trying to figure out if Ethan was serious about his no-Alpha claim. He followed him towards the elevator, crowding his space without meaning to.
“What is?” Ethan asked, craving a cold, hard shower.
“To go through heat without an Alpha,” Karl clarified, raising a brow.
“Wow,” Ethan said, looking at the heavens, having to stare through the elevator lights first, “I didn’t think you’d tease me about that too—haven’t we known each other long enough?”
Karl looked stunned, saying, “I’m not—I just remember my sister crying—anyway, I didn’t mean to offend, sorry I asked.” For once, Karl seemed bashful, stepping away from Ethan when the elevator doors opened, walking towards his car as if he’d been in a rush to get home.
Ethan didn’t realize “painful” could mean different things. To him, heats were a frustrating but necessary part of his biology. He often wondered why he went through them, unequipped to “incubate” life, as it were. Perhaps evolution didn’t discriminate.
Regardless, he’d made his peace with it (somewhat), finding nominal relief with modern solutions to his solitary lifestyle.
Whether glass or silicone, a knot was a knot.
Still, the last night of his cycle he stared at the ceiling, semi-disgusted with the varied body fluids drying on his skin. He gave in to a singular thought, a momentary want, wishing it wasn’t just himself in bed.
When he returned to work, a nondescript box sat on his desk, addressed to him. He thought nothing of it as he worked, stuffing it beneath his many things until he had a chance to look at it. It’s likely all the memos he needed to catch up on, aware that his work would only be postponed—not excused.
However, when he opened it, he wasn’t expecting the overflowing scent of chocolate. A piece was in his mouth before he could help himself, drooling around the rich, creamy treat. He dug through more of the box, finding other sweets, and a soft teddy-bear.
Was this even meant for him?
Ethan paused on his second bite of candy, looking at the name scrawled on the top, certain he couldn’t misinterpret its spelling even if he tried. At the very bottom sat a note, the same sprawling script calling his name. He opened it, speed-reading the short message, his face darkening to match the cherry lollypops.
Ethan,
Think of this as an apology for assuming. I hope your heat went well.
Karl
P.S. I asked my sister for help building this package. Blame her if it’s not to your liking.
Ethan took out the teddy-bear with shaking hands, looking around before giving it a purposeful sniff, swallowing his tongue at the barest hint of the Alpha. He put it back, closing the box and shoving it beneath his desk until the end of the day, forcing himself to forget its existence despite the chocolate taste lingering in his mouth.
When his shift ended, Ethan looked both ways before marching towards Karl’s office, ready to have a word with him. It’d have to wait, as no sooner was he at his door, than a large notice caught his eye, stating their manager would be out of the office for a scheduled break, and to contact him only if the building were literally on fire.
Ethan thought of lighting a match just to prove a point.
He vowed to leave the care package alone, taking offence with the notion that he even needed such a thing after a heat. (From an Alpha, no less! An Alpha, might he add, that was his work-friend at best!)
But as the days rolled on and Ethan’s ire simmered down, he found himself going through the candies one by one, using them as little pick-me-ups when the slog of work burdened him. He was on his last piece of chocolate when Karl returned, letting it melt in his mouth as he rolled it around his tongue, forced to swallow it when he caught Karl’s scent.
He’d forgotten it—even the teddy lost the subtle perfume.
Ethan didn’t have to personally welcome Karl back—he’d see him soon enough—but he couldn’t restrain himself that long, feeling too obvious when he knocked on his door. Instead of reprimanding him for the gift, he thanked him, fearing he’d been too enthusiastic with the way he said it. His skin tightened at Karl’s smile, at the soft rumble of his “you’re welcome”, wanting to thank him for more menial things just to hear it again.
And so, with that minute stumble, Ethan fell into step on a path to his strict undoing, barrelling through the tall walls of his habitual solitude. The man he was at that moment would’ve recoiled at the man he was now: submissive, meek, and mild.
Though, it’s likely the man he was now had been laying dormant, wanting and waiting for someone willing and worthy of his unique circumstances.
So, like a small bird imprinting on the first thing it saw, Ethan’s subconscious latched on to Karl, twisting itself into tiny braids of craving. They were made worse by Karl, whose own subconscious responded to Ethan’s obvious signaling, leading to a few unfortunate moments in the office.
Like when Ethan was getting pushback from a trainee (an Alpha, the distinction important in a moment), the young man spoilt with prejudice, and stubborn like a rusty nail. He resisted Ethan’s teachings, even to the point of making a fool of himself. The situation could’ve escalated in several ways, but Ethan didn’t expect Karl to step in, summoned like an unseen force, his aura palpable from the door.
He didn’t yell as Ethan expected him to, but there was an obvious line in his spine, a tightness in his muscles that spoke to his self-control. When he opened his mouth, his words were clear and even, but there was an edge missed by no one.
Not even the young intern, who nearly bared his neck in quick submission, apologizing to Ethan at Karl’s behest.
When they were alone, Ethan wrestled with the pleased purr building in his chest, clearing his throat to say, “I was fine, but thank you.”
Karl spared him a glance, his dark lenses doing very little to shield his eyes, growling, “I have no tolerance for disrespect. Out of most of us, you’ve been here the longest—everyone should learn to acknowledge that.”
“It’s okay, Karl,” Ethan said, swallowing back the agreeable whine scratching his throat, “I’m used to it.”
“You shouldn’t be,” Karl mumbled, leaving without a goodbye.
Ethan massaged his throat, clinging to his pulse in hopes that it’d calm down. When it didn’t, he learned to live with it, and the heat surrounding his racing heart.
It may have been the first time Karl came to his metaphorical rescue, but it wasn’t the last, corrupting Ethan’s expectations of their relationship. He wanted to believe Karl would do the same for all his other team-members, but he’d yet to see that come to pass.
(And if he were being honest, he was selfish enough to admit he rather liked that.)
“You know, if you keep acting like that, people are gonna assume something else is going on,” Ethan remembered saying, his pout a pretense.
“Like what, Ethan?” Karl asked, raising a strong brow, his lips quirking upwards.
“I’m not gonna spell it out,” Ethan mumbled, though his cheeks spoke for him, glowing bright red.
“Let them think what they want,” Karl sighed, rubbing a hand through his salt-and-pepper strands, “I’m only doing what’s right—unless you want me to stop?” he added as an aside, challenging Ethan.
The Omega gave it careful thought, blinking between the silence. “You know I don’t have an Alpha, you stepping in like that—it can be seen as inappropriate,” he said, his chest tightening.
“Would it be more appropriate if you did have an Alpha?” Karl countered, raising both brows, “sometimes these things can’t be helped, Ethan, you’re my friend,” he said after a pause, letting out a hard breath to add, “but if it’s making things awkward for you, then I can try to hold my tongue.”
Ethan knew it wasn’t what he wanted, but he thanked him anyway.
Karl managed to “hold his tongue” but his presence and preceding reputation were enough to keep any would-be assholes in line, granting Ethan a smoother passage through the office. It’d been a stress he’d grown accustomed to, a weight that lived on his shoulders until it melded with his bones.
Now that it was off, he felt lighter than air.
It didn’t last long—deadlines were still a thing, and no one ever mentioned how more often than not you could count on people to be incompetent.
At least he had Karl.
That too became his default mantra, akin to looking forward to the weekend or their yearly bonus. He kept him in the back of his mind, sitting with him in the space he lived, sharing more with his imaginary figment than the actual man. He was aware enough to quell his tongue, shoving his desires to the pit of his belly, where they burned in the acid, giving him a tummy ache.
Though unusually early, Ethan wasn’t surprised to find himself having pre-heat symptoms, better versed at identifying them. The fact that he’d be spending another one alone didn’t manifest itself until Karl urged him to go home, careful not to say the quiet part out loud.
Ethan refused, panicking at the frightening emptiness of his singular bedroom apartment, at the cold bed, and colder sheets, how he’d tangle himself in them just to feel as if he were being held.
He lingered by Karl until he couldn’t, heart in tatters when he turned off his computer, his steps stiff on the way to the elevator. When home, he buried himself in his sheets, cramping with an unbearable yearning. Tears ran down his face even in his sleep—relief non-existent.
Ethan returned to work like a ghost, the universe pushing down on his back with an unforgiving thumb. He shuffled to his desk, feeling a blend of emotions at the plain brown box waiting for him. His lips struggled to lift, even as a new teddy-bear stared back at him.
Shoving a piece of chocolate into his mouth, Ethan began his morning, trying not to think of the man responsible for both the sweetness on his tongue and the cloud over his head. Time refused to move, however, forcing his eyes to drift, clinging to Karl’s closed office.
Ethan sniffled, feeling his eyes sting with emotion, unable to pin down which one.
Closer to lunch, the Alpha rounded his cubicle, Karl’s scent meeting him before he did. “Ethan, welcome back,” Karl said, pausing by his desk, “ready to go?” Ethan looked up from his computer, prompting Karl to whistle and add, “you look like shit, are you okay?”
The statement destroyed whatever control Ethan had over himself, his tears falling in lieu of an answer. Karl startled, looking around before coming closer, squatting down to ask, “What’s wrong?” Ethan cried harder, shaking his head as he used his long sleeves to wipe his face, too much of a mess to be successful. “Ethan—” Karl tried to say, placing a hand on his knee, but Ethan tensed, flinching as if he’d been slapped. “I’m sorry,” the Alpha said, remembering his place when he stood up, wiping down his suit so his hands had something to do.
“It’s not your fault, Al—” Ethan sobbed, pressing a hand to his mouth to stop from saying more.
But Karl noticed.
He always did.
“You should’ve taken a few more days off, Ethan,” Karl grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose like a disappointed parent.
“I’m fine,” Ethan hiccuped, dragging his palms down his face to reorient himself. His anxiety was quiet and well-contained, this was unacceptable. “I’ll be fine,” he repeated, his fingers shaking on the keyboard, “I just need to focus on work—”
“Ethan,” Karl growled, earning every bit of his undivided attention, “my office, please,” he said, and though his words calmed, they still sounded like an order.
“I don’t…I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Ethan said, using what little strength he had to refuse both his manager and the Alpha—unsure which he feared upsetting more.
“I’m not gonna—” Karl took a breath, aware he shouldn’t shout, “I’ve been through this before—my sister, she’s an Omega, remember?” and if that weren’t convincing enough, “I’m not gonna hurt you,” he promised, holding up his hands.
Ethan thought back to that moment often, aware that taking an Alpha at his word was a losing bet, but if he hadn’t, he’d have remained there, crying himself into a post-heat depression. So, he accepted, following Karl to his office with two left feet.
His office—as expected—smelled just like him. It filled Ethan’s lungs, mollifying the sad creature sitting on his shoulders. Karl placed a sign on the door that would dissuade anyone from interrupting, locking it after it closed. “Just in case you needed to cry in peace,” he said, placating Ethan’s suspicions.
“I told you I’d be fine,” Ethan huffed, his lips jutting out in a pout, “I don’t need you or anyone, I’m fine,” he continued to repeat, growing tired of the tears blurring his vision.
“You may think that, but—”
“You’re not my Alpha!” Ethan spat, still avoidant of Karl’s eyes, “so, please stop pretending like you are,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.
Karl was quiet for a while, though he walked around the room, cleaning things off the chairs, the couch, making space whilst Ethan watched. He stopped to look at him, motioning before saying, “Sit.”
“I don’t want to,” Ethan refused, mumbling the words.
Karl narrowed his eyes, pinning Ethan with a stare above his glasses. He said nothing as he approached, taking Ethan by the shoulders and guiding him to the sofa, ignoring his protests as he sat them down.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but—”
“Shh,” Karl hushed, folding Ethan’s arms across his chest as he embraced him, stronger than him by a terrifying amount. He held him as one would an oversized child, starting a gentle rock.
“What are you doing?” Ethan squeaked, squirming against the man, choked by his scent. It filled his head, casting a fog over his resistance. Still, he tried, “Let me go,” he grumbled.
“This’ll be easier if you stop fighting me,” Karl warned, pausing, but not letting him go.
“I’ll scream,” Ethan threatened, unsure if he could, “if you try anything—”
“Does it look like I’m trying anything?” Karl interrupted, rolling his eyes, “just relax, dammit, so we can both get back to work.” With that, Ethan shut up, setting his jaw in a hard line. “That’s better,” Karl chuckled, resuming his rock.
“What the hell are you doing, anyway?” Ethan mumbled, hating how much it improved his disposition—whatever it was.
Karl sighed, looking away as he made up his mind on whether to answer or not. “I trust you, Ethan, that’s the only reason I’ll tell you any of this,” he began, meeting his confused stare, “I have a sister, Donna—she’s not blood, but that doesn’t matter,” he continued, motioning to nothing with a half-wave, “she was quiet—still is—but she kept to herself. She annoyed me the least out of all my siblings,” he chuckled, his mirth dissipating with, “she presented quite young, which forced Mother to separate us. I think she feared that I’d take advantage of her—bitch,” he spat, “anyway, not important, what is is that Donna would cry often. I’d hear her on the other side of the house during the night…” his voice trailed off, as did his eyes, remembering his past with a frown. “She was too young to do anything about it, and Mother figured isolation was more appropriate.”
Karl paused to take a breath, shaking his head.
“I couldn’t take her crying anymore—I think something about that specific sound forces us to try and help, however we can,” Karl said, glancing at Ethan, “so, one night I just went to her room and held her,” he admitted, “I think that’s all she wanted,” he snorted. “Times were different when we were younger, we didn’t know as much,” he continued, “heats and ruts aren’t just about sex and knots—sometimes you just want to be held.”
Ethan nodded, fully aware.
“Mother wasn’t happy about it,” Karl mumbled, raising a hand to one of his faded facial scars, quick to shake out of that memory, “but it worked, and it continues to work,” he pointed out, looking at Ethan and how he’d melted around him, sinking deep into his arms.
“I’m sure she’s grateful to you,” Ethan said, watching Karl snort again, though he blinked fast behind his glasses, better at holding back the water in his eyes.
“I may not be your Alpha, Ethan, but I am an Alpha—it’s the least I can do,” Karl said, sincere.
“And the chocolates?” Ethan teased, unaware he was doing it until Karl chuckled, his smile bashful.
“I was asking Donna for advice on how to apologize—doesn’t matter, you don’t have to accept them if you don’t want to, I just figured they’d be a nice treat,” Karl said, patting Ethan’s shoulder.
“You’re not wrong,” Ethan said, his voice soft, “they were nice,” he admitted, his cheeks brightening, “no one’s ever done that for me before.”
“Hm,” Karl hummed, nodding, “you remind me of her,” he said, cocking his head, “you’d both rather go through a heat alone than find yourself an Alpha.”
“You say that like they just fall from the sky,” Ethan huffed.
“It’s not like we’re a rare breed, Ethan,” Karl countered with a smirk, “and there’s clinics, which are safer alternatives than burning through your fever and dehydrating yourself,” he added, knowing far too much for Ethan’s liking.
“That sounds so impersonal,” Ethan sighed, feeling his fate stretch out in an endless line of unfulfillment.
“But it’s practical,” Karl pointed out, his shrug noncommittal.
“I’ve been fine till now, I don’t need a clinic or a rent-an-Alpha service,” Ethan mocked, rolling his eyes.
“Hm,” Karl hummed again, giving him a once-over, “you’re like a feral kitten—rehabilitation may be impossible,” he commented, sounding disappointed.
“And who says there’s anything wrong with that?” Ethan said, bristling, “I’m in my thirties, Karl, you don’t think I’ve tried?” he grumbled, “women are put off by male Omegas, and men just—I’m better off alone,” he sighed, his frown deepening, his tone sad and reserved.
“So, you gave up then,” Karl stated, raising a brow.
“Yeah, and?” Ethan grumbled, still pressed tight to Karl’s chest.
“What would it take for you to be with an Alpha?” the man asked, the innocence in his curiosity masking his ulterior motives.
“What would it take?” Ethan parroted, “nothing—I don’t want one.”
“Really?” Karl said, sounding impressed, “not even for post-heat cuddles?” Ethan looked unamused, compelling Karl to grin at him, aware of what he was implying and doing it anyway. “So, there is something.”
“Feel free to let me go at any time, Karl, you’re the one who wanted to do this,” Ethan droned, though the mopey creature he’d been this morning had been pacified, so he wasn’t exactly complaining.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re cute when you pout?” Karl asked, worsening Ethan’s blush, his face a dark red mess.
“No,” Ethan said, his pout stuck, otherwise he would’ve wiped it from his mouth.
“Well, allow me to be the first,” Karl purred, the sound vibrating Ethan’s ear.
“Whatever you think you’re doing, it’s not working. So, stop trying, Alpha,” Ethan enunciated, feeling his words do nothing but amuse his fellow engineer.
“Not even a little?” Karl teased, tapping Ethan’s nose, “you can also move when you’re ready—I won’t stop you,” he revealed, loosening his arms to demonstrate. Ethan jumped, clinging closer, his sudden whine hushed by a rhythmic sway. “All bark and no bite, Ethan,” Karl tutted, feigning discontent with the shake of his head.
“Shut up,” Ethan grumbled, his blush spreading down his chest, keeping him warm. It was an order for himself, too, seeing as he didn’t say a word until much later, falling into a light sleep.
When he woke, Karl wasn’t holding him, but he did sit beside him, available despite working on his laptop. He spared him a glance, his brows raised high in a question. Do you feel better? They asked, forcing Ethan to reflect on the calmed tempest of his thoughts.
Even if for a moment, he did feel better.
“You don’t have to leave,” Karl said as if reading Ethan’s mind (and his hesitation), “I told the others you weren’t feeling well, and to not expect you for anything today,” he continued, motioning to his computer, “I did your portion, so you don’t have to worry about catching up.”
Had this been any other time, Ethan would’ve objected Karl’s meddling, but only relief flooded through him. “Thank you,” Ethan said, unable to repay the debt with more than words.
“You’re welcome,” Karl said, returning to the laptop, “are you hungry?” he asked, looking at the time.
“I could eat,” Ethan agreed, “but I’m paying.”
“I wouldn’t expect any different,” Karl chuckled, humouring him.
So, on they went, and though Ethan had convinced himself in his three decades on this planet that his way of life was enough, he wasn’t so arrogant to assume that couldn’t change.
His next heat began in waves, confusing his senses. They often didn’t linger, nor did they trickle in like rain before a thunderstorm. When he looked up his symptoms, the internet spat back annoyingly accurate assumptions but no solutions.
Apparently, his body was prepping itself for his Alpha, letting them know he was ready.
Problem was, he didn’t have an Alpha!
…Yet.
“When should I expect you this time?” Karl asked during lunch the day before Ethan’s true heat, coy as he placed more sweet things on his plate, smiling when he ate them without thinking.
“I don’t know,” Ethan said through a mouthful, “they’re starting earlier and they’re lasting longer,” he continued, frustrated, “it makes it hard to predict.”
“Just let me know, then,” Karl said, scrunching his nose after an inhale.
“I’ll be leaving soon,” Ethan said, embarrassed by the first drops of slick soaking his cotton underwear.
“Have you always worn scent blockers?” Karl asked, a roughness to his voice he tried hard to clear.
“Yes,” Ethan nodded, “I used to take heat blockers, but then I developed a sensitivity to them—became more trouble than it was worth.”
“You’re an interesting man, Ethan, fighting against your nature as you are,” Karl said, holding his breath, “well, good luck. I’ll see you when I see you.”
“I’m not fighting it,” Ethan mumbled through gritted teeth, “I’ve just never had anyone to help me. I was my mom’s only child, and when I presented, she was so afraid I’d become someone’s chew toy, that she didn’t really explain—” Ethan stopped, shaking his head, “it doesn’t matter now, it’s just a heat.”
“That it is,” Karl agreed. Something in his tone made Ethan shiver and tense as more slick dripped out of him. “If it wasn’t obvious, I don’t mind helping with that either,” the Alpha said, forcing his words to be light, noncommittal.
Ethan narrowed his eyes, meeting Karl’s gaze with incredulity. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m good,” Ethan said, puffing out his cheeks.
“Call me when you’re not,” Karl said, no trace of a tease nor joke in his statement, the seriousness haunting Ethan all the way home.
It made for a challenging weekend, his body sore with the cramps of an overwound muscle yet unwilling to free it. He fought for each breath, and were it not for his stubbornness, he’d have drowned in his own sweat. It hurt enough that touching himself made him cry, and though Ethan was strong, he needed help.
Reaching for his phone, he meant to call for an ambulance, certain they wouldn’t judge if they found him in such a state. But he didn’t, his eyes were too blurry to note how muscle memory dialed for someone else, their voice cutting through the thick fog. Ethan couldn’t remember saying words, and even if he had, they’d be unintelligible.
He just knew he’d been heard.
His rescue came like a dream, nebulous but tangible, dragging him from the heady clouds, and helping him land on his feet. When recalling, Ethan was upset at how little he remembered of his first knot, having to take Karl at his word and his biased reminiscing.
At least he remembered his second—and his third—their weekend coupling stretching far into the week. How either of them survived with only a shared bottle of water was a testament to evolution, and something Ethan wouldn’t question.
“I can’t move,” Ethan said once he was himself, staring at the ceiling as if he’d never seen it.
“M’sorry,” Karl mumbled, having draped himself across Ethan, responsible for his temporary paralysis. “I’m not moving, though,” he added, chuckling at Ethan’s predictable sigh.
“I’m sure you’re happy,” Ethan said, biting the inside of his cheek, “you managed to tame the feral kitty,” he mocked, his pout indestructible.
Karl looked up, his glasses missing between the sheets, his eyes hiding nothing when he asked, “Are you having regrets calling me?”
“I don’t even remember calling you,” Ethan said, reaching for his phone and looking through his placed calls, annoyed at the evidence, “I guess I did,” he mumbled, tossing the dying rectangle aside to wipe a hand down his face.
“That didn’t answer my question,” Karl said, raising his brows, concern hinted in his mossy eyes.
Ethan took a long, deep breath, blinking often as he thought of how to answer. He was sore in every sense of the word, but that awful cramp in his stomach was gone. His skin sang with goosebumps wherever they touched, and just having the pressure of Karl on top of him kept him calm.
To regret feeling this good felt counterintuitive, but he was stubborn enough to say, “You could’ve just hung up on me.”
Karl scoffed, saying, “Do you think I’m made of metal, Ethan? I’m flesh and blood!” He adjusted them so he hovered over Ethan, speaking to the crook of his neck when he added, “And you, my little Omega, are no less human.” Karl gave Ethan’s mating gland a tiny lick, humming at Ethan’s hard shiver.
“Don’t,” Ethan warned, though the word was weak, a holdover from his doggedness.
“I’m well aware,” Karl said, trailing kisses across Ethan’s neck, down his chest, further still to his navel, scratching his sensitive skin with his beard.
“What are you doing?” Ethan whined, “my heat is done,” he reminded, gasping at the wet tongue lapping his morning erection.
“This isn’t about your heat, Ethan,” Karl said from beneath the covers, taking him inside his mouth.
“Karl,” Ethan sobbed, still too raw from the last few days, yet doing nothing to stop the man from swallowing him whole. If anything, he encouraged him with the hand he brought to his hair, running his fingers through it. He grew self-conscious by how quickly he came, not prepared for the firm press of Karl’s tongue. “What was that for?” Ethan asked, breathless as Karl kissed his way back to his side, holding him.
“You wouldn’t let me touch you before,” Karl revealed, speaking through gravel, “all you wanted was for me to—”
“Okay, I get it,” Ethan said, terribly shy.
A pause hung over the air, their “after” at the mercy of time and circumstance.
“If you regret this, Ethan, you gotta let me know,” Karl said, struggling to remain neutral, “because right now I’m thinking of taking you home with me,” he whispered, kissing the shell of his ear.
“To do what?” Ethan said, trying to sound skeptical. Failing.
Karl purred, tightening his arms around the smaller man, brushing his desire against him, careful not to scare him so early in the day. Ethan still tensed, his body intimate with the knowledge of how Karl felt within him.
“Four days in a row wasn’t enough for you?” Ethan puffed out, though his skin prickled and sparked, anticipation making him sweat.
“I’ve been waiting for you for a long time, Ethan,” Karl confessed, sobering, “that’s why I need to know before I make a fool of myself,” he said, his heart on his tongue, wanting to break.
“Beg a little more, why don’t ya?” Ethan grumbled, but he could feel his restraint evaporating, flowing like sand between his fingers.
“If you want me to beg, I will, but it won’t be pretty,” Karl said, affecting a dramatic tone when he began, “please, Ethan, let me be your Alpha. I promise to always come when you call and knot you as many times as you need me to!” Ethan sputtered, but Karl didn’t stop. “And if anyone tries to come between us, don’t be surprised if I bite them. So please, won’t you at least consider my offer, and join me, even if only for your heats?”
“The walls aren’t soundproof, you know?” Ethan groaned, his face a dark purple.
“You didn’t seem to mind a few hours ago,” Karl chuckled, pressing a kiss to Ethan’s shoulder, his smirk evident.
“Oh, shut up,” Ethan whined, reaching behind himself to slap Karl’s bicep, rolling enough to meet his stare. He meant to say more, but he grew tongue-tied, ignoring the stale breath passing between them as he pushed into a kiss. His life before Karl had been a dull, monotonous consequence of being born, and save for his biannual heats, he had nothing else going on. If Karl still wanted to involve himself with him after knowing that, then who was Ethan to stop him?
They fell into another quick rut, using Ethan’s residual slick to push past any discomfort—then they took a shower.
(A much needed one.)
For the most part, nothing changed.
They still went to work.
They still ate lunch—alternating who paid.
The major and telling difference was that Ethan now met Karl after work, entertaining an outing or two, oblivious to the dates they were until Karl called them as such. Those dates became overnight stays, where they fucked as much as they talked, learning they had a lot more in common than previously acknowledged.
When Ethan’s heat rolled around, the anxiety that would normally grip him was nonexistent, and for once in his life, he looked forward to it. And so did Karl, giddier than he had any right being, gifting him his chocolates early since he promised to have more at home.
Home, shit, did he fail to mention they moved in together?
Well, they had, having known each other for the better part of two years at this point. Karl hadn’t been lying about wanting to “take Ethan home”.
With a second heat behind them, and Ethan now better aware of what went on, it was only a matter of time before he did something to upset the balance.
The first time he noticed anything unusual was a few moments after Karl bonded them, his mouth red, his fangs sharp. Ethan rushed to seal his own lips around Karl’s mating gland, feeling a frenzy start deep in his core. It ripped through him, giving him the strength to push Karl against the sofa, proud he could take him by surprise.
What neither expected was Ethan’s heat, which overtook him as he straddled Karl, anxious to feel his skin, feel him, his neck still throbbing where he’d been bit.
They were meant to have dinner that night—it’d have to wait.
Perhaps a mini-heat could be explained away with the overwhelm of emotions that came with being bonded for the first time, but when it happened again—for no obvious reason—Ethan wasn’t exactly keen on finding out why. Besides, there was a carnal satisfaction in just letting go, in being taken and filled, used and pampered, worshiped and sacrificed—he could go on about the benefits.
Never mind how sore he was after, that’s what a hot bath was for!
Still, it nearly became the norm, Ethan slick and ready any time Karl so much as hinted at more than just sleeping in bed. When Ethan’s expected heat came in, it clashed with the one he was having, leaving him an overstimulated, needy mess. It’d pushed Karl into a rut, nearly getting them fired when they didn’t call in sick.
By that point, if the office couldn’t smell it, then the gossip alone would let them know Ethan and Karl were together. They managed to keep their hands to themselves (sometimes), only misbehaving if another Alpha got too close to Ethan.
He’d call Karl overprotective, but he wasn’t complaining either.
So, Ethan accepted his new normal, living in a perpetual state of heats and super-heats, feeling like a pendulum in the universe’s massive clock.
Just as he’d settled into it—everything stopped.
Ethan noticed it in passing. His slick no longer stained his underpants, nor did he have the overwhelming desire to jump Karl’s bones every time he passed his line of sight.
Which was fine, the less he had to restrain himself, the better.
But as days passed to weeks, he couldn’t dismiss the numbness sitting on his skin like a film. Things had lost their vibrancy, food tasted bland, water was a chore to drink, and he misbuttoned his shirts often enough to be worrisome. He tried to ignore it, but once Karl noticed it too, there was no denying it.
“Not in the mood?” Karl asked one night, his fingers firm against Ethan’s front, having massaged him for a few minutes with not even a whisper of a reaction.
“I am, I am, just give me a sec,” Ethan said, shaking his head to get out of it and enjoy the moment. When another few minutes passed and still nothing, he switched tactics. “How about you just prep me instead? I like that better anyway,” Ethan said, digging through the drawer for their lube. They’d seldom used it, but given his dry spell, it’d come into play again, halfway empty.
Karl chuckled, but did as he was told, undressing Ethan until he sat bare on the bed. “Wait,” Ethan said before they got started, flipping over and presenting, not needing Karl to see the worry on his face—or his lack of excitement.
For now, it seemed to be enough, and Ethan did his best to make encouraging little sounds, even as he lay there, having more in common with the bed sheets than the man behind him. He didn’t sleep a wink that night, aiming for secrecy as he urged his dick to cooperate. The most it did was complain when he squeezed it too hard.
Alright, perhaps he just wasn’t in the mood—which was odd, because with Karl, he was always willing to go—but whatever.
He’d give it some more time.
In the meantime, he let Karl take him whenever he saw fit, enjoying their couplings for what they were, even if he hadn’t come for the better part of a month. He managed once, but only after begging Karl to mate him again, forcing a wash of hormones down his spine.
It was a temporary workaround, but it didn’t last forever, and his gland was starting to protest the constant re-scarring.
They reached their boiling point when Ethan actively worked against Karl, flinching from his every touch as he tried to undress him. “Are you okay?” his mate asked, cocking his head at Ethan’s quick nod, but when Ethan nearly kicked him for trying to unbutton his pants, he had to ask again.
“I’m fine, Karl, just get on with it,” Ethan sighed, exasperated, “you’re taking too long.”
Karl tried once more, resting his hand on Ethan’s cheek. Ethan hissed at his palm just to force himself back into it, looking rather cross at being touched.
“Okay, time-out,” Karl said, pulling back entirely, sitting beside Ethan, “if you’re not in the mood, Ethan, that’s fine—don’t force—”
“I’m not forcing myself!” Ethan snapped, twisting so he could pull Karl closer, his kisses biting and uncoordinated, “dammit!” he cursed, pushing Karl away again.
Karl looked at him for a long moment, his lips swollen where Ethan had been too rough. “Alright, now that you’ve failed to prove your point, care to tell me what’s going on?” he asked, crossing his arms.
Ethan shot him a glare, but relented with, “I don’t know.”
“That doesn’t help me,” Karl countered.
“How do you think I feel?” the Omega retorted, his lips quivering, “I really don’t know. I stopped producing slick months ago, and unless you bite me, I can’t even get it up,” he said, motioning to his neck, “and now, when you touch me, it’s like you’re trying to get under my skin—so really, I have no idea.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Karl asked, his face twisting with concern.
“Because it didn’t feel like a big deal!” Ethan said, giving in to panic, “but now I…” he trailed off, shaking his head as tears burst from his eyes.
“It’s okay,” Karl said, forgetting what Ethan told him as he went to comfort him, getting shoved for his efforts, “I’m sorry—”
“No, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to, it’s just overwhelming,” Ethan rushed to say, “in a bad way.”
“I understand,” Karl nodded, running a hand down his face, “when’s the last time you went to the doctor?”
“Doctor? Karl, I’m not sick,” Ethan said, having checked his temperature multiple times.
“Well, there’s obviously something going on that time didn’t fix,” Karl countered, “so, I think it’d be best if we went.”
“What if I don’t wanna go?” Ethan challenged, narrowing his eyes.
“You’re not a child, Ethan, I’m not gonna force you,” Karl said, not wanting to start a fight, “but we’re not doing anything until we figure out what’s wrong.”
“What do you mean by that?” Ethan asked, his spine straightening.
“I mean, Ethan, we’re not doing anything,” Karl said, getting off the bed.
“Wait, like nothing at all?” Ethan said, sounding unsure, “not even kissing?”
“You almost bit my lip off, so, yes, not even kissing,” Karl said, nodding once, his stance firm.
“Wait, wait, where are you going?” Ethan asked, trailing after Karl.
“The couch.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t I just tell you? We’re doing nothing.”
“Not even sleeping in the same bed? Karl, that’s ridiculous!” Ethan exclaimed, panicking. Forget his sudden aversion to touch, he still wanted Karl nearby.
“Mm-hmm, I think refusing to get yourself checked out is a bit more ridiculous, but I’ll let you be the judge,” Karl said, dragging a blanket from the linen closet and falling into the couch, draping it over himself.
“Karl,” Ethan whined, but the Alpha wasn’t budging, having had the restraint to resist Ethan for a year. Ethan wasn’t as strong-willed. “Okay, okay, fine, I’ll go,” he said, caving like a house of cards.
“Good,” Karl agreed, flipping on the television, not moving.
“Well, come to bed then,” Ethan said, pointing to their room.
Karl spared him a glance, ignoring him otherwise.
“Ugh, you can be an asshole sometimes!” Ethan spat, marching back to his room, slamming the door.
“It’s only because I love you!” Karl called back—his voice muffled.
And so, that’s how Ethan ended up in the waiting room, answering the last section of his new-patient questionnaire, Karl beside him. Some of the questions sparked his recollection, and not knowing how in-depth the doctor might go, it was good to have a refresher.
“I’m proud of you,” Karl said after he turned his questionnaire in, bumping his shoulder. He no longer recoiled from his touch, so some progress had been made.
“You were holding our sex life hostage, Karl, I had no choice,” Ethan grumbled, earning a quiet chuckle from his partner.
“You always have a choice, Ethan, but I’m glad you chose correctly,” Karl said, grinning at him.
“Har-har.”
“Ethan Winters,” a new voice called, compelling him to stand. He waited for Karl to follow, raising a brow when he didn’t.
“I don’t have to go if—”
“You’re going,” Ethan said, pulling Karl’s arm, hooking his around it.
“Alright, I’m going.”