16 sex sells
“Are you okay?” Alyssa asks, arching one dark eyebrow, but also continuing to pull me into the store.
Her arm is locked around my elbow, as if I’m an old-timey gentleman escorting her in.
With the way she dresses—it’s called Romantic Goth, Tanner, and you’d know that if you wore anything other than board shorts and slides, you cretin—it definitely suits the picture.
Except that I’m not escorting her for shit; she is in fact dragging me into this terrifying sex shop against my will.
Well, mostly against my will. I know she’d let me leave if I really wanted to, but I’m honestly a little curious.
And bored. So, so bored.
I’ve been too scared to go outside for any reason that isn’t essential, and classes haven’t started yet.
Which means I’ve spent most of my days sitting on Alyssa’s couch, ruining her Netflix algorithm while she was at work.
I’m normally a pretty big reader, as much as my dad hates that, but it’s like I can’t concentrate for shit right now.
When Alyssa eventually got sick of watching me mope, she suggested a field trip to this supposedly omega-friendly, queer-inclusive sex shop that was only a two-hour drive from her place.
There are sex shops in our little college town, of course. But Alyssa assures me I don’t want to go into them, and I needed zero convincing.
It’s embarrassing how much of a comfort it is having her with me out in public.
I don’t want to be some needy, terrified little waif that has to be escorted everywhere by an alpha.
And it’s not like I don’t have the capacity to defend myself.
Everything feels so exposing right now, though.
Like walking around in public involves holding a neon sign reading Have Hole, Will Breed or something.
It’s gotta be all in my head. I’m wearing enough topical blockers to neutralize a wrestling match. No one’s really staring at me.
I’ll keep telling myself as long as I have to.
The entrance to this place, at least, is pretty welcoming. There are inclusive and political stickers all over the windows, and the name—’The Golden Peach’—is in soft pink neon over the door.
When we finally walk inside, it’s a sensory overload. I mean, it’s nice. Kinda. Like Alyssa promised, there’s nothing seedy about it.
But it is a lot.
On the right, there’s a large wraparound counter for checkout, and not much else. A bored-looking woman smiles and waves, and Alyssa waves back, greeting her by name.
Of course she knows the people who work here.
The girl—a beta, if my nose isn’t lying to me—is just as “alternative” looking as Alyssa, but in a different way.
Punk, I guess? I don’t really know. Maybe I am just a rube, like Alyssa implied.
Hanging out with her has made me abruptly aware of how small and homogenous my world really is, and I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel about it, apart from weird.
But everything’s making me feel weird, lately, so why not pile on?
“I’m picking up that you come here a lot?” I ask her in a library whisper, for no particular reason.
She snorts and jostles my arm, turning us to the left.
The bulk of the shop is this way, long and thin, with row on row of shelves full of miscellaneous-looking boxes and displays with mannequins decorating the outer wall.
It’s bright and airy, and everything continues with the pink-and-black theme of the entrance, even though the…
items themselves are a fucking riot of color that my eyes can’t really comprehend.
“Don’t judge me for having a healthy sex life just because you’re having an identity crisis. I’m here to help, remember? If I didn’t know any of this shit, I wouldn’t be able to teach it to you, young padawan.”
I almost laugh, but manage to keep it in. I get the feeling I can’t let Alyssa know how funny she is, or I’ll never hear the end of it.
Instead, I stay quiet but put a pleasant expression on my face and try not to look too closely at everything on the shelves, so I don’t get even more overwhelmed.
Which I should have known was a pipe dream because Alyssa leads me all the way to the end of the room, where there’s a giant stand of torso-only mannequins wearing goddamn strap-ons.
Alyssa definitely clocks the way my eyes widen, and a blush involuntarily crawls up my cheeks, because she starts laughing at me. It’s gentle, though.
I’ve been laughed at by my dad and brothers plenty of times, along with other kids at school, like most people. But I’ve never been laughed at in a way that felt… nice? Like the affection there is obvious.
It’s interesting. I don’t hate it, but it does make me blush even harder.
“I don’t think this is what I need, Alyssa. I’m not planning on hooking up with another person any time soon.”
Liar.
She lets go of my arm and sweeps her thick hair out of her eyes.
“This is what I’m here for, prude. You can either watch me shop or go find the things you need for yourself. I thought it would help to throw you in at the deep end.”
She arches an eyebrow at me, then shoos me back toward the middle of the store.
“Go, go! There’s a whole section labeled ‘Heat Supplies’ in the omega section over there, you can’t miss it. Get curious. No one’s going to judge you here.”
I hesitate but then turn to go. I’m a fucking adult. I don’t need my hand held to walk around a store. I keep having to catch myself in these moments of weakness, and it’s pissing me off.
I’m halfway to the section she pointed to when I hear Alyssa call my name across the store. I turn to look at her, and she mimes taking a big breath and letting it out.
“Breathe, Tanner.”
I give her the finger, which makes her laugh again, and I can’t fight off my own smile anymore. It’s still in place when I finally turn and take in the gauntlet of options in front of me.
A lot of it is fake knots, that makes sense.
Although they come in a much wider range of sizes and functions than I expected.
There are also other shapes of dildos, and a fuck-ton of different things that vibrate.
A lot of it is branded in a way that’s obviously meant to appeal to women.
There’s a lot of pink. But not exclusively.
There are a few ones specifically labeled for male omegas, including something on the bottom shelf called ‘the manhandler’ that I don’t think I can make direct eye contact with.
Knowing that my first heat is coming at any time is one of those things I also can’t look directly at.
I know it’s happening. I know I can’t stop it.
I also know the longer it takes, the more likely it is that I’ve been fucked up by the pills Dad made me take; and the more likely my heat is going to be complicated.
Dangerous is the word the clinic doctor used.
I don’t really understand why, but that’s yet another thing I’ve been stopping myself from thinking about.
Dad would call me a coward if he could see these thoughts. Well, he’d call me a bunch of other things first, but then he’d call me a coward. Ignoring something doesn’t mean it’s going to go away.
Time to alpha up and face the future. Although the phrase “alpha up” is creeping me out now in a way it never has before.
I look at the shelves again.
There’s a simple fake knot right in the middle that comes in a bunch of colors and sizes. I look at the ‘extra large’ and of course, that makes me think of Gray.
Stupid man with his stupid oversized junk. If I’m allowing myself to think about things that scare me, then Gray is definitely high up that list.
Not that he scares me the way my dad scares me.
Not that my dad scares me…
But.
Gray makes me feel scared and hopeful at the same time.
The weirdest thing about Gray though is that since I’ve been back up here away from home, I’ve missed him.
Not just the alpha part, although my body does love to remind me of how good I’d feel if I could just smell him.
But the conversations. We haven’t had a lot of time to talk in between all the drama, but whenever we do, there’s something about him that makes me feel stable.
Safe. Like a rock face against the ocean; indefatigably there.
I seize the feeling, snap a picture of the display in front of me, and send it to him before I start to second-guess myself.
He responds within seconds, which makes me feel warm in a way I don’t want to acknowledge.
Captain Hotcock - Do Not Answer
Doing a little casual shopping?
Alyssa says I need to prepare for my heat
There’s no response for a second, and I realize I should explain.
she’s my roommate
well my temporary roommate
she’s bossy but I’m used to that
of course if i die of embarrassment in this store i won’t have to have a heat at all
you’re so old
Damn skippy. Now buy yourself something made of silicone that vibrates.
jealous?
Of a hunk of plastic? Obviously. But I’m glad you’re preparing.
yeah,yeah, I’m a prince
You certainly are.
When the message pops up, it’s accompanied by a swoopy sensation in my stomach that I’ve never really felt before, and my face is warm all over again.
Why does he turn me inside out like this?
I shove my phone back in my pocket, suddenly determined to get this over with.
Alyssa shows up just as I pull the extra-large fake knot off the shelf, eyeing me with an inscrutable expression.
“Who were you texting?” she asks slowly.
“Our lord and savior Jesus Christ. He says we’re both going to hell,” I deadpan, desperate to change the subject.
Alyssa snorts. “Yeah, tell me something I don’t know. Did you find anything good? If you’re going to hell, you might as well make the ride worth your while.”
She looks at the knot in my hand, and I shove it into the basket she picked up somewhere before I can blush any harder. I also try not to look at the shit she has in the basket for herself, because I already know it’s going to be terrifying.
“There, I’m good. Happy?”
I paste an approximation of a normal, pleasant expression on my face.
Alyssa snorts at me again, though.
“Think again, fool. You’re going to need more than that. But that’s what I’m here for.”
She shoves the basket into my arms and tackles the shelves like it’s her job. Item after item gets pulled off the rack, briefly explained, and then placed with the others.
“Bro, this is way too much,” I interrupt as she puts maybe the eighth thing into the basket.
Alyssa had made it very clear that she was paying for this excursion, because I’m fucking broke until the semester starts and still pretty broke after, but this is getting to be too much.
As if she hasn’t already saved my life just by letting me crash.
“You promised you wouldn’t fuss, Tanner. That was the deal,” she says, peering at the stuff in the basket like she’s making sure she hasn’t forgotten anything.
“But—”
“But nothing. I told you, I’m good. My parents pay for college and my place so I’m out of their hair. They want me to go to medical school so they can tell all their snooty friends that I’m a doctor, and too busy to come home for the rest of their lives. Which is fine by me,
because once I am a doctor, I won’t need a damn thing from them ever again. I don’t even have to work if I don’t want to, but I need the clinical experience. Please let me share the wealth of their shame fund.”
It definitely goes against how I was raised if I accept, but everything else is changing about me, why not this?
And for just a second, I picture the color my old man’s face would go if he could see me right now. Arm full of sex toys, being paid for by a girl I’m not even hooking up with.
The smile on my face feels unfamiliar, but in a welcome way.
“Okay, bet. Let’s do it.”