Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Mal
Hopeful
The rain eventually peters out, leaving a steamy afternoon that makes it feel like everything is sticking to me and that sweat can’t evaporate. I work my way around the front of the store, sweeping, dusting, fronting and facing merchandise, tidying displays.
Far from the worst task I’ve ever performed. I feel Davis’ gaze follow me around the store as he perches on a stool behind the counter and works on a computer.
It feels…oddly creepy and exciting at the same time to think I’m reading hunger in his gaze.
Not the food kind, either.
I’m not a virgin, topping or bottoming, but bottoming is my preference.
I wonder what it’d feel like to lean against the counter while he…
I tighten my grip around the broom handle and turn to face the front of the store, certain my face must be flaming red.
Reaching down, I adjust myself again.
See, this is one of the reasons I wormed my way out of as many family runs as possible, especially if we were running with other packmates.
Because I didn’t want to pop wood in front of anyone, especially a guy, and have my family notice it or, worse, in front of a woman because there was a guy I liked nearby and my Dad thought I was interested in her and he might try to make a match.
Add in the problem about mating heats.
Never been in one—thankfully—and would rather not, if possible.
Not without a mate of my own. Or, at the very least, without a lockable door between me and the rest of the world.
Yeah, amongst canines, omegas have mating heats, males and females. I don’t know what triggers it. It’s not a subject my regular high school covered in health class.
If you think I’d ask my dad about it, then were you honestly paying attention earlier?
I’ve never had anyone to discuss omega males and heats with. Among my pack it’s taboo to discuss—again, please reference my earlier discussion of Dad’s homophobia—and I don’t know what’s myth and what’s real.
What I’ve heard is for an omega male to get pregnant, he has to be in heat. Like, the metaphorical planets have aligned and everything’s perfect, add an Alpha mate of similar species, and bada-bing, badda-boom, maybe you’ll get a baby.
I mean, among canines. Not sure how it works with other species, and Dad forbade intermingling.
Unless they were rich as hell, or well-connected. Then it was totes okay, obviously.
But only as friends. Or business associates.
Not as mates. Never as mates.
Not even as friends with bennies.
Six o’clock rolls around and I help Davis with closing chores. He hands me two twenties, and when I try to protest he folds my fingers around them.
“You did good. I can afford it. Just pay it forward if you ever get a chance.”
“Thanks.” I grab my stuff and my bike, load it into his pick-up truck, and wait for him to lock up and set the alarm.
When he joins me, he starts the engine but we sit there for a moment while he’s obviously thinking.
Finally, he says, “We’ll grab food real fast. Then we need to meet with someone.” He looks at me. “For that part, I need to hold all your devices that can record. You will get them back,” he quickly adds. “Also, you’ll have to wear a blindfold for that drive. It’s short, only twenty minutes.”
“We won’t draw attention?”
He snorts. “Not around here, no. But it’s a safety issue.
You’ll talk to someone, decide if you want to hang around or not.
If so, I’ll take you where you need to go.
If not, I’ll blindfold you again, get you out of there, and then we’ll take a drive over to the coast so you can part ways with me and maybe find a job on a shrimp boat or something. And get your devices back.”
“Everything’s in my backpack.” I hook a thumb at the topper over the bed. “So that’s easy.”
He nods. “Okay.” He shifts the truck into gear and we drive less than a mile to a little pizza joint.
“Don’t talk while we’re in there, please, unless I talk to you, okay?” he says.
I nod.
“Any food allergies?”
“No.”
“Good.” I follow him inside, where there are humans behind the counter, but I smell several different kinds of shifters, pretty strongly, like they’re frequent visitors.
This is a popular place for shifters.
He must have put in the order while I was working because three boxes are waiting for us, a bag holding something else, and a couple of cold 2-liter bottles of soda.
He pays, and I help him carry it out to the truck.
I don’t ask questions. We drive two minutes to a small park, where we sit under a picnic shelter.
Despite the earlier heavier rain, I still faintly smell shifters. Meaning there must be a lot of them around here and using this place on the regular. Tonight we have the place to ourselves and my stomach grows nonstop from the delicious aroma.
He bought three extra-large pizzas and two orders of garlic knots. I didn’t realize how absolutely starved I was until I took my first bite of that hot, gooey, cheesy masterpiece.
He smiles from across the table. “Best pizza around. Only pizza around,” he adds, laughing, “but even if they weren’t it’d be hard to beat them.”
“Shifters own the place?”
“Yeah. Everyone working in there is either blood relations or adopted family.”
“Part of the pack?”
“Pretty much, yeah.” He takes a bite. “Kids born into the pack, they’re automatically in. People from affiliated packs, they’re usually in if they’re born or mated in. But anyone not born into the pack? They go through initiation.”
I’m nervous but I smell his arousal, so it’s having an effect on me. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure. Not sure I can answer it.”
“I understand.” I decide to plunge ahead. “Can you tell me about omega male mating heats?”
He was taking a bite and his eyes widen. He nearly spits out the pizza because he starts laughing and choking and has to wash it down with a few swallows of soda before he can talk. “Say what?”
Yep, my face is burning. “Look, I know I’m an omega, okay? I’ve never been in a mating heat. And before you ask, no, I’m not a virgin, but I’ve never had anyone to talk to.”
He cocks his head. “Really?”
I point at myself and circle my finger. “Homophobic father. Never told him I was gay until his guy caught me dry humping a human in a club. And even if I did know other omega males, I couldn’t talk to them about this without it getting back to my dad.”
“Ah.” He slowly nods and wipes his hands with a napkin. “Wolf, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Let me preface this by saying I’m not a wolf, and I’m not an omega, so I’m not an expert.
” I nod, and he continues. “My understanding is mating heats in canine omega males usually happen on a fairly predictable cycle. Again, I don’t know the specifics.
There are also, supposedly, concoctions you can take to trigger them.
Sometimes, it can be triggered by hormone dumps, like if you’re being chased by an Alpha who wants to claim you as their mate, or if you’re scared or super horny or something.
And, apparently, sometimes they just randomly hit.
Again, sorry, not certain about the deets.
“What I do know is I’ve seen omega males hit a mating heat. Some of them, they’ll pretty much bend over for anyone that’ll fuck ’em on any day ending in Y and twice on Sundays.
“Now, if you want to be the center of a gangbang, rock on, been there myself. But even shifters who aren’t Alphas will react to you being in heat, and if you toss yourself into the middle of a literal fucking mosh pit, expect you’ll get fucked until no one can get it up.
“Have you ever fucked a guy in a mating heat?”
He grins. “Plenty of times. To the point I was squirting dust, I was so worn out. It’s fun for everyone involved.”
“What if the omega doesn’t want to fuck others?”
He shrugs. “It’s the hormones or something.
I mean, I know guys who are poly or swingers, and when the omega is in a mating heat, the Alpha tosses him into the middle of a bunch of their friends and enjoys the show.
And it’s not always an Alpha who’s the dominant partner.
Some omegas have more control than others.
Some literally can’t remember their own name.
In those cases, a mating heat buddy helps keep them safe if they don’t have a dominant partner.
If they have a closed relationship, then Goddess help the dominant partner, because he’ll need a strap-on to fuck that omega until his heat passes. ”
“How long do they last?”
He shrugs and takes another bite of pizza. “Depends. Usually a couple of days.” I can’t talk because all the blood in my body feels like it’s now in my cock.
“If an omega’s not claimed and there’s some reason he doesn’t want others to fuck him, I mean, I guess he could lock himself in his house, shove the biggest vibrating butt plug inside him he can find, and go through a gallon of livestock birthing lube stroking his cock until he collapses from dehydration or exhaustion.
Heard about that a couple of times, but those were not usual situations. ”
My tongue feels too big for my mouth. “A couple of…days?”
“On average. I remember one guy was taking all comers for like four days.” He laughs.
“Someone finally bought the biggest strap-ons they could find so guys could take turns just lying there and letting the omega ride the dongs.” He snorts and shakes his head.
“He slept for about three days straight after and walked funny for a couple of weeks, but he was the happiest motherfucker you ever saw. I don’t think the rest of us who helped out were able to get it up for at least a week or so, he rode us so raw. ”
Something tightens in my belly in a good way, because I can see it clear as day in my head, wishing that were me.
“But,” he continues, “if an omega catches pregnant while in a heat, that apparently shuts it down almost immediately.”
“Can that happen with someone they’re not mated to?”