ELIANO
The whole situation in the medical office is costing me a lot of nerves, or maybe more than that, it’s just infuriating.
After he draws blood from both me and Salt, Dr. Lee says, "Now I’d like to examine you, Salt. As you know, the reproductive system of betas is central to our program’s area of focus, so these examinations are mandatory here."
I see Salt’s shoulders draw inward slightly, his lips pressed tight. His hands are clenched into fists, and despite that, they’re trembling just a little.
I speak up immediately.
"In that case, maybe I should step outside so he can have some privacy."
"Unfortunately, that won’t be possible. Partners are required to be present during examinations. It’s an important part of the bonding process, as well as the hormonal stimulation of an alpha’s possessive nature. Please trust me. This has been thoroughly studied," Dr. Lee replies.
His words sound completely abstract to me, but I’m not going to argue anymore. After what Miller said earlier, it’s clear there’s no chance Salt will be granted any privacy, which is beyond fucked up.
This whole Beta Activation program is starting to seriously rub me the wrong way, and it’s only the first day. What comes next, damn it?
"Please lie down on the table."
The ‘table’ looks like a cross between a gynecological chair and some kind of sex furniture.
It’s covered in red leather, with metal supports positioned near where the heels would rest.
"Please undress, Mr. Einarson."
"Just my pants?" Salt asks, sounding tight and defensive.
"All clothing. I’ll also be examining the mammary glands."
Salt flushes deeply. The tension in his body is obvious.
I turn away and face the wall, trying to give him at least that much privacy, but Dr. Lee immediately speaks up.
"Our regulations require you to observe the examination."
I look at him, and a hostile, warning growl slips out of my throat before I can stop it.
"Whatever you’re attempting to communicate right now, I’m afraid I don’t understand it. If you have objections, please voice them in normal language," Dr. Lee says coldly.
I’m tempted to say it’s normal for me, but instead I focus on the problem in front of us.
"This program strips people of their basic human rights to privacy," I reply equally coldly.
"We know exactly what we’re doing here, Mr. Eliano. That’s why I ask you to trust us. Our success rate is very high."
I clamp my mouth shut and decide not to say another word. The last thing I want is to make the atmosphere worse and add even more stress for Salt.
However, Salt stands there without moving, his eyes fixed on the floor. His heart is pounding, I can sense his energy with unsettling clarity, and he’s extremely tense.
Without thinking, I quietly start to purr.
Dr. Lee glances at me with raised eyebrows, but I ignore him.
For a minute or two, I keep up the soft purring, and Salt’s fists relax slightly. At last, he slowly reaches for the collar of his T-shirt and pulls it over his head.
But that’s not all he has on his chest.
My eyes go wide. Salt is wearing something omegas sometimes use, a… flattener.
Omegas, especially those who are still maturing or feeling self-conscious, sometimes wear these kinds of sporty compression tops to hide their nipples, often swollen due to a sudden increase in hormone levels.
Then Salt takes it off as well, and it becomes immediately obvious why he had it on.
His nipples look like those of some omegas.
They’re large and raised, with pronounced, elongated tips, a deep dark rose color, and the moment I see them I’m hit by a wave of heat I can’t control.
And suddenly I can’t think about anything else except a moment that might happen someday, when I’ll be able to touch them, squeeze them, and close my mouth around them.
Then, something even worse happens, completely without my consent or control.
A low sound slips out of my throat, an AO call that means ‘Appreciation’.
I react instantly, lifting my hand and clapping it over my mouth, clearing my throat to try and cover it up, but that kind of sound falls firmly into the range betas can hear.
Salt shows no reaction at all, except for his heartbeat speeding up even more.
Still, I catch a brief, assessing glance from Dr. Lee. He definitely heard it and notices that I’m fixated on Salt’s nipples. The corner of his mouth lifts in a faint smirk, as if the bastard knows exactly what’s happening here, what he’s doing, and what this is all meant to provoke.
Salt keeps his eyes stubbornly fixed on the floor.
Dr. Lee steps closer to him and says, "I’d like to examine your glands now, all right?"
Salt gives a short nod.
I have the words right on the tip of my tongue, that there’s just one small problem, because I do not agree to this, but with extreme effort I hold myself back.
Dr. Lee’s slender fingers move in a slow circular motion over the surface of Salt’s left nipple.
The cool touch makes the tip tighten instantly.
His fingers keep moving, pressing lightly, and I realize a low, drawn-out warning growl is slipping from my throat. And this also is one that a beta can understand well.
Both Salt and Dr. Lee know its meaning.
Stop what you’re doing.
Dr. Lee ignores me anyway, his other hand reaching for Salt’s second nipple.
Salt turns his head to the side, his cheeks flushed, his eyelids squeezed shut.
"Stop it!" I blurt out, completely against my will. I didn’t plan to say it, it just popped out.
"Of course," Dr. Lee says, to my absolute shock, and immediately steps back.
Wow. What the hell? The fucker reacted to my words not my AO call, kinda making his point.
Still, there’s no reaction from Salt, his body tense like a bow.
"Everything looks good. Slight nipple enlargement in betas is a positive sign when it comes to fertility activation," he states in a clinical tone.
I’m boiling inside. This whole situation is wrong, simply wrong. Twisted. Unethical.
And I genuinely feel sorry for Salt for having to go through this.
"Please lie down on the table now and remove your pants," Dr. Lee says neutrally.
And it happens again.
Salt freezes. His lips press tight, and his eyes drift back to the floor.
Dr. Lee waits, and in the heavy silence I can hear Salt’s galloping heart.
It looks even worse this time. He seems paralyzed by sheer nerves, his body as if it has turned to stone.
Wow, this is kind of surprising. With his bold, almost aggressive attitude, he reacts like this to the idea of being naked? Where is this coming from? It feels almost contradictory to his personality.
So I take a small step toward him. My chest almost brushes his arm.
The purring worked well before, so I decide to do it again, making the sound warmer and lower, deeply vibrating.
It resonates through the room, filling it with a soothing hum.
Salt slowly lets his eyes fall shut.
There is stillness in the room.
Dr. Lee watches me for a moment. I’m pretty sure he can’t quite believe I’m using that method on a beta.
This time it takes longer. The purring begins to work after a few minutes.
Salt takes one deeper breath, then another, then a third.
I can see the tension easing, if only slightly.
His fists loosen, his fingers slowly uncurl.
After another minute of my steady, deep purring, Salt finally lets out a small, miffed snort, as if angry at himself, then reaches for his zipper and pushes his pants down along with his boxers.
For the first time, I see him completely naked.
Wow.
Well. He really is beautiful! I forget myself and stare, because I didn’t expect this. The image of him in a prison jumpsuit is still firmly ingrained in my head, and it’s hard to judge anything in those. But it turns out his body is perfect, lean, and incredibly attractive.
Salt embodies a kind of gothic beauty, with the strong contrast between his pale skin and black hair, highlighted by blue dye.
His skin is flawlessly smooth, except where his web-and-spider tattoos run along one side of his body.
They start at his head, barely visible beneath the mostly shaved right part of his scalp, then trail down his neck and arm, slip below his ribs, over his hip and thigh, along his calf, all the way to his foot, winding around his ankle in black, flowing patterns of intricate webs filled with crawling insects.
He has a slim waist and narrow hips. His groin is smoothly shaved, his penis soft, which is hardly surprising under the circumstances.
Without a word, Salt sits down on the strange table and spreads his legs, resting them on the metal supports. He tilts his head back and to the side, with his eyes trained neither on me nor on Dr. Lee, his gaze fixed on a corner of the room.
Looking at his body arranged like this, I can’t help but admire its dancer-like quality.
Salt is slender, with defined abdominal muscles and lightly, pleasantly sculpted biceps and chest. His long, elegant legs and those large, dark rose nipples hold my gaze.
His intimate area is now fully exposed, everything laid out in front of me, naked and defenseless, and I feel like my blood is about to explode in my veins.
I’m fully hard in my pants, and there’s nothing I can do about it—zero control.
At that exact moment, Dr. Lee turns and looks at me, his eyes landing squarely on my crotch. The bastard doesn’t even try to hide it! This is all a damn script, and he knows every step, tracking it meticulously.
I want to cover myself somehow, but it’s hard to hide an erection when you’re not exactly modestly endowed. When I get hard, everyone fucking sees it.
Once again, that same peculiar smirk appears on Dr. Lee’s face.
These assholes control the situation by design. Maybe, from a purely goal-oriented perspective, it’s not entirely stupid, but it’s definitely not ethical. No fucking way.