Chapter 2
He carried Anthony back to the ship. He was heavy as hell, and Michael was panting by the time he got there. It was a good thing he was an alpha.
The ship was in decent condition. They’d been camping outside to make things easier for them—the fresh air helped diffuse their scents.
Two alphas in close quarters when one of them was in rut was a recipe for disaster, but now that Anthony was sedated, it wasn’t as dangerous.
It was far more dangerous to stay outside.
They’d crashed in a relatively safe area, far enough from the volcano that had damaged their ship, but anything could still attack them.
Michael definitely felt more at ease with actual walls between them and the native wildlife of this planet.
And Anthony would be more comfortable in his cabin, in an actual bed.
Except he didn’t look comfortable at all.
Anthony seemed relatively okay for the first few hours, but as evening fell, he started burning up. His skin was so hot that Michael had to undress him to his underwear. He hoped it would help.
It didn’t.
Soon enough, Anthony’s muscles began to spasm, and low, pained groans slipped from his dry lips almost constantly.
His scent grew even fouler—an aggressive, nauseating mix of alpha pheromones and arousal tangled with the unmistakable odor of pain and distress.
He was delirious, muttering nonsense under his breath, and shaking violently.
But it was when he fell silent that Michael felt real fear.
“Ant?” Michael whispered, pressing a hand over Anthony’s chest. His heart was pounding—frantic and wildly irregular, alarmingly so.
Fuck, it could spiral into cardiac arrest at any moment.
The medical droid had warned them about it—Anthony wouldn’t die from the rut itself, but from his body’s desperate, punishing response to it going unfulfilled.
Unless… unless it was fulfilled.
Swallowing, Michael shifted his gaze down Anthony’s body to the big bulge in his underwear.
He stared at it, his mind racing.
He didn’t want his friend to die. That was a fact.
But everything in him twisted with nausea at the mere thought of what saving Anthony would require.
It felt unthinkable. Unnatural. He was an alpha. Alphas didn’t submit. They couldn’t. They certainly didn’t let other alphas fuck them.
Yet Anthony’s life was on the line. Was his pride and physical discomfort really more important than his friend’s survival? Surely he wasn’t that selfish.
Michael bit the inside of his cheek. There was no guarantee that it would even work. Then again, why wouldn’t it? A hole was a hole, wasn’t it? And Anthony was unconscious; his body wouldn’t know any better.
His ass or his friend’s life. Michael had never thought he’d ever be forced to make a choice like that. The choice seemed unthinkable—but there was no real choice. Letting his only friend die wasn’t an option.
Anthony groaned, dragging Michael out of his spiraling thoughts. His large body started twitching uncontrollably. There was no time to waste.
“Ant?” Michael said, lightly slapping his friend’s cheek, desperate to rouse him. He wanted—needed—a second opinion. He couldn’t bear for this to be his decision alone.
But there was no response, only a low sound somewhere between a growl and a groan.
Anthony’s wavy dark hair was drenched with sweat, his body twitching every few seconds.
His scent became nauseatingly strong and thick, setting Michael’s instincts snapping with pure, uncontrollable aggression.
It was lucky he was a Vos alpha, his cycle tied to a smaller moon than Torryn or Xeus—his temper wasn’t as explosive as that of Xeus and Torryn alphas.
But smelling another alpha in rut was still beyond aggravating.
Under any other circumstances, he wouldn’t be near Anthony during his rut. But these weren’t normal circumstances.
Nor was this a normal rut. If it had been, Anthony would still be lucid. He wouldn’t need sedatives. A strong-willed alpha could usually endure a rut until it passed.
But there was nothing normal about this rut. Sixteen hours in, and Anthony’s condition was only worsening, not improving. Maybe it was the alien venom. Maybe it was being stranded on a distant planet, far from their home world and the moons that regulated their species’ mating cycles.
Either way, Anthony would most likely die if this unnatural rut didn’t end soon.
He had to do something.
Anthony groaned again as another seizure seized him, his body twitching uncontrollably on the bed.
Shit. He was running out of time. He had to do it. Before it was too late.
His stomach in knots, Michael took off his pants and underwear.
Ignoring his own soft cock, he grabbed the lotion he had found on one of the shelves, slicked up his fingers, and reached behind himself.
He pressed a finger into his asshole, grimacing as he fought the instinct to clench against the unnatural intrusion.
He thought of all the times he’d done this to omegas and tried to do the same thing to himself.
But it wasn’t the same. He wasn’t already slick. He wasn’t an omega.
His hindbrain screamed that this was wrong, but Michael gritted his teeth and pushed through, forcing a second finger inside. His friend needed help, and he was the only one in a position to give it. He’d be damned if he let Ant die when he could actually do something to save him.
It was just a body. He could do this, and then he would pretend it had never happened. Besides, Anthony likely wouldn’t even remember this once it was over. Michael would be the only one who knew—the sole witness to the perverse act he’d been forced to perform to save his friend’s life.
Locking his jaw, Michael scissored his fingers, stretching his hole roughly. It felt strange—uncomfortable and unnatural, but it didn’t really hurt.
Finally, as ready as he was ever going to be, he withdrew his fingers and reached for Anthony’s underwear. Bracing himself, he pulled it off.
Holy shit.
Anthony’s cock was massive—long, veined, nearly as thick as Michael’s wrist, flushed a deep, angry red with arousal.
Swallowing, Michael reached down and wrapped his hand around it. It was so warm. And hard. And thick. An alpha’s cock in his hand.
This was so damn wrong.
He worked Anthony’s cock in quick, shaky strokes, desperate—pleading—for it to be enough.
But he knew alphas deep in their rut needed more than just friction.
Even unconscious, Anthony’s body would know the difference.
Alphas deep in their rut needed to fuck, to claim someone. A hand was extremely unlikely to work.
And it didn’t.
After ten minutes, Michael gave up and let go of the cock. It looked nearly purple with arousal. But Anthony wasn’t going to come like that.
He knew what had to be done.
His asshole clenched in discomfort and revulsion as he stared at his friend’s erection.
Lube. He needed way more lube.
Reaching for the lotion, he slicked up Anthony’s cock, his stomach in knots.
This is wrong, his instincts screamed as he straddled Anthony’s hips and lined up his massive erection against his own asshole.
Get a fucking grip, he snapped at himself. It was just a body. He could do this. What were pain and humiliation compared to his friend’s life?
Taking a deep breath, he bore down.
It was...
Biting his lip hard, Michael ignored the discomfort and kept pushing onto the massive rod until it felt jammed against his heart. Fucking hell. It was so damn big. It wasn’t really painful, but it was very uncomfortable and very, very strange.
Dazedly, he opened his eyes and looked down. He’d taken it all. He was seated fully on Anthony’s cock. Another alpha’s cock.
He pressed his hands to Anthony’s chest, breathing heavily. His heart was racing as fast as Anthony’s. Trying to ignore his protesting instincts, Michael pulled up and slowly sank down on the cock again.
Fuuuck. It felt like it was splitting him wide open. Michael suddenly had a lot of sympathy for the tiny omegas he’d fucked in the past. But then again, omegas’ bodies were designed to take an alpha’s cock. His wasn’t. This was fucking unnatural. Perverse.
Clenching his jaw, Michael lifted himself and sank back down onto the other alpha’s cock, forcing himself to ignore his mind’s recoil, to silence the growls of his hindbrain. He could do this. He was doing this to save—
Anthony suddenly came alive under him, his hips bucking up. And then Michael found himself on his back, under the other alpha, who was growling and thrusting into him.
Michael’s first instinct was to fight, but he forced himself to relax. This was good. This would get the job done. Riding his unconscious friend might not have worked—this was better. Alphas had to take someone for their bodies to release the chemicals that ended a rut. This was very good.
But no matter what he told himself, the animal part of him was still howling that this was wrong, that he should fight Anthony off, that he shouldn’t have another alpha on top of him, rutting into him, dominating him.
A flush of humiliation made his face burn as he looked between their bodies—at his big, soft cock bouncing at every thrust of Anthony’s cock in his asshole.
Fuck, it was a good thing he was the only person who would remember this.
Anthony’s eyes were open but glazed and unseeing as he pounded into him.
He was clearly out of it, his body all instinct, feral growls leaving his lips.
It was so overwhelming, but little by little, Michael found himself relaxing and closing his eyes. He could get through this. It wasn’t that bad, really. It wasn’t even painful. Just weird and wrong and not right—
The cock hit something in him, and Michael jolted, his eyes flying open. What?
Anthony slammed against the same spot, causing a jolt of—no, no, it couldn’t be pleasure. He wasn’t enjoying this. He was an alpha. He didn’t—couldn’t—enjoy being mounted by another alpha—
The cock in him ground against that spot again. And Michael moaned. He slapped his hand against his mouth as soon as he heard the shameful noise. No. What the fuck.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Michael tried to breathe through it. His instincts thrashed, rejecting it, but gods, it felt so good. It couldn’t be good. He was an alpha.
But no matter how much his mind raged at the humiliation, his body betrayed him, shuddering, moans breaking free of his throat as Anthony fucked him into the mattress, his thick cock pounding against that spot relentlessly.
It was awful. It should have been awful.
Every thrust hit him like a shock to the senses.
But Michael’s body no longer seemed to belong to him, his legs spreading wider and his hips starting to move, craving more of that thick, glorious cock in him.
I don’t like this, Michael thought stubbornly, desperate, but his body didn’t care.
His body was moaning, moving, needing more, his hard alpha cock bouncing uselessly in time with Anthony’s thrusts, betraying how much Michael was enjoying it, enjoying being mounted by another alpha, taking his cock like—like an omega.
“No,” he mumbled, his fists clenching. “I’m an alpha, damn it—”
Growling, Anthony grabbed his throat.
Michael jerked as though electrocuted, his instincts screaming to fight the other alpha, to kill him, but Anthony slammed into him again, and Michael moaned and spread his legs like a slut, needing more.
I’m an alpha, I’m an alpha, I can’t like this, he repeated like a mantra, but he couldn’t fight the pleasure building inside him, his useless cock leaking against his stomach as the fat cock in him pounded into him again, and again, and again.
The voice in his head still screamed that it was wrong, but it was getting quieter, drowned out by the rising pitch of his own desperate whines. Fuck, it felt so good, he needed more—
Michael tensed when he felt Anthony’s knot begin to grow, pressing against his hole. No, no, it was too wrong—
The alpha on top of him growled, pushing his knot against Michael’s hole until it finally slid inside, huge and throbbing with come, filling him up so good.
Michael cried out, coming so hard he saw stars.