Chapter 9
Charlie
When the small groan of pipes moving water through the house reached me, I was up and off the bed in seconds.
Alpha Harris was awake.
Due to the training, and the daily schedule that I knew forward and backward, I was up and ready to start the day before seven. Heck, I was up hours before that, unable to sleep despite how comfortable the bed was.
My mind wouldn’t allow me to rest anymore, reminding me of my place and who I was.
I’d never be an equal. I was an Omega. Trained and destined to serve Alphas for the rest of my life.
Since I was awake so early, I had taken a quick shower, keeping the temperature low, just like it was required at Lockswell. Unsure of what to wear, I put back on the clothes that Adrian had given me the day before.
I had almost worn them to bed, but decided not to. I was so sure that Alpha Harris would have requested some sort of service from me during the night, and having easy access to any part of my body he wanted would have pleased him.
But he hadn’t.
He hadn’t come to use me, to check on me. I was invisible, and most likely unwanted, to be in his home. Which, given what I was, was understandable.
I wasn’t as pretty as most of the other boys; I knew that.
Shaking the thoughts away, I headed to the kitchen, making sure I didn’t make a sound. The coldness of the tiled floor seeped into the soles of my feet, and I almost wished I’d kept my socks on.
Being chilled wasn’t out of the normal for me, or any of us Omegas. We often had to deal with colder temperatures during the winter months, as the heating system didn’t always work in the buildings. So some cold floor wasn’t the end of the world for me.
Thankfully, Alpha Harris had one of those fancy coffee pots. The ones that had a timer and brewed the rich nectar of life into a cup beneath it.
Unsure of how he took his coffee, I left it where it sat.
Alphas were similar in tastes, at least when it came to food, from what I overheard from others. They were simple, easy to please in that department. Or at least I hoped so.
The only other time I was with an Alpha for longer than an hour, I hadn’t gotten food. It hadn’t been offered, nor was I ordered to make anything for him. He had gotten his own food, leaving me tied to a bed while I struggled to just breathe.
I hadn’t earned anything back then. But now, I was determined to earn my place, my food, and my keep. Or at least try.
The freezer offered little. Nothing quick or easy. The fridge was better: a carton of eggs, some juice, a few slices of ham. Enough to make something. Enough to feel useful.
I moved to the cupboards, opening one after another until I found a pan and the rest of what I needed.
The pan warmed slowly as I cracked the eggs, careful not to let the shells clink too loudly. The slices of ham sizzled first, their edges curling in the heat. I moved with practiced silence, each motion deliberate.
Behind me, Alpha Harris stood in the doorway. He hadn’t said anything. Just watched. I could feel his gaze watching my every move, as though he was fascinated by what he saw.
I stirred the eggs, added a pinch of salt and pepper. The smell began to rise, soft and familiar.
Alpha Harris stepped forward, slow enough that I heard the shift of his weight before his feet touched tile.
“You cook often?” His was voice low.
“I’m required to know how to make basic items.”
He didn’t respond right away. Just leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching the way I moved. I plated the food without flourish. I slid one plate toward him, not meeting his eyes.
“Get my coffee, please, Charles. We’ll eat at the table.”
I was moving before he even finished speaking the words. The cup was still warm as I wrapped my palm around the outer edges.
“How do you want your drink, Sir?” My voice was loud enough to be heard.
“Black, just as it is when it’s brewed.” His voice dimmed as he walked farther away.
With the coffee in one hand, I trailed after him.
“Go get yourself something to drink,” he dipped his chin back towards the kitchen as I sat his drink before him.
It only took a moment. Permission was rare enough that I didn’t waste it. I poured myself a glass of water, grateful for the option. Last night, I’d settled for the bathroom tap. It hadn’t been pleasant, but it had worked.
I set the glass on the table, then lowered myself to my knees with practiced ease. I didn’t overthink it. Thinking made everything harder.
Alpha Harris shifted slightly, just enough to scoot the chair back, giving me space to move between his legs.
“I had a feeling that you’d kneel again.” His hand found purchase on top of my head. It was light enough to remind me of my place, but also gentle in a way that I wasn’t used to.
I wanted to say things, wanted to lean into his touch. Instead, I breathed deep and kept myself as still as possible.
Kneeling was the go-to response for anything. It showed the Alpha, or even the Beta, that Omegas were beneath them. That they had the power to do whatever they wished of us.
“Have you eaten yet?”
“No, Sir.” Why would I eat without permission? I knew better than that, even if my stomach ached in hunger. Sneaking water was easy, food not so much.
“A new rule,” his fingers scraped against my scalp, enough to remind me of my place. “You are to eat three meals a day. If you make me something, make enough for you, too.”
“Yes, Sir.” I wanted to mutter the words, my chest feeling tight with unease. I felt as though I had already failed, and the day hadn’t even started.
I made a mental note to try harder, to be better. I’d show this man just how great I could be of service to him.
Lost in thought, I jerked when a piece of breakfast on a fork was pressed against my lips. On autopilot, I opened my mouth, allowing him to slip it against my tongue.
“I do enjoy feeding you,” he mused between bites. “But the next meal, I expect you to sit in a chair.”
I couldn’t reply, as he fed me another bite. I chewed slowly, letting the flavor settle across my tongue.
Either I’d become a better cook than I remembered, or I was just that hungry, because I couldn’t recall a simple ham and egg omelet ever tasting this good.
Perfectly seasoned. Warm. Familiar in a way that felt foreign.
I could’ve argued. Told him I’d make my own food, that he didn’t need to waste time on me. But I didn’t. Because being fed—without expectation—felt like something else entirely.
Something tender. Something I hadn’t known I was missing.
With each bite, a small piece of me settled.
The food was gone sooner than I wanted, but it left me fuller than I’d felt in a long time, especially after the first meal of the day.
I let myself lean gently against Alpha Harris’s leg, the motion instinctive, uncalculated. His hand returned to my hair, fingertips grazing my scalp in slow, absent circles.
It wasn’t possessive. Just a steady rhythm.
If I’d been capable of purring, that would’ve been the moment. Instead, I stayed still, letting the warmth settle where it could.
Not joy. Not safety. But something close enough to pretend.
My eyes slid closed, soaking up the touch that for once, didn’t hurt. It was so out of the ordinary, I could only bask in its pleasure for however long it existed.
After a few silent minutes, Alpha Harris scooted his chair back, stood, then helped me to stand. My knees ached, but it was ignorable.
Once, I’ve knelt for nearly a whole six hours in different poses without a single break. Just orders of different positions until I got each one just perfect.
Before I could reach for the empty plate, Alpha Harris had already taken it from me.
“Finish your water,” he said, calm but firm. “Then meet me in the living room.”
I nodded and drank the rest in one go, the coolness settling in my chest like a weight I didn’t mind carrying.
The house was quiet as I moved, each step measured. In the living room, I lowered myself to my knees beside the couch, the motion automatic, familiar. I didn’t speak. Just waited. Sometimes silence said more than words ever could.
“Have you heard of the term cockwarming?” His voice was smooth and low, yet I still jerked.
Had I forgotten my place that easily? Had I forgotten what I was, and who I belonged to for the time being?
“No, Sir.” I blinked, trying to recall if I’ve ever heard that word before.
Over the years, I’ve learned and picked up a ray of vocabulary that was used by clients. Some of it was taught in our teachings, some from what other Omegas shared, and some from clients themselves. But that word didn’t sound familiar.
Alpha Harris’s eyes lit up a little in a way I couldn’t explain. It was a mix of enjoyment at my lack of knowledge and respect, maybe. No. not respect, but something close.
“Cockwarming is where you hold my penis in your mouth. No sucking, no licking. You simply hold it, letting me rest against your tongue.”
I blinked, trying to process his words. Wasn’t that the same as giving an Alpha head? Or a blow job?
“Yes, Sir.” I looked up at him through lowered lashes, the words soft but certain.
I could do that.
He held my gaze for a moment longer than necessary, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.
Then, without a word, he shifted enough to reach for the zipper.
The air between us thickened, not with urgency, but with intent.
Every movement was deliberate. Every silence, a choice
I shuffled on my knees closer to him, his legs on either side of me, as if he were caging me in. I didn’t feel trapped as both of his hands found my head, cradling my face in his palms.
I didn’t resist. Not because I was afraid. Because I was tired of bracing. Tired of calculating every breath, every glance, every movement.
So I let go just enough to feel the difference.
My body softened, no longer held in that quiet tension I’d worn for years. I leaned into the moment, into him, into the silence that didn’t demand anything from me.
Alpha Harris’s touch was steady, not possessive. His presence didn’t press—it waited. And I gave in. Not to him, but to the stillness. Gave in to the idea that maybe, just maybe, I didn’t have to earn every second of peace.
For once, I let it come to me.
“You’re beautiful, Charles.” I blushed, even though it wasn’t the first time I had been told that. It was, though, quite possibly, the first time I wanted to believe that I was. I wanted to be pretty, to be desirable by this Alpha, if only for a moment.
His touch was gentle, one hand on my cheek and the other atop my head, guiding me to his crotch.
My eyes took in his trimmed hair, neat and tidy. The cedar body wash he used was strong, but so much better than the sweat and pee smell so many clients always had.
Opening my mouth, I let the weight of his penis settle against my tongue like a piece of candy. My tongue cradled underneath him, and I let out a sigh before breathing in again.
“Perfect. Just like that. Just hold me. Ignore it if I get hard.”
Ignore it? That was…odd.
Since I couldn’t speak, as I assumed he didn’t want me to anyways, I shuffled into a better kneeling position, keeping him in my mouth. My lips wrapped around the spot where his dick met the rest of his pelvis, nose pressed against his pubes.
And, he didn’t get hard. Not for a while, at least.
Alpha Harris turned on the TV, some news station that I couldn’t care less about. The volume was more than background noise, but my focus was on the man. His hand never left my scalp, easily reminding me that he was there, in control of everything.
Within minutes, my breathing leveled out and my eyes shut. My hands were held loosely against my thighs and I simply breathed.
Simply existed.