by Aiden Bates
I could always leave and go to Mami’s or Marcos’s if it really made him feel uncomfortable. I didn’t mind that at all. Surely Mitch and Oliver would understand if I explained why I was trying to give Charlie space.
Yeah, we had options.
I sipped my coffee—black with lots of sugar, the way I liked it—and thought about how to propose my different plans of action. I couldn’t really explain that I was ready to accommodate whatever he needed until we could talk. It didn’t feel like the kind of thing you ought to text someone, but at least it would show how important it was that Charlie come out of his room for at least five minutes so we could actually have the conversation.
I eyed a mug on the counter and came up with an idea. Not a peace offering exactly, since we weren’t fighting. It was more like a gesture to show him I sort of understood he was stressed out by the situation and that I was ready to…help? However I could, anyway. Besides, if nothing else, he would appreciate coffee. He always drank coffee in the morning.
I closed my eyes to make myself remember how he usually drank it. He used fake sugar, not real sugar like me. Splendas? Two of them, I thought. And milk, lots of milk. I’d definitely tease him about the amount of milk he put in his coffee. At home, we always drank it black, but Charlie’s coffee always looked like it was the color of oatmeal. Only little kids drink coffee like that at home, so I thought it was pretty funny to see him drink “coffee” that basically seemed like a coffee-flavored milkshake to me.
I opened my eyes and glanced at our walls and poured until the coffee roughly matched their light tan color. Taupe, Charlie had called it.
Once the coffee seemed ready, I walked back down the hallway with both of our mugs and stopped outside of his room.
“Ch-ch-ch-Charlie?” I asked through the door.
I could definitely hear him in there, but no answer came.
“Charlie?” I asked again. This time I heard something like a muffled groan, but I decided to press on. “I got your coffee out here. Two Splendas and lots of milk, right?” I asked, hoping the question would force a reply. The silence, and then the weird, stifled noise were starting to make me worry.
“Charlie?”
“Yes, Pedro!” I finally heard through the door. “Yes. Thank you! Thank you so much. If you leave it on the counter, I can pick it up in a bit. Thanks!”
He sounded exasperated and frustrated that I wasn’t going away, but this wasn’t like Charlie at all. It also wasn’t like anything I’d ever heard or seen about an omega’s heat, and I started to think that maybe this wasn’t just his heat. Maybe this was something more. In fact, the weirdly panicked hint to his voice, the fact that he was refusing to come out, and his quick retreat yesterday when his heat had come on unexpectedly, all seemed to point that this wasn’t just a regular heat.
This felt more like when I woke up thinking I was still on the ground beside the Humvee in Malmur. Or like when I’d sleep too deeply, and my brain would wake up just a few seconds before my body. My heart would start hammering as I lay in bed, convinced my body had fallen back asleep for good but had left my brain behind. That panic I’d felt when I thought I’d have to lay in a hospital bed for the rest of my life, this time aware of everything around me…
What I heard in Charlie’s voice felt like that, and I was positive Charlie had woken up after a nightmare, had reminded himself that Jason wasn’t here anymore, and was now determined to cry it out by himself.
I could picture it vividly. And if that was the case, I wasn’t leaving Charlie alone.
Fuck it. I could always ask for forgiveness later on. But I was going to be the kind of friend I wished I had during my panic attacks.
“Charlie?” I asked, one more time. “Charlie? Fuck it. I’m coming in.”
“N—”
Before Charlie could protest too loudly, I opened the door to his room, only to run face-first, straight into a wall.
Not a literal wall. But, the air inside Charlie’s room felt thick enough to stop me in my tracks. It smelled damp, like sweat, and also like… Well, like, Charlie. Except it almost smelled like there were a hundred Charlies in the room. Everything felt…zoomed in, magnified, like the whole world had been reduced to this.
I almost dropped both coffee cups, and probably would have if all my muscles hadn’t suddenly locked solid.
Not only was the scent overpowering, but there, on the bed lay Charlie.
Legs spread wide open, a red flush coloring his chest, his hands in between his legs desperately working at himself, and completely and totally naked except for the sheen of sweat that was making his hair cling to his forehead.
“Pedro?” he asked, in a gasp.
9
Charlie
Oh my god. Oh my god. This wasn’t happening. There was just absolutely no way in hell this was happening right now. I wanted the earth to crack open and swallow me whole. Maybe if it did, I wouldn’t have to face reality.
What reality was at this moment was Pedro, in my doorway, mouth hung open in a way that, in any other context would have been absolutely hilarious. I could see my yellow travel mug clutched tightly in his hand, his knuckles white around the metal. Even so, Pedro looked, smelled delicious. Rumpled dark hair, stubble still outlining the hard edge of his jaw, eyes black with only the thinnest line of amber around their rims… And by the second I could see his expression shift from shocked to…interested, very interested. Jesus. How long had it been since someone had looked at me that way? Speaking of…
I groped for the bedspread to cover myself. This heat was insane, even by my standards. In the past few years I’d gotten used to the crazy unpredictability of my schedule, and the uncomfortable knowledge that there wasn’t anyone to help relieve the bone-numbing ache of it. Now, though, now there was an interested alpha in my doorway, one that smelled like honey and a little bit like whiskey.
What was I saying? This was Pedro. He was my friend, who seemed to be coming back to his senses, shaking his head like a wet dog.
“Fuck, Charlie. Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled, the words hardly registering in the haze of my heat. What did grab my attention, however, was Pedro setting down the thermos and then retreating from the room, backing out slowly like I was a wild animal. I definitely felt like one.
“Wait,” I said, the word out of my mouth before it’d even sparked across my mind. My voice sounded uncharacteristically rasping, hoarse. For a second I thought perhaps I hadn’t actually said anything, but after a moment’s hesitation, Pedro stilled, looking absolutely unsure what to do with himself.
“Please, don’t go. Something’s… Something must be wrong with my suppression pill, I think. I’ve never had a heat this bad before.”
“What do you need?” Pedro asked. His voice was deeper than I ever remembered hearing it, but that could have just been the pheromones talking. The question was innocent, the kind a concerned friend would ask, but in my state of mind, all it sounded like was temptation, heady and dark. What I needed was for Pedro to consume me whole.
God, what was wrong with me? I tried again, desperately trying to pull myself together a bit. I took a deep breath, hoping it would clear my head, but it was no use. The smell of the two of us was thick in the air.
“Just… I think if you stayed, it would help.” I didn’t know how. This was dangerous. It was an impossible thing to ask of my friend.
Pedro shook his head again. “Charlie… I don’t think that’s a good idea.” That’s what he said. What he did was walk closer to my bed, drawn to me despite the reason in his words. He was still dressed for bed, and the gym shorts he favored for sleeping were doing nothing to hide the hard outline of his cock. My mouth, moments ago dry as the Sahara, watered. I wanted that. I wanted that, now. I tried to raise my eyes and look at his face instead, but how was I supposed to do that when he was just, just there like that, hot and hard and thick and absolutely exactly what I needed?
Pedro sat down at the edge of my bed, gripping into th
e soft down of my comforter.
“Is there anything I can do?” he asked softly.
I finally raised my gaze upward, and this close I could see the genuine concern playing out on his handsome face.
“I could draw you a cold bath, get you some water? That’d have to be better for you than hot coffee.”
I shook my head.
“Should we get you to the hospital?” he asked hesitantly.
“No!” I shouted. He looked shocked again at my outburst. “No,” I repeated more sedately. “No, I don't want anyone to see me like this. It’s so embarrassing. This shouldn’t be happening. No, the only thing I can do is just wait for the pill to wear off.”
Pedro opened his mouth as if to object, but then wisely shut it instead and nodded, skepticism still evident.
If I’d thought the way he smelled before was satisfying, this close he smelled downright edible. I wanted to bury my nose in his neck and lick him. I wanted to rub my cheek raw against that stubble in the hope of having some of that scent linger on my own skin. I wanted to bottle it. I wanted to wallow in it.
It seemed perfectly logical, in that moment, to do what I did next. I reached out for his fingers, still knotted in the fabric. When my hand made contact with his it felt like I’d taken a fork and jammed it into a live electrical socket. I went to move away when he reached to tangle his rough fingers with mine instead. Heat wasn’t just a name. An omega’s heat came, well, with a lot of…warmth. Even now, I felt like someone had set my stomach on fire, but the heat that came from Pedro’s hand was different. While my heat made me feel frantic, this seemed to settle me a little. It gave me something to hold onto, a port in a storm.
“Tell me what to do to help,” Pedro said, looking at our joined hands. “I’ll do anything.”
Oh, how I wanted it. Maybe if I’d been in my right mind, I would have refused, would have taken my hand back, patted him softly on his shoulder, and sent him on his way. But I wasn’t. I tightened my hand on Pedro’s, and then brought it to the edge of my blanket and onto my bare skin. Pedro licked his lips as I then slid our hands past the soft cotton to my belly. My hips were already starting to rock in miniscule, involuntary thrusts at the very idea of someone touching me.
“I just… I need some relief,” I explained.
Pedro tugged on my hand to stop me from going lower, and I bit my lips to keep the whimper forming in my throat from escaping.
“Are you sure?” The question was spoken softly, almost as if Pedro didn’t want to hear the answer, no doubt still expecting a denial.
“Please, Pedro. God. Please,” I begged.
“Dios,” Pedro growled. And then he released my hand, leaving my own at my navel. We watched together as he snaked his hand further under the blanket. My thighs trembled the closer and closer he got to my cock. “Yeah, yeah maybe that would help,” Pedro agreed.
I was full on writhing by this point. It felt like my skin was on fire. I wanted him everywhere all at once.
“Do you have any idea what you look like right now?” Pedro asked. When had he gotten so close to my ear? When had his voice developed an electrical line straight to my cock?
He dragged his nails through my pubic hair, and then palmed my throbbing erection. I shook my head frantically in response to his question. I thought he might jerk me off, but he let go of my cock and began searching between my legs. I automatically, spread my thighs, willing, desperate to let him have anything and everything we both wanted.
“You look… Fuck, Charlie. You look like… Like a fucking angel,” Pedro said. “Gorgeous.”
He traced around my hole with his fingers, and I couldn’t help it. I whined. He groaned at the feeling of my slick opening. I already believed the medication had cranked my heat up a notch, but it’d also made me wetter than I’d ever remembered being.
I impulsively started stroking myself in time with his probing fingers. Pedro lay down beside me, putting his mouth achingly close to my earlobe. I gave into my urges from earlier and tilted my head backward slightly to fill my nose with his scent, the barest hint of his sweat. Pedro teased more at my entrance before he was gently pressing inside me.
He was trying to go slow, but I was long past ready for something inside me. I rolled my hips down and took everything he was offering.
“God, you’re so desperate. Look at you,” Pedro said, breathing softly into my hair. His gaze was still fixed on the blanket, and I realized what he wanted. Struggling for a moment, I pulled the blanket away so he could see me splayed out for him. The omega in me wanted to preen under his attention, wanted to display myself for his pleasure.
That was all the catalyst Pedro needed. As soon as he’d looked his fill, he was on top of me, his mouth sealing over mine in an instant. I wrapped my hand around his head, threading my fingers through his hair and twisting at the base of his neck.
He pulled back, and at first I thought I’d gone too far, but he was frantically pulling at his t-shirt. I helped him, and between the two of us tearing at his clothes we were able to get him undressed. Finally, he lowered himself back down and I wanted to cry in relief at the feeling of all of him pressed down into all of me.
It was like a switch had flipped, and I suddenly found myself the focus of his attention. His mouth was hot and insistent against mine, and he used his tongue to tease at my lips and then press for entry. I hooked my hands under his arms and onto his shoulder blades, digging my nails into his skin.
Pedro hissed and slid his mouth down my jaw to bite at my neck. “Knew you’d be a handful in bed,” he growled into my ear.
I shook my head. I didn’t want him to talk, all I wanted was him inside me. “Pedro, please. I need you,” I said. I drew my legs up around his waist. “Come on. Get inside me. Fuck me.” I never cursed. It was fine, it just wasn’t my thing. But saying the word seemed to incite Pedro. He shifted position until he was pressing the thick head of his cock into me. It had been so long since I’d had anyone. God, I wanted it deep down in my bones.
I barely felt the burn of him pushing into me, it all felt so good, exactly what I needed, and I moaned softly as he continued to fill me up.
Pedro sighed when he was finally sheathed all the way in me, splitting me open.
“G-g-god, you feel so good. So good, Charlie.”
I started rolling my hips again and Pedro took my cue. He reared back to his knees and took my thighs in his hands to spread me farther apart before beginning to slam into me over and over again.
“You’re taking me so well, angel. Like you were made for it. You were, weren’t you? You were made for this,” Pedro grunted, his head tilted so he could watch where his cock plundered my hole, all while the sound of slapping skin echoed through the room. Finally, I could feel some relief and I wanted to absolutely lose myself in this. I felt utterly present in the moment, something that was often hard for me. How could I not be? Pedro wasn’t just filling me up, he was dominating every single one of my senses. His skin was under my fingers, his scent swirling all around me and mixing with my own. My eyes were feasting on the sight of him as he dripped sweat, his full lips parted as he angled himself to repeatedly hit my prostate. I wanted to give myself over to it, to the moment.
Time started to melt and stretch all at once. It felt like it had been seconds and hours all mixed together. At long last, a sizzle of sharp tingles raced down my spine and my stomach tightened to let me know I was close.
“Oh, god. Jesus, Pedro, I’m going to come, I’m, oh god, I…” I could feel myself tightening, vice-like, around him in anticipation of release.
“That’s right. Lock down on me. Fuck, fuck. So good, so good, Charlie,” he groaned.
Pedro hoisted my hips further up into his lap before resuming his frantic pace, eventually losing tempo as he got closer and closer to his own finish.
“Come on, Pedro. Come on. Fill me up. That’s right,” I whispered in his ear, and then just like that I was coming all over myself, untouched, while
at the same time Pedro gave a full-body shudder, and I watched as his eyes closed and his mouth flopped open as he poured himself into me.
Well, that was certainly something.
10
Pedro
For the second time in the day, I lay in bed staring up at the ceiling.
Well, sort of.
When we’d moved in, Charlie had brought the tiny twin-sized bed he had at his parents’ house. Meaning that you couldn’t completely lay flat on your back unless you were the only person on the bed. Not that we’d been trying to lay flat side-by-side since I’d first walked into the room, and not that I had even thought about the tiny size of the bed at all before I climbed into it with Charlie.
But now, less drunk on hormones and without Charlie begging me to stay as sweetly as he had and without Charlie looking like—well, like he had when I first walked in—it was easier to become aware of how little the bed was.
So Charlie’s leg was crossed over my left thigh, I was edged in very close to him, and even though it made the most sense to put my arm underneath him or to just ask him to roll over so we could spoon and fit better that way, I didn’t. That felt…intimate? Like, the kind of thing couples—or triads, I heard Mitch object in my head—did after sex. Like, I wanted to cuddle—because of the size of the bed—but it didn’t seem like that kind of situation. We just weren’t a couple.
Besides, cuddling felt inappropriate for another reason. Yes, the bed was small, yes, he looked sort of adorable whenever I stole a glance at him out of the corner of my eye. But it was hard to ignore that, although it wasn’t as bad as when I first walked in here, I was still hard as a rock. And from what I could tell under the thin sheet we were sharing, Charlie was, too.
Still, I hadn’t been expecting a workout until later that day, and I was still breathing hard, half from the exertion and half in an effort to convince my leg to not seize up on me. We were both still breathing hard, and we were both quiet, so I tried to will myself to relax. Considering I hadn’t thought twice about what we were going to do once Charlie asked me to stay, I at least felt like I should think about things now.