The Omega Objection

by G. L. Carriger

  Just like that? Tank was amazed. He was also certain that Alec wouldn’t agree to that guarantee. The idea that Alec might keep Isaac against his will because he hadn’t another pack lined up was appalling. But Alec would lie, because it was the right thing to do. Which is exactly what his Alpha did.

  “I guarantee it.”

  Isaac shifted as if he would protest.

  Alec shot him a subtle shake of the head and the Omega subsided.

  They were already acting like pack.

  Alec would perjure himself and let Isaac go, if necessary. Tank saw the moment Isaac realized that. His gray eyes widened with shock and then softened in hope.

  Bryan was looking confusedly at a steaming mug in his hand. “Now whose was this? Did I make an extra?”

  The front door opened.

  Everyone tensed. Tank realized no one was out on patrol. They were all a little shell-shocked.

  “Hellllooo, anybody home?”

  Marvin.

  Tank realized then that they were all sitting around the den clutching mugs of tea, naked and covered in gore.

  “Fuzzy wuzzy darlings! What’d I miss?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The Bun Also Rises

  “I’m worried about him.”

  Tank woke from yet another nap to Isaac’s voice in the hallway outside his room.

  “He’s quiet, even for him.”

  “He’s still recovering.” Judd’s rumbled response.

  “It’s been three days. He’s not speaking to me. He’s not speaking to anybody.”

  “Can’t you use your Omega wiles on him?”

  “Doesn’t work. I’m too emotionally invested.”

  Tank sighed and turned over in his bed, stared at the closed door. Wanting to see Isaac but also desperately not wanting it. I’m pathetic.

  “Is he normally like this after a fight or an injury?” Isaac sounded frustrated and confused.

  “Just bust in there and demand he tell you what’s going on in that big fat head of his. You know he’d talk if you forced him to.” Judd sounded annoyed with Isaac’s whining.

  “Oh, that’s rich coming from you. You think I don’t see how you are with your boy?”

  Judd sounded prim. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Omega. Fine, let me try.”

  The door opened and a streak of light pierced Tank’s safe, numb darkness.

  “Go away,” he said clearly.

  “Tank, there’s a barbecue later this afternoon.”

  Which meant it was daytime and the weekend. Huh.

  “To welcome Isaac officially to the pack. Don’t you think it’s time you got up and joined the living?”

  “No.”

  “Dude, it was just a challenge. Nice dust-up, really. No one cares that you lost.”

  Tank winced.

  “You’re all healed up. What’s the wallowing for?”

  “Fuck off, Judd.”

  “Well, I tried.”

  The door opened again and stayed that way. Tank could see the two men in the hallway.

  “There it is. You talk to him.”

  “I can’t even get that much out of him.”

  “He’s your man mountain.”

  Isaac came in and closed the door behind him. Blessed darkness. He smelled good, of grass and home and comfort – slightly salty, like chicken soup. He smelled a bit of Tank too. And of Alec and Bryan and Judd. All of them. Tank didn’t like that part as much, he wanted Isaac to smell mostly like him.

  “Hey, baby, how you feeling today?” Isaac’s voice was forcibly cheerful. “I got the evening off work so I could hang out with the pack. Marvin wants to introduce me to the neighborhood in style, he said. You sure you won’t come down?”

  Tank only blinked at him. It was dim in the room, but he could make out Isaac’s face, dear and sweet.

  Isaac puffed out his cheeks. “You know it’s hard for me to read you, right? Other stuff is all tangled up in it.”

  “What stuff?”

  Isaac tipped his head down. “You know, stuff I want to do to you. How much you mean to me. Love.”

  “Oh. I wish you wouldn’t. It’d probably be better if you got over that.”

  “Got over… Baby, what’s going on in that head of yours?”

  Tank couldn’t say it.

  Isaac sighed. “You’re my mate, right? Aren’t we supposed to talk to each other about this stuff? I’m sorry I don’t quite know how it works.”

  Tank sat up. “What?”

  Isaac looked pleased and taken aback to have gotten a reaction. “The mates thing? You know I’ve not had that before.”

  “I failed.”

  “The fight? You didn’t fail me. I never expected… Oh wait, I see. You failed yourself. That’s what’s going on here.”

  Tank locked his jaw and rolled to stare at the ceiling.

  “You stepped forward and you tried, and you think because you didn’t win you aren’t worthy? Or aren’t important to pack? Or aren’t special enough for me?”

  Tank could feel Isaac’s eyes on him.

  “Or all of the above.” Isaac the bartender-shrink strikes again.

  The bed dipped. “Can I tell you something and ask you to listen? No demands or dominance or anything like that, please?”

  Tank didn’t like Isaac begging him, wrong way ‘round. “Of course.”

  “I may have only been with this pack a few days, but you’re vital. Yours isn’t a concrete role like Alec’s or Bryan’s, or even like what I will eventually become. You’re the purpose, don’t you see? It’s a simple thing that you do best – you’re best at being pack. At being present and solid and reliable. That’s not boring or unworthy, it’s incredibly important. Otherwise, why would the rest of us bother?”

  “Yeah?” The truth of it thrilled over him, because Isaac wouldn’t lie. Not about this.

  “Yeah.”

  Tank let out a huffed sigh. So relieved he actually felt ill. “Well, fuck.”

  Isaac tentatively put a hand on Tank’s chest. “Believe me?”

  Tank immediately coiled around (as much as his big frame would let him) and pressed his head into Isaac’s lap, seeking comfort.

  Isaac immediately began petting him. “Plus, mate-wise and sex-wise, you’re pretty much specially designed exactly for me, why would I ever let that go? Even if you don’t think you’re good enough, I know you are.”

  Tank let out a watery chuckle. “Fierce Omega.”

  Isaac’s voice turned hesitant. “While we’re confessing, I have to ask. That’s not why you like me is it? The Omega thing.”

  “That’s not why. And I love you.”

  Isaac bent over him and nuzzled behind his ear, nibbled his neck. “I love you too. You’ll have to give me time to learn how to do it properly. I don’t have much of a grounding in it.”

  Tank smiled, remembering what he’d once thought about wanting to be Isaac’s foundation. Turns out he was actually the whole pack’s. “That’s what I’m good for.”

  He could feel Isaac smile against his cheek. “I think about that sometimes. That Bryan and Max and Judd and Kevin are the walls of this place, and Alec is the roof over it, protecting us all.”

  “What’s Marvin?” Tank wondered.

  “The decorative throw pillows?”

  Tank chuckled. “And me?”

  “You’re the foundation.”

  Tank was shocked at how closely Isaac mirrored his inner thoughts.

  Isaac pushed only a little. “Please don’t forget how important that is.”

  Tank snorted. “Especially in earthquake country?”

  “Tank, the pack doesn’t exist without you. You’re its essence.”

  “And what are you? The windows? Or are we losing the metaphor?”

  Isaac sniffed. “It’s long gone, baby.”

  “I really wondered why you would want me.”

  Isaac
shifted under him, pressing his cock into the back of Tank’s head to prove that wanting was obviously not a problem.

  “Not want you?” Isaac wrapped one hand around Tank’s throat, bracing it with gentle insistence and arousing him with subtle threat. “I want to collar you and keep you. I want to trap you and chain you, even knowing what that same thing did to me. Even hating that about myself.”

  “You can keep me.” Tank was hardly able to get out the words, he was so excited to say them. For the first time he felt like he had something to offer. Like offering just himself was, in fact, good enough. Not throwaway. Not cannon fodder. “You can do it all.” He curled in tighter and burrowed down.

  Isaac hummed in approval and shifted his hips to rub his cock against Tank’s cheek. Tank turned his head eagerly to mouth at it, losing himself in Isaac’s new scents which were so strong there, delicious and musky with need. Not minding, now, that he smelled of all of them. Isaac smelled of pack, and Tank was pack.

  Isaac pressed against the back of his neck with one hand and arched up against him, seeking friction. Then he drew back. Tank whimpered at the loss.

  “Clearly we gotta work on our communication. Ask for what you want, baby.”

  Tank didn’t want to. He wanted Isaac to take. But he hadn’t any pride about it either. He’d beg if Isaac wanted that. “Can I taste you?”

  * * *

  “Not yet. Maybe later. Now I want you to strip and lay back, and wait a moment.”

  Tank did as he was told, trembling. He’d moved so fast from despair to shock, to relief, and now arousal. His head was spinning. But he wanted so badly.

  Isaac locked the door and turned on the floor lamp in the far corner.

  He returned and ended up standing next to Tank’s bed, looming over him. Tank felt vulnerable, and needy, and useless. He went to move – to kneel, to offer, to crumble – but a hand was on his stomach, staying him.

  “No, I like you there, laid out like a sacrifice.”

  Tank had been hard from the moment Isaac ordered him to lie back. These words made his cock jump and bead with moisture.

  Isaac’s chuckle was dark and pleased. “Stay.”

  Tank shivered, not from cold but from anticipation.

  Isaac rustled about. Tank didn’t move. He heard his bedside drawer open and a pleased grunt of discovery. Tank had a modest but thorough toy collection. It occurred to him to be embarrassed except, of course, Isaac already knew he liked all that stuff, and at least the toys were evidence that he wasn’t giving himself away all willy-nilly to just anyone.

  Isaac liberated Tank’s desk chair from the pile of whatever was on it (half-worn clothing, probably) and pulled it up next to the bed. He sat close and looked down at Tank’s long body. Tank shivered again.

  Isaac’s hands were on him and Tank knew what this was really about. Isaac wanted to learn him. Worship him in his dominating way. Understand every part, so he could better manipulate Tank’s submission in future. But also prove to Tank that he was worthy of his attention.

  Tank moaned, helpless.

  He wasn’t interested in this kind of play. He didn’t like being the focus of pleasure, he wanted to be used and taken. Isaac should be the focus, not him.

  Isaac knew this, of course. “You will lie there, and not try to control your reactions, and you will let me do exactly what I wish because this is what I desire. Understand?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Good boy.”

  Tank felt himself flush with praise and approval.

  Isaac began touching him then. Long sweeping strokes at first, feeling the textures that made up Tank – the thin smooth skin behind his elbows, the sparser hair of his thighs, the thicker hair on his chest, surprisingly soft, and the coarser hair at his groin.

  Tank tried to do nothing more than breathe through it. He’d taken the lash once, at a club, just to see if it worked for him. Pain wasn’t really his deal, but he used the same breathing techniques now to strive for endurance.

  Isaac knew what he was doing, of course (the man was paying very careful attention).

  He pinched one of Tank’s nipples lightly. This was the kind of pain Tank liked. His nipples were terribly sensitive – with the right care, he might be able to climax just from them being tweaked. He bet Isaac would try.

  Isaac played with them for a long while, because, as he told Tank, “You make such pretty, pretty noises.” He changed the pressure and the type of pain, sometimes licking to soothe in between.

  “You are so responsive, my mate.” Isaac’s words hitched and broke. “Do you know how amazing that is?”

  Tank was starting to go to that in-between space where nothing mattered but being told what to do. He’d been instructed to lie still and feel. So he did. He’d never been able to get into sub space before, when he was the sole object of attention, when he was doing none of the work, but it seemed Isaac could put him there. Or maybe this was possible now that he let himself deserve it.

  Isaac exploring again. He used his tongue and teeth this time. He laved and nipped at different parts of Tank’s body, learning what made him twitch near to breaking (the divots around his hip bones were just too ticklish), and where he sighed in pure pleasure (the swell of his ass and all of his neck), and where he writhed and keened in pleasure pain (his inner thighs and upper back).

  Isaac pushed and rolled him around, to get at places, but never flipped him over, and never touched his cock, just played the rest of him like an instrument he was tuning to his exact specifications. Tank hoped Isaac liked his noises, because he was making a lot of them.

  At one point he opened his eyes to slits, Isaac had him on his side, facing him and was humming and licking and playing with the muscles near his abdomen.

  Isaac was obviously enjoying himself.

  His mate wore a t-shirt and sweats. His cock was so hard it created an obscene tent and damp spot at the front of the soft fabric. Tank wanted to taste so badly he contemplated begging. Except Isaac had instructed him to take this. To take the pleasure Isaac gave. To know he was worthy of it.

  Maybe if he was very good, Isaac would still feed him his cock afterwards. Tank let out a long low moan at the idea.

  Isaac sat back and saw what Tank was staring at.

  Sexy bastard reached down and stroked himself over the material of his sweats.

  “Pretty baby,” he crooned at Tank, a term of endearment Tank might have flinched away from any other time but which he only registered as an affection in his floaty state. “Still want this, do you?”

  Tank nodded, hopeful.

  Isaac chuckled that evil chuckle that Tank was beginning to suspect was both the best and worst noise ever.

  “Maybe if you’re very good.”

  Tank closed his eyes and nodded, and took another deep breath.

  “Now lie back again and take it.”

  Isaac started all the fuck over then – with the petting and the licking and the biting and the scraping.

  Pushed beyond frustration, Tank let go of his body. He floated and gave Isaac noises, moans and pleas and pants and whimpers. Isaac, delighted, drew them out of him.

  Eventually, through his haze, Tank heard the pump of the lube, then something was pressed, thick and hard, into his ass.

  Not Isaac’s cock, he already knew that well, and this was slightly smaller and a great deal colder. One of my toys? The prostate massager perhaps? Or a dildo?

  His cock, which must be dark red and very angry at this juncture (a thought which in and of itself made Tank nearly shoot, because he was a kinky fucker) throbbed at the invasion.

  Isaac’s voice was raw when he spoke. “Just look at you. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.”

  Isaac wiggled the toy about, trying to find exactly the right spot. Because Tank’s cock would probably never obey Tank again, only Isaac, the traitorous organ pulsed and wept the moment Isaac found his prostate.

  �
�Jesus Christ,” breathed Isaac and did it again. “I could fucking milk you.”

  Tank whimpered in acknowledgment. Yes, Isaac could do it, and yes, Tank would get off on it (boy would he ever) but it tested his control and his faith in himself. Which was likely part of the reason Isaac did it, manipulative fucker.

  “You want me so badly.” Isaac’s voice was wrecked now. Tank could only just hear him over the throbbing of blood in his own ears, the heavy weighted fuzzy stillness of submission.

  It was that sensation, and the certain knowledge that if Isaac continued to toy so dexterously with his ass that he would climax from that alone, that drove Tank to speak.

  “Please, Isaac, I need—”

  Isaac crooned at him, clearly delighted. “What do you need, baby, tell me? Maybe I’ll give it to you.”

  “You. Please please please, just you. Any part of you.”

  Isaac’s breath hitched and he was there, his face coming into view. He brushed Tank’s cheek with his thumb, then fed him that and only that, one digit. It tasted oddly salty.

  Tank realized that it was the flavor of his own tears on Isaac’s flesh. He was crying, leaking hot needy drops, not sobbing, but yearning so hard.

  Isaac cradled Tank’s face and kissed his wet cheeks and murmured soothing words. Then covered his mouth and gave him his tongue, another piece of himself, another benediction.

  Tank bucked, not too much, not rebellion, just an overload of need. But he was big enough for Isaac to be dislodged.

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I need to be of use to you. I can’t just lie here. I’m not good at—”

  “No no no no. Baby you’re perfect. I pushed you because I wanted to. I need to know your limits, and we’ll work on this. Because sometimes I’ll want to do this more, just play, just see how far I can drive your pleasure, and you’ll learn to let me. Because you are so very worthy of it.”

  Tank took a breath at the reminder. Isaac believed that he deserved this. Oh, he thought, I do deserve it.

  Isaac’s tone had gone clear and sharp. “You are exactly right, my mate, and I want to take you so badly I can hardly think. I’m stopping this now because it’s my choice, not for anything you have done wrong. Is that clear?”