by Willa Okati
Which meant, of course, that he didn’t get a wink.
When midnight passed and Coby still hadn’t come back, Darian stopped tossing and turning, scrubbed a hand through his hair, and decided if working this out of his system would let him get some sleep, then fine. Fine!
“You win,” he told his cock as he took it in hand. Under the covers. Just in case. “I hope you’re happy.”
His cock was, in fact, very happy with this development. Well, it was usually one of his favorite parts about being an Alpha: growing all the way up. He might be short in stature, but he had enough inches to inspire envy where it counted. Resigned if not philosophical about the situation, Darian cranked up his mental Wayback Machine until it hit on a few old favorites. Idly stroking himself, he flicked through the assortment until he found the one he wanted.
Not the one where he rode Coby like a cowboy on that old town road, no… Definitely not the first simple, almost sweet daydreams he’d had about them figuring out how all this worked together, though that tempted… And not the one where Coby plowed him from behind until he made Darian scream. That didn’t fit his mood.
Ah. The one where they woke up together and didn’t have to say a word. They knew where they were, who they were, and what they wanted. That’d work.
Darian settled down to business. He liked the slow, lazy strokes; maybe that was why he’d picked that particular fantasy. That and the way they were both confident in this scenario: when he rolled onto his back Coby followed, sliding on top of him. He bit kisses into the side of Darian’s neck, and made noises of deep appreciation when Darian wrapped both legs around his waist -- but it didn’t stop there. A few dips and teasing nudges, and then they were switching, tumbling around and over until Darian was on top instead. He had Coby’s cock in his hand then, not his own, and he knew so well what he was doing that Coby arched and groaned beneath him at the first touch.
“You like that, don’t you?” his dream self asked, rocking his hips light and easy. “Which do you want more? This cock or this ass?”
Dream-Coby pressed his hands to his face. “Fuck you, like I can choose?” He laughed breathlessly. “Oh fuck. I don’t care, but whatever you do, don’t stop.”
Should he -- oh yes. Dream-Darian flexed his thigh muscles, knowing he was wet and ready, and used his grip to turn them over one more time. Dream beds were always big enough for any acrobatics, and when they landed he lifted up, guided Coby down, and took every Goddamn inch of him so deep inside they both lost their breath.
Dream-Coby couldn’t choose, but he could sure act, and his cock was proportional to his size. Not Alpha-big -- huh -- but enough to satisfy anyone looking to get pounded. He took it slow, though, pinning Darian’s hands over his head and giving it to him in slow, languid rolls that made Darian grip at his back and keen in sharp, steady gasps. Most Alphas didn’t like getting penetrated, but Darian had a taste for it even now.
Why shouldn’t he?
In his dream, Coby reached down to slide two fingers in beside his cock, stretching Darian even wider. He knew how to crook those fingers just right and how to curl them good and hard, how to turn Darian into a thrashing mess of a man who could only clutch at him, call his name as he tried to keep up, and -- burst --
In the real world, Darian arched up into his hand and came hard.
His breath had gone ragged after and stayed that way even after the sweat cooled and the fucking glorious mess he’d made was going sticky. He still shuddered with the occasional aftershock too, but no complaints there. He’d lost the Kleenex nose plugs somewhere along the way, but when he breathed in all he could smell and taste was raw Alpha. God. So much better. Now he could sleep, he could --
The door opened.
He could dig a hole to the center of the fucking earth, dive in, and pull the firmament closed above him, was what he could do.
“Darian?” Coby asked, quiet, as he stepped inside. “I -- oh.” He came to an abrupt stop. “Oh.”
Oh, and oh fuck too. Darian slammed his eyes shut and did his very best at pretending to be asleep. He muttered something under his breath that hopefully sounded sleep-addled and suitably pissed at being woken.
Now, it wasn’t that he minded getting caught jerking off but as previously stated, well, it was personal this time, and for once in his life, he’d have to call what he felt guilty.
God, he hoped Coby fell for the I was asleep thing. Then he could tell himself what he smelled was from Darian having a wet dream or whatever. That was the kind of thing a guy could write off as just biology being biology all by itself, and if Coby did assume that he wouldn’t tie himself into knots over what it meant.
Darian hoped, anyway. Coby still hadn’t said anything, and he didn’t dare look.
He shoved his head under his pillow and muttered again, then went still and slack as if he’d dozed off.
Good God, the smell in there now.
Though Darian couldn’t see anything, he heard Coby stand still for a minute longer, then heard his quiet exhalation as loudly as if it’d been a tree falling in the forest. Heard the soft sounds of him toeing off his sneakers, then the softer pad-pad-pad of footfalls coming toward -- him. He held as still as he could when Coby hesitated once more beside his bed.
The brush of contact made him think at first that Coby had touched his hair, but no. A crinkling wrapper and the smell of chocolate, caramel, and peanuts suddenly on the pillow beside his head made him go red with -- some kind of feeling -- and pray it was too dark in there for Coby to see. He didn’t have to look to know what that was.
A Snickers bar. Coby had gone and left him the present of a fucking Snickers bar, and Darian would be damned if he knew how to feel about that.
And not even that candy could blunt the scent.
Darian held still while Coby retreated, shuffled around until he found where Darian had stowed his gear, and shook out what sounded like a blanket and gave a pillow a few thumps. Soft noises would be him wrapping the blanket around himself, and creaking springs were him climbing into bed without bothering to get undressed.
He sighed again, and Darian dared to take a peek over his shoulder. Coby had lain down with his back turned to Darian, curled up loosely on his side. “I wish…” He swallowed. “I wish you hadn’t done that.”
So much for wishful thinking and shitty acting. Darian made a fist and thumped the bed beneath his own pillow. Damn!
Chapter Two
Oscar took a long drag off the vape pen he’d switched to -- something about fire codes. Darian didn’t know, he hadn’t been paying attention. He had a cigarette and if anyone wanted to get in his face about it, let them.
In case Darian hadn’t been paying attention, Oscar blew the smoke in his direction. “So,” he mused out loud. “You’re sharing living space with an Omega about as fragile as a broken jar, quicker on the trigger than a cheapshit pistol, and jumpier than a rabbit on the freeway.”
“Judas fuck, you want to throw some more metaphors in there?”
Oscar ignored him. “All of that, and your response is to go full chest-pounding Alphahole and beat your meat until the whole place stinks of jizz and ownership?”
“When you say it like that…” Darian rubbed his forehead with his unoccupied hand. All he needed right now was to set his hair on fire.
“Then it makes you sound like a jackass?”
“More or less,” Darian muttered under his breath. “And he brought me a Snickers bar, for fuck’s sake.”
“What?”
“Long story. Makes no sense out of context.”
“I’m going to be a literature teacher, dude. I dig analysis on the macro and micro levels. But whatever.” Oscar shrugged and shifted back to facing forward, mirroring Darian, both of them contemplating the campus quad. He twirled his vape pen thoughtfully between two fingers. “He brought you a candy bar, tucked himself into bed like a lost puppy digging under some newspapers to stay warm, and delivered a line that would break th
e Grinch’s heart.”
Darian jabbed his cigarette in Oscar’s direction. “One more metaphor or simile and I’m kicking your ass.”
“You could try.”
“But…” Darian shook his head. “Yeah. When I woke up I could smell the anger, it was so strong. And he was so out of there, again, he damn near left a vacuum trail behind him.”
“Least something would have been doing some sucking.”
“Be cruder. I invite you.”
“You’re one to talk.” Oscar cocked his head sideways. “You want to blow off some steam? Make love, not war. By which I mean ‘go get laid.’ The sooner the better. I’ll volunteer as tribute if I have to. Wouldn’t be the worst way to spend a few hours.”
Darian looked sharply sideways, but as far as he could tell Oscar wasn’t joking. Huh. Like he’d said before it wouldn’t be the first time they’d gone there, and if he couldn’t get in a fight, fucking a fellow Alpha came almost close enough to do the same job. “No risk I’d get you pregnant,” he mused.
“You think I’d let you top me? Please, bitch.”
“I think I could make you want me to,” Darian said absently. He thought he saw a familiar face at the far end of the quad, coming out of the library and down the overdramatic stairs leading up to its doors.
Not hard to discern, since the owner of that face stood a good six to eight inches taller than most everyone else, Alpha or otherwise. And --
“Whoa,” Darian muttered, sitting up straighter to get a better look. That was a different side of Coby, right there. He held his head high. His shoulders were squared like a stack of bricks, his stride long, and his face forward. Darian would bet those hawk eyes of his were hard and cold. All different from how he’d been before and -- Darian couldn’t deny it -- just about as hot as hell.
“Huh,” Oscar muttered under his breath.
Darian ignored him, too busy watching Coby. He flinched every time he passed someone who caught his scent and stopped to give him a shocked and/or baffled face, but now Darian could see his hands were knotted into fists and he didn’t slow down once.
“Moody bastard, isn’t he?” Oscar asked. “Look at that. He’s copying you.”
“What?” Darian frowned at his friend. “He is not.”
“Yes he is. That’s the way you walk, like you’re stomping on the necks of your enemies. Or grapes.”
“You’re so full of shit.” Darian shook his head, but he couldn’t stop watching. Oscar was right. Coby hadn’t been one to stalk or bring his boots down that hard before, but he looked like a damn dire wolf hunting for the first throat he could rip open.
Coby caught his eye -- maybe he felt Darian staring -- and his fists curled into tighter knots. He looked away and stalked past without breaking his gait. Tough, moody bastard.
Darian kind of liked it. Even turned to watch him a little longer.
On the turn back, he frowned in confusion when what he saw was Oscar busily patting the grass. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure nothing caught on fire with all the flame in that gaze, ‘cause I see how it is now. You want him.” Oscar did Darian’s pride the kindness of not turning his way as he delivered that punctuated, underlined, and italicized declaration. “You want to fuck him till you break the bed. I know you.”
Darian growled under his breath, then mumbled, “Shut the fuck up.”
“Guess us having a quickie is off the table.” Oscar twirled his pen again. “Any idea what you’re going to do about the whole thing?”
“That won’t fuck it up worse than it already is? I don’t know. And to be honest, I’m pretty sure we’re not talking now. He’s different than he used to be.”
“Lots of things used to be different for both of you.” Oscar shrugged. “What matters is what you do about them now.”
Well, there was a thought. What was he going to do?
To be determined, Darian decided as he stubbed his cigarette out on his heel. But he would be giving it some thought. Bet.
Because Coby might have gotten a nose full of him last night, but he hadn’t been the only one.
Darian had scented how much Coby wanted him too.
* * *
Or at least thinking had been the idea. Darian hadn’t gotten through nearly enough by the time dinner hour rolled around, and he hadn’t had a chance to pick up any food for the room. If he wanted to eat -- and Alphas had all kinds of appetites -- he’d have to take his chances on what the skeleton staff cafeteria crew had cobbled together.
Darian wrinkled his nose. Fifteen feet away and all he smelled was meatloaf with a vegan option, plus green beans boiled until they were gray. Possibly grilled cheese sandwiches somewhere under there, and Alphas automatically got double servings of everything -- which was some kind of bullshit prejudice against Omegas now Darian came to think about it. He might pick that battle as one to fight.
The wrapper on the now-melted Snickers bar Coby had given him crinkled in his pocket with every step he took. He patted it, just once, as he walked in.
He sniffed the air. Huh. Maybe it was from having too much Coby on his mind, or the smell of melted chocolate so close, but he’d called the menu partly wrong: not meatloaf, but spaghetti with or without meatballs. Definitely grilled cheese. Darian made a disgruntled face as he weighed up his options, but what the hell. Food was fuel. He’d live for one night. Besides, might be a good idea to carb up before he ran into Coby again.
Darian took his place in a straggling line leading up to the hot food counter, then raised an eyebrow. Speak of the devil and he would appear, because be damned if Coby wasn’t there again, right at the front of the line. Head and shoulders above the rest and still pissed at the world.
Caught his interest, for sure.
What’d happened to change him so much? Aside from the obvious. Or… Darian cocked his head. Maybe that was all he’d needed. He remembered a few things Coby had had to say about the way his family viewed Omegas. Pretty likely he’d caught some serious hell ever since he presented a gender, especially if he’d done it later than most. Lots of pressure beforehand to Alpha up already, and then -- boom.
Yeah. Got Darian under the collar imagining what that must have been like, and Coby’d lived through it. Then add on top the fact that he looked like an Alpha, top to toe, but he had to deal with getting wet and opening up every time his cock thought about going hard. That’d fuck with anyone’s head.
Huh. Darian patted his hand over the Snickers bar, mind whirring away. Not paying that much attention to Coby himself, which as it turned out was what could be called a mistake. He jerked back to the present when he heard Coby raise his voice at the guy dishing out tonight’s processed proteins, and that was just out and out weird. Coby’d even been soft-spoken when he was angry with Darian. Yelling out of him sounded like he’d had to force it out, and it was so unnatural it made his throat raw.
“I’ve got an exemption.” Coby waved a yellow pass in the air. “I need that many calories in a day to function, all right? And that’s the minimum.”
“Can’t do it. Rules.” The cafeteria worker -- maybe sixteen, seventeen, pimple-faced and probably zit-assed, a brand new Alpha and so damn full of himself that it was almost coming out his ears -- shrugged with a smirk. “Next.”
Coby’s face went bright red, but he didn’t quit. “Surgeon General calorie guidelines for Omegas don’t apply to me. They can’t. I’m too big.”
“Not yet. Unless you want to fix that.” Zits looked Coby up and down with a leer that said exactly how he’d like to do the job. All he thought of Omegas, right there: good for nothing but fucking and babies, like Coby’s family insisted.
Darian made some fists of his own. How fucking dare --
Okay. No. That wouldn’t be allowed to stand. Lucky for him, Darian was an educator and he liked teaching lessons.
He put both hands in his pockets and swaggered forward to the front of the line. Cut in front of a dozen others, but nobody notice
d given the high drama and tea spilling everywhere. Well, they could notice this, and he’d cross his hidden fingers Coby didn’t sock him in the face for it.
Casual, easy as anything, Darian slung his arm around Coby’s waist and stood, embarrassingly on tiptoe but whatever, to kiss his cheek. “Hey, babe. Thanks for saving me a place.”
To underline the point, Darian sent a wave of Alpha pheromones billowing out that nobody with a nose could miss.
Coby stiffened, but so did Cafeteria Boy. You smelled it right. I’m an Alpha, so chew on that.
Darian cuddled Coby a little closer -- which should have felt weird, foreign, but didn’t -- and ignored the little bitch behind the counter. “Anything worth eating tonight?”
Coby shivered at Darian’s touch, and Darian could feel how much he struggled between jerking away and otherwise, but he took a deep breath and stayed put. “If they’d play by the rules, maybe.”
“They’re not fucking with your exemption thing again, are they? They all know they could get fired for that shit.” Darian met the cafeteria worker’s eye and held it. “Don’t they?”
Swear to God, he’d never seen anyone dish up two portions of everything available quite so quickly. In to-go boxes, but while Darian wouldn’t have minded keeping up that steady stare at the sexist asshole with every bite Coby would probably be better off out of the limelight. He let Coby take the heavy boxes and kept his arm around the man’s waist. Pretty comfortable, actually. Long torso and low-slung hips on that man.
Some people, though, they didn’t have the sense to know when to quit. Once he’d shoved the boxes into Coby’s arms, the worker looked back and forth between them, sputtering verbal question marks. “But you’re… he’s…”
“He’s an Omega. I’m an Alpha. Welcome to us, the freaks of the known universe, and just so you know you could get fired for questioning anyone’s orientation whether or not it matches your idea of how the world should work too,” Darian remarked, more amiably than he’d spoken since he was a toddler with a whole cookie to himself. If the stories were to be believed, not even then. “Broke your brain, did we? Tsk-tsk. However will I live with myself? I don’t know, though, something tells me I’ll manage. Just. Fine.” He gave Coby’s waist a squeeze, half warning and half -- who knew. Time to blow this popsicle stand in any case. “Let’s get out of here.”