For The Beta I Fell For (bl)

Boyfriends

Harry never imagined this scenario.

It was a usual Tuesday, a usual night, a usual film day at Layle's place. But what wasn't usual was the film Harry chose—The Notebook. Sentimental, obviously romantic.

Halfway through the movie, Harry made his move. It was inevitable. He had been inching closer to Layle all night, and now there was barely any space left between them.

He turned his head, then his entire body, closing the gap between them. He pressed a soft kiss to Layle's cheek. When Layle turned to face him, their noses brushed. Their lips met.

Just like that, they kissed—again and again. Clothes flew before pheromones, landing somewhere in the living room.

Harry barely remembered how they made it to the bedroom. Every moment blurred together—Layle's weight pressing against him, the sharp scent of an alpha in full control, the way his own body responded without hesitation.

The sensation of Layle filling him was overwhelming. He had never realized how heavy Layle was, how warm. Every touch, every movement sent shivers through him. He discovered things he hadn't known before—the way Layle breathed heavily against his skin, the deep grunts rumbling in his throat, the soft, unexpected moans. The way his eyes darkened, half-lidded and hungry. The heat of his sweat. The way he clenched his jaw when he came.

Harry wished he wasn't on birth control. If he could, he would tear the implant from his arm.

Omegas were crazy under the influence of dominant alpha pheromones—but true alpha pheromones, Layle's pheromones? They made him tremble, made him climax again and again, made him crave more.

Layle's scent was addictive. It was sweet so sweet like honey, like something thick and golden melting on his tongue like sugar whenever their lips met. But soon, Layle stopped kissing him, his face buried in the crook of Harry's neck.

"Oh my god," Harry moaned. "I feel so good."

"It feels so good," he whispered to Layle's ear finishing again.

Layle rose to his knees, chest heaving, pupils blown wide. The room was saturated with pheromones, this time it's omega's pheromones intertwining with his, this time his knot started forming at the base.

There were two thoughts in his mind during all of this.

One. Keith's face—unwanted, uninvited—replacing Harry's. His gut twisted, and he covered his eyes, trying to force the image away.

Two. The message he received a few days ago about Jason's party. The sender was anonymous. He hadn't replied, thinking he could trace the number instead. But despite all his resources, he couldn't.

These two thought were replaced by another two thoughts for moments.

One. While the knot was forming he thought, and he was grateful, that he had taken suppressants when he was with Keith. If he hadn't, Keith would have ended up in the hospital.

Two. Sleeping with a dominant omega was something else entirely. They could take his stamina. They could keep up with him in ways other omegas never could, nor Keith. But why wasn't it enough?

He exhaled sharply. Enough of Keith.

"Turn around," he ordered.

Harry blinked at him, eyes bright, lips swollen. "But I want to see your face," he murmured, voice coy, teasing. "While you fuck me. While you come inside me."

"I.." Layle's mouth stayed open but he didn't finish his words, 'I don't want to look at your face,' he thought bitterly. 'Not when I see his instead.'