Omega Blues (Gay Romance)

Chapter Sixteen: Chocolate Syrup

Bren

A few days in Matt's crowded house gave me flashbacks to my omega training school. Three bedrooms were not enough for five werewolves, two humans and a wolf.

"I've got something to confess," I told him Monday night. "I miss the Mountains."

We were already crammed in his narrow bed, but he snuggled closer and made a sympathetic hum. "Werewolf territory stuff?"

"No. I just miss space to move." Even as I said it, I buried my face in his sweet-smelling hair. We couldn't get any closer, but I still wanted more. I wished I could climb inside Matt and stay there, huddled and warm forever.

And not just in a sexual way.

"Space is overrated," he said. And then, like he was reading my mind, "I just miss making you moan. We should be having more sex. It's awesome."

I chuckled. I wanted him, of course. I yearned to keep exploring his body, to watch him dissolve under my hands into the rippling pool of pleasure.

But it wasn't just a booty call that made me take time off work and drive down to see him. I missed him. I ached for him with a crisp sadness, two parts adoration and one part loneliness, a constant vibrating pang that thrummed through my body. It hurt to be away from him.

I didn't know if this was first love or a werewolf mating bond. How could I tell at which point human want merged into werewolf need, when everything I knew about werewolves said I shouldn't be capable of feeling either?

I wanted him. I needed him. He turned me on. It was a good thing, but almost impossible. I wanted to just accept it like Matt did, with his blind faith that life was always meant to be good and kind. But I knew better.

I'd never heard mention of omegas finding love. True, I hadn't tried to seek out that kind of information—but only because I knew it couldn't ever relate to me. And now here I was, so far gone that I had to accept it was possible, and terrified that it could disappear and devastate me in ways I couldn't conceive.

But for all the fear and confusion, I couldn't deny how much I wanted him. I was hard from lying in bed with him and—since he'd told me he didn't want us to hook up with his band around—I tried my best to hide it by angling my hips away as subtly as I could. I'd always slept naked so it hadn't occurred to me to bring pajama pants, and the pair Matt had offered me were painfully too small. He'd complemented the way they hugged my thighs and ass, but even Matt's look of desire wasn't worth the cruel slicing of the waistband into my hips.

So I was naked, snuggled up with Matt. His pajamas didn't do much to quell my yearnings for him, even though they were fuzzy and printed with pirate skulls and crossbones, cutlasses, and the repeated words "walk the plank" in a round and friendly font.

This close to the full moon I was getting wolf senses while in my human form—like stronger werewolves had all the time—and which I'd never had cause to regret before. But heightened senses were not fun when I had a delicious, warm Matt in my arms and we couldn't do anything about it. His scent and body heat made for a potent cocktail.

"Did you want to...?" I swallowed then tried to rephrase the question. "Do you mean you want to...?" Still no good. Not the first time I'd noticed that I didn't have Matt's sexual frankness.

"I want to." He nudged my rib with his elbow and I could picture his eyebrows wiggling up and down. "Just not in a house full of werewolves with super-hearing. Wait till we're really alone."

"Anything you want." I settled in for the agony of waiting for my libido to die down.

It was difficult. The sounds were different in this house, and Matt was distracting.