амега (peterick)

dix.

He sings a melancholy tune of golden memories and sunshine machines.

You'd never guess a voice so low and mellow could belong to a boy so fragile. It is full of soul, as smooth as an ocean wave rolling under a cool, sedated breeze. I am the fish that dazedly snatches the bait as I stroll in pursuit of the bathroom, and it traps me midstep before the line begins to reel in, tugging me toward the partway agape dressing room door.

Standing in front of the wall length, floor-to-ceiling mirror, Patrick thrusts his hips leisurely from left to right, arching his back in an attempt to get a better view of his reflection. My clothes, his clothes, and lacy underwear of all colours have been carelessly scattered around the room, spilling from open drawers and swinging haphazardly from the coat hooks lining the windowless walls. Two chairs, also being used as clothes racks, are angled toward the mirror in such a way that it looks as though they're waiting for an audience to come sit and watch the show.

And what a show this is.

Having never experienced rut with an Omega before, I'm only familiar with the basics from Biology class. The symptoms are generally random, unveiled and discovered as and when, but the rut itself will only be triggered while the Alpha is close to an Omega on their heat. Usually, an Alpha's rut will last as long as said Omega's heat, however, their first will tend to be touch and go, and they will remain as such until the pair have bonded.

On the subject of bonding, the process of creating one is essential to the mating process. That being said, the pair don't necessarily have to mate or knot (or even have sex at all), in order to create a successful Bond. Under that circumstance, the Bond won't remain completely permanent, and neither will it mean the pair is mated for life, but it does forge a deep, possessive connection between the two, and will work just as effectively to ward off other Alphas who may take interest in the dominants Omega. Having said that, so as to create a competent Bond, both the Omega and the Alpha must receive a mark, as must the Omega be in heat.

In shorter terms, now is the most consequential time for me to go into rut for the very first time.

Patrick's sweet song has long finished, but he continues to hum its melody as he slides his palms tenderly over his body, exempting brief, soft grunts from the back of his throat. My breath rattles as I inhale sharply, freezing the roof of my mouth and drying my throat. I can smell the salt from every bead of sweat that clings to his pours. My skin itches and my back begins to ache, its muscles contracting so tightly I feel I can barely move. Hot tears curl around my eyes like clawed, bloody fingers. I feel completely sick to my stomach, afraid I'll never eat again, and yet, I crave to devour every millimeter of the Omega standing no more than five feet in front of me. The hem of my pants tightens in agreement, and a single thought clouds my mind; that I want, need, to fuck this boy utterly senseless.

He said he wasn't ready. Control yourself.

I'm not sure I can do that. Perhaps we could still...

How will you know that he's ready to Bond?

Cancelling out my inner debate, I swallow arduously and push open the door, unhurriedly, so as to not frighten the Omega. Patrick is oblivious, and goes on with his faux performance. He's still humming dulcetly and bumping his hips back and forth between his palms as I stride up behind him, capturing his pelvis in my hands mid roll.

"He can strip, he can dance, and he can sing," I muse. Patrick freezes on the spot and glances guiltily at my reflection. He turns slowly to face me, but doesn't try to cover himself up. His eyes widen as though he's been caught disobeying the rules, and he knows he's done wrong, but he's ready and waiting to accept his punishment without argument. I trail my fingers along his hip bones, smirking when I spot the swelling in his panties. "Aren't I lucky?"