Mark Me Yours [Omegaverse]

Heat

Hot... It was so hot... Ryan's heat had started that Sunday. It was now Tuesday, and even though it should be the last day, but it didn't make it any easier. Everything was too warm. The whirring of his room's ventilation system provided an odd background noise as it fought to keep the accumulating pheromones in check. His ass was sore and slimy. His dick throbbed uncomfortably in time with his heartbeat. He wanted something inside him... His body craved a dick... He needed Scott inside him...

He'd put his pillow in Scott's shirt. Though the scent was fading, it helped so much to be able to burry his face in that tantalizing smell.

He had to cum. The only way to get any relief was to cum. Once he came he could sleep a little, until his body's need woke him up again.

He could never get his fingers to go deep enough. They slid in and out of his ass easily thanks to the lubricant he was producing, but they just couldn't go deep enough!

He moaned his frustration into the pillow. Face down, ass up, one hand was working his ass and the other was stroking his penis. His breath came in ragged gasps. A new drool stain formed on his makeshift pillowcase.

More! Just a little more! Oh! Faster! Harder! Oh! He fantasized Scott ramming him from behind. Just a little more...! Just a little deeper...! Oh! Oh-! OHH!!! Finally, his body seized in the orgasm he so desperately needed. Only a few drops of semen shot out, falling harmlessly on the pad benieth him.

He collapsed onto the bed, panting hard. He would be okay for now, more or less. His fingers were slimy. He could feel the sweat running down his body. His ass cheeks slid against each other effortlessly. He felt gross. He hated his heats.

He only had a small window before his insides started winding up again. He needed to wash his hands and wipe himself down. A full shower took too much time to do every time, though he made sure to bathe twice a day when he was on his cycle. He needed to hydrate, and he should try and eat a little. His appetite always nosedived during his heat. He ended up not using the bathroom much, if at all. He sweat out the majority of his fluids, and if you don't eat enough, well, you don't poop.

He'd been told it was a built-in mechanism for omegas, one that allowed them to maximize their breeding time. He was also told that in the case of his gender, the entrance to his colon closes off completely, meaning the only thing accessable from his anus are his secondary reproductive organs. He wasn't sure how true that was though. He just knew that everything ached and throbbed and demanded to be touched and the only way to stop it was a damned orgasm.

He groaned and pushed himself out of bed, stumbling to the bathroom to clean up. Usually once his heat was in full swing like this, he opted out of clothing. Made things easier. Besides, the building's washing machines cost money. Money he didn't really have right now.

In short order his hands were clean and the worst of his sweat and slime were wiped away. He made his way to the "kitchen" and forced himself to down a glass of tap water. It was a rinse and repeat kinda thing. He checked the fridge. Even if he wasn't hungry, he needed to eat a little something between each episode. When he was younger, he tried going without eating entirely, and had suffered the consequences.

White shelves stared back at him. The food from Scott's parents was long gone. He'd finished off what little was left the day before his heat started. All that was in his fridge was half a carton of eggs, some butter, a few slices of American cheese, an old bottle of ketchup, and a pack of store-brand bologna. He didn't want any of it. He had some ramen packs in his cabinet, but those had to be cooked and he didn't feel like taking care of dishes. With a grimace, he pulled out a slice of bologna and ate it. He needed protein.

Fed and watered, he went and sat on his bed, drawing his knees to his chest. The pad crinkled under him. His sphincter was already feeling damp. Relief never seemed to last long enough. He allowed himself to tip over, landing with a soft thud against the mattress.