by Tanya Chris
Nothing.
Dr. Petra had said ten or fifteen minutes, he reminded himself. He couldn’t hang out in the bathroom for fifteen minutes, so he went back to the table and served Ryker a second slice of pie and watched as he demolished that one too.
Still nothing.
But then, wait, something was happening inside him. His channel felt like it did after Ryker pumped it full of come, like it might release a torrent at any moment. A drop of slick oozed out of his sphincter and slid down the crevice between his ass cheeks.
He squirmed on the hard wood chair, glad there wasn’t any upholstery to ruin, as moisture trickled down to coat his thighs. The wetter he felt, the more turned on he got, which seemed to make the suppository melt even more because he was fucking gushing over here. Just how much pie was Ryker going to eat? He was glad he was enjoying it, but he needed Ryker to touch him—to feel how wet he was, to plunge his hard cock inside his slippery passage.
“Come here,” Ryker said when Gage’s squirming diverted his attention away from the pie. “You too hungry for my cock to sit still?”
He nodded, a little embarrassed by his own impatience but as hungry as Ryker had accused him of being. He went over and stood in front of Ryker.
“You don’t have to be shy, little one. You’re a good little omega and Alpha’s going to give you what you need.” He raked his claws lightly over Gage’s cock, then dipped down to fondle his balls with sharp-tipped fingers.
Gage knew the moment Ryker encountered the slick. His fingers followed the damp trail from balls to ass, then slid between his cheeks to trace his sphincter. He raised his fingers to his mouth and licked them experimentally, then sucked them all the way in with a groan of appreciation.
“You’re soaking wet,” he said, equal parts turned-on and baffled.
Silently Gage begged Ryker not to ask—to play along—and he must have gotten the message because his expression changed from questioning to gloating.
“You really are a cock slut, aren’t you? Dripping wet for it—right at the dinner table. Can’t even wait for me to finish eating, can you?”
Yeah, that was it—that was the reaction Gage wanted. He was so hot he was about to spontaneously combust. A trickle of slick ran down the inside of his right leg and his knees nearly gave out when Ryker traced it back to its source and enthusiastically licked up the moisture he’d captured.
“Come on up here.” Ryker grabbed him around the waist and lifted him over his body. Gage clung as Ryker tilted his cock into position and lowered Gage onto it in a single, satisfying slide. Once Ryker had him fully impaled, he hugged Gage into his body with one arm and went back to eating pie with the other.
There was no knot yet, but he could feel Ryker all the way through his channel, warm and hard and solid and filling him completely. The lack of motion was killing him. He was so ready to be fucked—mentally ready and physically ready and his alpha was inside him—but Ryker wasn’t fucking moving.
He shifted and Ryker tsked and said, “Be still,” and forked another piece of pie past Gage’s head into his own mouth—one nonchalant bite after another, complete with yummy noises, until finally the damn pie was gone.
Ryker pushed his chair away from the table. He tilted Gage away from him and started tweaking Gage’s nipples—twisting and rolling them until Gage whimpered—but he still wasn’t fucking moving.
“Don’t you want to fuck?” Gage asked, desperate enough to prompt his alpha.
“You? Always. Now? Eh, I can wait. I just ate. I might be too full.” Ryker pushed himself farther away from the table and propped his feet out in front of him, crossing them at the ankle in a picture of relaxed comfort. “Unless you want to do all the work?”
Gage raised himself up as best he could. The chair was too narrow for him to really get any leverage, but he was too desperate to stay still. The result was only marginally satisfying. He could wiggle, he could shift his hips, but he couldn’t get more than a few inches of thrust, and there was no force to it.
Ryker’s knot started to engorge, which only increased his frustration because he wanted it, wanted it in him, but he didn’t have the strength to make it go. He ground down on Ryker’s lap, hungry for the delicious tug of Ryker’s knot popping in and out of him. He’d become addicted to it. It was nice to be filled—to be pressed into the valley between Ryker’s pecs, to have alpha scent washing over him—but shaft alone wasn’t enough anymore.
He whimpered, pressing down as hard as he could and getting nowhere. “Knot?” he begged
Ryker laughed and rose, easily lifting Gage along with him. He plunked Gage down onto the table, lined his hips up, and buried his knot in a single driving stroke, like a fist punching through drywall—a sudden blunt intrusion that burst through Gage in a fusion of pleasure and pain. He hadn’t been stretched slowly as the knot grew. This was the whole knot—fully-formed and as heavy and round as one of Ryker’s balls—smashing home all at once.
Gage screamed as he came, the one stroke enough to topple him from aroused to undone. Stars burst behind his eyes like fireworks, pinpricks of pleasure cascading through his nervous system. His head swam in a flood of sensation, darkened to everything outside of himself.
As the flood receded, he realized he didn’t even know if Ryker had come or not. He’d been so out of it. But the warm sloshy sensation in his passage, and the pulse of Ryker’s knot against his prostate, told him that he had.
Ryker carried him over to the couch. Gage settled on top of him, his knees spreading wide to seat Ryker more deeply inside him. They both moaned and he rocked, drawing the feeling out—pulse to pulse, each pulse pushing a little more fluid out of the tip of his softening cock just like Dr. Petra had explained. Being knotted was the most physically pleasurable sensation he’d ever known, and he wasn’t doing anything wrong. This was exactly how it was supposed to feel.
Ryker licked his neck, brushing at it with his fangs the way he always did while they were knotted. Gage wanted to tell him to just do it, to sink his teeth in, but it would mean too much—more than just play—and Ryker wouldn’t want him that way, not permanently. He’d be a lot of trouble even if Dr. Petra’s shots did work.
“You’re so perfect,” Ryker murmured into his ear, sending another shudder through his system. “So fucking perfect. I wish—”
Gage didn’t ask him to finish his sentence. He wished it too—that he could be Ryker’s omega—but there was no use saying it out loud.
~~~
Gage eyed his sister as he walked with her from the Immigration Office to the doctor’s office the next morning. Carmen grown up was so different from how he remembered her. The rift with their father had made her sarcastic and quick to anger, but perhaps that was understandable. She would’ve had to toughen up or she’d never have found her way to his front door.
He remembered the day he’d left his pack. He’d been lost and scared, and he hadn’t been running away like Carmen had. His mother had packed him a lunch and his father had slipped him some human money. Carmen had even accompanied him to the border and given him a hug goodbye. Overall, his family had been supportive of his decision. Lots of betas emigrated to human territory, so they were fine with him going too as long as he went as the beta they saw him as.
But omegas didn’t up and run off with no resources or protection the way Carmen had. She was a brave wolf, and clever too, and she was his sister. He wanted to be friends with her.
“So you like Macy, huh?” he asked, because Macy was a topic Carmen seemed to enjoy. “I haven’t gotten to know her very well yet, but she seems nice. Really efficient, so Ryker says.”
Carmen nodded. “She reminds me of Mom. I mean, not in a creepy way.”
Why would it be creepy? Macy was closer to Carmen’s age than their mother’s, but Macy and their mother were both female betas.
“I can see that,” he said.
Carmen didn’t respond, so they tromped along for a ways in silence.
&nb
sp; “Thinking of one of the omega houses then?” he tried.
“Maybe,” Carmen hedged. “I might move in with Macy.”
“Oh, is she looking for a roommate?”
“Not really.”
“Oh.” He wasn’t sure what that meant either. Was Carmen trying to wedge her way in where she wasn’t wanted? Should he intervene?
“She’s only got a one bedroom place,” Carmen observed.
“That might be a tight fit then.”
“Ryker’s only got a one bedroom place.”
“Ryker and I aren’t roommates. I mean … you know what I mean. We share the bedroom. And also, that’s only temporary so …”
“I don’t want it to be temporary.”
“Me and Ryker?”
“No. Great Moon, why are you being so dense? Me and Macy. I want to live with Macy like you’re living with Ryker.”
“Like …? Oh, but—”
“But what?” Carmen asked defiantly.
“But you couldn’t be mates.” They’d reached Dr. Petra’s office, but Gage didn’t pull the door open yet.
“We can too. Here we can. They made a law that says women can mate with each other just like men can. And why shouldn’t they be able to?”
“Um, no reason I guess.” He’d never heard of women mating before, but most wolves had never heard of someone like him either. Maybe there were a lot of things no one heard about because no one talked about them.
“Did you know Head Alpha Marta has a female mate?” Carmen asked. “She just took her a few months ago—an omega. Claimed her and everything. If it’s good enough for the Head Alpha, I guess it’s good enough for us.” Carmen yanked open the door and disappeared inside.
“As long as you’re happy,” Gage said to the closed door.
He had to admit that Carmen seemed happier around Macy than she did otherwise, and now that he thought about it, he had no idea why two women mating would be any different than two men mating. Maybe wanting a female mate had something to do with why Carmen had run away from their father. He was glad North Leland was a place where Carmen could be who she was meant to be. Now if only he could do the same.
While Carmen talked to Flo, he had his consultation with Dr. Petra. He was nervous about this shot thing. He’d never had one before. Wolves weren’t susceptible to human diseases, they didn’t need vaccines, and their fast metabolism meant they just suffered through whatever illnesses they got without bothering to treat them, which was why Flo didn’t do much more than dispense advice.
Dr. Petra dispensed a long, wickedly sharp needle right into his ass. It hurt.
“We’ll do a week at this dose, then up it,” she said when he’d pulled his pants back up.
“What, like a shot every day?”
“Every day for the rest of your life, I’m afraid. Once we get you on a stable dosage, I’ll teach you how to inject yourself, but you’re going to have to come in daily until then, then maybe weekly until we understand all the effects.”
Oh. That meant he’d have to stay in North Leland for a while. Which meant he could stay with Ryker. If Ryker wanted him. It also meant staying with all the other wolves who inhabited North Leland, with their judgements and prejudices.
“How long until I smell like an omega?” he asked, calculating.
“Give me a year.”
“A year!?” Holy hell.
“I’m not saying it’ll take a year to see any effects, but the hormone has to build up in your system. After a year, we should know how far this treatment can take you, but remember, you’re the first wolf to try this. We don’t know whether you’ll change a little or a lot or not at all.” She patted him on the shoulder. “You sure you want to do this?”
He nodded, half-dazed, his mind spinning with pros and cons. He’d have to quit his job back in New During and find one here. He couldn’t sit around playing at being Ryker’s house omega for a whole year. That meant he’d have to go out, which meant he’d have to interact with … wolves.
Dr. Petra didn’t even know if he’d see a result. Was an unknown chance at some slight improvement worth upending his life for?
Of course it was.
He’d already made an appointment with Dr. Petra for the next morning before his mind had even finished its calculations, because there was no question which way he was going. He couldn’t pass up a chance at having what he’d always wanted, at being who he’d always been meant to be.
The wolves in North Leland seemed really nice for the most part. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad. And then there was Ryker. Now that wasn’t a hardship. He didn’t think he’d ever be tired of rolling over and finding Ryker’s hulk of a body in bed next to him—not after two weeks, not after a year, not after forever. Truth was, even without this possibility Dr. Petra held out to him like a sweet to a toddler, he’d been close to talking himself into staying.
The world outside of Ryker’s house might be cruel, but inside that house there was someone who made him feel whole, and that, like the hope Dr. Petra gave him, was something he’d never had before.
On the other side of Dr. Petra’s office door, Gage found Carmen waiting impatiently, obviously fed up with talking to Flo. He introduced her to Dr. Petra and went back across the town square towards the market to buy ingredients for dinner and another pie, since Ryker had demolished yesterday’s pie. His alpha had a sweet tooth.
Resisting the urge to go to the Immigration Office, he took the groceries back to Ryker’s house. If he was going to be living in North Leland for a whole year, he’d need to leave Ryker alone during the day to do his job. But after he’d put away the groceries and prepped for dinner and made a pie and left it to cool, he still had half a day to fill.
Ryker’s house was so small and so completely devoid of ornamentation that it wouldn’t take more than an hour to scrub it from top to bottom. Gage evaluated the sterile living room with an eye towards making it more homey.
Curtains, maybe. One of the best features of the cottage was the way it backed up onto the forest. The large picture window in the living room showcased a wide sky arching over a rainbow of trees. It would be a shame to obscure that view, especially since the forest afforded them plenty of privacy, but putting curtains on the front windows would help him feel more comfortable with Ryker’s nudity rule.
He rubbed his hands over his arms, feeling suddenly very naked, which he was. He didn’t intend to make any more mending for himself, as hot as it was to have Ryker stalk him, claws out and lust dripping from his fangs. Tonight, he’d ask Ryker where he could buy some material to make curtains. Macy would know where he could borrow a sewing machine.
But right now? Right now, he missed his phone. Ryker did have a television. It didn’t receive any live TV, not this deep into pack land, but he also had a bookcase full of what looked like DVDs. Scanning the crowded shelves, Gage’s eye immediately landed on a series of DVDs whose spines formed a pieced-together image of a naked male omega with a gag in his mouth, his hands tied behind his back, and his ass high in the air.
OK, then. That was the sort of porn Ryker liked. Not really a surprise considering the kinds of things Ryker did to him.
He skipped that grouping of DVDs and pulled out the next one, only to find a similar image on the cover. He went down the row, yanking one DVD after another out of the bookcase and dropping them onto the floor. Hot Virgin Omega Ass 3 screamed one cover. Omegas in Captivity advertised another.
That one seemed to involve an orgy of omegas servicing a single alpha. The alpha was mouth-watering—nearly as big and buff as Ryker himself—and the omegas were classic omega—short, slight, frail-looking with perfect, hairless skin and soft omega features. Their asses were wet and open, slick glistening between their cheeks and dripping down their thighs, wide-open sphincters winking at the camera.
It was all the same. The whole bookcase—yards of books and DVDs and magazines—was stuffed with depictions of the idealized omega. The omega Gage would never be.
Chapter 8 Ryker
There was a happy spring in Ryker’s step. So much anticipation bubbled through him that he almost shifted just to shave a minute off his commute, but people got pissy about fur in the marketplace, so he sort of hop-skipped in a manner he considered dignified enough for an alpha. For an alpha who was about to get laid. And fed.
Food, fucking, naked omega waiting inside his home. Maybe Gage would have good news from the doctor. Maybe they could talk about their future.
He wanted to whistle, but he’d never learned the trick of it. Stupid wolf incisors got in the way. He tried anyway and when the result wasn’t at all happy-sounding, he just went ahead and sang out loud. Life was that good.
If his head hadn’t been in the clouds, he’d have seen Prince Devin before walking into him, and if he’d seen Prince Devin before walking into him, he’d have made a point of walking in a different direction entirely. One of the things that made a happy day happy was not having to talk to the crown prince, a.k.a. North Leland’s biggest asshole.
He apologized to Prince Devin, being careful to call him Prince Devin—unlike Angel, who resisted having his title used, Prince Devin demanded it—and made a sort of bow thing even though Devin was officially no one. Sure, he was the heir apparent, but everyone knew there’d be a challenge the moment he inherited the title of Head Alpha, if not from Angel then from every other alpha with a sense of common decency. The whole crown prince rigmarole was a courtesy to his mother and nothing else.
“I hear you’ve got a new beta,” Devin said salaciously. Because he said everything salaciously.
“Omega,” Ryker corrected.
“Right. I should’ve said I hear you’ve got a new beta that you’re dressing up as an omega. I like the way you think. While Marta’s busy freeing the omegas, you’re building us new ones. Nice.” He tried to nudge Ryker but Ryker managed to sidestep the contact.
“Gage is an omega. He just happens to smell like a beta.”
