Frank didn't know what made Clark briefly freeze like that. Shock? Dismay? Pity, maybe? It didn't seem like anger, but then it was starting to get difficult to focus on his expressions and body language. In fact it took an active effort to focus on anything but the gentle touches, Clark's hand on his arm, on his waist... He tried not to imagine his hand straying a bit further south, maybe unzipping his fly, and- no, no, he absolutely shouldn't think that way! Not about a man mated and married!
But as usual his accursed body with its dirty, shameful instincts thwarted him, and the image prompted the first stirrings in his groin. It was far too late to back out now, whether or not he wanted it. "I... I know," he said, regarding the suppressants. He knew what he'd been doing wasn't exactly healthy, but the alternative made the risks worth it. "I know it's too late now." Far, far too late. "And I wasn't trying to... I just thought that if a double dose wasn't working any more, maybe a triple would?" A gamble that he'd almost made, fueled by a cocktail of hormones and desperation. If it hadn't gone in his favor... or if Clark hadn't been there... No way to know, now. Now he was in this, and no one knew better than an Omega that heat, once it got its insidious claws into you, only had one resolution.
Natural, he said. It was natural, and not to worry about his mate. A great many things were natural. A disease was natural. That didn't mean he wanted to experience them. "I... don't want it to be natural," he said, finally sounding certain about something even if his voice still shook a bit. "I hate it; I hate that it's part of me. I thought... if I suppressed it long enough, consistently enough, maybe it would just... stop. Or at least... at least I could pretend..." That he wasn't broken. Weak. Needy. A whore.
But despite all his efforts, his body had proven once again that he was all those things. There was no pretending he was anything more than a shameful, disgusting little tramp who would do almost anything to get a cock in his hole. Clark leaned in, whispering in his ear, and he shivered despite how warm he felt. His jeans started to feel a bit tight, and wetness began to gather between his legs. He wanted it. He hated that he wanted it, hated himself for wanting it, for being unable to resist. But he wanted what Clark was offering.
"...Yes.", he said, more breath than voice. But with Clark this close- he wanted him closer still, all over him, on top of him, inside him- there was no need to be louder. "I want.... I need your help."
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But as usual his accursed body with its dirty, shameful instincts thwarted him, and the image prompted the first stirrings in his groin. It was far too late to back out now, whether or not he wanted it. "I... I know," he said, regarding the suppressants. He knew what he'd been doing wasn't exactly healthy, but the alternative made the risks worth it. "I know it's too late now." Far, far too late. "And I wasn't trying to... I just thought that if a double dose wasn't working any more, maybe a triple would?" A gamble that he'd almost made, fueled by a cocktail of hormones and desperation. If it hadn't gone in his favor... or if Clark hadn't been there... No way to know, now. Now he was in this, and no one knew better than an Omega that heat, once it got its insidious claws into you, only had one resolution.
Natural, he said. It was natural, and not to worry about his mate. A great many things were natural. A disease was natural. That didn't mean he wanted to experience them. "I... don't want it to be natural," he said, finally sounding certain about something even if his voice still shook a bit. "I hate it; I hate that it's part of me. I thought... if I suppressed it long enough, consistently enough, maybe it would just... stop. Or at least... at least I could pretend..." That he wasn't broken. Weak. Needy. A whore.
But despite all his efforts, his body had proven once again that he was all those things. There was no pretending he was anything more than a shameful, disgusting little tramp who would do almost anything to get a cock in his hole. Clark leaned in, whispering in his ear, and he shivered despite how warm he felt. His jeans started to feel a bit tight, and wetness began to gather between his legs. He wanted it. He hated that he wanted it, hated himself for wanting it, for being unable to resist. But he wanted what Clark was offering.
"...Yes.", he said, more breath than voice. But with Clark this close- he wanted him closer still, all over him, on top of him, inside him- there was no need to be louder. "I want.... I need your help."