If they'd stayed, but locked the door. If he'd paused in the hall, if he'd frozen on the stairs, if they'd waited in the car. So many places it could've gone wrong.
Clu wasn't heroic, so much as stubborn. Somebody had to be in charge. Clu could not worry. If he stopped to worry, if he slowed down at all and let the fear crawl in--
He simply refused to feel certain things.
Meanwhile, Frank did his best: he was clearly hurting, adrift in the tightening grip of instincts that wouldn't want him going anywhere but to his knees, on all fours, opened up and presenting. But he'd found a streak of determination or desperation, maybe hope and maybe omega follow-the-leader, maybe all of that, and used it to keep up with Clu stride for stride, all the way.
He'd winced his way into the seat. Clu did not look over at the wrestle with the lap belt: it wasn't easy for him to sit down, even with training, even courting the burn.
He was rumbling under his breath again, that thrum building to something almost painful.
And Frank--
Frank couldn't really hear himself. He might not notice the way his steady, deepened breathing fell to something hot and ragged under the hum of the air conditioning, quick inhales through the nose that had him moving in the seat. Frank couldn't really scent himself, cheery fake-lemon furniture polish at war with wave after wave of intoxicating sugar. It was like he was blooming, an entire hothouse unto himself.
That was for the faint traces of alpha's scent, most likely, because it was their car: their shared territory, only now it was starting to smell like all three of them, mate-scent sugared with angel overlaying his own growing appreciation for both.
Clu didn't dare breathe in the taste. Not now that they were on the right block, up the right street.
"No," he tried, from a brain working valiantly not to fog over, not to reach out and plant his hand on Frank's knee, because the other omega was right there, and clearly suffering, and it would be the easiest thing in the world to just help him feel good. "Not far now."
It could still go wrong, if Clu grabbed him and not the parking brake. For one ridiculous second, he thought about it. He entertained that amazing image--there was nothing like a really great handy in leather seats--
Except, no way would that be fair to Frank. It would not be enough for him right now. Not in up to the wrist.
Clu knew better.
Only one person could help them both.
He took his strength from that. Took them both out of the car--oh, not able to help it, outright stealing a kiss, a hard sudden taste that just did not leave Frank much time to react--
Pulled back a little, gave him room, but didn't pull away, hot-faced and flushed with the opposite of shame. He locked the car by rote, and tugged at Frank's hand, entwining them at last. Clu was almost contact-high, but just managed to moderately keep his hands to himself, instead encouraging Frank's arm to rest there on his waist, to push their shoulders together, let him rest his burning skin and slight weight on Clu's heartier frame.
He'd never remember how he got them up the stairs. He barely managed to unhand Frank enough to ring his own doorbell.
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Clu wasn't heroic, so much as stubborn. Somebody had to be in charge. Clu could not worry. If he stopped to worry, if he slowed down at all and let the fear crawl in--
He simply refused to feel certain things.
Meanwhile, Frank did his best: he was clearly hurting, adrift in the tightening grip of instincts that wouldn't want him going anywhere but to his knees, on all fours, opened up and presenting. But he'd found a streak of determination or desperation, maybe hope and maybe omega follow-the-leader, maybe all of that, and used it to keep up with Clu stride for stride, all the way.
He'd winced his way into the seat. Clu did not look over at the wrestle with the lap belt: it wasn't easy for him to sit down, even with training, even courting the burn.
He was rumbling under his breath again, that thrum building to something almost painful.
And Frank--
Frank couldn't really hear himself. He might not notice the way his steady, deepened breathing fell to something hot and ragged under the hum of the air conditioning, quick inhales through the nose that had him moving in the seat. Frank couldn't really scent himself, cheery fake-lemon furniture polish at war with wave after wave of intoxicating sugar. It was like he was blooming, an entire hothouse unto himself.
That was for the faint traces of alpha's scent, most likely, because it was their car: their shared territory, only now it was starting to smell like all three of them, mate-scent sugared with angel overlaying his own growing appreciation for both.
Clu didn't dare breathe in the taste. Not now that they were on the right block, up the right street.
"No," he tried, from a brain working valiantly not to fog over, not to reach out and plant his hand on Frank's knee, because the other omega was right there, and clearly suffering, and it would be the easiest thing in the world to just help him feel good. "Not far now."
It could still go wrong, if Clu grabbed him and not the parking brake. For one ridiculous second, he thought about it. He entertained that amazing image--there was nothing like a really great handy in leather seats--
Except, no way would that be fair to Frank. It would not be enough for him right now. Not in up to the wrist.
Clu knew better.
Only one person could help them both.
He took his strength from that. Took them both out of the car--oh, not able to help it, outright stealing a kiss, a hard sudden taste that just did not leave Frank much time to react--
Pulled back a little, gave him room, but didn't pull away, hot-faced and flushed with the opposite of shame. He locked the car by rote, and tugged at Frank's hand, entwining them at last. Clu was almost contact-high, but just managed to moderately keep his hands to himself, instead encouraging Frank's arm to rest there on his waist, to push their shoulders together, let him rest his burning skin and slight weight on Clu's heartier frame.
He'd never remember how he got them up the stairs. He barely managed to unhand Frank enough to ring his own doorbell.