tanks4thememory | Two heads are better than one

Entry tags:

Two heads are better than one

Who: Clu1 and Clu 2 (a_perfect_end)

Where: Their User world abode and possibly other places

When: Some undetermined time post Legacy and after this thread

What: ABO sexytimes and maybe other things; a Clu on Clu catchall

Warnings: VERY NSFW. Multiple kinks, ABO related warnings, sorta incest depending how you view programs from the same User, basically enter at your own risk if you're not into that sort of thing

The life and times- and sexytimes of Clus One and Two in the ABO universe, collected here for the sake of convenience and avoiding page clutter. Multiple scenarios, lots of fun. Mostly of the NSFW variety.

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Frank- full name Francis Foulques- pressed himself into the corner of the hallway alcove, trying desperately to calm his breathing and stop his heart from feeling as though it was trying to hammer its way out of his chest. It shouldn't have been anything! He'd brushed past one of the other employees- a known Alpha- on his way out of the man's office after he'd emptied the trash. He'd muttered an automatic apology, moving his cleaning cart out of the way to let the man pass, to which the man had offered an equally automatic assurance that it was no problem. Such incidents were a dime a dozen when one worked in a busy office building.

But then the other man's gaze lingered on him as he walked away. Not for long, but long enough for Frank- who made an effort to avoid attention under most circumstances, especially from Alphas- to notice. But still it might have been nothing if not for the fact that the gaze and the whiff of the man's scent that came with it brought a flush to his cheeks that wasn't entirely due to embarrassment. Something deep within him lurched at that, the shameful and disgusting creature that he kept locked away trying once again to claw its way free, and he was certain in that moment that the other man knew, that he could see every dirty secret of his body and mind. That his carefully constructed façade would be torn away, revealing the weak, broken, disgusting thing that lay beneath.

It was ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous to think that anyone could determine that much from a brief glance and a whiff of scent. And he knew that, logically. Yet it did nothing to calm his racing heart or half-panted breathing, nor silence the shameful, disgusting creature in him that wanted, needed an Alpha's gaze, their touch, their scent, their cock...

No! He tried to firmly clamp down on that thought, block it out and crush it like the weakness it was, but it was no use. The flush wouldn't leave his pale cheeks and images of huge, hard cocks with knots beginning to swell came to the forefront of his mind. 'Stop squirming, Francis. If you can't bear a child, you can at least take your fucking like a good little omega.'

There was no doubt about it. The suppressants were losing their effect, even taking a double dose. And dread of the inevitable consequences of this joined the other feelings roiling in his gut. But maybe... maybe he could hold it off awhile longer? He couldn't be revealed here. He saw these people nearly every day; they couldn't, mustn't know about his shameful secret, his disgusting weakness. Maybe... maybe a triple dose would work? Yes, that would help; it had to. It would buy him some time until he could get more pills or at least lock himself away in his apartment to suffer through it alone. Yes, surely a triple dose would do it.

Peeling himself away from the wall, he passed in front of the door to the unused office the alcove led to, to the water cooler on the opposite side of the hallway, fumbling for the bottle of suppressants in his pocket with shaking hands. Thank God this part of the hallway wasn't used very much at this time of day...

Edited 2023-07-18 05:03 (UTC)

Unfortunately for Frank, Kyle the server guru was both an asshole and extremely good at his job. Meaning he could not be fired, no matter what he did or said, and so he did and said whatever he wanted.

That left people who dealt with Kyle on the daily just--needing a minute, once in a while, to take in some air. To take a walk, and think about murder while grabbing some water, contemplating the paper cup and literally getting a grip: not crushing it, just observing, steadying their hands.

Because omegas who lashed out were emotional and difficult to work with. And nice nails was in fact a compliment! Just not from Kyle.

Clu--Clark--marched to the water cooler on autopilot, shoved the lever down like it stole something, and inhaled a full cup with zero situational awareness. He took a deep, steadying breath. And blinked at sudden motion in his peripheral vision: somebody trying very hard to not be seen, and thereby making themselves more visible. This one looked more than half-ready to run straight past him.

Oh, hey! He knew this guy. Knew about him, anyway. He'd seen him before, usually with the cart, always attended by the faint, pleasant chemical smell of random cleaners. He did the windows, and similar tasks--quiet, calm, very efficient.

Right now he was shaking, flat out, like a leaf in a storm, shoulders hitching with his breath as he palmed out a truly monstrous number of familiar pills. The big white ones with a dark blue notch where you were supposed to cut them in half.

He had a fistful ready, uncut, and looked like he'd choke them down dry rather than dare approach the water cooler or ask Clark to move. Clark, who most figured was an alpha at first. He had shoulders. He took up room. Encroaching love handles had somehow only made him more rectangular.

He had nice nails and a wedding band and he was doing the hum, low and steady, almost subvocal. The deep one Beth had teased him about, when she was full of what had turned out to be twins, laughing and letting him feel her belly.

Letting him purr, she'd called it. Flatly omega crooning. Weird instinct, at a weird time, for no reason he could identify.

Clu cleared his throat, pressed his tongue down on the noise. Maybe it was just because the guy was clearly terrified: clutching his coverall, gripping the pills, head darting on a swivel.

"Hey, sorry." Clu tried to make himself smaller, kept his hands visible. "I literally did not see you there. You okay?"

He did not look okay, somehow greying and flushed at the same time, deadly pallor straining to turn a rich, inviting red. He didn't seem super aware of his surroundings, either, except to keep himself curled protectively against surfaces. Getting pressure, even if he wasn't quite aware of it, and looking for somewhere safe.

His eyes were way too big. Staring, white on all sides, but on the inside dark and bottomless. Was that the medication, or something else?

"Frank," Clu tried, slowly, keeping his gaze on his face. Didn't move towards him, didn't loom, mechanically pulling a fresh drink in a new cup. "it's Frank, right? I'm Clark."

Crucially, Clu wasn't blocking any exits or cutting off his path. Just offering him the water, if he wanted it, nice and easy. It might even distract him from what was definitely a dangerous dose.

Lungs, liver, heart: enough suppressants eventually suppressed everything.

"I've seen you around." Quietly, since the guy seemed wired for sound, for reaction of any kind. Clu moved very slowly, but he moved: putting himself between Frank and any other personnel that might come barrelling down the hall. "They really are easier with water, man."

What was it about being hyper aware of one's own body that sometimes made one unaware of much else? Whatever it was, Frank was mentally cursing it now, colorfully and prolifically. There was someone between him and the water cooler. Someone he knew, or at least someone he'd seen around; one of the twins. By the smallest of mercies it was Clark, not his Alpha brother and mate, but that didn't stop his heart- which a moment ago had been attempting to hammer itself out of his chest- from seemingly lodging itself in his throat.

He'd seen the pills. He couldn't have failed to see them. And there was no excuse he could offer that any sane person would accept to cover what he'd been doing. Which meant that he knew. Both what he was and what he'd been doing to hide it. Of course he could probably smell him now too, this close by. He was so stupid! He thought he'd been careful, letting only the bare minimum of people know his shameful secret. His doctors knew, though some of them didn't know of each other. His employer knew, but only in the sense of what was required for legal purposes, and that was tucked away in a file somewhere.

But no one had known what he'd been doing to suppress his own shameful and disgusting nature. No one until now.

Despite what Clark might believe, Frank wasn't exactly quiet by nature. But had been pounded into his head growing up that it was better for him to be seen and not heard. 'No one cares what comes out of an Omega's mouth, only what goes in,' had been a saying by the Alphas in his community that had generally prompted amusement from their fellows. That was, an Omega's ability to cook well and suck cock was far more important than anything they might have to say. And staying generally silent made it far easier to avoid saying the wrong thing and arousing an Alpha's anger. 'Talk to me like that again, you ungrateful little tramp, and I'll throw you right back out on the streets where I found you!'

Now though, when he needed to speak, he couldn't. His lips had seemingly forgotten how to form words, and his heart- which remained stuck in his throat- prevented any sound from escaping anyway. Until, that was, he heard a sound himself. A low, soothing, almost sub-vocal hum that he realized after a moment was coming from Clark. A familiar sound, one he and the other Omegas had often used to comfort each other. It was that purr and its familiarity that finally managed to unstick his heart from his throat and allow him to get a proper breath.

And with that breath came awareness of the other man's scent, which only drove home the urgency of suppressing that broken, disgusting creature within him before it was too late. If it wasn't already. Aside from the soothing sound Clark was treating him like one might a trapped animal, one likely to bolt or lash out at any given moment. Quiet words, no sudden movements. It seemed to help a bit, giving Frank the courage to slowly reach out and take the cup of water with a hand that still trembled faintly, though thankfully not so much as to spill its contents.

Clark really did have nice nails, he noticed, focusing for a moment on his hand as he took the cup. Perfectly manicured, with nail polish n a nice, subtle shade of gold. And that was hardly his only attractive feature. He was handsome, well muscled without being too bulky, with strong, squared shoulders, and finely formed thighs that his well fitted pants did very little to hide. All of which was far too distracting just then. And of course being twins, his brother was just as good looking as he was. A bit slimmer, but with a ready smile and charming personality that seemed tailor-made to put most anyone at ease. Despite his easygoing nature, though, the bulge that graced the front of Kent's well fitted pants left no doubt as to which of the twins was the Alpha. That bulge was downright distracting at the best of times, and the thought of what must lie beneath it...

Oh God, what was he thinking?! Lusting after someone else's mate when they were right in front of him? Trying to help him even? He really was a dirty little whore wasn't he? And too weak and needy to banish the thought or fight the way it deepened the flush on his cheeks. "I... yes," he managed finally. "I'm Frank. And thank you. For the water." Which he made no motion to drink. Nor to swallow the pills he'd gotten out. Just held them in faintly trembling hands while not quite looking Clark in the eye, unable to bring himself to do it in front of the other man. To give the other no doubt about how weak and broken he truly was.

Edited 2023-07-22 02:07 (UTC)

The hum embarrassed Clu. It was a weird tic of User physiology he'd never dreamed existed, that still felt alien and out of his control. But Frank didn't seem to mind it at all. He actually relaxed for it, just a little. It thawed him out a bit.

It took him another few tries to get his words out, a shivery interval that had Clu alert for swaying, for rolling eyes or vertigo--any sign of a faint. That would need prompt medical attention. But Frank held reasonably steady, if still a bit jittery, not quite looking up or down.

Clu watched, considered that, and splayed his fingers just a little, so they would gleam.

It wasn't his hands that riveted Frank's gaze, that gathered a rich, deepening flush all the way up from his shirt collar. His chest must be glowing. Trim and sleek, from what Clu could see in turn--the other omega was slighter and finer-boned than he knew himself to be.

There was something almost fragile in the furtive, hungry way Frank kept looking-and-looking-away. It was strangely intriguing. And he was doing it for longer stretches. Lost in related thoughts, maybe.

He had almost a fistful of pills in his hand, but he was not taking them. And meanwhile the hallway was starting to--waft--with that scent like a fallen angel given human form. Clu needed to think. He needed to triangulate, for both of them: this was a mixed-alignment building. The longer they stood there, the narrower their option set would be.

"Sure," hummed Clu, feeling it tickle the backs of his teeth. That purr wanted out, and it did not care about his personal comfort level, rising to meet the growing warmth in the other omega's scent. "Any time, man. You looked kinda thirsty."

...Shit. Shit. The guy was clearly in distress, and he was flirting! Shit.

Nobody used the three-eleven, did they? It was supposed to be empty. That was right up the hall, tucked away in an alcove on their diagonal.

"Y'know," he turned, slowly, still between Frank and whatever might come their way, without strictly boxing him in. Clu gave a deep stretch, not quite managing a real yawn, using it to dig his knuckles into his back. "I was thinking of taking a little break. You could walk with me, for a bit." Flicker of gold fingers, down at the cup. "Just--take a sip, maybe?"

"You're really," he smelled incredible, "looking kind of warm."

Frank had become used to watching people's body language over the years. It had been a necessary survival skill where he'd grown up, and and even after he'd gotten out, before he'd managed to get on his feet. While those who claimed to be experts at reading everyone's body language were generally full of it- too much depended on knowing a particular individual for that to be effective-, there were some general patterns he'd noticed. And right then the way Clark moved his hand so his nail polish caught the light seemed a bit too intentional to be mere coincidence.

Which meant that he'd likely noticed how he'd been staring. And telling himself that there was no possible way Clark could know the kinds of thoughts he was having about him and his mate did nothing to quell his self-loathing. Clark was a married man, for God's sake! As was Kent, both being loving brothers and mates. That he would even have such thoughts about them was shameful. Disgusting.

He hated his body for prompting such thoughts, the kind of thoughts that had once prompted him to try touching himself to try and finish himself off after one of the Alphas had finished with him. He'd thought the man was gone, but he'd apparently forgotten his watch and had come back into the room to find him in the middle of his explorations. 'So even an Alpha isn't enough to satisfy you?', the man had sneered. 'I see why they call you the town bicycle; everyone's had a ride on you, eh little whore?'

But more, he hated himself for not being strong enough to quash them. To keep control of himself. The suppressants had helped with that. Until a couple years later they no longer did, so he'd started doubling up his doses. Thank God that his doctors hadn't required blood tests when he'd asked for the prescriptions. But now, almost two years later, even the double dose was losing its effect. The triple dose in his hand was a risk, but he'd been taking the double does for so long, and only felt a bit ill for the first week or so of doing it, that surely it would be just a matter of adjustment, right?

But he was too much of a coward to take them in front of Clark. So instead he tried to focus on their conversation, if it could be called such. Better than focusing on the way his shirt pulled taut across his chest when he stretched like that. Or how it pulled the crotch of his pants up just a bit, showing off his own bulge, which was rather impressive for an omega. Or how it was becoming increasingly more difficult not to focus on such things. He cursed his weakness.

And he didn't just look warm, he felt warm. A bit too much and too persistently to call it a simple flush. Dread clutched at him, twisting in his gut. God, why now? He wanted to run, to hide, but there was no way to hide from the dirty, disgusting creature he was, not now. And nowhere to run that he could be sure of getting to safely on his own.

He finally closed his fist around the pills, lowering the hand containing them, and forced himself to take a sip of water. Then took a longer one because the cold water seemed to give him a bit of focus, and he hadn't quite realized how much his earlier half-panting had dried his throat.

"Thank you. Again," he said. Then after a brief moment. "There's... an empty office across the hall." Clark seemed to be trying subtly herd him that way anyway. "I've got keys." For that office and any other parts of the building that didn't require security to buzz someone in; one of the perks of his job in maintenance. And it meant, that if all else failed, the door could be locked. From the inside. He stuffed the pills hastily back into his pocket before he changed his mind so he'd have a free hand to fumble with his rather heavy keyring, trying to find the one for three-eleven.

Edited 2023-07-22 08:25 (UTC)

They didn't know each other well, but Clu knew when he was being watched. At one point it had almost been his job: people needed a leader who was there for them, and that meant somebody they could see and hear and touch. And he thrived on it.

Didn't hurt that he was carved like an action figure: Flynn had tried, once, to explain that it was hard for him. That he actively struggled with being attracted to men and women, that he felt it should have been impossible for him to be a widower with a dynamite ex-girlfriend, and still really enjoy--hanging out with the guys.

Clu could've said he had the opposite problem. Except, for him, it wasn't a problem or a puzzle to be solved. He was in the same functional orbit as freaking Tron. And Shaddox. Even Zuse, in his own unique way--who, after all, had rezzed in bundled with Eckert originally.

Clu had a vast and terrible hell of a lot to answer for. Most of it he could never go back and fix. But he'd never struggled with what he wanted.

He loved attention. Certainly he dressed for it. And Frank was enjoying looking, so Clu gave him something to look at, hips perched to sway on their way down the hall.

Watching Frank bend to try the keys, Clu was having just the tiniest moral crisis about whether he was taking advantage. But their alternatives were--not optimal. Not realistic, and not physically safe. And Frank needed his help.

"No problem," was Clark's answer, fuzzed with the hum. But something else was gnawing at him, prompted him to add: "Y'know, I take those!" Gentle, genial. "One and a half, usually."

They were huge--four or five made a literal handful. Frank blinked down at them, then shoved that nightmare dose back into his pocket with just a faint tremor. He drank his water, instead, dark eyes brightening with sudden surprise for how good it tasted, how badly he'd needed it.

Clu knew that thirst, and intimately knew its culprit: the building burn of want that gradually consumed everything else, that turned food and water and even sleep into bitter chores to be endured.

And he also knew, intimately, about that altogether more pressing need. He wouldn't leave the poor guy to it alone.

As for three-eleven: "Yeah," soft, non-threatening and automatic, then with bright realization: "Yeah! Same wavelength, man. After you."

With the door open, Clu was not shy about brushing very close against Frank, not quite tangling their thighs on the way in. Just a rub, not enough to topple them.

Being unused, the sole features in the office were the abandoned default desk and a sad, rickety-looking spin chair. He edged past Frank with a friendly pat on the shoulder.

Did not lock the door: did not want to try taking the keys from him. He probably felt trapped enough, in the wash of still rising sensation that would inevitably take him over.

"Better?" It wasn't just about privacy. Clu had always found the fluorescents hell, right about this time on his own calendar.

Still. At least they had the room to themselves.

"Listen," he tried brightly, all suggestion as he sauntered back into Frank's personal space. Experimental but thorough touch, caressing his arm, looping that hand to his waist. "You're, real cute. I wanna kiss you." Raised eyebrow, grinning. "What do you want?"

Frank didn't want to look. Or rather, he wanted to, wanted to do more than look, but desperately wished he didn't. Because it was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong for an Omega to lust after someone else's mate. Omegas were made to submit, to receive, not to demand or to take. To be of service to others, especially Alphas, with their actions, with their time, and especially with their bodies. To satisfy an Alpha's sexual needs and desires, to be a willing and submissive body to fuck, and most importantly, to bear their children.

Something Frank, broken as he was, had never been able to do, and so he'd been expected to be all the more available to any Alpha who wanted someone to warm their bed. Heat had usually meant several Alphas having their turns with him, because who had time to nurse a broken Omega through the full length of his heat? Heat had meant waking up alone in an empty bed, several times over, too weak and needy to refuse whoever came in next. Virtually the only improvement once he'd gotten out was that it was the same Alpha throughout, but if they had other things to do, he could be left languishing for hours til they came back from wherever they'd been. He'd learned quickly not to ask.

And heat had always meant feeling varying degrees of awful after it passed. Usually from dehydration, but a few particularly rough sessions- usually from Alphas in rut- had left him so bruised and sore that he could barely walk or sit properly afterwards. Back home another Omega would usually get him am ice pack for his battered groin after such sessions. Once getting out, he'd had to do it himself.

He hated his body, its brokenness, its weakness. The instincts that turned him into a desperate little pile of need every few months, the ones that he'd tried so, so hard to banish and suppress. And in the end, failed to.

"I'm... supposed to take one," Frank admitted quietly, fumbling with his keys. "But that hasn't been enough for almost two years now." The implications of that statement would be obvious and disturbing. No doctor would write a prescription for more than a person's recommended dose of suppressants, which meant that Frank had to have been sneaking around to several different ones to maintain his supply. Not illegal, but risky for multiple reasons. Of course, having seen him ready to down three pills, Frank thought Clark had figured that much out already.

Then once he'd gotten the door open... Well, office doors really weren't designed for two people to walk through side by side, so the way Clark brushed against him as they entered could almost have been written off as accidental, even if it did draw a sharp intake of breath from him. He took perhaps slightly longer than necessary closing the door behind them and setting his keys and cup- now mostly empty- on the corner of the desk that was one of the room's only two real features. He'd intended to grip the edge of the desk, to use that as an anchor to try and get himself back under control, foolish though he knew it was. He nodded once without looking, when asked if it was better. It wasn't really, not in the ways that mattered, but at least there was now a door between him and abuilding where numerous Alphas worked.

When Clark kept speaking though, he turned almost reluctantly to face him, only for the other to saunter back into his space, posture definitely suggestive, caressing his arm, putting a hand on his waist. Complimenting him, for some reason. And then... asking what he wanted? His mouth worked in soundless shock for a moment. No one asked that of him. Not in this sort of context, anyway. Why would they? No matter what he would answer, the result would be the same in the end.

His heart pounded and his breathing picked up for a whole different reason, the gentle touches making it even harder to form words. "I...", he started, his voice catching a bit, but stalled as he didn't know what to follow it with. What did he want?

He wanted more. He wanted less. He wanted to throw himself into the other omega's arms. He wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. He wanted laugh. He wanted to cry. He wanted to cut out the part of himself that made him even think of accepting the implied offer with a dull blade.

He swallowed hard, tried again. "I... I can't," he managed, trying to make himself sound certain and failing miserably. Though he couldn't quite make himself move away, or brush off the touches. He mentally cursed his body yet again. "I... you're married! I can't, I... what would your mate think?"

That...did not figure. It simply did not add correctly. The sheer, openmouthed disbelief: I can't, with no small quaver--was he--yeah, Frank was frightened--of him? Of his code-brother, maybe?

Of something. Something that was very--not wrong, exactly, but--orthogonal to Clu's mental map. Definite data mismatch. Did not compute.

The guy was, really scared.

...Holy shit. Was there a vengeful boyfriend waiting in the wings somewhere?

Clu stood there for a second, two, realized he'd frozen. He kept smiling and gently, gently, caressed the other man's hip. Did not let go. Couldn't make himself step back from--from all of that, curled protective posture, big dark eyes, lithe frame that was starting to, radiate, something strong and sweet and a little hellish.

And Frank wasn't pushing him away.

"Sorry?" Clu tried, with a question mark, because it was definitely a question. "Um..." and seized on the clearest available data: "Two yea--Frank, buddy," slowly, blowing out a tuneless whistle for the math of it, "that's--I'm not a doctor, but..." he cleared his throat. "Look. It is too late for you to take any more of those, okay?"

He'd wondered if Frank was planning to kill himself, with that many, with the jittery, furtive outlook. Only then they'd gotten to talking--sort of--and it had seemed like something else. Accidental, a little embarrassing--risky in a building stuffed to the rafters with beta arrogance and alpha sprinkles for dessert--

But not like something they couldn't do, something that had those pretty eyes turning the size of dinner plates at him.

Like it would be wrong, for Clu to help him. Or maybe, just, regular? Wrong? Insufficient data.

"Hey," softly, "this is a natural thing. It just happens, sometimes." He skipped right by it's not your fault because it sounded like an after school movie even to him, the weird 'empowering' ones that were mostly omega-shaming, and landed on, "My mate can take care of himself!" Big, friendly grin: "You, um, you let me deal with him."

"I can help you." He leaned in, murmured on his ear. "Would you like that?"

Edited 2023-07-24 13:40 (UTC)

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."

Clu was simply struck speechless, which did not happen very often. The volume of what Clu did not know and kind, genial Clark could never have imagined fomred a sheer cliff over bottomless nothing, blank as the edge of the Grid. There must be more, and it must be bad, but right now Frank could've pretty well told him he was wanted for murder and Clu would've at least tried to listen. For one thing, the body language went more with I snapped; I hit him over the head with my skillet and just ran, please--than it did with wanting to wear Clark's guts for a hat.

And it was too late to back out now: they'd scented each other. He could almost taste it, lips parted to get it across the back of his tongue, all furniture polish and sugar. It wasn't all down to flirtation--the dizzy pressure, the social signaling, the stupid hum. The tense glide of clothes he wore tight on purpose abruptly running out of room, catching and creasing in urgent places. His skin was starting to prickle with warmth of its own, and that soft, insistent urge to--what, not yield, when that was impossible, but--oh.

To relax. To help Frank relax. To get them both feeling nice. They couldn't change what they were, and it was not safe to open that door or to try for another exit vector until they were both--better adjusted.

Only. Just when he thought he'd reached a conclusion, Frank handed him more data. Fed him more parameters. And they added to a doozy.

Clu's natural calendar was very short, almost five a year, and with development crunch, travel plans, and actual relationship goals, besides things like volunteering and hobbies--on his big frame, that tempo did not quite merit a full double dose. And Frank--slim, willowy, nervous Frank--had been slamming down doubles for at least two years, with an implied more for the x-axis, until they just. Stopped. Working.

"Hey," soft, then sharp with alarm, with stern command his code-brother adamantly refused to swallow. "Hey, no. Don't think like that." He blew air through his nose, made an effort at a calm, neutral tone. The kind Clark was known for. "Kidneys do not run on willpower, man."

Frank shuddered out a confession, low and miserable in his grip, and Clu hugged him tighter on sheer instinct, folded those sharp shoulders close under his. Used his height to push with an open rumble, purring, actually purring, trying to buy time, a moment to think.

Because he needed a moment. Because bodies were disgusting. They leaked and sweated and stank, and constantly needed refilling--and as much as he liked eating, throughput was a revolting nightmare. And about once every forty days, suppressants or no, he shed blood. Blood! Because fetuses were effectively cannibals.

Revolting.

But Frank hated--what, himself? No, his own nature. Like his alignment had done something to him.

Clu could guess what. He certainly could. Even if he hadn't been born to it, raised in it--it was all around them, all the time, guys like Kyle talking raptly about the old days and a tide of hot, angry glances following in his wake every time he moved.

And he was mated. For a single young thing like Frank--

Frank, who startled to sound, to touch, even drowning in want, want, want so strong his voice shook. Frank, who had been poisoning himself for who knew how long, who wanted to disappear. Who desperately hoped pretending would protect him.

Clu's instincts were shrilling that who cared, he was way focused on the wrong thing, he should definitely be moving lower, get a grip on that pert ass already, shove his knee just there and give the poor boy something to ride. Slide his hands in, while Frank was distracted, skim past the zipper and find out what they were working with.

Maker. That scent! It was like a whiskey distillery had exploded and wiped out a Cinnabon on its way down.

He did not let Frank out of the bear hug. Did not trust himself out of it yet, not with hands that practically tingled for the thought of warm, slick flesh.

Clu needed, he needed, more information--to keep them both safe, to keep from being cruel by accident. To determine whether they needed medical intervention, regardless of what either of them did or didn't want.

But there was no reason getting that information had to suck.

"Babe." One hand, firmly upward, to stroke soft hair, ash and sand bright in his fingers. Kissing the shell of his ear, a hot press of lips straining for chastity, the ghost of teeth. "You can tell me."

Nothing, nothing kind or gentle in the smile. "How long has it been?"

If there was one thing that most people could agree on it was that human bodies- or at least certain aspects of them- were gross when one actually thought about it. And while Frank rarely ever thought much about the more day to day aspects of possessing one- such as sweating and digestion- more than what was necessary to deal with them, from a young age he'd been taught to be aware of the parts of it that had to do with his nature as an Omega in often excruciating detail.

Omegas were to be seen and not heard. They were objects of desire for Alphas, but mustn't flaunt their looks or scent too much lest they be a temptation. Their purpose was to find a mate, then to serve them, keep them satisfied, and bear their children. An alpha may take others- especially other omegas- to their bed, but once mated, an omega was not to give their body to anyone else. And to intrude on and potentially disrupt the lives of a happily mated pair was an even worse sin. Outside of the necessity of heat, an Omega shouldn't really want sex, should keep themselves from such acts and words and thoughts unless it was to service an Alpha.

To secretly lust after not just one but both halves of a happily mated pair, even without the intent to act on it, was the height of dirty, sinful weakness. And yet still, he'd often caught himself stealing glances at Clark's ass or Kent's package, a sharp jawline or well-formed thighs, a broad chest or sinuous neck and having such shameful, disgusting thoughts... Thoughts that sometimes left him flush and unable to sit still at night, that made him want to touch himself despite knowing what it might trigger... A cold shower usually banished the evidence of his weakness on those occasions. But a cold shower wasn't going to help him now.

Clark pulled him tight against him, tight enough that he could feel as well as hear the soothing vibration, and almost reflexively Frank returned the embrace. No, it couldn't really be called an embrace; it was too desperate for that. It could only really be called clinging; another Omega or no, Clark seemed at least somewhat steady and in control, and now that he'd decided to give in, Frank intended to hold onto that for dear life, as much as Clark would allow. He buried his face in that muscular shoulder as if that could hide his shame, taking in the scent of what must be a freshly washed shirt, the faint scent of leather from the jacket Clark sometimes wore over it, and the scent of a subtle cologne mixed with Clark's own coming from the man himself, all of which formed a heady cocktail that had him instinctively spreading his legs a bit. His jeans were definitely feeling tighter now, and his clit was starting to make itself known too as he grew wetter.

The stern command in his tone ironically helped Frank focus a bit, and he responded, voice muffled a bit by Clark's shirt. "I just... it was the only way I could think of," he said. "To not need it, to not need an Alpha, to not have to...." A deep, sharp breath of that heady scent, and a longer, slower, somewhat shaky exhale. "I needed a way to feel safe. To feel like I was in control. I just... it helped. Until it didn't, but I couldn't go back to what I was before, to being weak and needy and desperate, so I just... took more. And that worked, until now it's not any more and I... I..."

He was desperately afraid of what would happen after this. If not even a double dose would work any more, what was he going to do? How would he be able to come to work every day, knowing that the eyes of any Alpha in the building might be on him? And without the suppressants, he might actually want them too, even though he knew where that led, knew they'd never want a pathetic, broken Omega like him as anything but a temporary bedwarmer. God, he was such a dirty little whore....

Clark whispering in his ear, kissing it with the addition of the faintest brush of teeth drew his focus sharply back to the present though. And the tone of his voice... Though he couldn't see it with his face buried in the other man's shirt, he could picture the kind of sharp toothy smile that accompanied it, and it sent an electric shiver down his spine, one that seemed to go straight to his groin. It took a few sharp panted breaths to focus on replying, or on anything other than how his clit had suddenly jumped to attention, becoming as hard as his cock, or how he was becoming acutely aware of the fact that there was nothing in his increasingly wet pussy.

"Since my last heat?" he finally said. That had to be what he was asking right? It had been over two years on a single dose, a little under two on a double so... "Four... four and a half years." Which meant that at least the first round was going to be rough once his body fully shook off the last of the suppressants. And potentially dangerous, since the accompanying feverishness that gave heat its name was bound to be more intense along with everything else as his body made up for lost time. Touch would help, but would another Omega's help enough...?

Edited 2023-07-29 07:05 (UTC)

He simply did not know enough about this world. But he could guess. And he knew when he was being admired--though he'd well learned, too, when it was aimed at him but meant, perhaps, for someone else. He'd literally been made from a mirror. He knew when he was a reflection, an example or a harmony, mere counterpoint to the hallelujah.

He'd never been angry with them for worshiping Flynn. He could hardly blame them! Not when he did it, too.

Only--the center of his world hadn't wanted him. Most emphatically had not wanted Clu, not in the way he so struggled with, not in the way he had when he looked at Tron.

Not the way they both looked at Tron. At Rinzler.

The whole Grid had been lucky to get out of that mess alive.

And Clu himself had been, oh. Extremely fortunate, whether or not it was right, whether or not he deserved to find love, whether or not mercy could ever actually be earned.

Wasn't that the whole point of sinners? That they were undeserving, which made forgiving them glorious and good? It had to be something like that, he thought.

Clu's own god hadn't explained Catholic guilt at all well, except in the context of what he himself hesitated to do. What his morals would not let him do.

Clu did not hesitate.

His own morals were--task-oriented--and Frank was gripping him back like he was the only piece of driftwood left in the ocean.

Frank was fair melting against him, flushed and shivering, and when he focused with some effort on the question, he gasped a little between each jolt of words, hot dark eyes unfocused and shining until he buried his face in Clu's shoulder. They pressed closer with every heaving breath. The sharp tang of wet denim intruded on that glorious scent, just where Frank parted his knees with a soft hot sigh.

Clu did not need alpha anatomy to respond to that. His eyes were watering. So was he.

Frank breathed him in and Clu let out a low rumble, nearly a growl, for the lean line of his back bent so close, for the way their hips swayed together and the soft, muffled confession dropped hot and snug in the crest of his shoulder.

Four years. Four. Years? Without--

When less than one had Clu all but climbing the walls, by the time it was on him, even with the pills.

No wonder Frank was afraid. The sheer fever, even leaving aside the total loss of control, might be dangerous. Which he'd avoided, by any means he could find, until he couldn't anymore. Oh, yeah. Something had happened. Something that had him wincing against Clu's shoulder over the inevitable breakthrough heat. Whatever it was had to have been excruciatingly--

Bad. Clu just wasn't sure if it was the windowless van kind, or the kind that mailed pipe bombs to omega clinics.

Wasn't his business. Flat out wasn't. And he was not going to pry, not now, not with Frank shivering in his arms and clinging to him for dear life. Knowing those details wouldn't help, and more to the point, would not help Frank.

"I've got you." Steady, certain, with the heady thrill of someone in his grip, in his power in a way he had set aside, he thought for good and all. He did know how to lead. He just didn't often get the chance. "I'm not letting you go."

He slid his knee into the offered widening of Frank's legs, didn't quite tilt upward. The angle was a little weird, but it wasn't difficult to back them those two short paces into the wall. Press him flat to it, still twining his fingers in soft bright hair.

Sliding his free hand down, inward at last, against the tight fork his thigh made with Frank's groin. Snaking just under rough denim in search of glory with the back of his thumb. Some omegas had only one set, but only slick smelled like that, hot and enticing and faintly of salt.

It wasn't all coming from him, which meant--

Yes. The hot silk glide of wet, wet skin, that sharp, urgent bud pushed tight against cotton already going damp under the heat radiating against Clu's hand, right where his opening must be.

Clu groaned. Made urgent circles on the fabric, teasing Frank higher. He wanted in there already, and Frank was not backing up, made little rocking motions just against these explorations, made a noise in his teeth that twitched all the way down Clu's body.

"Got you." Gently, lifting his knee and going after the seam in the briefs. "Got you, wanna get you off like this--"

With a little shake of his head. It dawned on him he wasn't exactly asking. Certainly his code-brother might have--made different choices.

Four years! No amount of hanky panky was going to fix that; but they would both do better with a little release.

It had to be some kind of sin, the way they fit together.

"Angel," soft, sharp, fingers abruptly tight in his hair, his engaged hand stilling its ministrations. "Look. Look at me."

This was important. No room for nonsense.

"If it hurts, you say," nothing complex, "stop. And I stop. And we try something else." Oh. His own words were going, a little, with hot pussy right there under his hand. He couldn't wait anymore, eased his fingers past the seams and into that warm, wet nest. Punctuated his next words with a curl of them forward, insistent come-here crook of both knuckles.

Felt Frank grip him back, clinging and wet, tensed in a way that shot a bolt of lust straight down his dick.

"Nod, if you agree."

Edited 2023-08-03 04:23 (UTC)

Frank knew he had to keep some semblance of focus. Couldn't allow himself to give in completely to the sensations no matter what his weak, traitorous body wanted. They were in an office. True, the door was closed, but it wasn't locked and it was still a very public space. Anyone in the building, including Alphas, could just walk in on them at any time. If they were found like this...

That fear was enough to override the worst of his body's dirty, shameful instincts- too warm, your clothes are too restricting, you should take them off... grind against him more, let him know how much you want it-, but God, it was difficult. Because he did want it. He wanted it so badly, even though he hated that he wanted it, that he needed it.

I've got you, Clark said, as he slid a knee between his legs. I'm not letting you go. He couldn't help but grind against it, short little twitches of the hips that betrayed his desperate attempts to keep control. Clark seemed quite willing to take it but he couldn't relay on that completely, not where they were...

And then he was back against the wall, one of Clark's hands in his hair, the other moving south just as he'd imagined a few moments ago. Sliding between his legs and... Frank gasped softly then bit his lip to keep from whimpering as Clark's fingers made eager circles on the fabric that concealed his vagina, fabric that was already becoming damp with slick. It was so much. It wasn't enough. And despite concrete walls and wooden doors, despite the fact that they'd been talking, albeit quietly, part of him was terrified to make any noises at the moment for fear that someone would hear. It was ridiculous of course, but then his ability to think logically was rapidly crumbling away, burned to ashes by the beginnings of heat.

And then Clark moved his knee, allowing his hand to undo Frank's fly and work its way inside, feeling around for access. 'Wanna get you off like this...' He wanted that, wanted it and so much more. He was a weak, needy, disgusting little thing but his body would no longer be denied and...

'Angel', Clark said, hesitating for what seemed like the first time. Was he talking to Frank? About him? He didn't understand. But he did understand the command that followed and obediently lifted his head to look Clark in the eye as best he could. He trembled a bit as he did though from fear, anticipation- God, his hand was right there-, or a combination of the two, he couldn't tell.

Say stop if it hurt? He doubted that it would, but was again confused about why another Omega was saying such a thing. He might have tried to say something but then Clark's hand slid forward and his fingers were inside him, curling forward in a way that robbed hm of all words because finally, finally there was something in his pussy. He gasped and couldn't quite stifle a whimper this time, his head falling back to rest against the wall even as his pussy clenched eagerly around Clark's fingers.

A few panted breaths, and he managed to nod, to show Clark he understood and agreed. He rocked his hips against Clark's hand. He wanted as much contact as Clark was willing to give and no longer had the strength to fight his traitorous body's demands. Clark wanted to get him off like this? It probably wouldn't bee too difficult.

Frank bore down on his hand with a needy, stifled whimper, and Clu pulled a deep, steadying breath, but did not stop and did not slow down, setting firm quick strokes in search of a rhythm.

He had a goal in front of him. He knew that heat only backed off--even only the tiniest, ineffective fraction--for that finish, the one that florid supermarket novels called the little death, the thing nobody in the best videos could spell. The blissful oblivion that murmured to an omega's deepest hindbrain that none of alpha's seed would get away, not after that.

Frank needed to come, and Clu was going to give it to him.

But he had to take it easy. If Frank screamed for him--no matter how much he suddenly wanted that, if it happened, it was game over. Concrete echoed like hell, and no crappy office door would hold in years of yearning, and Clu had left it unlocked. A chill climbed his back and did nothing to settle his growing excitement or their admitted predicament. Because with them both--like this--and doing their scent thing--it wouldn't really matter if the door was locked or not. Not to a pack of alphas.

Bad position. They'd have to get out of here quick. Just as soon as Frank hit nirvana: Clu had to plot them an exit, and luckily, he had some idea. A scenario was already mapping itself out in his mind. He did hope their newly-gained trust would hold out for the whole idea, though that remained to be seen.

But right here, right now, was all for Frank. Centered in what he needed. Helping him feel good, maybe even knocking his body temperature down a little. He was going sleek and red, hot enough to suggest sunburn, and Clu kept them aligned as much as possible, kept him pressed to the wall. Frank might want that stability; all of his skin would want pressure, held firm in Clu's grip.

And he'd wanted, foolish, to show Frank it was okay--that he did not mind this at all, that they'd be as safe and satisfied as Clu could make them both.

Frank gasped for him and bit his lip to hold the rest in, a bright flash of teeth on plush flesh that Clu took out on the other omega with his fingers instead of the kiss he burned to give; Frank's response for that idea had been, outright shock, and Clark would not push even invited.

"You have no idea," Clu hummed, "how hot you look right now."

Because Frank did, both in terms of the sheer flush of heat and with those wide, dark eyes gleaming at Clu, deep and vulnerable. He clearly struggled with the notion for a second, or maybe the reasoning behind it, but in the end--

Frank nodded his head. Permission granted.

The way he sort of wriggled, side-to-side on Clu's hand, when he found his way in, the way warm slick eased against his fingers as they moved, had him stifling a noise of his own.

The angle, and indeed their whole position, kept Clu from getting his other hand involved, and so he moved his knee higher, kept Frank angled forward slightly so that every time he bottomed out on Clu's hand, his trapped manhood slid, drawn up snug in his own clothing, balls pushed nearly flush against the crease of Clu's hip.

Hips that Clu nudged him with, encouraging, even as his thumb worked in search of the eager wet bud that had poked at his hand through the briefs. Clu shuddered, his tight slacks filled all the way out. He would not be coming back from that sight, not for the duration. Whatever Frank might think, he and his code-brother weren't quite a textbook mated pair. There wasn't just a ring on his finger.

There. There. There it was, pert clit almost poking him in his effort to find it.

"Perfect," rough, half a growl. "C'mere, angel."

Clu wasn't nearly as coy as his code-brother could be, not as good a tease, too impatient by half. But he'd tried all the settings on his own hardware, so he started gentle at first. Slow tugs like he was trying to roll the tip upward, just a light touch every few short strokes. By the time Frank was rolling his hips on Clu's hand, he simply closed his thumb and fingers down and held Frank in place on the downstroke. Every time they reached bottom, Frank was all the way caught, nowhere to go but higher.

Clu just hoped it was enough.

After all, the rest of his plan...meant getting them both someone else's help.

Warm. He was so warm. Too warm, despite the building's air conditioning being at its usual levels that prompted people who spent much of the day sitting at their desks to bring their jackets or sweaters to work even when it was 90 degrees in the shade outside. He must be flushed beet red by this point, but found it difficult to care.

Found it difficult to care about anything but the way Clark moved against him, with him, the way his fingers worked their magic inside him. The way they seemed to pull heat downward from the rest of his body toward his groin where it pooled in his belly, coiling tighter with each stroke like a spring just waiting to be released. His traitorous body begged for that release, screamed for it, even if all that actually escaped his lips were whimpers as the spring wound ever tighter.

'You have no idea how hot you look right now,' Clark said, and Frank bit his lip again to hold back the moan of pure shameful lust that wanted to escape. Clark looked hot most every day. As did his brother and mate. And a few others in the office. But Clark and his brother most of all. And now Clark was on him, in him. Calling him 'angel'. The spring coiled tighter.

It occurred to him that he should probably move his hands. Kiss Clark's neck. Put in a bit of effort instead of just clinging to him and desperately riding his hand like the weak, needy thing he was. But he'd never been with another Omega, not like this. What would Clark even want him to do? He tried to find the ability to form words around panted breaths to try and ask...

And then Clark found his clit. The Alphas he'd been with rarely bothered with it; after all, he was there for their pleasure, not the other way around. But Clark must have one too because he seemingly knew exactly how to work it for maximum effect. Gentle at first- though even that prompted little half-panted noises of pure need- then harder and longer. The hot spring in his belly coiled tighter, tighter, until...

He caught a bit of Clark's shirt in his teeth, biting down hard, and burying his face in his shoulder to keep from crying out and giving them away as that tension abruptly released and he came hard, the orgasm rippling through his body, followed almost immediately by a second, smaller one. Neither was enough to drain his cock, nor let his clit stand down, but it did dissipate some of the fog from his mind, and lower his body temperature slightly.

"W-what are we going to do?", he managed around panted breaths, his voice still husky and a bit hoarse with need. "Can't... we can't stay here..."

Edited 2023-08-07 23:44 (UTC)

Clu wanted more. Clu always wanted more. But this was all he needed--watching Frank squirm and whimper, knowing those harsh, trapped gasps of intense pleasure were because of him, because of the burn building in his wrist where he tugged out trapped, stifled panting. Frank wriggled openmouthed against the wall, flushed with need and straining after quiet.

Because of him.

Frank's thighs snapped closed over his knee, squeezed down into the joint as he rippled on Clu's hand. Frank bit into his shirt and pressed so close, curled frantic, so tight together Clu felt that face, practically burned into his shoulder.

Relief surged over his fingers, slick and wet and

"Good," he purred, "That's it. Let it out."

No way Frank heard him, caught abruptly in a second, smaller loop that had a marvelous grin bright on his face, like the sun split through a thunderhead.

Clu wanted to see that face again. To get Frank to make it again.

Clu simply held them both in place until he was sure Frank could stand, then gently withdrew, first where they were most intimately entangled, then gradually arms and legs and all. The dance of straightening up was enough to show him that his new friend was still very much raring to go--but it would be less urgent, now, if only a little, and only for a little while.

That bought them time. Time and room to maneuver. Poor angel had a point, though: they could not stay here.

"I've got the car," said Clu, thinking out loud. Using statements and options, not questions, which could introduce demand and harsh the afterglow. "I'm parked in H, so, we can go for a drive, and you can stay with me--"

He would like that. Not least because it was his code-brother's day off. But really it came down to what Frank wanted: after their basic safety, that was most important.

"Or, I can drive you home?"

Edited (sksksk so that's where that sentence went) 2023-08-12 04:55 (UTC)

It was relief. More relief than he'd allowed himself in years, but not enough. Not nearly enough. He had to fight he weak, traitorous body's urge to chase after Clark's touch as he pulled away; his vagina already felt noticeably empty again without his fingers in there working it, and his engorged clit was practically quivering for more of Clark's magic touch. But they couldn't. Not here. They had to get... somewhere else. Somewhere safer.

It was that thought alone that gave him the will to button and zip his fly back up. God, he was so hard... Confining it and the rest of his groin further was the absolute last thing he wanted to do just then. But the other option was to potentially have his dick escape the confines of his underwear or for his jeans to fall down in the process of making their escape, and neither was something he could allow.

"Car... car is good," he said. He knew both brothers also had motorcycles that they sometimes rode to and from work, but Frank had never ridden one and had less than no desire to try for the first time while in his current state. Just the thought of the engine vibrating between his legs... He'd cause them to crash and likely die within minutes. He made himself focus on what Clark was saying rather than the way his pussy clenched at empty air at the idea of those delicious, dangerous vibrations, pushing out a fresh wave of slick. God, he was such a needy little whore...

"W-we can take the stairs down," he said. They were only three floors up and that way there would be no danger of being trapped in a confined box with anyone else, even for a short time, like there would be with an elevator. He'd still need Clark to guide him to the car though, and before that through the proper door to most easily access the parking lots. Frank himself took the bus to work, so didn't know the layout of the parking garage as well as he might.

He hastily grabbed his keys from the desk with faintly trembling hands; extenuating circumstances or not, if he lost those, it would absolutely cost him his job and that was a risk he couldn't take. But at Clark's next words he looked up at him, confused. "But... you don't know where I..." ...Oh. Oh. Realization dawned. He wasn't talking about Frank's apartment, but his own home. The one he shared with his brother and mate and where said Alpha almost certainly was even then.

Fear warred with need. Clark had been kind to him, yes, but his brother was an Alpha; who knew how he would react to his mate bringing him a strange Omega and expecting his help? But something in his weak, needy body surged at the thought of being with an Alpha again, his mind flashing an image of Kent's package, tempting him with the thought of the big, Alpha cock that must be hidden in there. How it would feel to have it filling him, knotting him... His groin began to throb, and a pang of emptiness rippled from his pussy. He truly hated his body just then.

But he nodded, drawing a deep, shaky breath to try and make himself focus. "He... your mate.... you'll need to tell him we're coming..."

They couldn't stay here. The desk would just remain safely unmolested, except as a resting place for maintenance keys, which Frank grasped and pocketed with hands that shook just slightly.

Frank bit his lip and shivered his way back into his briefs, jeans folded stifling tight and drawing his zip up with a pained, stifled hiss.

Clu couldn't just--not--look, but managed to avoid staring. A traitor twitch of interest jerked to half-mast in his pants, nudging bare and indignant against his fly. Being into it didn't make that heavy ache any easier to ignore.

Still. It was nothing, beside years of waiting, that jagged yearning Clu had hardly nudged at all for such rich fireworks of pleasure. Frank needed it, the same as air or water, and that need would only grow.

Good things came to those who waited, but they did not have forever to stand here and do that. So:

"Yeah," Clu agreed, thanking fate he'd racked his bike for once. He'd been hoping for a Target run later. They needed eggs, but Frank needed their help somewhat more urgently. "Good, okay. You'll sit in front, with me."

Though--the thought of his new friend braced on his back, unruly hair wisping free of his helmet down the back of his neck--he had a feeling the open road would make Frank smile like that again. Might make him laugh outright, slim throat heavenward, arms tight around Clu for sheer joy. The bike growling under them contentedly, raw power straight up their spines, rumbling up through them 'til they were clingy and frantic on the dismount, grinding at each other with thighs still buzzing from the input--man, yeah.

Clu tucked that idea away deep, purely for reference. Good as it was, it wouldn't help them now. They were three floors off from where they needed to be. Clark straightened his jacket, fished his keys from his pocket and splayed them upward through his fingers like knives, feeling around for his phone with the other hand. Safer to grab it on the stairs, or once they were down.

"Don't worry," brightly, with cheerful certainty, "We'll, uh, we'll give him a call in the car."

Thinking about getting them out of there unobserved and undisturbed: "You need to stay behind me, okay? Not too close," because if they rubbed up nice, it was game over on some kind of monstrous defeat path, "but right by."

He stood at his full height and thought hard of another life, his army before and below him, rank on rank, roaring their loyalty back in one thunderous voice, like the Sea. He squared his shoulders and pulled Frank with him, out of the office, down the hall, and through the stairwell door.

They got down without seeing anyone, partly because it was the middle of the day and technically mid-meeting. Still. If Kyle, or any of Kyle's idiot posse, wondered where their frontend developer and chief coffee-fetcher had gone...

But they didn't. Nobody home. Just the two of them, looking for a plainish silver hatchback in Row H.

Clu finally relaxed with the doors locked, checking his mirrors and backup camera as Frank belted in beside him. He let out a breath he didn't realize he'd pent up, sighed it all the way out. Tried not to stare at his adorably flushed passenger and grinned reassuringly, instead.

They'd made it.

That left: making contact?

Ah, no. Direct to voicemail, which he worked not to let show on his face, letting it ring through.

"Babe!" A bright, cheerful roar into the handset, watching the road, not watching Frank, who was starting to have trouble sitting still.

"Greetings! I'll probably be at the house by the time you get this. Listen, ah, my friend Frank is coming over? He," puff of air, feet and hands and eyes busy with merge-lanes diplomacy, "could really use some company, so I, sort of told him he could sleep over? Kisses! Bye!"

And Clu zipped off a particular Spotify link just as soon as they hit a red light. That was code between them, one borne of his own rocky start with managing the, finer points, of omega nature.

Thank the Users for Journey.

"How are we doing?" Gently, for his passenger. "You okay?"

Frank nodded as Clark detailed their escape plan, such as it was, to show he knew where he needed to be, at least until they reached the stairs. Watched as he splayed his keys through his fingers like knives or claws. Not a bad idea, really, and Frank hoped he'd be able to remember it later. Right now though he had to keep all his focus on the present, and on keeping a semblance of control of his traitorous body.

He followed Clark down the hall, and couldn't help but notice how confident he looked. Tall and strong, his stride full of purpose... It was almost Alpha-like. Though the glittering golden glow around him had to be his heated imagination fueled by a few too many romantic anime series. Though Clark looked every bit the dashing romantic hero, Frank knew he wasn't bring swept away by his true love for a tryst amidst the cherry blossoms. A broken, pathetic omega like him would never have that. This was a shamefaced escape born out of necessity.

Though it was still better to focus on his ridiculous fantasies than on the way his increasingly wet underwear rubbed against him as he walked. Or how his cock was hard enough to make keeping up with Clark's slightly longer stride a bit difficult. Or the fear that every Alpha in the building could smell him and would be on them in seconds.

Somehow though, they managed to get to the car without incident. He got in and buckled himself in, though the lap belt he shifted as high as it would go because having it across his hips was just... no. Being in the locked car managed to banish most of the fear; the trickiest hurdle had been overcome. But that didn't mean he was out of the woods. No, far from it.

He gripped the edges of the seat as they started off, trying to focus on taking deep, even breaths. He had to keep some semblance of control. But even that just brought him more of Clark's scent and the lingering traces of Kent's from whenever he'd last been in the car. In the confined space, even those traces of Alpha scent were a lot.

He couldn't focus on what Clark was saying on the phone. Couldn't focus on anything but the way his entire groin was throbbing, seemingly more intensely with each passing moment. His cock felt like it was trying to burst the zipper on his jeans. His clit was a quivering spike of need, and his pussy.... His pussy was so empty it ached, and he knew that would get worse the longer it took to fill it. He squirmed in his seat; that almost made things worse, his wet underwear sliding against him in ways that were just obscene, but he couldn't help himself.

And he was so warm. Almost hot despite the car's air conditioning. He prayed it wouldn't take long to reach their destination. When he looked up as Clark addressed him, his eyes were somewhat unfocused and had that feverish look again. "I'm... managing," he said. "Just hope... hope it's not too far..."

Edited 2023-08-15 02:09 (UTC)

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.

One thing most betas simply didn't understand about heat or rut was that wasn't just being excessively horny for several consecutive days. That was certainly part of it, but it was much more than simple desire. It was bone-deep, instinctual. While in the grips of heat or rut, one didn't just want sex, they needed it, the same way they needed food, water, or air. And especially for Omegas, that meant that not getting it or not getting proper care during it, could make the whole thing a miserable process. And even at the best of times it could be incredibly inconvenient; that was part of why suppressants existed to begin with. It was far from the constant orgy of beta fantasy.

And part of that inconvenience meant that certain instincts- usually subtle enough to be easily ignored if one chose to- became overpowering. For Alphas, that meant becoming more aggressive and competitive. An Alpha in or on the verge of rut or triggered by an Omega's hormones, would become possessive and likely to start a fight over any perceived slight or intrusion into their territory, no matter how calm or mild mannered they normally were. And for Omegas this meant the urge to submit, to come together, to please. Urges that while helpful under the right circumstances could be downright dangerous under the wrong ones. Under the heightened influence of their hormones, an Alpha could force an Omega to agree to most anything, and not just in the bedroom; it was part of the reason so many legal documents required witnesses or notaries in modern times.

And right then Frank was extremely under the influence of his hormones, hanging onto his last scraps of control by his fingernails. His attempts at deep, controlled breathing had gradually given way to straight up panting. He was hot enough that it made him feel a bit dizzy, and he actually needed Clark's help getting out of the car. His skin felt too tight. His normally comfortable clothes unbearably restricting. His pussy felt painfully empty, his cock and clit painfully hard. Each throb of his groin hurt, desperate for relief, any relief.

Oh, the effort it took not to chase that brief kiss. No not entwine more than their hands. To not press more than their shoulders together. Though truly, without that supportive shoulder and hand he might never have made it to the door or stayed on his feet while waiting for it to open. But when it did...

When it did, Clark's mate was standing there and with the first step inside the scent of Alpha hit him full force. His uttered a startled gasp as his cock twitched desperately in its confinement, his vagina clenching at nothing with such painful intensity that it caused him to stagger. Instincts even more basic than those causing the problem had him reaching out half-blindly for the nearest object to steady himself, and for better or worse, that object was Clark. The angle swung him more fully against Clark's body... and that, plus the sound of the door closing behind them snapped the last strands of his control.

He grabbed Clark, nuzzling him and pressing their bodies together, grinding their hips together frantically. He'd only ever been this desperate once before, when he'd been bound spread-eagle to a bed for a full day of heat as part of his 'atonement' for rebelling. He'd tried to remain defiant, but after awhile he'd taken to begging, pleading, apologizing, anything he thought the Alphas wanted to hear. Anything to get relief, to ease the pain of being so very, very empty and alone...

God he was so empty. He didn't want to be alone. Not again.

********************************

Clu- AKA Kent- had been in the bathroom when his brother and mate's call came in. He'd heard the ringtone, but with his phone in the living room, it had gone to voicemail by the time he'd gotten to it. Easy enough to check it of course, but when he did, he was confused at first. What 'friend Frank'? They didn't have a friend by that name. In fact the only Frank either of them was even vaguely acquainted with, so far as he knew, was the maintenance guy at work, and he could count the number of times they'd spoken beyond polite greetings and such on one hand with room to spare.

But then he saw the song link and things became clear. Well clearer, anyway. Faithfully being included like that could mean only one thing; Frank must have gone into heat unexpectedly, and his mate needed his help with it (and had likely already helped a little himself, if he knew his brother). OK, this was doable. A bit awkward, maybe, but doable. He hastily got changed into nothing but a pair of easily removable lounge pants and got as much set up for their guest's needs as he could before the doorbell rang.

But even then, he wasn't quite prepared for what awaited him when he answered the doorbell. His mate all but hauled Frank inside, with Frank staggering and catching himself by clinging to his brother while 'Kent' closed and locked the door behind them.

And with the door locked, Frank's scent really hit him. He wasn't just in heat, he was deep in it, the sweet, enticing sugary scent overlaid with the acrid smell of fear and desperation of the type that should only occur if an Omega had been left untended- or not properly tended- for a day or more. How in User's name had he gotten this bad in what couldn't have been more than an hour?

He started to ask his code brother, but he was rather occupied with Frank rutting up against him and seemingly trying to get as much contact as possible while muttering deliriously about how he was 'sorry', that he'd 'never do it again', and begging them not to leave him alone. Clearly explanations were going to have to wait. He stepped forward to steady his brother and mate- both physically and mentally- by holding him from behind. "Help me get him over to the couch and get his clothes off," he said. "I don't think he's going to manage any of that himself..."

Usually, Clu had no problem holding himself together. The stereotype of emotional omegas was just that, and his own arrogance shielded him from most of the casual touchy-feely workplace stuff, from random celebrity baby gossip to family photo day. Usually, the most sympathetic things the world asked from Clu were to sort his recycling and donate to their local animal shelter.

And as for beta curiosity--

He was one half of the only brother pair in the building. They weren't forbidden, but they were rare, and that made for some truly eye-watering questions out of left field, ones they were too scared to ask his mate. Some of them even wanted advice, like there was a secret formula to landing an alpha that would let them pull someone way outside their alignment. And then there were guys like Kyle, determined to land the double jackpot: an omega girlfriend.

Clu laughed off most of it. They meant well, or at least didn't mean him harm, and what else was there to do? He knew he was lucky, blessed even before he'd known what he'd become, gifted with a kindred spirit who'd helped him see the light. Who very much wanted him back, and who was, right now, a firm anchor in a sea of gentle, inexorable hormonal gauze.

Even with effort and suppressants and sensitivity coaching, alphas tended to sit at opposite desks and carve out their own little fiefdoms. Most omegas either had, as he did, an uneasy truce with the beta contingent and polite, remote interest from other omegas, or an inside seat on the deepest ring of the all-omega gossip pool.

Emily ruled that roost with a French-tipped iron fist. No way was he ever getting in, except he bow before her. He was plenty ready to tell her to go pound sand most of the time. But once every few months, their schedules aligned, and even with the pills he understood what the betas were about: she radiated raw summer, an ancient mother goddess, a deep well of pure fertility that had him thinking about it, and he did not like girls.

That pull between omegas, to yield and just join each other already? To come together and solve the world's problems with sex? Silly, but real. Dangerous, but extremely real.

Only, usually, he could ignore it if he wanted.

He'd been bathing in it for almost an hour, sugar-on-sugar straining to dizzying heights, and he couldn't quite remember why he needed to wait for something so, so good. And Frank needed it so badly: Clu's chest ached with the urge to banish that hurt, to kiss it better, to love the sad right out of him--the same urge that had him crying at shampoo commercials. The bitter sugar pill that let omega mothers lift burning cars off their young.

Under that same power Clu had bundled Frank tight and dragged them both the whole way here. It was awkward. It was risky. He'd brought a strange omega into their territory, a newcomer whose desperate heat was all over him.

He owed his brother one hell of an explanation.

He did not get further than, "Babe, I--"

Because Frank made eye contact. Frank got one good breath of Clu's mate and staggered like he'd been struck. He buckled and nearly fell. They almost ended up on the floor, Clu caught before he could catch him, snagged at by burning hands that grabbed anything they could reach. Frank was on him like a drowning man, like if he could touch Clu everywhere at once that might keep him in place, might save them both, scrambling bodily for contact.

Words spilled out of him, a torrent of, "I'm sorry, please, please don't go," quick and soft, sliding in clean as knives. "Don't leave."

Clu was done for.

"Got you," harsh with the rumble, pawing him right back, "I'm here, I'm here, shh--"

But reassurance wasn't what Frank needed, sweating and blank-eyed in his grip, hips snapping a desperate piston rhythm that would bruise them both if he kept it up. Except he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. He'd just keep going if Clu held him down.

And Clu did not know what to feel for that, except the first inescapable pulse of slick.

He bit down hard on a whimper. He had to get a grip. He had to pull it together. Someone did.

Alpha sidled up behind him, pressed firmly up against his back, arms stretched up under his and folded across his chest, gentle and secure. Clu shivered and tried to relax, as best he could with Frank trying to straddle him standing up on the one side and his mate on the other. He couldn't just melt in place. He had to focus, had to at least try to listen, because alpha was talking to him.

And alpha had the best advice.

"Yeah," perfect omega agreement, instantly--and then really hearing him. Understanding. "Yes," passing right by his title and landing on, "come on, brother."

He had his example, and simply folded Frank into a bear hug of his own: tight and absolutely inescapable.

"We," hot against Frank's neck, nipping him just faintly to keep him distracted, "are all, going, that way."

And he used his height to start their march.

Alphas and Omegas were, of course, as individual as anyone else, despite their sometimes problematic biology and society's expectations of them. Clu did his best to remain open and approachable to anyone, to make sure that other Alphas didn't feel he was knowingly encroaching on their territory, and that betas and Omegas knew he was a safe person to be around, and to turn to if they needed help. More than once he'd been asked to walk lone betas or Omegas to their cars after a late night at the office. Thankfully most times it had only been a reassurance, or at most a precaution, but there was that one time he'd had to head off a young woman's asshole of an ex. It was the only time he could recall deliberately bringing his Alpha aggression to the fore, complete with baring teeth, actually growling, and getting in the man's face with a snarled 'Back. Off.', that had very much had the desired effect, causing much of the color to drain from the man's face and sending him fleeing.

He had suggested she file a police report, but wasn't sure whether she had or not. But according to her, the man had left town a week or two later. Good riddance in his opinion; it was creeps like him who gave some Alphas a bad name. Alphas were meant to protect and provide, not just throw their weight around. To provide stability and security when and Omega was most vulnerable, not to coerce or oppress.

And stability and security were definitely what was needed now. Frank much more obviously so, but he could tell his mate was being swept up in that sugar-scented tornado too and needed bringing somewhat back down to Earth at least for now. He was very glad he was wearing the loose fitting lounge pants though; the scent of Omega desperation pouring off of Frank was rapidly getting him hard, helped along by his mate using those muscles of his like that. The occasions he got to do so were relatively few, but Clu always appreciated it they did occur.

With his brother's manhandling and his own guidance, it wasn't long before their legs found the edge of the couch. He steadied them to make sure they didn't fall- yet- and kissed thee back of his mate's neck with a rumble of gratitude before letting go enough to slip around the opposite side of Frank, leaving him loosely sandwiched between them. None of this stilled his frantic movements, but Clu slipping a hand between them and all but catching Frank's crotch mid-motion certainly did. He twitched in a somewhat different way then, until Clu rumble in his ear, "Easy, easy... we've got you... we're going to take care of you."

And suiting actions to words, he slipped his other hand in to undo Frank's fly, then pushed both his jeans and underwear down enough that gravity did most of the rest of the work, leaving them pooled awkwardly around his ankles. But there was nothing awkward about the motions of his hands, Steadying Frank with one arm, he slid the opposite hand between Frank's legs and slip a couple fingers in his pussy. Frank's knees buckled on almost the first stroke and the steadying arm proved quite necessary.

"I've got him," he assured his code brother. "I'm gonna need you to get his shoes off so we can get these off the rest of the way." And once his mate released Frank from the bear hug, Clu guided him down to somewhat sit on the couch to allow his brother to do just that.

**************************************

Frank caught more of the tone of Clark's reassurances than the words, and was only somewhat conscious of being moved. Was only somewhat aware he himself was speaking, and has no idea what he was saying or what it might reveal. In fact he was unaware of anything other than the desperate need pounding from his throbbing groin, burning through his blood with every heartbeat.

Then the Alpha all but caught him by the crotch and he momentarily twitched to stillness, partly out of desire and partly out of delirious fear, but that was quickly washed away as the Alpha's scent enveloped him, his voice- so like Clark's, and yet carrying added weight to it- rumbling in his ear. Having Alpha's hands near his crotch was almost too much to bear until his jeans were undone and sliding down along with his underwear, allowing his cock to spring free and causing him to let out a whine of mingled relieve and need. On one hand his desperately twitching cock was at last free, but on the other, his groin being exposed to air only served make the emptiness of his hips seem even worse.

Until suddenly he was at last no longer empty, his knees buckling with a mix of surprise and desperate eagerness as the Alpha's fingers slipped into his pussy. He was only somewhat aware of his shift in position as he tried desperately to ride that hand, his pussy clutching at the stroking fingers, but soon his weight was off his feet. The Alpha was bending over him, saying things that Frank once again didn't quite catch due to a combination of his heat-muddled senses and his own half panted whines. He was so close to coming, to being able to release at least a bit of the tension coiled within him... if only he could spread his legs a bit more to give the Alpha proper access....

Frank hardly resisted Clu at all. Their struggle was driven mainly by the obstinate primal sway of his body, the push pull pendulum drive of empty hips that punched sharp little gasps out of Frank, who was still panting,

"I'm sorry, I'll be good; please--" between soft whines of agonized need.

Frank was way beyond whatever help he could've dished out alone, and well past anything an omega could give him. Frank was flat out of it, half somewhere else with the pain, and Clu shuddered with a sympathy he dared not stop moving for.

Clu sagged against his code-brother's arms for just a moment in the face of it, just--relying on the support. Leaning into that sense of safety, that deep reassurance of alpha scent and his mate's protective strength. Clu knew he hadn't really prepared him at all for this, knew that it wasn't really fair, and worried that maybe it wouldn't be okay, but.

Weren't they always trying to do the right thing? Clu couldn't just leave the guy there, and hadn't. Didn't. Instead murmured,

"I'm here;" into Frank's hair, and "I know, shh, I know," feeling nonsensical, but with Frank's hips trying valiantly to tilt them both horizontal, those soothing little noises were all Clu had the bandwidth for.

Clu straightened his back, not missing the way his brother fitted close behind him: that growing interest nudged him gently in the small of his spine, hardly constrained at all by the soft lounge pants. Clu was regretting wearing leggings for at least the millionth time today. They were fun, especially when he was outfitted underneath them like this, and sure, they made everyone look twice. They were also tight, and thin, and broadcast every least little touch. And thanks to his own choice of gear, right now he had nowhere to go but up.

An hour ago he'd been oblivious, wrapped in Kyle-thoughts and nothing but angry. Now the only angry bits of him were between his legs.

But Frank needed him. Alpha needed him. Clu let out one single explosive breath and got on with things.

Between his muscles and his brother's sure, steadying grip they all three made it to the couch, just alongside it in a loose embrace that kept Frank supported in the middle.

His brother was leaner all over than he was, but carved solid. It was the trim, elegant power of a guy in the twilight of his twenties or just a little later, who swam laps and flirted with eating organic. Add to that the slight boost his alpha nature had gently coaxed forth as they'd settled into their new lives--

Clu bit his lip, unable to hold down a hum of interest. Hell yeah. Of course Frank wanted in on that!

And Frank looked so good there, braced against his mate, slender hips trying to nudge alpha's drawstrings down, slight and vulnerable in a way that tugged at a lot more than Clu's heart.

When his mate gripped Frank and Frank went still, Clu didn't quite wince, a sharp all-over bolt of want that wasn't good or bad, just, powerful.

His brother poured calm certainty in Frank's ear and all but peeled him out of those terrible, confining wet clothes. Slid his hands forward and parted Frank's legs, Frank helping him do it, hilted his fingers and kept Frank vertical with the other arm.

They were not about to be defeated by a pair of sneakers.

"Yes," quick and easy, "alpha."

Clu knelt, getting down there with only the slightest hitch, because bending in half while sitting was--more torture than he wanted, an hour in under the influence. Because he had an incredible view in this position as Frank splayed his legs to help alpha get to him, cock forked an angry red above open glory, swelled almost puffy, glistening with sweet slick, clit standing up proud as a new pearl.

"We'll get these off," inane, babbling almost to himself. "They've gotta come off."

Meaningless. Ridiculous. Anything to keep his mouth busy with just words.

He had never unlaced anything so fast in his life, tucking the shoes smartly under the coffee table with agonized aplomb, safely out of their way.

He rose with a hiss, straining until he gathered his control, and locked a burning gaze on his mate. Because they weren't intense lifestylers by any means, and they weren't in scene, but right now he found he needed the stability of a familiar form.

"Alpha," soft, raw with the work for composure, "may I please undress?"

Clu allowed his mate to lean on him for that brief moment, to soak up whatever reassurance he could from his scent and the contact. Would there need to be an explanation later? Absolutely. Likely more than one. But Frank's need was obvious, and he knew that his code brother wouldn't have put them into this situation if he didn't feel it was the right thing to do.

That, and he couldn't deny the core-deep instincts Frank's situation stirred in him. Worried as he was- Frank was far too warm, even for heat, and if they couldn't bring his temperature down a bit they may have to call for medical help-, in this world, he was very much an Alpha. And the sight, sound, and scent of Frank's desperation called him to both fuck and protect. Would it have been even more intense if he didn't already have a mate? No way to know, really.

All he did know was right then he was as grateful for his mate's presence ad his code-brother was for his; Alpha or no, this was more than a one man job. Once his mate had gotten Frank's shoes off, Clu used his foot to work Frank's pants and underwear the rest of the way off, kicking them out of the way near the foot of the couch. With any luck, Frank's shirt would be joining them momentarily. His socks could wait as they weren't in the way of anything.

Though speaking of clothes, his mate was asking a question. At any other time, he might have been more flippant, telling him he didn't need to ask, but given the situation, he felt it was best to keep things simple. "Yes," he said. "And you can take off any toys you've got on you too; don't think you're going to need them for awhile." And trusting that his code brother needed no further encouragement on that front, he turned his focus back to Frank for the moment, nudging his legs a bit further apart so he could really work his fingers in there. Hopefully an orgasm or two would bring Frank back to himself enough to at least be responsive.

************************************

The Alpha was nudging his legs further apart; Frank spread them willingly and was rewarded by the Alpha's stroking fingers burying themselves even deeper into him. His pussy clutched desperately at them. It wasn't enough, not nearly enough, but anything to ease the pain of being so empty. He rode that hand like his life depended on it, grinding his hips into it with short, frantic twitches while the Alpha held him steady with his other hand.

But for all his frantic grinding, it was when the Alpha began stroking his clit with his thumb that he finally tipped over the edge, his panted whines and jumbled words broken by a ragged cry that was equal parts relief and desperation for more as an orgasm rippled through him. And more he got, because the Alpha didn't stop stroking, either with his fingers in his hole or his thumb on his clit and a moment later Frank came again.

It still wasn't enough, but it managed to stop the frantic piston motion of his hips for the moment as he panted trying to get his breath back. And it cleared the fog from his mind a bit, ending his muttering and turning the Alpha's voice from mere sound back into words. Words that were asking him to lift his arms so Alpha could get his shirt off.

"Y-yes, Alpha...", he managed, his voice unsteady and a bit hoarse from panting, and lifted his arms somewhat. The motion was a bit awkward, but Alpha managed to get a hold of it and pull it off, tossing it off to the side somewhere. Where, he didn't care. It just felt good to have it gone. He still felt so hot... And where was Clark? His dazed eyes darted around the room, looking for the other Omega; he could still smell him near by, so where...?

Edited 2023-08-29 04:49 (UTC)

Two heads are better than one

Sexual healing- CW mentions of several types of past abuse, current self loathing/substance abuse

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