I roll over from my back to my belly in my king-sized bed. I slam the alarm clock on the solid oak bedside table with enough force to feel the item crack under my palm.
“Fuck me sideways,” I mutter as I push myself up.
I check the clock. It already had a few cracks. I can’t always control my strength when I’ve just woke up. I always have to adjust my strength to what people expect of me, rather than my actual, functional strength, which is more than I usually lift at the gym with the others around. I settled to use Teddy’s and Seth’s as a reference and hover between their abilities as my baseline.
Runt abilities. But I don’t want to make them lose confidence either. Well. Seth knows I have a very different routine when at the private gym with no around. We’ve known each other for like fifteen years. He saw me grew into my physical abilities. It would be a wonder if I could hide them forever.
I will have to drop by a store and find a new alarm clock after work. This one’s not gonna last, if it even survived today.
My head is throbbing a little. The hangover’s not too bad. Could be worse.
I grab my phone and text Seth, making sure he got home all right.
I don’t mention I have Dexter at my place.
I rub my face.
I have company.
Who isn’t someone I merely had sex with and then will never see again unless they end up at the A&E — which has happened a few times — but by then I generally forgot they exist.
A mate—
No, what the fuck. No! He’s a friend!
A friend I’ve been trying to build a good relationship with.
A perfectly platonic one.
I want the earth to swallow me whole.
Naturally, I remember more or less everything that happened yesterday, so this feels like the worst day of my life. I toss the alarm clock aside and get out of bed.
I don’t have time to wallow in self-pity. I have a job to get to and a friend to escort off my premises. I have some things I need to completely ignore I said.
I dearly promise myself to never touch alcohol again.
Determined, I head over to the large bathroom right outside my bedroom to wash my face and handle my business.
“You got this, Leopold,” I tell myself as I look at myself in the mirror. “Nothing of this ever happened.”
As I say this, the memory of Dex’s flushed face come to mind, and the way he braced himself when I nipped his ear the second time. The tiny noise he made that I didn’t even dare to acknowledge then. His arousal.
I feel a throbbing heat, and turn my gaze downward. “Down, boy. This is not the time.”
For good measure, I wash my face again — in freezing water this time — before I step out of the bathroom. Passing the shelf outside, I grab a patch. After working in healthcare for half a decade, covering my scent gland up is such an ingrained habit, I do it every morning (or whenever else I wake up), whether or not I go to work. It’s mostly just when I leave the house, though.
I’ve found that it also causes other less distress. My scent is a bit unusual, so most people don’t like to be around it.
It’s not that it’s necessarily smells bad. There are some alphas who just objectively smell like shit to everyone.
With me, it’s… for another reason.
I grab some bread and toss it in a basket, then get cheese, meat, vegetables, yoghurt, fruits and berries from the fridge and freezer.
I suck at cooking, but slicing things? Not a problem. I quickly have cheese, cucumber and bell pepper slices, halved strawberries, crushed lettuce and divided beef slices.
I plate everything but the strawberries which I toss into the blender with the yoghurt, fresh berries and some frozen fruits, a healthy large amount of cacao, salt, and protein powder.
I blend it all together with absolutely no regard for whether Dex is asleep or not. This is my home, my rules. If you’re not up by 6:30 to have breakfast — not my problem.
I will carry you down over my shoulder if I have to. That’s just what it’s like to stay with a nurse. Doctors might have a higher pay and more education, but fuck them, I’m the one who will boss around said doctor to get me what I need to keep a patient alive, regardless.
If the doctor on call is being obnoxious, my colleagues usually have me go over. A simple, “Hi there! So… I’m from the A&E,” usually does the trick. I don’t even need to sound particularly bothered.
Yeah, they definitely keep me around because I’m strong. And handsome. And just a tad scary to be faced with if you’re not prepared for a tall, muscular alpha in a nurse’s scrubs.
So no. In the morning I don’t take no for an answer. Ever.
I put water in the kettle and go upstairs, two steps at a time. I go to the guestroom and knock.
“Dex?” I ask softly.
Goddamnit. You’re an alpha. Act like it, Leopold.
I clear my throat.
“Dex. It’s morning. Hurry up. I got to go to work.”
I don’t get a response.
“Dex?” I knock again, harder. “Come out.”
Why am I getting anxious? He’s probably just a deep sleeper. I’m being ridiculous.
But my heart rate is rising nonetheless, and I feel every muscle in my body going into urgency mode as the adrenaline spikes.
I try the handle.
God, he locked it.
“Good boy,” I say under my breath.
He did as I told him. I want to reward him so bad. Really reward him.
“Dex? You know that if I really want to, I can just slam the door broke, right? I will do it. Get up and open the door.”
I still don’t get an answer, so I turn to go get the keys.
Of course I got keys.
Any home should allow for privacy in their own space, but privacy doesn’t mean lack of safety. The keys are the safety measure.
So I don’t plan on breaking the door. It takes less time to just go to the master bedroom and get them than slamming open an oak door.
I hear the click as the lock on the door is turned.
I look over my shoulder.
Mate.
I regret being born with eyes.
Modesty? MODESTY?!
What was I thinking last night? Do I not have a fucking brain? Did I drop it and someone delivered it overnight?
Dex rubs his eyes, the sleeves covering his hands. The neck line shows his collarbones. The bottoms hang low on his hips, fighting for dear life to just barely hold on to the man in their battle against gravity.
Modesty. What a joke.
“Breakfast,” I tell him.
“What time is it?”
“About 6:30.”
This makes Dex pause. “Didn’t you say you shift starts at four?”
“I mistook the day. It’s at eight,” I say. “You coming?”
“I wanna sleep more.”
Mate.
Nope. Nope, nope, nope, nope. I can’t do this. I can’t. I am not doing this.
I can’t, but I’m not bending my rules either.
I scoop him up with one motion and immediately head for the stairs, holding my arms around his back and under the bend of his knees. “Don’t you dare start flinging any limbs around, or I’ll carry you like a sack of unruly grains,” I rumble at him.
Dex just hums before he leans his head against my chest.
Mate.
God fucking dammit.
I slow my steps down.
I can’t believe myself. I can’t believe I’m this sort of person. I thought I was better than this.
I lower head.
He smells so good. He smells like—
Mate.
Yeah, okay. Fine. Shut up. I don’t need the intrusive thought anymore. I get it. You don’t need to rear your ugly head.
He smells like mine.
“Sweetheart, don’t go back to sleep either, hm? I got to go to work,” I murmur against his hair. “You have to work too, right? Do you need a ride home to get changed—”
Mate.
“—Dex?”
Fuck you too, Leopold!
I feel Dex nuzzle my chest. I’m about to lose it, I swear. I use impossible amounts of self-restraint to descend the stairs.
My mind unhelpfully supplies me with the information that couches are indeed very useful.
“Don’t be difficult with me,” I croon.
Please make it very difficult.
“We don’t have all day.”
I could change that.
I won’t.
I shouldn’t.
Once in the kitchen, I sit him down by the kitchen isle and serve the absolutely bare minimum kind of breakfast.
I need to get to work. I don’t have time to learn how to be romantic.
Besides, he’s a friend.
Just that.
“There’s yoghurt as well,” I say. “Maybe cereal, dunno. Do you want instant coffee or tea with that?”
I get two cups and scoop one, two, three spoons of the instant coffee into the mug and pour water over it.
“Tea, please.”
“We have…” I check the cupboard. Housekeeper hasn’t made any tea purchases recently it seems. She doesn’t need to very often. “…Ceylon and Assam teas. Which one do you want?”
“Which one is the most like regular tea?”
“Both are common black tea,” I explain.
“Just give me whichever.”
I hum softly as I take down a jar. I put some of the loose leaves in a tea strainer.
I think I need to ask for more tea.
I quickly jot down just “tea” on the list on the fridge door. It’s there solely for the purpose of me jotting things down if I want them bought or handled. My housekeeper handles the rest.
I bring the two cups to the isle before I go grab my smoothie and down it just like that.
Only once I’ve had it am I ready for breakfast.
As I make a sandwich for myself, I feel Dex’s eyes on me. I have to fight the urge to preen again.
“Did you want yoghurt?” I ask.
“No, bread is fine. I don’t eat much in the mornings. Especially not before I usually wake up, at eight.”
“What do usually have? Just tea?” I ask with a brow raised at him?
“Some fruit. Do you disapprove of that?”
“As long as you put anything in your stomach, I don’t care if it’s goddamn ice cream or cake or cookies. So fruit’s fine. It’ll keep your stomach busy and the fibres are generally good for you.”
“‘Generally’? I thought everyone should eat fibres.”
“Like most healthy things, fibres are fine for most people. There are some who temporarily or permanently can’t quite handle that and need less fibres in their meals. So I advocate for whatever works for your belly. If it makes your stomach unhappy, it’s not going to help you be healthy.”
“So very doctor-y of you,” Dex says
Sorry to disappoint. Still just a nurse.
“Mmhm.”
“So ice cream for breakfast is fine, according to the doctor?” he asks, as if to confirm that I’m serious.
Still not a doctor.
But I definitely am serious about it.
My job is to keep people alive and handle emergencies. I don’t care what people eat for breakfast. I care that they eat at all and do so in moderation. People are easier to treat if they eat, sleep and hydrate, but we deal with people who skip at least one of those daily.
I shrug. “Maybe add a few berries and nuts for some nutrients and you’re absolutely golden.”
“If I told someone that, they would think I’m insane.”
I shrug again. I expect that.
I hand him the sandwich I made for him. He takes it and looks almost disappointed.
No, not almost. He looks up and gives me puppy eyes. That is not a trick that works on me.
“Eat up, sweetie,” I say with a laugh. “No ice cream available in this house.”
After the meal, Dex just sits on the chair and refuses to get up. I raise an eyebrow at him as I put the last of the dishes into the dishwasher.
“Are you planning on sitting there all day or what?”
“Is that an option?” he asks with a smile.
I walk over to him and simply lift him up, carrying him over my shoulder.
That I don’t actually need to see the devastating view of him walking in my pyjama bottoms certainly helps my sanity.
Dex is laughing as I carry him to the stairs. I barely notice.
His waist is so thin. I mean, I knew that. I noticed that.
But I didn’t realise how it would feel with my hand splayed over the small of his back to keep him steady.
His legs too. So dainty.
Are all betas like this? If so, I never noticed before.
I stop the urge to let my hands wander. I want to touch and squeeze. I want to feel his skin against mine.
I pause in front of the staircase before I slowly put him down. Just gently lowering him onto the first step.
The laughter is still at the corners of his mouth and in the curve of his eyes.
I can’t laugh.
I can’t smile at this.
Mate.
The lingering laugh turns to a questioning smile to him studying me. His eyes flick back and forth. Then down.
My lips. I know it’s my lips he’s looking at. I can’t even pretend I don’t. Not now.
His eyes flick back up. His scent begins to turn nervous. Not much. There’s more anticipation in there.
He turns his gaze to my lips again.
What’s worse, everything in his scent truly tells me his exact thought in this moment: Are you sober enough now?
By gods, am I absolutely not sober. In fact, I’m more intoxicated now, because I notice all these intoxicating parts of this beta that I’ve pushed aside.
It’s like asking if someone who got high after sleeping off the alcohol is sober.
I am absolutely not.
I probably can’t be. Not with my abnormalities. Not with him right here.
Without me planning to, my hands move upward from his hips to his waist.
My hands do circle it with ease. It’s the absolutely most perfect thing I’ve held in my hands.
His green eyes catch light from a window from some vehicle driving by further down the street. His cheeks are slowly turning red.
I know I’m staring.
Never mind the breakfast just now — if I had eaten this view, I would have been too full to have anything.
“Le—”
I don’t want him to ask again.
I’m not thinking at all right now.
My lips move against his. He whimpers deliciously.
I feel like I’ve never once in my whole life been alive before this moment.
Mate.
I’m not going to make it. This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I knew I shouldn’t be around Dex so much. I knew I shouldn’t bring him home. Intoxicated, I knew.
Mate.
I pull him closer to me, keeping his small body pressed against mine where it belongs. One hand moves on its own to the back of his head. My fingers tangle in the silky strands, and I angle his head as I flick my tongue against the seam. When he gasps, I shove my tongue into his mouth. I need to taste him. I need to drink every noise he makes as I explore the wet cavern behind his pretty lips, teeth, cheeks, anything.
Mate.
I need the air he breathes. It’s the only way to even stay alive. I need the way he touches my chest and immediately pulls away like he was burned only to grab my forearms instead. It’s adorable. It’s him. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.
Mate.
I can feel him panting. I know that I’m the only thing keeping him standing.
I know that this can’t end here.
Something big is blossoming in my chest and though I should feel scared, I can’t be. It’s so big it hurts. I can’t contain it. I should. I need to restrain it. Before it’s too late.
Only, it’s far too late to think that by now.
“Mine.”
Dex is trying to catch his breath, his chest heaving, his lips parted.
I take it as an invitation to kiss him more. To lick into his mouth.
When I pull back, he whimpers again. He’s trembling. Even for a beta, his smell is so strong, so intoxicating. So perfect, so arousing. It tells me so much; I know exactly what my mate craves—
“Leo…”
I never stood a chance against this man. I never want to stand a chance.
“Mate.”
It’s a primal growl. I know it came from my lips and throat, but it doesn’t feel like me. It feels different, more powerful.
Like a part of me I didn’t know existed and grew where I couldn’t see it. It almost reminds me of a larger version of the person I was a long time ago. Before I learnt to restrain myself like Dad wanted to. Before I cared about what my actions led to.
Fuck consequences.
Since when did I care about that shit, anyway? I don’t remember, and it doesn’t matter anymore.
I scoop Dex up and take two steps at a time as I climb the stairs.
My mate is all that matters.
I’ll give him all of me.
Right now.