I say we’ll take care of it, but fuck me. I want to turn around and knock the living shit out of Gabe for not thinking earlier. Of course no one knew, it’s not safe for omegas to live alone. Stopping and repositioning her in my arms I get the storm door open, and her scent hits me hard.
She smelled delicious outside in the open air, but inherspace,herhome, it’s pure concentrated ambrosia, and I stagger as it fills my lungs, making my mouth water and my cock go stiff as a fucking lead pipe behind my button fly. I push the front doorclosed with my foot. I will lock it later, with my pack in the yard no one is coming in that way–and on the off chance they did make it in, I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.
Looking around the entry, I take in her space. To one side there is a short hall with a bathroom and what looks like an office, then straight ahead is the living room with an open kitchen separated by a bar and a couple of stools. There is a closed door on the far side of the living room, and I am guessing it leads to her nest, and another in the kitchen that probably goes to the laundry or a garage. These tiny cookie cutter style houses are easy to navigate, they have a few plans that they rotate through, but it’s a cute little house, all her own, and I can see why she’s upset at the thought of leaving it.
Setting her down on the couch I pull a blanket over from where it’s draped over the arm. It smells strongly of her, so she must use it often. I wrap it around her shoulders and stand back, appraising my omega burrito. Then I take the lizard off my shoulder and set it on a cat tree near the bookcases lining one wall.
I sit down next to her on the couch, but her arms start to flail, undoing my work. I try to purr, but she won’t stop struggling, so I pull her into my lap, purring louder.
A muffled “Stop!” comes from the tangled bundle just below my chin, and I freeze, feeling like my strings have all been cut. “Stop! You're bleeding. I need to get the first aid kit.” My purr starts back up and I nuzzle against where I think her head is.
I’ll take care of my bleeding arms soon, they don’t hurt much, and I just want to enjoy a few more minutes of holding her before I have to get up and get her food. I look around for a clock, craning my neck. This has been a rollercoaster and surely hours have passed since I left the house. Nope, the microwave shows it has only been 45 minutes.Wow!
But, bonus, that means the sandwich I brought in is still edible…maybe a little flat, but there’s a banana in there too, she can have that while I cook something better.
I lift her off my lap, much to my body’s frustration, my insistent erection is still trapped in my now too tight pants and he is not a happy guy, but he’s not in charge. My omega is, and until she says otherwise he’s going to stay right where he is.
“Here, I brought you a sandwich. Do you like Roast Beef?” I open the bag, and sure enough, flat sandwich. Maybe I can pass it off as a panini. Does she have a panini press? I can add some toppings, get it nice and melty for her. This is a good plan, I like this plan.
She’s still trying to struggle free from the blanket, so I reach over and pull the top flap off from where I had her tucked in. Her messy bun is mostly out now and the long auburn waves are frizzing all around her shoulders, making her look like a dandelion. I reach out to gently untangle her scrunchie, and smooth down what I can while she tries to collect herself. I can’t help touching her, my fingers itch with the need to run over her skin, but this is the best I can do right now not to freak her out, so I'lltake it.
“No well, yes, but you first, I need to clean up your arms. Infections are no laughing matter.” She looks so serious, and so fucking adorable with her pout and her poofy hair.
“Ok, Little Lion, let me get your first aid kit, where is it? Kitchen or bathroom?” I stand up–my knee popping–and put the flat sandwich back in the bag. We can do better than that. She tries to stand up, still tangled and face plants against my chest. “No, nope, nope…it’s in my bathroom, through my nest. I’ll get it. You sit down and take off your shirt.”
Her cheeks darken so quickly she looks like a cherry tomato. I’m not sure if the embarrassment is from the face plant, giving me orders, or the thought of me without a shirt, but I kind of hope for the last one.
I peel my ruined shirt over my head and, admittedly, flex a bit for her while I do it. She goes even redder, and I can’t help the grin that breaks out at her reaction, her jaw going slack when she sees my ink and pierced nipples–can’t wait to show her my tongue ring–or let her feel it. Xan likes it, so hopefully she will too.
Her head snaps up to my face, eyes wide as if she was caught doing something embarrassing–like ogling my naked chest. She turns and tries to run, but her feet are still tangled in the blanket and she starts to go down again. Wrapping my hands around her waist, I lift her out of the tangle of blanket and set her down on the other side, smiling unabashedly at how flushed she looks right now.
She draws back and I falter–I can look kind of manic when I smile, or at least, most people seem uncomfortable when I do. This smile feels more genuine, not like the fake face I have to put on for everyone else. I want to be around her, and it makes me happy.
She scampers off towards the door on the far side of the room.
Yup, nest, called it.
I head towards the kitchen to wash my hands and see if I can find a panini press, or just figure out what else I can cook for her.
Candice
Ithought we were both doomed when Iggy wrapped her leash around the big growly one earlier, Gabe. He was spinning around, trying to get his phone out of his pants and unwrapped from her long leash when he tripped. He landed half on me, holding Iggy in one hand since she decided she liked his stubbly beard, and he seemed to be trying to protect her in the fall. I guess I’m lucky that I’m already padded, and he landed on his knees before he went over completely, face first onto mythigh. Being a bit squishy can be a good thing though, at least no one was seriously hurt.
By the time I wiggled out from under him, he had released Iggy, who was still leashed to him, and she had decided that his shoulder was her best option. I was sitting on his back, trying to untangle the cord, or at least get Iggy to move since one of his hands was still trapped under him, and then that Jeep showed up and things got even weirder.
Pressing my back against my bedroom door, I let out a deep breath. Ok, time to take stock. I have a giant alpha covered in tattoos, with his pierced eyebrow, and septum, and nipples–I feel like I should look closer at those, just for artistic purposes, of course–standing shirtless in my living room, and don’t think I missed the bulge in the front of his jeans. But those dimples when he smiled–fuck me, ok, yeah, so I’m a sucker for dimples–shit.
But he’s only shirtless because I told him to be–I’m not sure if that is a positive or a negative.I have three more large attractive alphas in my front yard doing who knows what,negative column. They just loudly shouted out my designation, so now my neighbors will all know that I’m an omega living alone–definitely in the negative column.
I guess it says something that Iggy tried to defend me from them, even if she is small enough to be stomped on. But she's still a traitor, climbing all over strange alphas, demanding attention, and letting them pet her.
A tiny voice in the back of my mind suggests that this is not a bad thing, and they would probably not mind if I did the same thing.
No, bad omega. There will be no rubbing on strange alphas, no demanding of attention, and definitely no letting them pet me. Completely, one hundred percent negative column.
But is it really?Says the tiny omega voice again, and my alpha addled brain is having a hard time disagreeing with the little voice. But my logical mind is kicking me in the ass telling me to get a move on, get the first aid kit, and go patch up the stranger–who is doing god knows what in my living room right now.
The stranger with all the muscles…come on, one little lick won’t hurt.
