“Where would I go?” I keep my voice easy. The shaking has stopped. I’m good at this part — the part where the scared thing wakes up, and you have to be very still and very calm so it doesn’t bolt. “You’re in my lap.”
A sound comes out of him that’s almost a laugh. Almost. It dies before it gets there.
“I need water,” he says.
I flag a beta. She appears in under a minute with a water bottle, a protein bar, and a folded blanket, sets them on the bench beside us, and leaves without a word. I hand him the water, and he drinks half of it in one go, throat working, water running down his chin. I catch it with my thumb. His eyes track the movement, and something shifts in his expression. Wariness and want, tangled together.
“You can get off me,” I say. “If you want.”
He should want to. He should get off my lap, grab his clothes, and leave. That’s what he did last time—ran out before the masks came off, before we even swapped names or numbers or anything real. I’m bracing for it. My chest feels tight just waiting.
He doesn’t move.
“I’m going to ask you something,” he says. “And I need you to answer honestly.”
“I’ve been honest with you this whole time.”
“That’s the problem.” He swallows. His hands are on my chest, palms flat, and I can feel them trembling. “How did you know I’d come back?”
“I didn’t know. I hoped.” I keep my voice steady. My hands are still on his back, light, giving him room. “I calculated your cycle because that’s the kind of person I am. I showed up every Thursday in the window because I couldn’t not. I didn’t know if you’d come. I just knew I’d be here if you did.”
“That’s insane.”
“Yeah.”
“That doesn’t bother you?”
I think about it. Really think about it, because he deserves an actual answer. “I work with animals,” I say, and his head tilts slightly. “Scared ones, mostly. Rescues. The ones other vets won’t touch because they bite. My whole job is patience. Showing up, being calm, not flinching when they lash out. Waiting for them to come to me.” I pause. “You’re not a dog. I know that. But the patience is the same. The showing up is the same.”
“You’re comparing me to a rescue animal.”
“I’m comparing myself to a guy who’s very good at waiting for things that are worth waiting for.”
He goes quiet. His hands stay on my chest. He’s not as tense now—the stiffness is fading—and I can feel his heat starting to come back, his scent getting stronger, his skin warming up. Hefeels it too. I see the second it hits him, the way his breath catches and his eyes squeeze shut behind the mask.
“It’s going to come back,” he says. Quiet.
“Yeah. Probably one more wave.”
“Last time — the things you said to me—” He stops. Swallows. Tries again. “The things I said. I can’t stop thinking about them.”
“What specifically?”
His jaw tightens. “You know what specifically.”
Of course I know. I can’t stop thinking about it either—the way his voice broke, the stuff he said when he finally let his guard down, the way his whole body reacted when I pushed him a little. I know exactly what he means, but I want him to say it. That’s the point. Saying it now, when he’s clear-headed and not just blaming the heat—that’s what he needs, even if he can’t quite get there.
“The breeding,” he says, barely audible. “The — what you called me.”
“Pretty,” I say, and his cock twitches against my stomach. Soft, spent, and still responding to one word. “Sweet. The breeding talk.”
“Yes.” His voice is thin. “That.”
“What about it?”
“I liked it.” The words sound like they’re being pulled out of him with pliers. His eyes are squeezed shut, and his hands have curled into fists against my chest. “I liked it, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I’m — I teach music. To children. I stand in front of a room full of kids and teach them about rhythm, and I go home and I—”
He stops. Can’t finish the sentence. His breathing’s getting rough and I know exactly what this is. I’ve seen it before—in his scent, in his body, in the way he bolted last time. He thinks he can’t be both things at once. The teacher and the omega whowants to be bred. The guy who’s good at his job and the guy who falls apart when someone calls him pretty.
