Page 19 of Flight of the Omega

“But you’re a boy.” Jack frowned. “Most omega birds are—”

“Omegas can be boys or girls. Or nothing. Or both.” JP’s father had always steered him towardboythings, maybe because he wanted an heir to inherit his estate. Or something. JP didn’t know how inheritance laws worked, because he’d never inherited anything. Or maybe it was because his father was embarrassed by having an angelic kid—and an omega to boot. JP didn’t claim to know how the man’s mind worked. He didn’t want to.

“Okay,” Jack said, but his frown said he didn’t really understand.

“Alphas can be whatever they want too,” JP said, glancing cautiously at Jack.

Jack hummed a little. “Okay then,” he repeated, but his expression relaxed a bit.

“Can … Can I see what’s down below?” Jack was practically radiating heat now, and he wouldn’t look at JP. “It’s pretty hard to see with all them feathers, so …”

JP wasn’t sure how to take that. But if they were going to have sex, then he supposed Jack would look at him one way or another. “Sure,” he said with a shrug, like he didn’t care. Then he reclined, before dropping to the floor and spreading his legs.

Jack didn’t quite jump on him, although he moved faster than JP had seen him move before. He pushed JP’s legs wider, apparently itching to get a good look at him.

Fingers grazed up the inside of his thighs. He lifted his head. “You said look, not touch.”

Jack raised his gaze. “I look with my hands. ’Sides, if I don’t touch, how do I know you’re real?”

JP wished he had something wittier to say. All he could manage, though, was “Please ask.”

“Okay,” Jack whispered back, sudden regret in his eyes. “I’m sorry—didn’t mean to, birdie. May I?”

JP warred with himself for a moment. Part of him wanted to say no; he suddenly felt shy, scared. He wanted to spite Jack.

The rest of him throbbed with need. “Yes,” he said and let his head tilt back.

Jack’s hand swept up his thigh, hardly enough to count as touching. Then, more hesitantly, Jack’s fingers swept over the more tender flesh nestled between JP’s legs, the raised ring around his hole, the little nub near the center of it. JP drew a sharp breath.

“Does that feel good?” Jack asked.

JP shook his head; Jack’s touch was gone instantly. JP’s eyes snapped open. “I meant,” he said. Then he snatched at Jack’s wrist. “Put some pressure behind it.”

“Okay.” Jack licked his lips; his gaze darted down again. His fingers returned, guided in by JP, rubbing the ring more firmly. JP bit back a moan, letting his head fall back again.

“Can I—could I … go inside?”

JP lifted his hips in response. “Yeah,” he agreed, breathless at the very thought of even being asked. He lifted his head to watch Jack.

JP winced as Jack pushed his fingertip into him. He hadn’t done anything in a while. Even that finger felt interminably big, like it was going to stretch him right apart. Just like—just like—

Jack paused. JP caught his breath. “You okay?” Jack asked. He tilted his head. “It’s okay if you’re not.”

“I …” JP wanted to keep going. He did. Desire was simmering in his veins, heat warping his perspective. But Jack was starting to morph into the alpha birds in the lab; the walls of the room melted into the white of the hospital room. “No. I want to stop.”

“Okay,” Jack said, and just like that, he withdrew and let JP up.

JP’s head spun. Jack had stopped—but he’d been forced before, so many times—but he was here with Jack, not there with them.

He screwed his eyes shut. Jack draped a blanket over his shoulders, then rubbed his back a little. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t ask anything. And for that, JP was grateful.