It isn’t that Charles doesn’t want a mate; it’s that alpha doms get all annoying when they find out he’s an omega sub. Oh, of course in theory it’s never a problem but in practice alphas fall all over themselves trying to snare him, and beta doms keep trying to kidnap him because they know they can’t hold their own in a fight against an alpha.
He envies betas, both the doms and subs have it easy, no weird genetic mutations for them. Well, beyond the fact that male beta subs could bear young. Children.
He always gets the words confused. Stupid feline instincts.
He growls a little under his breath and flicks his tail, then flattens his ears when he sees every dom in the room follow the motion with lust on their faces.
“Are you ok Charles?” Raven plops down in the seat across from him and braces her elbows on the table, careful to avoid the papers he has spread around.
“No,” Charles snarls, his tail flicking wildly.
“You’ll find your mate someday you know,” Raven says, ignoring his glare. “Your perfect match is out there somewhere.”
“And until I find him I’m stuck beating off compatible doms with a stick,” Charles says bitterly. He’s upset about that – he’s twenty six and his perfect match is nowhere to be found, which is nearly unheard of. An omega’s dom is said to have a built in radar urging them to find their sub, because omegas are rare and prized, and the mate bond is never as strong between compatibles as it is with perfect matches. There have been…incidents. They never end well.
Raven reaches a hand across the table and lays it on his, expression sympathetic. She had ended up bonded with the only compatible male Charles had even considered, and sometimes Charles hates her for that. Never when she’s around, because he loves his sister, but when he’s curled up in bed at night, an aching emptiness filling him, he wishes he had let Erik bond him like Erik had tried to nearly the moment they met. He’s lucky Raven doesn’t get jealous about things like that.
“Where is Erik anyway?” Charles asks, because Erik hardly ever lets his sister out of his sight. His past makes him more possessive than most doms are; Charles knows it’s because he can never quite convince himself that the dom who held him captive for the first fifteen years of his life isn’t hiding right around the corner ready to snatch her away.
“One of his old army buddies is visiting, he’s getting him settled. I was instructed to come retrieve you so that you actually get a meal today,” Raven says, smiling.
“I ate!” Charles protests, then deciding that honesty is always good when dealing with his sister, “…I think.”
“I asked, you didn’t. You have had six Hammerheads though.”
“Er.” Charles knows he should feel worse about that, but he’s working on his thesis and he has absolutely no idea what he was thinking, majoring in genetics. Obviously he should have been institutionalized for his own good.
“Come on, let’s go get some food in you to counteract the caffeine you replaced your blood with,” Raven says fondly, and kindly helps him gather up all his papers. They’re more or less organized when they’re done, which is a plus.
He doesn’t pay attention to much of anything on the ride to Erik’s loft, curled up in the passenger’s seat, arms wrapped around his legs and his knees tucked under his chin. He can’t help the miserable cant of his ears or the way he’s got his hand curled around his tail; he’s been alone for a very long time, and he always feels worse for days after he visits his sister and her mate.
She doesn’t know, which is the only thing good about the situation.
He operates on auto-pilot from the car and up into the apartment, following Raven who steals his papers from him the moment he gets through the door and directing him into the kitchen.
“Erik’s not cooking is he?” Charles calls after her, because he’d like to go home tonight with only bitter loneliness upsetting his stomach.
“Logan cooks,” Raven yells from where she’s hiding his stuff. They have a strict ‘Charles is not allowed to work on his thesis in the loft’ policy. By ‘they’ he means Erik and Raven, because if he had his way he would work on it everywhere, and if at all possible when he slept as well.
He wanders into the kitchen, where he can hear Erik and another male, presumably Logan, talking in low voices.
“-fucking stupid of you Lensherr, that’s all I’m saying!” Logan is saying, and he sounds angry. Charles sighs and mentally prepares himself for the alpha posturing that’s sure to take place over the course of the evening.
“It’s none of your business,” Erik snaps back, and Charles decides to get this over with and takes a fortifying breath before entering the kitchen.
His first impression of the man at the stove is ‘big’. Bulky but not fat, and Charles’ second impression of him follows on the heels of that, and it’s that Logan smells…nice. Which is unexpected and confusing. The way his tail stills and his ears prick is confusing too, and he can’t tell why he’s got this feeling of anticipation but something inside him is shivering in excitement and god. He feels hot, like someone lit a fire inside his chest.
“Charles?” he hears Erik say from what seems like far away, and from the corner of his eye he sees Erik slip off his stool and head toward him, but he’s only got eyes for Logan.
Logan moves quicker than Charles expected him to be able to; he’s in front of Charles and snarling at Erik before Erik makes it more than five steps. Erik takes another step towards them before thinking better of it and backing off. Logan apparently decides that Erik is far enough away to not be a threat, or at least not an immediate one, because he turns his attention back to Charles. It isn’t unlike being caught outside by a large, hungry predator.
“What are you?” is the only question Charles can think to ask, because god, he’s never felt this way before. No dom has ever affected him like this.
“That isn’t the important question,” Logan says, voice rough. Charles makes an inquiring noise without really thinking about it.
“The question,” Logan says, so close but not touching, “is who you are. Do you know the answer to that?”
“No,” Charles breathes out, Logan’s breath ghosting over his lips.
“You’re mine,” Logan says, and kisses him. Charles melts into it, because yes, yes that is what this is, the connection he’s been waiting for his whole life. His mate, his other half. Not alone not alone. Charles gasps when Logan touches him, a hand curled around his hip and one cupping his cheek, points of coolness on the heat of his skin. Logan takes the opportunity to shove his tongue into Charles’ mouth, and the heat inside his chest spikes, his body growing impossibly hotter until suddenly the heat – and the ache he’s lived with since he was twelve, is gone.
He can’t help but make a noise of relief.
“Oh thank fuck,” comes Raven’s voice from the doorway, startling Charles into trying to pull away. Logan doesn’t let him, sweeping his tongue through Charles’ mouth again before letting him pull away.
“Well that was unexpected,” Erik comments thoughtfully from the other side of the kitchen, and Logan gives a rumbling growl at the sound of his voice. Charles fails to find it unattractive, despite trying.
“Oh don’t be like that. We all know Charles is yours,” Raven says, and Charles grins at her over his shoulder, fingers curled in Logan’s shirt. She smiles back, and makes a shooing motion with her hand.
Charles doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s already waited more than long enough.