Wes said the story went like this:
First, the government was heinously bigoted, and society was rotten to the core.
Second, Wes really hated alphas.
Third, Wes really hated alphas.
(First Amendment: Wes really hated alphas, except for maybe a certain alpha named Travis Marks.)
Travis (who was, admittedly, much less biased about the whole ordeal) said the story went like this:
First, the government ruled OH (Omega-Hormones) Suppressants a prescription-only drug, instilling at the same time an extensive set of hoops one has to jump through in order to obtain a constant supply of Suppressants. This law was the result of a largely conservative social view– at least in regards to omegas' rights– and the demand to return to traditional alpha-beta-omega dynamics, as "set forth by our genetic coding, our human nature." Travis was a far cry from a champion of omegas' rights, but he too knew of the discrimination and prejudice, not to mention the horrid objectification that most omegas were subject to. As an alpha, there were privileges Travis never wanted to lord over anyone, let alone an omega.
Second, Travis might've been hurt, initially, that Wes didn't trust him enough to tell Travis that he was an omega. Then he uncovered the truly horrid amounts of Suppressant Wes took daily in order to stave off the heats– and by nature, the scent– he's never let loose, not since his monumental decision when he was sixteen to never let himself be subject to the kinds of treatment omegas often suffered from. Then all Travis felt was guilt, because Wes had basically all but admitted to being a complete virgin (he and Alex shared a relatively mild sexual relationship, never extending beyond employing their mouths, because Alex, as a beta, wasn't as driven by a biological need to copulate, and by that point, Wes had almost entirely assumed the identity of an alpha, and didn't want anyone finding out otherwise), and Travis was sad for anyone who has never experienced orgasm. Travis could've also felt guilty for the fact that he's always assumed Wes's bitchfits to be a result of not getting laid, and had never associated them with the monthly heats Travis has only ever heard to be atrocious when experiencing at full capacity– Travis didn't want to imagine the buildup of physiological need behind ever insult Wes has ever uttered, every glaring contest he's instigated, because that was just depressing.
Third, Wes was monumentally stupid for trusting a drug dealer when he ran out of Suppressants before he could replenish his supply.
In hindsight, trusting a drug dealer with life and death matters was a pretty bad idea.
In hindsight, Wes shouldn't have even needed hindsight to see that trusting a drug dealer about anything was a phenomenally bad idea.
(But he was never going to admit that to Travis. By the name of all that is holy, never.)
The actual story started in Money's auto shop. It was one of Wes's worse days (Travis knew now that he had a damn good reason to be grumpy, but at the time–)– Travis just wanted to get away from him. So as they were driving home from a fruitless lead, Travis convinced Wes to stop by the auto shop, left Wes inside the car with the windows cracked, and headed inside to complain at extent about his anal partner. Money seemed to enjoy his rants well enough. On afternoons like this they would drink beer and have fun tallying up the amount of people Wes pissed off earlier in the day.
That day, barely twenty minutes into Travis's stay, he knew there was something wrong.
For one, the constant clangs and bangs of Money's crew at work were dead silent, and Money noticed before Travis, standing up and frowning at his empty shop. Cautiously setting down his beer, Travis stood, and caught a scent in the air. A scent Travis hasn't smelled for a long, long time.
It was the scent of an omega going into heat.
An alpha himself, Money quickly caught onto the scent, and began sniffing the air with intent. Watching his foster brother's pupils dilate, Travis knew his expression now mirrored Money's. It wasn't that he was suddenly desperately needy to find the source of that stunning scent and screw the omega into the closest surface; it was just a natural biological reaction, one that Travis wouldn't exactly mind acting on. With a toothy grin, Money took off in the direction where the scent was strongest, and with an exasperated, yet slightly intrigued sigh, Travis quickly followed.
The exasperation turned into suspicion, intrigue into dread when Travis saw all of Money's men– and soon Money himself– gathering around Wes's car. To be exact, gathering behind Wes's car, where one sweaty engineer had pressed himself against the driver's side door, effectively barring entrance. Hoots and jeers filled the air, and when Travis took a cautious sniff, he caught a noseful of the heady scent, instantly feeling the heat circling his stomach. Something still didn't feel right, though, and Travis approached in a slight crouch, edging around the group until he could see the object of their attention.
When he saw Wes, backed up against a rusty pickup truck, brandishing a tire iron with fever-bright eyes, all the heat instantly left Travis's body, leaving him to run on instinct and hurt feelings. He supposed it was lucky that Wes had caught his eyes, then, and was not too proud to seek the help he so desperately needed. Otherwise, Travis dreaded thinking about what he might've done, overwhelmed by that goddamn scent.
"Get away from him" Travis growled, low and threatening, as he shoved through the crowd, doing his best to shove his alpha presence in anyone's unsuspecting face. The betas of the crowd fell back, leaving Money and a select few others, who were glaring heatedly at Travis, the alpha entreating on their territory and taking their possession. Standing as tall and strong as he can, Travis focused on Money, letting selfishness and control roll off him in waves. "He's mine."
Travis didn't remember if Money consented, after that. Truthfully, he didn't care, when he prowled up to Wes (it took up all his willpower to hold his breath) and grabbed for his wrist. To Travis's surprise, the tire iron came swinging at him. Only pure dumb luck had the tire iron swing right into Travis's grip, outstretched for Wes.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Wes's answering glower was frighteningly feral, his knuckles white where he held onto the tire iron, yanking it back and forth, trying to jostle it from Travis's hold.
"You fucking alphas, you're all the same," Wes spat. "You stay the fuck away from me!"
Tightening his grip, Travis yanked the iron forward, drawing Wes closer.
"I'm trying to help," he hissed, and when Wes didn't look convinced, he eased up his tone. "I'm your partner, remember?"
To that, Wes looked dazed enough for Travis to glance back up, snarling in general warning as he ushered Wes back to the car. Pushing Wes into the passenger's seat, Travis circled around to where Money's gang stood, still eyeing Wes through the windshield like he was a piece of meat. With one last sweeping glare, Travis slid into the car and slammed the door behind him, peeling out of his foster brother's auto shop at a speed that would've put race cars everywhere to shame.
"Okay, what the fuck is going on?" Travis was only barely in hysterics, no big deal. It was about to become a big deal, though, if Wes didn't answer him soon, because apparently the partner he's always been told was an alpha was actually an omega, and he was going into fucking heat in the middle of a junkyard filled with alphas and betas. And Travis. Travis was really trying his damnedest to ignore the buildup of the increasingly potent pheromones inside the confined space of Wes's car. He was really trying. "Wes, man, I need answers. Right now."
"Fine, you want answers?" Wes snapped, not even looking up from where he had curled into the corner of the passenger's seat. "I saw an omega go into heat when I was in high school, and I saw the alphas lining up to take her without consent. I decided I never want that to happen to me, so I took Suppressants to keep from going into heat. Now that there's a fucking law against omegas having free will, the only source of Suppressants is illegal and obviously patheticallyuseless. Fuck."
An odd chill slid down Travis's back when Wes's voice clearly cracked on that last curse, and a quick glance sideways saw Wes's shoulders hunched and shaking, forehead resolutely pressed to the car door.
"Wha–" Travis took a heavy gulp. "What's wrong?"
"I've never had a heat before." Wes was whimpering, breath heaving as he tried to stop the sounds from escaping his throat. Travis's foot accidentally stomped down hard on the gas, and when the car suddenly jerked forward, Wes cried out in pain.
"It fucking hurts."
"I don't– don't– Shit."
The car swerved left as Travis accelerated them into the empty cement lot. He had no idea where they were, but there were far more important things at hand here than being lost. Like the obvious tear tracks making their way down Wes's cheeks no matter how much he tried to wipe them away. Like the almost nauseating buildup of omega pheromones in the car, making Travis far too light-headed to continue driving safely. If it went on like this, it wouldn't be safe for Travis to be in the car anymore, in case he completely lost it and– goddamn forbid this from ever happening– attacked Wes. Throwing on the brakes, Travis scrambled out of the car, taking precious breaths of fresh air as he tried to calm his pulse and alleviate the heavy pressure building in his groin. He gave himself five– no, ten minutes just to be sure, before he tentatively opened the car door again, his nose carefully turned to the side to escape most of the scent. Wes was in the exact same position Travis had left him in, and seeing his partner in such a sorry state, Travis was at a complete loss of what to do. What was he supposed to say, at a time like this? Say Wes did nothing wrong? Obviously. Wes wasn't seeking absolution anyways. Offer to– to– No. Wes had already made his stance on that plenty clear. Travis wouldn't do that to anyone, much less his partner.
Wes was calming a little now. At least, he wasn't shaking as hard. When he finally peered up from his tightly-curled ball, at Travis's stiff form bent over the car, Wes huffed out a humorless laugh.
"You should go get a cab," he suggested hollowly. "Go. I'll– I'll drive myself back when I'm… done."
"You're crazy," Travis replied just as flatly. "I'm not leaving you out in the wind."
Wes's fingers dug into his knees. "I dropped my gun at the auto shop."
"We'll go get it afterwards."
"Afterwards…?" There was a tight clench in Travis's chest at Wes's honest-to-god befuddled tone. Had Wes really thought that Travis was going to toss him aside just because he was an omega? It was a bitch to realize, too, that Wes had every reason to think that, considering how omegas were treated by society in general, and how Travis's personal track record with people went. But Wes– Travis would never do that to Wes. He was far more… essential, to Travis, for that to ever happen.
"I'm not leaving you, Wes," Travis replied more firmly. "Get that through your thick head."
Wes's eyes were red-rimmed and glazed when he stared up at Travis, mouth slightly agape as he absorbed what Travis just told him. Swallowing a couple of times, Wes finally got out, "Okay."
"Okay," Travis parroted, before gently closing the door, and settling in to wait out the heat on the hard cement.
Wes's scent had, for the most part, dissipated when the knock from the inside of the car came, startling Travis out of his silent contemplating. Readying himself before opening the door, Travis caught a glimpse of a flushed-looking Wes peering at him through the door. His hand shook slightly around the handle, but Wes needed him. Travis could keep it in his pants long enough to help his partner out.
"What is it–"
Travis stuttered to a stop when Wes's scent poured out, catching him a bit off his guard before he quickly blocked up his breathing. It wasn't just the smell, though, for Wes presented quite a delectable picture himself, with his blue eyes offset by a heavy flush, teeth worrying the corner of his bottom lip, and visible skin covered with a sheen of perspiration. A hand gripped at his belly and heavy lines curved around Wes's eyes, however, spoke of the pain he was undoubtedly still in, and Travis quickly got a handle on his libido after that.
"What do you need?" he asked quickly, sneaking shallow breaths to breathe, yes, but mostly to take in just a little bit more of that enticing scent. How fantastic it would be to just fall head-first into the power of that scent, take Wes in, have that flush on his face extend all the way down his neck to the rest of his body, give him pleasure like he's never felt before. Wes had taken off the suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, and Travis watched the skin stretch over his collarbones as Wes took a deep breath before answering.
It took a long, long minute for Travis to blink his brain back into function. By the time he came back to himself, Wes was already rambling.
"–understand that it's not what you want, but I just– I need something, even just a godfucking handjob is–"
"Are you sure?" Travis barely recognized his own voice, far huskier than his usual bedroom voice, but Wes had always brought out the unexpected in him. It was Wes's turn to shut up and blink, but Wes focused far quicker than Travis had, meeting Travis's eyes with an unmistakably nervous gaze. To his credit, though, Wes didn't hesitate before nodding.
"You're my partner," Wes echoed his words from earlier. "I trust you."
And Travis didn't need any further invitation than that.
Doors firmly shut behind him, Travis tucked his face into the crook of Wes's neck and breathed in deep. At that contact alone, Wes's back was arching, instinctively seeking out the body of the alpha.
"I'll make this good for you," Travis promised gruffly, breathing a hot patch of air on Wes's skin before closing his lips around it. He wanted to tell Wes that he tasted as good as he smelled, but decided actions were stronger than words, and began nibbling a mark above where collarbone met shoulder, a spot Wes could easily decide to cover up, but could just as easily choose to expose should he want to. Wes mewled above him, suddenly dropping his hips back down to the now-horizontal driver's seat and pulling Travis down with him. Travis slid his leg between Wes's, pressing up to ground against his clothed groin. Wes groaned, a guttural sound, before clumsily batting Travis's head off his shoulder, instead framing Travis's face with his hands and pulling him down for a kiss. It was sloppy and a work of art, something Travis would frame and exhibit if he could because it was absolutely perfect for him and Wes. Wes seemed to think so too, smiling none-too-modestly into the kiss before licking his way back into Travis's mouth.
"I don't know–" Travis wasn't sure if Wes's cringe was from pain or indecision, but it seemed to ease with Travis tonguing at his chest, so Travis kept it up, licking stripes into the hollow between his ribs, all the while undoing the buttons of Wes's shirt. "I can't– Travis, I need–"
"You're going to have to be more specific than that," Travis breathed, eyes closed as he pressed his nose into Wes's belly. Wes was so warm, a cozy sort of heat spread beneath the fine layer of skin. It induced a wave of lust in Travis, like he wanted to undo Wes layer by layer until he got to the very center, then wrap him back up again, utterly wrecked and debauched. "You don't know what?"
It took Travis a moment to realize that Wes's hands on his shoulders were now trying to push him away, and feeling rather hurt, Travis did so, awkwardly perching above the gearshift as Wes tried to gather his wits about him. Wes wanted to think right now? Travis didn't know whether to be mad or insulted, so he settled for a little bit of both, trying to ignore the sense of worry that's been hovering at the periphery of his conscience since he first recognized Wes in the throng of alphas and betas. Wes had said Yes, and of course he could back out, but– but why would he want to? Not to be tooting his own horn, but Travis knew for a damn solid fact that people did not want to get out from under Travis Marks once he's got his hands on them unless they were criminals, and sometimes not even then. Wes had seemed happy enough, writhing like he had. If Wes was actually going to try to talk himselfout of sex–
"Stop looking at me like that," Wes hissed, arms wrapped tight around his sweat-sheened abdomen. "You're– It's not what you think."
"Then what is it, Wes, because I'm getting really mixed signals here," Travis snapped, sounding perhaps a bit angrier than he had wanted to. But he wasn't about to take it back. Not from the way Wes was also glaring.
"I don't know–" Wes repeated deliberately, "I don't know what I need, specifically, to make– to make this go away." Even as he gestured abstractly to himself, Wes was still hunched over, knees gathered up to his chest. "I've never had the experience, but I guess instincts will do the trick, which is why I can't stand your foreplay anymore, and I need you to fuck me right now."
The air inside the car was humid, approaching sweltering, and if it didn't smell so damn good, Travis would be cracking open a window right now.
"…Baby," he finally croaked, biting down a laugh, "that is not how dirty talk works.
"Wes's hysterical reply ("I wasn't trying to–") changed abruptly into a moan, as Travis unceremoniously shoved a hand down the front of his pants, grabbing Wes tightly and stroked as best as he could with the awkward angle. With his other hand, Travis made quick work of Wes's belt, jerking his trousers off his bare feet, leaving Wes in just a damp, unbuttoned shirt. With the red spreading fast down his neck and chest, Wes looked absolutelydelectable.
"Ever done this by yourself?" Travis's breaths came heavy as he pumped Wes at a relentless rhythm. "Ever needed to take the edge off?"
"It's– counterproductive– to the Suppressant–" Wes answered, head thumping arrhythmically against the seat as he writhed beneath Travis's ministrations. Travis frowned. Counterproductive? The bastard was managing five-syllable words? Vindictive, Travis stretched down to nip sharply at the tip of Wes's ear. That proved to be his undoing point. With a shout, Wes came, his entire body shuddering with pleasure.
Travis grinned and slicked up the tip of a finger with the puddle of semen on Wes's stomach, reaching down past his still-hard cock to press against his perineum, smoothing down the sensitive strip of skin to Wes's puckered hole. Wes made a keening sound when Travis teased his finger past the already-moist ring, arching up at a painful-looking angle as he clawed at Travis's back.
"You're gorgeous like this, you know that?" Travis murmured as he stared down the pale expanse of Wes's throat, laughing quietly when Wes grunted in frustrated dismissal. Despite the discomfort, Wes was stubbornly shifting his bottom, trying to get Travis to push in more. Travis, ever one to please, acquiesced and nudged his finger forward, to the first knuckle, then the second. He slowly twisted his hand, bending down at the same time to mouth at the head of Wes's cock. Adding the second finger, licking a wet ring around the base. Scissoring, taking as much of Wes in as possible then swallowing when he felt the head hit the back of his throat. By the time Travis deemed Wes ready, Wes had already came again with a broken-sounding sob. Travis petted Wes's inside walls as he undid his pants, his own erection already weeping with precome.
"Are you ready?" It couldn't hurt to ask, though Wes, with his arm tossed across his forehead and eyes, didn't look like he could answer anyways.
"Just hurry up."
Travis was never one to take it slow, anyways.
The first thrust took Travis all the way to the hilt, rocking the entire car back. Wes's body spasmed as his mouth opened in a soundless scream. Travis didn't wait, grabbing Wes's thighs as he pulled back until just the tip of him was in Wes, then thrusted back in again, angling down this time, aiming for that spot in Wes where, when Travis had brushed against it earlier, had left Wes a boneless puddle. Nails suddenly digging into Travis's biceps told him he had found it, with Wes bent almost in half beneath him, caught in an overwhelming blend of pain and pleasure and relief and pleasure and pain again.
Travis decided there really wasn't any more time to waste.
He drove into Wes at an unforgiving pace, taking care to hit Wes's prostate spot-on at every thrust. Splintered cries made their way out of Wes's throat as his hands scrambled for purchase, scratching along the window and door until he finally settled for the armrests, knuckles turning white in his tight grip. One hand steadied Wes's hip as Travis pounded into him, while the other was stroking Wes just as quickly, his come from the last two times barely slick enough to keep from chafing. Despite having already came twice, Wes didn't last long, stuttering into Travis's grip as he came one more time. Wes fell back into the passengers' seat, half-lidded eyes meeting Travis's as the pink tip of his tongue darted out, swiping along his chapped lips.
At the sight, Travis let himself go. He let the tension from holding himself back ease from his shoulders, the pressures of the day melt away. Instead, he let instincts reign, every inch of his alpha mind screaming for him to taketaketake. So he did. Wes's pliant body spread open for him, Travis somehow found the strength to go even faster, hamstrings burning as he fucked the omega beneath him, until he finally felt the tightening of his balls, the telltale sensation at the base of his stomach. Travis came with a shout, bearing down on Wes until their foreheads touched, hips jerking as the last of Travis's seed spilled into Wes's body. Sighing in contentment, Travis fell to the side, pulling Wes with him as their bodies joined, as Travis's cock swelled even more inside Wes for the knot to form. Wes grimaced at the slight discomfort, but settled next to Travis, watching his alpha with an oddly open expression on his face.
"So what happens now?" Wes asked quietly, minutes into the afterglow. Travis was much too satiated to respond properly, settling for sticking his tongue out and licking the tip of Wes's nose when he found he was too lazy to reach in for a kiss. To his very pleasant surprise, Wes laughed, the sound giddy and maybe a tad hysterical. Travis found himself mirroring Wes's grin, and soon, the two of them were laughing in tandem, clutching at each other as they tried to get their breaths back. Caught in the moment, Travis leaned forward and caught Wes's lips in his own, kissing his partner chastely. When he pulled away, Travis saw the way Wes's eyes were shining– happy, proud, and the exasperated mirth he sported exclusively for Travis– all at once. It made Travis choke up with strange emotions, so he just clutched at Wes even tighter.
"Thank you." Travis didn't think he's ever heard Wes sound this earnest with him. He smiled, appropriately fond and panicked.
"What are partners for?"
(Second Amendment: Wes hated all alphas, but most definitely not Travis Marks, because there were few men that could watch Wes's back in the middle of the field and fuck Wes through the mattress with the same amount of enthusiasm for both. Wes wasn't naive enough to believe in soulmates, but he supposed that he could settle for Travis, if the man was so goddamn insistent about their claim on each other.
And, well, if they just so happened to be absolutely perfect for each other, that would just be a happy coincidence.)