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Enraged

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“You know my rules,” Alex said, her arms crossed as she stared down the alpha. He was still favoring one arm and working his jaw around, but really, he could have been worse off.

They were collected in Momma Alex’s office. She was dressed for the job in a tightly cut suit that showed off her slim features. She chose dark coloring to make her bright blonde hair and piercing blue eyes stand out. Her hair was cut short and sharp, making her look strong and professional. Peter knew she carried a gun at all times at the small of her back, just in case.

“It’s not like I meant to! I was lost in the moment! There was no reason for him to—”

“He had every reason,” Alex snapped. “You’re on the ban list of no less that eight brothels in New York because you can’t keep you teeth out of omega flesh.”

The John growled, displeased with being lectured. Likely, he wasn’t used to it. Alphas tended to be spoiled. “I don’t see what the big damn deal is! It’s not like they’re gonna mate bond with anyone! What’s a little bite gonna do?”

“You’re banned for six months.”

The John scoffed and threw Alex and Peter the finger, shouting a few choice words on his way out. “Fucking uppity wannabe alpha bitches!”

People didn’t particularly like female alphas, but Alex was used to such comments. They didn’t really affect her anymore, or at least, not where it showed. She just seemed exhausted as she sighed and slumped against the wall of her office. Peter rolled his eyes from where he was seated on the loveseat, taking another swig from his water bottle.

“Will you have a mark?”

“Nah.” Peter rubbed his neck over the spot where the alpha had nearly broken the skin. “I was ready for it, so I got my thumb in his mouth in time. He was easy to flip across the room after that. Pretty sure he disliked that part more.”

Alex let out a huff of a laugh. “I bet.”

“Peter-Peter-Peter, I’m so sorry!” Adam scurried into the room, arms hugged tight around himself, eyes filling up with tears. “I’m so so so so sorry! That was my John and I made you deal with it and—”

“Don’t worry about it, Adam,” Peter soothed. “I still got paid and he can’t even come back here for a while. Win-win, right?”

Adam sniffled and looked no less guilty. “I’m sorry I’m so useless,” he muttered miserably.

It squeezed Peter’s heart to hear that. Frankly, it was normal to hear male omegas say that about themselves, considering they were told that all their lives. That didn’t mean Peter liked it. Besides, most male omegas were smaller framed and given little in the way of options to bulk up or learn self defence. The only person in Momma Alex’s brothel that had an advantage over alphas, was Peter.

Had Adam taken that John, he would have been marked with a bite and roughed up a little. Perhaps that didn’t seem so scary in the short term, and most alphas thought that way, which was why they didn’t care to control themselves. However, alphas in rut hate seeing another alpha’s bite on an omega. It was dangerous to show off once in the middle of things and would likely mean being passed up in the first place. A bite severely limited earning potential until it healed.

Assuming it didn’t scar and leave the omega struggling for work forever more.

But alphas didn’t care about that. They looked down on omegas that entered into the sex industry, even though it was their rules that created a world where male omegas had little choice but to do so.

Not to mention, bites in places where bond marks were supposed to go was rude in general, if the alpha didn’t intend to keep the omega. Lots of alphas lost themselves in their ruts, becoming possessive, and would decide they wanted to keep the omega they were currently fucking for life. However, once the arousal addled state was over, the alpha could walk away, but the omega was ruined.

“Don’t ever be afraid to ask me for help, okay?” Peter smiled. “Really. I don’t mind.”

That was a lie. He did mind. Peter hated his job and he hated it more that he had to take on the worst of the worst every time he had a client. However, the thought of any of the other omegas ending up with one of those asshole alphas that just wanted to hurt them, all because Peter didn’t feel like it that day… That was unacceptable.

As an omega, Peter couldn’t do much to help people or make the world a better place, powers or no powers, but he could protect the world he lived in.

“You’re so nice,” Adam blubbered and then broke down crying. Peter sighed. Adam was a sensitive soul.

He was also a romantic, still hoping for a Disney prince to carry him away from this world of harsh reality. Peter always felt the urge to yell at Adam to be more realistic, to toughen up, but really, he couldn’t take away from someone the one thing that kept them going. So Peter would just awkwardly keep his silence.

“Alright! Out you go!” Alex walked forward to usher Adam out. “I’m gonna do a check-up on Peter. Jason! Hey! Come over here and take care of Adam!”

“Yes, Momma!” Jason’s voice called from somewhere in the hallway.

Alex shut the door at last with a long sigh. She walked over and plopped down on the loveseat beside Peter. She gave his water bottle the side eye. “Sure you don’t want something stronger?”

Peter shrugged. “Wasted on me.”

“A blessing and a curse.”

“Yeah…”

Some of the larger brothels had at least one mutant to take the bad or suspicious clients when there was a need. Peter was the first omega that Alex hired to be able to take that job, and it had been entirely accidental at first. Peter’s powers had come to light later. Still, she was very grateful for his help, and Peter got a larger cut than the other omegas did, though he made sure not to tell them that.

“Listen, Pete, if you need a break, I can give you an easy client.”

“Yeah, sure, that’d be nice.” Peter tipped the bottle back, draining the rest of it. “Whenever we have a day where I don’t have to grab one of the brutes.”

“Yeah…”

They both knew it wouldn’t happen. Male omegas were uncommon enough as it was. Finding one that was capable of defending themselves and willing to work in the sex industry was a near impossible task. However, finding an alpha that didn’t like to obey the rules was all too common.

Though perhaps “willing to work” wasn’t the right term. Most of those that ended up in the industry were like Peter — bitter and resigned to the only job they were capable of getting. Alex was a good Momma and treated her boys right. She would never force any of them to do something they truly hated or were afraid of. She fretted over Peter constantly, but Peter always brushed it aside. He could handle your average rut-crazed alpha. The others couldn’t.

“I’m gonna hit the showers,” Peter said. “I can still smell him on me.”

“You sticking around for the late shift?”

“Of course. I need the money.”

“Thanks, Pete.”

Peter waved it off as he headed out the door of the office. It was going to be another long night. Resentment crawled up his throat, but he swallowed it back down. No reason to get upset about it. Nothing would change even if he did. Instead, he did what he always did to calm down. He thought of all the other people stuck in this job with him, and how, without his help, they would be beaten, bleeding, and scarred with a mark that meant nothing.

 

~*~

 

Peter woke to the sound of murmuring voices coming from downstairs. It sounded like the neighbor was over once more, talking to Aunt May. He could hear them. At no point in his life prior to getting bitten had he been able to so clearly hear a discussion happening on the first floor from his bedroom. But now, there he was, super powered or whatever.

At first, it had been a real pain. He could hardly handle the volume his new daily life had. It had been difficult to sleep through. He had invested in earplugs just to make it through the night. Over time, he became inured to it. Now it hardly bothered him. The only time it tended to wake him up was if something crashed or broke in the house, or he heard his name.

That last thought made his sleep dazed mind tune into the conversation. The neighbor was bad about gossip.

“I’m worried about him, May. He’s out at all hours of the night, and selling pictures to a newspaper just doesn’t bring in that kind of money. They screw over anyone they can, more so omegas who are desperate for whatever they can earn.”

“He has a lot of odd jobs he’s taken on. He’s the kind of person to find a way to make things work.” Aunt May’s voice was so trusting…

“That’s exactly what has me worried! He feels so strongly about taking care of the house after Ben’s death. Like it’s all his responsibility, especially since you had to cut back on your hours. I don’t want him thinking there is only one option to turn to.”

“You’re going to give yourself an ulcer, fretting like that. Peter keeps me updated on his jobs, and he knows better than to get involved in such risky things. Everything is fine.” There was a thread of tension in Aunt May’s voice that she was trying hard to cover up.

Peter sighed and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He never wanted to worry Aunt May, and he most certainly didn’t want her knowing that he sold his body for money. It made the secrets he kept from her during his teenage years seem childish…

“It’s such a shame he lost that scholarship. I was so sure he’d be a college boy right now. Top of his class!”

“Oh, Anna… Don’t bring that up to him. He’s still upset—”

Peter shoved a pillow over his head and hummed. He didn’t want to hear them talk about all the things he had lost. He didn’t need to be reminded of how he’d been blocked from trying to make a better life for himself. The bitter anger of it still boiled in his gut, even after all these years. One would think that Peter would have been able to let it go by now.

After all, that day… something irreparable had broken inside of Peter. Something that had been cracking since the day Uncle Ben had died.

Peter had kind of hoped that he would stop having emotions after that so he no longer had to suffer. If only it worked like that.

Determining that he wasn’t going to get any more sleep, Peter decided to go take a shower and brush his teeth. At least the noise of the water would drown out the conversation and notify the women that he was awake. It should make them change subjects, at least.

By the time Peter made it downstairs, the neighbor was gone, and it was just Aunt May in the kitchen making Peter something to eat. He had told her a thousand times that he didn’t need her mothering him like that anymore, but she seemed to find it comforting, so he did his best to let it go.

He dropped a kiss on her cheek as he made his way to the fridge to pull out some juice. “Mornin’!”

“Good afternoon,” Aunt May pointed out. “Late night again?”

“Yeah, somebody’s gotta take the night shift secret shopper jobs.”

“Does that really pay all that much?” Ah, so she was fishing for information. Damn nosey neighbors making Aunt May worried.

“Every little bit helps! Besides, it’s a valiant job, making sure omegas are treated with the same amount of respect as other customers. I take pride in knowing I helped three people so far get fired.”

Peter grinned and dodged as Aunt May swatted at him for the comment, but she couldn’t stop the little smile from tugging at her lips. Truthfully, Peter did do secret shopping work, if only to leave a paper trail that he could show Aunt May. The extra pocket money was nice, and he really did enjoy leaving scathing reviews against people that even so much as insinuated something rude about his gender.

“And your job at the paper?” she asked as she sat a plate of food down for him. He eagerly tucked into it.

“Well…” Peter shrugged and swallowed his mouthful. “I wouldn’t call occasionally selling a picture to them a job, but I guess it’s fine. I just wish the heroes would stop flying so high up. Harder to focus the lens.”

“I worry about you being in the middle of those fights.”

“Nah, it’s perfectly safe. I have a very nice zoom function. I stay clear of the rubble.”

Peter, for a while, had also taken photos of heroes and villains as they fought. He didn’t stop because the money was shit, though it was, but because watching them night after night had started to hurt. It left a sour taste in his mouth and a heavy feeling of loss. They were something he could never be.

Not to mention, every time he saw Iron Man, his chest would clench so tight it was hard to breathe. He’d start thinking about that night. The night he had been losing that battle. The night that his suit ripped open and the smell of—

Peter clenched his jaw and forced the thoughts out of his head. Now wasn’t the time to obsess over that. He had a few secret shopper places to hit before he checked in at Momma Alex’s.

“I’m heading out early today. I get to do a checklist for movie trailers and credits, which means free movie for me.” Peter gave Aunt May a thumbs up.

She smiled in return. “I do hope you don’t get stuck in another B rated girl’s night out movie.”

“Those aren’t nearly as bad as being forced to watch another Adam Sandler flop.”

“The price of hard work.”

Peter laughed. Aunt May always managed to find a way to make him smile at least once during the day. He didn’t know what he would have done if she weren’t a part of his life.

“Are you going in tonight?” Peter asked.

“I’m on call, but they won’t bother unless it gets too busy.” After Uncle Ben’s death, Aunt May had started working at the hospital again as a nurse. It didn’t take long before she overworked herself. She couldn’t afford to quit, so out of kindness, they kept her on part time.

Still, every year she found it more and more difficult to keep up. They started cutting more of her hours and setting her up as the on-call nurse for emergencies. Thankfully, by the time that happened, Peter had cut his new deal with Alex and made more money. It meant Peter would likely never move out of Aunt May’s house to live his own life, but the situation could be much worse. At least they had cable, internet, and could always afford the power bill.

That was more than most male omegas could boast about. Not that female omegas had it much better. They only had good lives if they agreed to bind themselves to an alpha’s home — staying barefoot and pregnant. Peter didn’t quite know which scenario would be worse.

“Peter… If there’s ever anything you need to talk about, let me know, okay? We can always figure something out together.”

Guilt rushed through Peter, but he pushed it aside because she was wrong. There wasn’t always a good solution. There wasn’t always a way to make it work. That part was obvious by now.

Peter forced a smile to his face. “Of course, Aunt May.”

A few hours later, Peter was making his way to the theater. He had on tight jeans and a form fitting shirt, with a well cut jacket draped on top. He wasn’t necessarily showing off, but he knew how to turn a casual outfit like the one he had on into something that sold sex. In his line of work, you were always looking for potential clients to advertise to.

Unfortunately, cat callers on the street were not one of them.

“Hey, pretty baby! What’s a fine young thing like you doin’ walkin’ on your own? Ain’t got no alpha lockin’ you up at home?”

“I’m just taking a walk.” Peter kept going, but the man — a beta that looked like he had little money to his name and thus Peter didn’t have time to waste on him — started following, a group of his friends trailing after.

“Ya know, that perky ass is wasted on some entitled brat of an alpha. Why don’t you hit me up sometime? I’ll treat you right.”

Peter smirked. He loved it when others did the alpha bashing for him. “That’s alright. I’ll treat myself right, thanks.”

“Ohhh! Omega makin’ a name for himself. I can respect that.” He laughed and his friends followed suit. They sounded like they thought it was cute that Peter was trying to do it all on his own and would eventually grow out of that when his “omega urges” made him want to play Suzie Homemaker.

Not that Peter would have many options for that. Alphas were supposed to find an omega and have kids. Omegas were supposed to stay home and take care of the kids. Except, there was no reason that a beta couldn’t be in a relationship with an omega or an alpha. There was nothing stopping an alpha or beta from taking an omega mate that couldn’t bear children. Nothing, except for societal standards.

Alphas were always in a competition for who was best. For who could be at the top of the food chain. Breaking the mold meant suffering heavy ridicule, and most alphas couldn’t take such a hit to their pride. However, it seemed perfectly fine to them for an omega to give up their pride completely, along with all their other rights in deference of the alpha that graced them with a bond mark.

Peter hated how the world worked, the life he was born into, and his inability to escape from it. What had been the point of the omega rights movement, if, in the end, so little had changed?

“How ‘bout you let me take you to dinner and we can talk!” the beta persisted.

“I have a job to get to,” Peter brushed off.

“A job! Makin’ the big bucks! I guess the omega’s takin’ me out to dinner now!” His friends laughed.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Has this line of approach ever really worked for you?”

“Hey! I’m just tryin’ ta compliment your hard workin’ and fine ass.”

“Mmhmm…”

“Baby, don’t be sexist! Give a beta a chance.”

A black car pulled up along the side of the road Peter was walking along. Men in suits immediately exited the car, standing at attention and eyeing their surroundings. Peter’s harassers stopped in their tracks and gaped at the men.

“Oh, shit! It’s the feds! Run!” They scrambled and Peter had to stifle a laugh.

Out of the car stepped none other than Harry Osborn. Peter grinned wide and ran over to hug his best friend, receiving a tight grip and a few slaps on the back in return. They both pulled back with smiles, but Harry’s was small and exhausted looking. Deep bruises sat under his eyes.

“You look tired,” Peter pointed out the obvious.

“Thanks.” Harry chuckled. “The company’s been running me ragged. I’m actually on my way to a meeting, but I saw you on the sidewalk and couldn’t help stopping to say hi.”

“You couldn’t just send me a text?” Peter raised an eyebrow, challenging Harry to say it was because he was being overprotective when he saw the people following Peter.

“I haven’t had a single chance to get away, so why pass up the opportunity?” Harry grinned and they both knew he wasn’t going to say it. Peter let it go.

“Well, you rarely text me these days as it is. You should try a little harder.”

“Ha! I will. Promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Peter smirked before he sobered a little. “How’s your dad?”

Harry looked away, his face troubled. “Not good.”

“I’m sorry.”

The knowledge that it was a genetic disease hung between them. The sicker Norman become, the more Harry got a glimpse into his future. Peter had honestly thought he was going to become a scientist, go into the field of genetics, work alongside the Dr. Connors. Peter had dreamed of finding a cure for Harry and his dad.

But life liked to shit on dreams, along with all those he cared about.

“Sir.” One of Harry’s men stepped forward and gave a slight nod.

Harry’s shoulders drooped as he let out a long sigh. “Sorry, Pete. I gotta go.”

“It’s fine. It was good to see you!”

Harry tried for another smile, weak as it was. “It was good to see you, too…” There was a long pause as Harry studied Peter. “Hey, listen… If you ever need anything, don’t be afraid to ask me, okay?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “It’s fine, Harry. I don’t need to be an Oscorp charity case.”

“You know I don’t mean it like that!”

“I know.” Peter waved away Harry’s concern. “I’m doing well on my own. Promise.” And the last thing Peter wanted was to become yet another burden on Harry’s already full plate.

“Sir.”

“Yes, yes.” Harry gave Peter one last stern look. “But promise me if you’re ever in trouble, you’ll call me before you make a bad decision.”

“Okay, mom.” Peter laughed as Harry rolled his eyes. They waved one last time before Harry was tucked away inside the car and driving off. Peter watched the car drive out of sight for a long moment before he turned around to head towards the theater once more.

As much as Peter loved seeing Harry, it always made him feel terrible afterwards. They had been such good friends in the past, but growing up had come with hard lessons for the both of them. When Harry started distancing himself, Peter selfishly let him. It was easier to have space between them than it was for Peter to face day after day all the things he couldn’t do to help Harry.

“Helpless, useless omega,” a voice of his past echoed around inside Peter’s head, taunting him once more. “Can’t even take care of himself, and he wants to save others?”

Peter shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and focused on the cement under his feet. His strange powers, his broad intellect, his overwhelming desire to help — they were useless. He couldn’t even get the education needed to help his best friend. In the end, the only thing that mattered was that he was an omega, and he could never be anything more than that.

“Helpless, useless omega.”

 

~*~

 

Peter was in the backroom of Momma Alex’s eating, a large chemistry book open in front of him. He had a collection of books and science journals that he liked to hoard and read in his free time. Though, to be honest, he could never justify to himself why he bothered. Even if he did learn more than the average college student, he would never have the documents to back up that education. He’d never be hired for a job based on a personal reading habit, especially as an omega.

Still, he couldn’t stop himself from picking up any book that caught his eye. He had resigned himself to the habit being his own personal vice. Besides, the stuff he read was an all encompassing distraction. In the life he lived, such distractions were much needed.

Just as he was flipping a page, Jason suddenly burst into the room, wide eyed and wafting nervousness as he went. “Pete! Momma says you don’t have to take him, but he’s offering a lot of money.”

“Um…” Peter blinked as he dropped the chopsticks back inside the cardboard container. “Who?”

“Some… guy… He’s really weird. I don’t like him at all. I don’t care how much money he has.”

That was a problem. Jason was careful, but there were others that were desperate for money and would make bad decisions when offered enough. Peter was happy to split it with them as long as they didn’t put themselves in unnecessary danger.

He stood up and hurried over to the sink to wash the smell of Chinese food off of him and swish with a quick dose of mouthwash. He ditched the robe and grabbed a shirt that was more holes than cloth before following Jason to the front. There was an entry room where Alex entertained the walk-in clients as they chose an omega for the night.

“He said he doesn’t have a preference as long as someone’s willing to fuck him. Doesn’t that sound suspicious?”

“It does,” Peter agreed.

“And he’s in a costume!”

“He’s in a what?”

Jason lowered his voice as they got closer, not wanting to be overheard and offend the clients. “You’ll see.”

Soon enough, Peter did see. What surprised him the most was not that there was a masked person still in full get-up in the brothel, but that is was Deadpool in full get-up in the brothel. Peter had been chasing after superheroes since his teen years, to mimic or photograph, so he knew most of the villains as well. Deadpool was famous for his chaotic neutral standing, bordering on evil, since he would take almost any job requested of him.

Deadpool was looking around the place, hands propped on his hips, and one foot tapping at the floor. He didn’t look particularly agitated or demanding, just… easily distracted. He seemed particularly fascinated with the glittering crystal chandelier that threw bits of light across the deep blue walls. At the sound of approaching footsteps, he looked over at Jason and Peter, giving an appreciative whistle at the lean muscles peaking out from under Peter’s attire.

“Ceveo,” Alex greeted Peter with his working name. “Our client here is looking for a companion for the night. Is your schedule still open?”

It was. It always was. Peter didn’t have regulars, and rarely had any set appointments. He always took the walk-ins because there was usually a good reason they didn’t call first. Peter looked Deadpool up and down. It was obvious under his suit that he was built for fighting. Solid frame, hard muscles, long and flexible limbs. He was a killing machine.

A rich killing machine, who could easily drop an obscene amount of money to get his way. Peter, for once, was in over his head. However, that meant that any other omega Deadpool came across was far worse. Peter couldn’t allow anyone to get hurt over his own personal reservations.

Peter cocked his hips, letting the tight shorts he had on ride even higher, showing a glimpse of the smooth, pale skin of his cheeks. A practiced sultry smile spread across his lips. One hand propped on his hip in a challenging way that always made alphas want to pin him down and fuck the sass out of him.

“Hello there, tall, dark, and dangerous.”

Deadpool was silent for a long while as he looked Peter over. The suit was hiding his smell and blocking most of his pheromones. Still, Peter could tell that lust poured off the man by how his own body was subconsciously reacting to it. Then, abruptly, Deadpool asked, “You really chose Ceveo as your name?”

Peter blinked. Nobody had called him on that before. It was a lost word from a dead language. He’d picked it out of the bitterness of his position in life — a tongue-in-cheek joke. Of all the people to catch on, Peter had assumed Deadpool at the bottom of the list.

“What of it?” Peter’s voice held a little too much bite to, a little too much of his actual personality instead of the act he was supposed to portray for clients.

“Seems a little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Is that amiss in my line of work?”

“Well, I mean, what happens when someone wants you on top?”

“I’ll let you know the day that comes up.” As if an alpha would request an omega to fuck them. Peter almost scoffed. “Are you asking?”

“And if I do?”

“I’ll be sure to make it the best night of your life.”

A grin stretched the fabric of Deadpool’s mask. “Oh yeah, you’ll do.”

Deadpool tossed a Crown Royal bag at Momma Alex. When she opened it, her eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline. “We haven’t even negotiated a price,” she gently reminded.

“He can take what he feels it was worth after.” Deadpool shrugged, completely unaffected by the loss of so much money. “If he wants to take it all, that’s fine, too. I have some crazy kinks, Baby Boy. You think you can keep up?”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure I’ve met worse.”

“I sure do love me a challenge.”

“No shame in keeping things to the basics on your first time, alpha,” Peter purred, leaning forward a little so he could tilt his back and show off the smoothness of his unmarked neck. “I’m here to serve you, alpha. Whatever you desire.” The hand Peter had by his thigh moved, his fingertips lightly trailing over skin. The move did its job, drawing Deadpool’s attention to the goods.

A lot of alphas liked to one up any other alpha omegas might have had. That could get exhausting or painful if the kinks they settled on were not something they had much experience with. However, Momma Alex trained her boys well, showing them all the tricks of the trade to manipulate an alpha into keeping their eyes on the prize: a willing omega hole to sink their rut engorged dick into.

Thankfully, Deadpool seemed just as susceptible to such tactics, as he appeared to be salivating inside his mask, eyes locked on Peter’s slowly roaming fingers. Peter was secretly grateful. Perhaps things wouldn’t end up too bad.

Alex turned to give Peter a private look that the mercenary couldn’t see. She was questioning whether it was safe for Peter to do this. As far as Peter was concerned, he didn’t have a choice. He gave a subtle nod before smirking at his new client, spinning on a toe in order to lead them out of the entry hall and up the stairs to his designated room.

He had picked the one on the top floor. The climb helped wear down some of the alphas’ antsiness, and he knew well what his ass looked like while climbing those steps. Deadpool followed after like a drooling cartoon character, practically floating up the stairs when Peter looked over his shoulder and crooked his finger. Thankfully, Deadpool didn’t look armed other than the belt of pouches around his waist. If things went wrong, Peter might have a decent chance to make it out the window and up onto the roof.

“Did you know you have an ass sent from the heavens?” Deadpool’s voice had a dreamy quality to it.

“Did you know it feels like heaven, too?”

“Keep that up, and I’ll end up fucking you right here on the stairs.”

“As to be expected of an alpha with so little self control.”

“Oooo, you’re gonna get it.”

Peter wasn’t sure why the dangerous mercenary’s oddly playful tone forced out so many biting remarks, but it did. Something about the man just triggered something in Peter, making him hum with a feeling he hadn’t had since the day he burned his makeshift suit. It was disconcerting, which in turn made him irrationally annoyed at Deadpool.

Perhaps goading an alphan supervillain with a reputation for not holding back wasn’t the smartest thing Peter had ever done. However, Deadpool spouting quips in turn, instead of trying to squash Peter’s uppity omega attitude, was unprecedented, and the scientist in Peter wanted to see how far he could go before the inevitable alpha anger struck.

Before they could reach the top floor landing, hands slid around his waist and pulled them to a stop. Peter was pressed back against the leather of Deadpool’s suit and fear lanced through him. He wasn’t entirely sure how well he could fight against the mercenary in such an enclosed space. He couldn’t call for help because Alex would come and shoot Deadpool. Peter knew for a fact that Deadpool wouldn’t be stopped by a single bullet no matter how well placed.

And if Deadpool survived, how many in the brothel would die when he fell into bloodlust?

So, Peter sealed his lips shut and took a deep breath, trying not to let his shaking be noticeable. Deadpool pressed his face against the side of Peter’s neck and took a deep inhale. Peter let his head fall to the side, bearing his throat in submission, hoping it would keep the dangerous alpha calm.

“You’re agitated and afraid,” Deadpool quietly stated.

Peter just about stopped breathing. One could determine the emotions of others by the pheromones they put out, but it wasn’t like reading a book. Pheromones didn’t have a distinct smell, and they didn’t necessarily cause others to feel the same emotion. No, one had to be aware of their bodies to the point that they knew when a pheromone was affecting them, and then assess the reaction they were having to relate it to the emotion that caused it.

It was possible to read emotions based on pheromones, yes, but alphas rarely had the presence of mind to even try. It was considered a “nosy omega” trait to try and determine what others were feeling. Even though omegas were forced to learn how to do so in order to act appropriately around touchy alphas, so they didn’t insight anger in them.

Deadpool was just full of surprises.

“Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Pool,” Peter replied carefully. “I do hope I can please you tonight.”

“Listen, Baby Boy. If you just lay on the bed all night, playing on your phone, and let me jack off onto you until my rut is over, I’d be happy.”

Oddly… it sounded truthful. How good of a liar was Deadpool? Perhaps a great one, given his line of work. Peter couldn’t stop the annoyance that flared up in him. He didn’t like being coddled when they both knew the truth of the situation. If an alpha in rut wasn’t happy, it was the omega who suffered for it.

“You don’t believe me.”

“You offered a lot of money tonight.” Peter turned his head to the side, catching a glimpse of the white covering Deadpool’s eyes. “I want to do what I can to make sure you have a good experience. After all, isn’t that why you came to a professional?”

Peter pressed his hips back, grinding his ass onto Deadpool’s crotch. The man let out a low moan, his fingers tightening their grip. Peter purposefully let his chest rumble with a purr, knowing that the sound of contentment did things to alphan instincts. Deadpool sucked in a sharp breath.

“How about we head up to my room?” Peter breathed.

“Lead the way, Catcher.” Deadpool was translating Peter’s working name into English slang.

Peter frowned, but started walking again, making sure his hips swayed just right as he climbed the stairs. Why the hell did Deadpool know Latin?