Chapter Text
Power is a heady thing, but then again so is the scent of an omega.
Or, at least, so I've heard.
With the development of such technologies as scent blockers, an omega’s scent was getting to be harder and harder to come by. That’s when the development of scent clubs began.
I ready for my shift, slipping into a silk robe that feels crisp and smooth against my skin. I know that I probably look like shit, with dark half-moons under my eyes and a new bruise staining my cheekbone, but luckily it doesn’t matter how I look.
It matters how I smell.
The scent of an omega had become quiet the commodity, and Alphas—animalistic monsters that they are—seem to be willing to pay high prices to get off on the scent of one alone. While my image was kept hidden behind black curtains that barely allowed for the outline of my body to be seen, my scent was still able to permeate the room. This was mainly put into place for the safety of the omegas who performed. It wasn’t safe to be an omega in this world and don’t I know it.
I lazily walk onto the stage, hearing the roar of a crowd of Alphas just beyond the curtain, and get comfy on the king sized performance bed. Almost as soon as I lay down, the crowd goes silent, but I can still hear their heavy breaths and the room reeks with anticipation. Smirking to myself, I slowly untie my robe, letting it fall open for the clients to get a stronger whiff of me and that alone is enough to have some of the alphas release their load in a series of jagged moans. All omegas smell heavenly, but I smell good enough to make an angel willingly dive into their fall from grace.
I run my hands down my ribs, shivering slightly at the feel of my cold appendages—I’d have to remember to bring gloves next time—before slowly trailing a finger around my nipple. I let out a small moan, more for my audiences’ benefit than my own, before moving to the next one. The combination of the soft pleasure this movement provides and the cold makes my nipples hard in no time.
I absently think of how I have to meet Lizzie tomorrow for brunch as I my fingers slide up my neck, purposefully agitating my scent gland. How pissed would she be if I cancelled? I run my nails down my chest in thought even if I already know that there is no way in hell Lizzie will let me cancel after I cancelled last weekend. I’d blame her if I could, but she doesn’t know. If she did, I’d like to think that she would be understanding.
Slamming back into the present, I realize again where I am. I need to start focusing or the alphas will start to get agitated, and believe me when I say that there is nothing worse than an angry alpha. The club has a good size staff of body guards for the performers, but it still walks a dangerous line. An Alpha all sexed up and frustrated is a harbinger of violence. It’s time for me to get to work.
Tracing soft patterns across my belly that has tingles moving under my skin, I feel the first hints of arousal manifest. Ever so slowly, my hand moves further and further south until it reaches the soft skin of my cock. I shudder at the first brush of attention and can almost see all the alphas in the audience shudder with me. Nothing smelled better than an omega being pleasured.
My fingers wrap around my length and slowly coax it to stiffness, pre-cum sitting like a pearl at the top of my shaft. I dip my thumb in it and bring it down, spreading it around my tip, carving a trail around its circumference, my finger nail just barely digging into the lip of my head. Warmth spreads throughout my hips as I continue to massage my dick while my other hand comes back up to pull and twist at my hardened nipples.
Once I have pleasure in my system, it makes it easier for me to really get down to business. I focus on that feeling. I let it radiate throughout my brain and bones until pleasure is the only thing I can feel. I feel, therefore I am. Now that my body only knows pleasure, it’s time to make sure that everyone else knew this information as well.
Throwing my head back, I focus on releasing as much scent as I can. Scent control was, for the most part, a feature that only alphas could control. They used it in fights of dominance and to sooth their mates. Omegas were supposed to be the pure, honest ones who only ever smelled exactly how they felt. And while I definitely wasn’t lying about my emotions, I was definitely fanning the flames higher.
Having control, as limited as it might be, over this function was a lucrative talent in this line of business. In the past, I would only try to hide my scent as much as possible, doing things like standing under the rain of a shower for days during my heat, but once I figured out that your scent was something Alphas were willing to pay for and I could spread mine at will? Well, let’s just say that I picked a career choice that most people wouldn’t approve of.
My breath has picked up and pulses of pleasure spread down my body in time with my heart beats. I reach to the side of the bed, fingers dipping in a familiar cold and carry it back to my ass. Teasing at first, I spread it around my entrance before slipping a finger inside. If the alphas had seemed excited a few minutes ago, it was nothing compared to now. Numerous groans fill the room, harmonizing with my own as I slip a second finger in to my tight warmth.
The combination of my fingers moving inside and my hand jerking down my cock is enough to make me cum right there and then, but I know I have to wait. My audience may want me to cum, but they have to need it.
***
I growl as I’m forced to re-visit my old stomping grounds. I may have grown up in this shitty area, but I didn’t exactly like to be reminded of that fact. I take in the sleeping homeless curled up on their cuts of cardboard, the stray animals running between alleys, before meeting the eyes of those whose bodies were on sale for the night. Turning away, I thank whatever deity, that abandoned me long ago, didn’t leave before making sure that my mother passed away before she had to resort to whoring herself out.
I continue to walk as the streets slowly clear of the forgotten things and people of the city, until I round a corner. Where I grew up, one escaped by injecting, drinking, or snorting whatever they could get their hands on. I had my fair share of all that too, but I was heading for something different. A place that offered a different kind of escape for those who could afford it.
I never understood the appeal of such an establishment myself—being a powerful alpha that had already experienced many omegas despite their low numbers—but my latest target is known to frequent this place in particular. While I’m not looking forward to being in the company of horny alphas, the bounty on this target’s head is too good to pass up.
Coming upon a nondescript building, I give the metal door a single hard knock. A slot slides open, the scratching metal grating against my ears.
“What can I do for ya?”
“One theta please, but a delta gamma will also do.”
A gloved hand came out, palm up, waiting for me to hand over the $500-dollar entrance fee.
Once given, the hand returned and the slot slammed shut. I wait a moment before the clicking of bolts sliding out of place, one after another, sounds and the door swings open. “Welcome to greek life, Sir.”
Stepping inside, I’m led down a hall before being instructed to walk down the stair case. With each step, the smell increases around me and I’m yet again reminded of where exactly I am. My agitation grows as I willingly walk into an area filled with alphas all screaming for dominance. I can’t fathom why any alpha would deal with this, let alone pay for this experience. Sure omegas smelled nice, but so do laundry sheets and I don’t pay hundreds of dollars to smell them along with hundreds of other people.
I finally reach the end of the stairs and find one last door in my way. Inside, I see large alpha bodies pushing and shoving, under the glow of the red lighting and think about how I could be curled up wish Ashes right now. I sigh and remind myself why I’m here, mentally pulling up an image of my target so that I’ll hopefully be able to spot him quickly within the mass of writhing bodies.
I yank open the door, irritation already settling into my bones before a new smell hits me. Rising above the smell of spent Alphas is something else. My first thought is flowers, with smell being so tied to memories as it is, but the scent is sharper than that of a bouquet. Some kind of fruit? But even then, any sourness is tempered by the softness of something else. Rain?
The smell goes straight to my cock and I suddenly realize the appeal of such an establishment.