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Warm me

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Brock's dirty. Disgustingly dirty. He's distressed by the smell of his own body. Yes, tour in the desert meant no benefits of civilization, but the natural essence of the omega was required to find ways to clean up somehow: using dry shampoos for thick dark hair; solid briquettes deodorants masking musk of the secondary gender and heavy body odor, inherent to the soldiers on the job, with sharp cold aroma; soft wet wipes to get rid of the dirt between his legs.

Brock has not seen his backpack with the shampoo near a month. He lies on the floor of a small cell in the sorting database for captured omegas, curled into a ball under a tiny cloth. He doesn't know what became of most of his squad. Likely, all of them have been killed. There were only three of them, omegas, and tiny Jamala was taken away on the first day. Brock and Sergeant Woster have been staying at this base for month, waiting for remnants of a powerful military blockers fade from their bodies. Like dozens of others, Brok is in dread for this portentous moment . Month. He only recently realized a month has passed and nobody is looking for them nobody will find them and fucking hell a whole month!

Brock is afraid he’s losing his mind, as was written in the textbooks about the first heat after a long break. Brock is afraid he will not lose his mind before his heat. Brock is afraid of the heat. Either he will be tied to some local, tanned, black-haired alfa with cruel eyes or if he will be lucky and the heat will start before transport, he will be transferred to a larger site, with more large-scale auctions through the internet. Omegas are being washed before the sale in there and not just being poured a bucket of stale water over.

Someone approaches his cell saying something in a guttural local language. Beta and two alphas. Their scent affronts his nose, and Brock shrinks in himself burying his nose in his own hands. Heat is close. They know that. They laugh. Brock dreams of his rifle. Brock dreams of a knife to cut his throat. Brock dreams of his grandmother was old-fashioned old hag and sold him in teen age at the city auction; not allowed brainless omega blow off steam and see the world by enrolling the army.

Beta reaches and yanks the rag out of Brock's weakened fingers. He flinches violently and covers himself with his hands as alphas laugh at him. He's gonna bite through his own veins if he doesn't come up with anything more constructive. Bypassed his cell around alphas go away to the rest of them. Brock's rag is not returned to him. Nights are cold in here. Brock can't hold back a quiet whine which no one responds.

Brock doesn't fall asleep. As soon as the sun sets behind the walls of the base the hall with omegas turns into one giant refrigerator. Brock tries to stay away from the bars of the cage. He lies on his side, rubbing his numb fingers and trying to count backwards to warm his brain. It turns out bad. He drops into oblivion exhausted and rises hearing a thump. Being constantly on alert at the verge of approaching heat, suffering from a sudden lack of pills he reacts to any suspicious sound in this hole. He squints in the darkness trying to understand what have thumped. The air is full of the husky breath of the other omegas.

There are footsteps near his cell and then there is a silhouette of a man in a military uniform behind the bars. American uniform. Alpha. Brock doesn't know how to react. He freezes and tries not to breathe. Alpha invokes some sort of instinctive horror in his soul: he's huge, wide, thickly smelling of sweat and gunpowder. Brock wants to melt through the concrete floor. Alpha raises his rifle with a flashlight fixed on the barrel and quickly inspects Brock. Then extinguishes the light and retreats into the darkness. Brock exhales with relief. He doesn't know if he had a dream about strange man who shouldn't be here. He almost starts to believe it when there's another thump coming from afar, and Brock realizes the alpha cut down the guard and he heard the body fall. Brock tenses. Silence presses on his ears. He sits straight and waits. And waits. And waits.

Brock does not notice when the alpha comes behind him and reaches his hand between the bars to hit his neck. He wakes up in a car flying through the desert with the lights off. He's still naked except for the jacket, which smells like sweat and blood. Brock rolls his aching head on the headrest. The alpha from his dream is on the driver's sit. Or not from dream. Alpha emanates heat. Brock drops his head on the alpha's shoulder, inhales deeply and dozes off again without acknowledging a short attentive look nor voiceless laughter.


Brock is on all fours on the cold sand unable to escape or at least to protest. The alpha behind him has absolutely no attention to the rambling prayers, he kneads Brock's ass with his huge paws and omega can't even close his legs because alpha's knees holds his thighs open. Brock saw the monstrous members of alfas circling around his cage, and he's afraid this monster who took him out here will kill him by tearing him up and throwing him to bleed out in the cold desert night. Alpha rubs his big fingers over Brock's convulsively contracting hole. He has been off blockers for more than a month and his insides are burning but he isn't leaking; he's too terrified for his body to be able to facilitate fucking. Alpha grumbles muffled and spits generously several times, stretching the edges of Brock's hole painfully. Brock shudders with filthy sensation of hot saliva sliping inside him. He should be grateful for small pleasures, but the pleasure has not. He drops his head and waits for the first push, but the alpha only continues knead his ass diligently softly growling. Brock shuts his eyes and calms down under his hands gradually, relaxes, submits. Alpha's saliva kinda tingles inside him and he remembers some time into it about sex education: alphas use their fluid to the omega's body for it to recognize their presence and start to prepare for breeding. Brock should be glad alpha didn't piss in him. Though he is not certain this is a cause for joy.

Alpha pushes a thick calloused finger in him touching the tender walls of his anus unpleasantly and Brock is surprised realizing his muscles obediently open to invasion without trying to shrink. Apparently alpha was alert in the classroom too. Having Brock kneaded from the inside alpha spreads his hole wide with a slightly damp cockhead without further delay. Brock tenses again; alpha is taller by a head and broader and more powerful. And his cock is pure horror.

Alpha ignores new stream of Brock's feverish pleadings not to do this and pushes in his hot cockhead helping with his hands. Brock closes his eyes tight, breaths raggedly and squeezes tighter frantically around intrusion. He expects alpha pushes to the hilt immediately, but he calms down Brock stroking his sides and rolls his hips slightly, stretching Brock's ass now with his cockhead. Alpha continues to be strange. Brock relatively recovers and hysterically thinks he should probably ask his name since they gonna be tied. Somehow he is absolutely sure this unknown alpha is not in just for quick bang. The desire flashed in his light eyes had nothing to do with sex. Brock hopelessly waits for the full package with knot, bond and bite on itching neck. He has goosebumps down his back from cold air forcing him shudder involuntary. He's cold. From fear or from the night air he doesn't know but he starts to shake. As if overhearing his thoughts alpha leans forward covering him and Brock involuntarily arches into his heat. Brock is so cold he's ready to take this nightmarish thick cock if only alpha would not move away. Hot chapped lips cares his ear and husky voice commands:
- Push me out.

Brock obeys (he can't help but obey the alpha) and strains his muscles trying to push out the invading cock. Alpha hums approvingly and thrusts into Brock to the root with sudden jolt. Brock howls and scrambles forward trying to get out from it but alpha picks him up under the belly with one hand and encircles his throat loosely with other holding him without letting move even inch. Brock hurts, hurts, hurts, he is afraid again, his body pulsing frantically, but alpha seems to put up with it: he doesn't move enjoying omega's convulsions. Some time later Brock accommodates to dick stretching him and then alpha starts to move with short thrusts barely pulling out and then pushing back. Brock groans every time alpha's balls slams wetly on his and moans when alpha moves his hips in a circle reshaping Brock's insides for himself. Brock pants overwhelmed with sensations. He's wet inside but he sure alpha haven't cum yet. He thinks it's blood at first but then he suddenly realizes his body finally works according to program starting produce slick. He blushes with sudden burn of shame grateful no one sees him, though after all that happened what else to be ashamed of? Alpha runs his dry lips over his nape touching swollen gland on his neck. Brock is barely accustomed to stretch and gets caught by surprise again feeling his insides become too tight. He whines softly when alpha's knot swells and begins to stretch him unbearably. This time alpha doesn't postpone; he doesn't give him time to accommodate and bites Brock tying him through the mark, cementing bond with sperm spurting deep inside Brock and locks it with knot. Brock howls from pain in his neck, his ass, stomach and soul. His face is wet with uncontrollable flow of tears. Alpha closes his mouth with his palm and pushes him lay on his belly plastering himself over.


That base was belong to someone of theirs. Someone made money selling omegas captured and presumed dead during the fight. His alpha - his Jack - Brock would have thought he was like James Bond, like some super spy who learned about it and went on a solo rescue mission. Brock would be James Bond's omega. Brock would fall in love if he was fifteen. He's twenty-five. Jack's crazy, but differently.

Jack works for base's owners. His mission was to destroy the base because it began to attract the interest of competitors. Jack pulled out his softened cock, wrapped Brock back in his jacket, sat him down back in the jeep and blew up the damn base. Brock watched missile flew away in astonishment and then the new sun rised on the horizon opposite the original sun. They sit between the two suns in the damned desert. Brock's hot and wet between his legs, his neck burns with the bondmark. Jack smokes leaning against the jeep next to the passenger door and brushes sand off Brock's knees with his free hand. His Jack. His alpha. Brock squeezes his eyes shut.

Alpha throws cigarette out, bypasses jeep, sits behind the wheel and drives car in the direction of the rising sun. Brock watches his rough shape out of the corner of eye like axe carved out of the rock. His alpha has green eyes and a lot of scars. Brock belongs to him. Belongs to alpha who alone was sent to destroy the underground base of omegas' slavers. Belongs to alpha who was supposed to kill him with everyone. Brock shuts his eyes again and exhales shakily. Tears flow from under tightly closed eyelids. It's because of rising sun and sand shining in the morning light.

Alpha reaches to his nape and pulls him down forcing to lie his head on alpha's thigh. Jack. Jack makes him lay so close to his crotch Brock's nose fills immediately with scent of alpha's seed and his own slick. He doesn't know if he will be ordered to take in the mouth. He doesn't know what to expect from Jack at all. Big palm covers his eyes hiding them from the sun and sand. Jack drives silently to the evacuation point. Brock finds out later that Jack is almost always silent because he doesn't like small talk and uses instead gestures and glances. Brock finds out later lot of things he didn't need to know. No one asks him.

Jack carries him bridal style to the chopper. Cold gray-green eyes have so fierce expression Brock's not even surprised when the crew pays him no more attention than the luggage. That's what he is now: Jack's possession. Brock bites his lip so hard he feels blood in the mouth. He holds back a whimper and swears to beg the very first omega he sees to give him at least one pill of blockers to shut down hormonal tornado flooded his blood.

Calloused finger touches his lip forcing him to open his teeth. Brock obeys and looks up. He licks his dry lips touching that finger with tip of his tongue and says:
— Where are we going?
Alpha settles him in the seat, fastens his seatbelt and then sits down beside him. Alpha tilts his head to the side and Brock almost sure he wouldn't have a response but alpha says:
— Homeward.

Brock believes him. He doesn't know if it's bond talking or alpha's pheromones in his blood or thick sperm in his ass (he swears he can feel it inside) but he believes this alpha- Jack- his alpha. He hopes Jack is superspy important enough no one will took away from him freshly omega. He doesn't want to go through this again. He doesn't want anything except a hot shower and the possibility to be no longer afraid.


Brock has the nightmare about the desert again. He curles in himself and whimpers in his sleep repeating cold-cold-cold without a break and not heap of blankets nor heating can help him. Jack shakes omega from blankets and pajamas without waking him, turns him on his belly, pushes his fingers in tight ass, gathers omega's slick and casually rubs his cock with it. Throwing preparation away he thrusts into trembling body. Brock howls in pain and shudders violently and wakes up abruptly panting in Jack's palm alpha closed his mouth cautiously. Alpha continues to lie on him like living blanket. Brock tries to catch his breath though it is hard to do with knot painfully stretching him. Jack does not accept half measures. Maybe it's for the best. With alpha on his back and with heavy hot knot up his ass Brock's instantly brought back to reality. He relaxes and warms up and squeezes Jack's wrist and falls asleep eventually.

Jack knots him every night without paying attention to his protests. He knots Brock even during missions until nightmares pass completely. Their team somehow manages not to confuse Brock-soldier and Brock-omega, obeying every movement of eyebrows in the field and not reacting to the whining during the nights, except teasing in the morning. Jerks. Brock is terribly embarrassed and awkward at first and he thinks it would be better to die in the desert. However Jack took him not leaving him choice and forced to live. Brock has to get used to it. He starts to like warmth, fullness, sense of security. No one can take him away from Jack and hurt him while he's knotted to his alpha. When nightmares are gone completely he is so used to it he can't sleep without knot. Jack is happy with him. Happy Jack acts gentler and softer. Happy Jack caresses Brock helping him cum. Happy Jack treats him like a treasure. Brock likes to be a treasure. Brock's happy too.