The heat comes on quickly.
Michael’s stomach feels tight when he wakes, making him wave off one of the bagel halves Meg’s filled the toaster with, but that’s easy to dismiss. After all, he ate cheesy pizza last night. That’s more than enough to piss off his lactose intolerance.
By the time he and Gavin and Lindsay are out the door to work he’s starting to get hot, but that’s not enough to trigger realisation either. He lives in Austin Texas now, with a body that grew up in New Jersey. It always feels hot to him. Anywhere that’s not air conditioned, at least. Maybe even places that are; the SUV Lindsay’s driving is well air conditioned, but the sun coming through the window at him means he’s still sweating.
Being so hot makes it hard to think. He only half hears Gavin say something to him directly, he’s kind of tuned out the three way banter between Lindsay and Gavin and the radio. But boi wants him, so Michael shakes his head to try to focus.
“I was asking-” Gavin stops mid sentence as he twists in the seat belt to look at Michael.
“Wha?” Michael slurs out, when Gavin doesn’t continue. The sweltering temperature is defeating his meagre concentration, but he can still tell Gavin’s acting weird.
“Michael? Michael boi? You know you’re touching yourself?”
Michael frowns and looks down. Frowns some more. His hand is on top of his cock. Well, it’s on top of his jeans, but he’s so hard there’s a huge bulge behind the zipper. Huh. Gavin’s right.
This time it’s Lindsay trying to make him think. “Michael, what time of the month is it? Is it-”
“Oh fuck, is it?” Gavin asks.
“It’s so fucking hot,” Michael whines. If he doesn’t get into the shade soon, he’s going to sweat through his mustard yellow merch shirt and make it a tone darker. He’ll be all messy when he gets to work. Maybe Geoff will come over with a dry shirt and some wet wipes to help get the stinky sweat off. Maybe Geoff will be wearing one of his collection of black shirts, and his skin will be cool as he takes Michael into his arms. And then he’ll strip off Michael’s jeans, and-
“Michael boi, it’s been about two months since your last Heat, yeah? Because when was it, just before my Belgium trip?”
He can’t think about time now, why does Gavin want him to think about the past and the future when all that matters is how his skin is on fire and how it’s starting to center in his guts, his ass? If Gavin really loved him he’d be rubbing Michael’s stomach, be kissing his neck and rubbing his stomach and fucking him with a ten inch dildo. That’s what you do what you love someone.
“Lindsay?” he whimpers. If Gavin’s not helping him, maybe his girlfriend will.
But she doesn’t hear him. She’s got one hand on the wheel, one holding her phone to her face. “Hey Meg, really important. Do you remember when Michael’s last Heat was?”
Fuck. No one’s helping him. No one cares. Michael pulls his legs up, draws them close to his chest to comfort himself from the barren knowledge of no one loving him enough to fuck him on the asphalt on the side of the road, car idling in the emergency lane.
“Michael? Boi, don’t cry,” Gavin says, meaningless words. He turns to speak to Lindsay. “I think he’s definitely-”
“Meg says yes,” Lindsay says, tossing her phone into the drink holder. She tries to make eye contact with him in the mirror. “Michael, we’ll be home soon, okay?”
Michael whimpers again. Home is so far away, hours and hours. He hurts, his skin is burning off his body, and nobody loves him. Everything is terrible.
Gavin ducks his head under the diagonal part of the seat belt, so he can better lean into the middle of the SUV. “We will be home soon, love. Promise.”
Gavin puts his hand on Michael’s knee then. If Michael was sober and in his right mind, watching a Alpha/Omega scene like that on tv, he’d scoff at the idiot Alpha. Who in their right minds would think an Omega on the edge of Heat would be helped calm down by the touch of an Alpha? What kind of bullshit Bible Belt abstinence only sex ed makes an Alpha that dumb? Thing is, Michael is not sober and in his right mind. He is one millimetre away from full blown, ass dripping, hypersensitive skinned, incoherent Heat. Gavin’s hand on him is like a neutron bomb, cooking every iota of his brain that isn’t focused on sex into hot white ash.
“Lick your hand and put it back on my knee,” Michael asks. He has a bit of skin revealed, from the ripped denim look everyone says looks good on him. He could come, probably, from the feel of Gavin’s wet skin against his.
“Gavin are you fucking kidding me!” Lindsay screeches.
“We’re almost home. And can’t you smell him?” Gavin replies. Michael preens, knowing his Heat scent has affected his Alphas. If they like it, they like him, and they’ll be more likely to screw him hard. Good old counter-Heat, causing offspring and stronger bonds since time immemorial. Not that he has to worry about it, thank fuck, being a man.
“Now I can smell both of you, you fuckin’ self centred prick. I’m the one that has to drive us there safely!”
The time passes like nothing. Michael’s entire world is Gavin’s hand on him, and how much he wants to spray come all over his Me Undies, thanks Off Topic Podcast for the free shit. It’s a complete surprise when his car door opens and Lindsay is there.
“Come on Michael. We gotta get inside,” Lindsay instructs. She reaches in and starts helping him with his seatbelt. Any hint of altruism is wipes away when she continues, “gotta get inside so I can get inside you. Do you know how good your slick feels when it’s soaking into my knuckles?”
Michael can see it in his head. Lindsay’s got lovely hands. They look good spreading Meg open. They look good curled around Gavin’s cock. Of course they’ll look good wrist deep in him. The motivation to get that gets Michael hopping down out of the car, palm briefly in the wet spot he’s left on the seat as he boosts himself out. And while the thought -and the perseverance- quickly slips away like wax under flame, Lindsay’s got her beautiful, sexy arm around his waist and is pulling him up the driveway. Maybe if he follows she’ll pin him against the siding while Gavin sucks his dick and shoves the handle of a garden tool inside him.
Michael falls to the floor just on the other side of the doorway. His legs don’t care to move him any longer. It’s not a bad thing. Being on hands and knees means someone can maneuver behind him and start fucking him.
“You want to take your clothes off and put a robe on?” asks a voice from above. Michael could look up and see who it is. Or he could lean forward and lick the foot standing in front of him. If he satisfied them enough, they could stick a toe in his ass. Start the slow path to the gland in his ass getting the relief it demands.
“I think he’s too far gone for that, Meg.”
Michael has Meg’s foot in hand, the closest skin he can get his fingers on. He’s about to put his mouth on her when she squats and pulls his chin up to make her look at him. Her touch is loving but firm, exactly the way he needs it. Exactly the way she trained for moments like these. Sure it was nice to have her part time at Rooster Teeth while she was getting her degree, but Michael loves Alpha Therapist Meg all the more. It’s a rare Alpha trait to always be in counter-Heat -the exact ying for a desperate Omega-in-Heat’s yang- and to be able to assist any Omega at any time. She shouldn’t have to have a career that puts her unusual skill to work, just as not all tall people should have to play basketball, but given that she herself is into it, Michael’s never been anything but proud of her.
“Hi Michael, my pretty little boy. We’re going to take you into the living room and then someone is going to fuck your Omega gland inside out, okay?”
She doesn’t give him much of an opportunity to refuse. Michael almost could, moving a thousand miles to the living room before coming at least once seems like a ludicrous request. The only thing that keeps him quiet is not wanting to piss off his beautiful Alpha datemates. But even if he was saying ‘no, don’t wanna’ out loud, Meg’s education wouldn’t let her leave an Omega collapsed on the ground. Instead she tells him what they’re going to go, then she puts her arms under his armpits and helps him stand up. It’s the most skin contact he’s gotten so far, seeing as she’s only wearing her Alpha Therapist uniform; a shirt reinforced to have handles on the shoulders, and a utility belt with her tools on it. It’s enough to get him to comply to getting settled on the couch. Good thing she’s off shift for the next week before cycling back in, it gave Meg the time to dress the couch in highly absorbent towels.
Michael’s eyes roll to the back of his head as Meg pulls his jeans off. Her fingers are grazing him, a godly touch, and the fabric moving is a world of friction on his cock. It gets even better when she starts peeling his undies off. The fabric sticks a little, thanks to the lubrication his body has started to create, and that causes his rim to get tugged for a brief moment. He could die on the goddamn spot, slain by the intense feeling.
Meg uses what Michael knows is an Alpha Therapist technique to keep him comforted as she gets ready herself. Gavin or Lindsay could step in, touch him and love him and fuck him, but they just stand there. With the iota of reasoning Michael has left, he can acknowledge that they’re still in the honeymoon stage of Meg’s new paramedical career, the period in which a new job is sexy and no faults can be found with it. Michael remembers those days he was new to Austin, when they all fucked with merch shirts on and pants pulled to the knee behind a locked door in 636. Everyone here wants to see Meg strip off her shirt and lay it on his chest so he has something to cling on to, just from the medical kink aspect of it all.
Finally though, she’s got her clinical cock on, and has placed herself between his legs. There’s no reason to finger him, not today. If anything, it’d be a cruel tease to merely get four inches in. The stretch isn’t needed when he’s dilated, and while that’s just barely reachable for his proteste, the Omega gland is higher, usually situated about six to seven inches inside the average Omega male or female. A finger inside Michael does as much good as a hand on his side or on his knee. By which Michael means he’ll still probably come being touched like that, but it won’t satisfy the real itch.
Meg pushes in easily. With the amount for lubricant he’s expressing, it’d take a lot more than a dildo to bother Michael’s asshole. Michael’s eyes slam shut as the head of her cock slips past his prostate and presses against the inflamed weeping knot of his Omega gland. Jesus Christ, it’s such a good feeling. No wonder the cock brand is most doctors first recommendation for the single, or those in a relationship with a female Alpha. Meg has other options, but Michael is in the happy majority of Omegas that don’t need something elaborate. Just a long, ridged cock that gets wider near the base.
When Meg starts thrusting in and out, clinical cock slamming into his Omega gland Michael all but starts crying. It’s just so good, so exactly what he wants. It makes all the stupid thinking go away, shoves his brain out of his ear so he only has his body to rely on. And his body likes this, and isn’t giving it up any time soon.
He’s not expecting Gavin to manhandle him and shove a few hastily retrieved throw pillows under his neck, but Michael’s not about to fight the touch of an Alpha. The position curls his spine weirdly on the couch, considering his hips are still up for Meg, but when Gavin climbs on top of him and the pillows are enough to angle Gavin’s dick into his mouth, it’s worth the twinge he might feel later.
The taste of Gavin’s precome wakes something up inside him. Something ravenous. Michael wants to have Gavin down his throat until the end of time, so that everything he drinks, everything he eats, every gasp of air he intakes tastes like his Alpha’s spunk. He needs to remember to ask Gavin to make ice cubes of it and put it in his next drink. Not right now though. Asking would involve taking lips and teeth and tongue off the stunning length of it, and that’s just not an option.
There’s nothing quite like the first orgasm during heat. It’s crueler than all the rest. There’s lingering residue of the way things work seven weeks out of eight. His body has confidence that an orgasm will matter, will soothe the fire inside him. His body is dead wrong. Somewhere between Meg fucking him and the taste of Gavin, Michael shoots off, covers his stomach in his come. There’s a brief lull, a few seconds of satisfaction, and then he starts sweating again, starts craving more again. It’s those first moments of desperate need post orgasm that really drive home the message that he’s in Heat, that this isn’t a problem that can be solved, that he’s going to be feeling this for a long time. It’s nearly humiliating, biologically speaking, and all the worse mentally for being actively enjoyed.
After Meg plows him a bit longer, she reaches past Gavin to stroke his side and get his attention. “Michael, I’m going to release this from my harness and leave it in you while I take a breather. Okay sweetie?”
That doesn’t sound okay at all. “Do you have to?”
“Yeah sweets, just for a second. If I don’t rest I can’t be with you the whole time, and that’s not what I want.”
Michael whimpers, but understands. If he has to be without her for five minutes in order to keep her for the next four days, he will. She strokes his hip and kisses Gavin’s neck before crawling backwards on the couch and resting against the backrest. Luckily the beehive shaped dildo stays pretty well inside him, only sagging and pulling on his rim a little.
Gavin gives him a minute to adjust to the difference, and then he’s back to throat fucking him. Michael keeps his lips tight and his throat open, at this point in his life a goddamn blowjob master. When Gavin pulls out, Michael spends a brief moment terrified that he disappointed his male Alpha in some way. Thankfully he couldn’t be more wrong. Instead Gavin strokes himself twice, three times, and comes all over Michael’s face. Michael knows the action for what it is; Alpha love. Gavin loves him so much he’s mixing his most primal fluid scent with Michael’s. He’s claiming him. It’s Heat meeting counter-Heat at its best.
Next thing he knows, he’s being manhandled in the other direction. Lindsay’s half in Meg’s lap, with her knees bent and angled outward. His eyes flutter closed and he loses awareness of who’s moving him, just that he ends up on his stomach, head opposite to where it was before, Meg’s shirt lost somewhere in the shuffle. Michael still has Gavin’s come on his face as he starts to eat Lindsay out. He can hear the instinctive snarl Gavin lets out as his heat scent smothering the Omega in the room is wiped out by a new Alpha’s, but everything tempers out when Gavin leans forward to gently pet Lindsay’s hair. They’re datemates before they’re Alphas and Omega. Or, if that’s too optimistic in the face of eons of biological imperative, they’re at least conditioned to being cordial in bed seven weeks out of eight. Conditioning works, ask BF Skinner if you don’t believe them.
A few minutes into licking Lindsay -unless it’s been hours, who really knows- Gavin begins contributing again. He has the base of the clinical dildo in hand, and starts rocking it up into Michael. His eyes start to cross, and another layer of sweat starts to bead, but still, Michael manages to keep licking his Alpha.
Lindsay comes first. The way she cries out, the way her cunt tightens against his tongue, it can’t be mistaken for anything else. Once again, Michael is rewarded with a pheromone dose of ‘pleased Alpha’ that goes straight to his Omega core. As the scent floods him, as Gavin pushes the hard tip of the medical dildo into his gland, Michael buries his face in Lindsay’s curly hairs and spills himself onto the fluffy towel beneath him.
“Everyone satisfied now?” Meg asks.
“Nooo,” Michael whines. How can she possibly ask that? His erection hasn’t flagged one centimetre. He’s two percent satisfied, if that.
“No,” and “nope,” are Gavin and Lindsay’s replies in unison. Never has Michael been happier to hear a negative.
Meg smiles, an action that turns her gorgeous face radiant. “Me neither, actually. But we should move it to the bedroom, don’t you think? We can hold it together long enough to do that, right?”
“Why?” Michael manages to ask. He can barely think, but he knows enough to know a cock can be in his ass in the living room just fine. If it’s not broken, why fix it?
“Because, Michael Jones, while Lindsay was driving home, in between calling in sick for you all, and making a batch of jello for later, when you’re starting to get your hunger back, guess what I did?” She answers her own question, “I set up the suspension rig. Don’t you want your legs tied in the air, wet and wide asshole forced to take whatever passes by it?”
Holy Christ. Michael’s never wanted anything else more in his life. He stands, with shaky knees that collapse after a second or two. Lucky for him, Lindsay’s once again close enough to catch him. As he clings to her sturdiness, Michael shivers. It’s the only possible reaction for a big gush of slick falling out of him and running down his legs. The warmth of it on his naked skin makes the rest of him break out in goosebumps.
“Come on boi. Our little Therapist is right, I think. It’s gonna be a long Heat if we never make it out of the living room.”
Gavin’s smiling at him. Lindsay’s bearing his weight. Meg’s slipped her uniform shirt back on, dick firmly attached to her utility belt. Michael, like a good Omega, follows his Alphas as they walk down the hall. Truth be told, he’d follow them anywhere.