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here’s wilbur’s dilemma. on the one hand, his parents are absolutely taking the piss by insisting he still needs a babysitter. he’s fourteen years old, he hasn’t needed a babysitter since he started secondary school. it’s downright mortifying to have to explain to his friends every monday that the reason he couldn’t go out with them over the weekend is because his mum still thinks he can’t be trusted not to set the house on fire while he's gone.
on the other hand, his babysitter is tommy.
so, frankly, it’s a pretty even pro-con list.
he’d kick up more of a fuss about still having a babysitter if tommy wasn’t so awesome.
when wilbur got braces, and was spending every waking hour strategically covering his mouth with his hand, it was tommy who sat down with him and showed him old pictures on his phone. “I used to have braces,” tommy’d said, flashing him a perfect smile as he scrolled to yet another picture of his fifteen year old self. if they were the same age now, or their positions were reversed, would wilbur still feel the same pull towards the omega, he’d wondered, staring down at too-little, too-lanky teenage tommy, with his too-short hair and his braces. he’d never thought about it further, though, because the next thing tommy had said was “besides, I think you look very handsome with them on.” and that had been enough to fuel wilbur’s one-sided obsession for months.
when wilbur had stormed home from school, embarrassed and with tears of frustration in his eyes after a particularly shit music lesson, it had been tommy who’d sat down with him and gently asked him what had happened. it had been tommy who sat at the kitchen table with him and coaxed wilbur into playing his little scraps of songs that otherwise would have been destined to be crumpled up in the paper basket in the corner of his room. it had been tommy who gushed effusively over each note and poorly sung lyric, beaming ear to ear and kindly avoiding mentioning the way wilbur’s voice cracked on the high notes. and the low notes. and the middle notes. that night, wilbur’d had a very nice dream that he was a famous rockstar, and tommy was his groupie. he’s had that dream quite a lot since then, actually.
tommy is the kind of babysitter whose natural habitat is porno mags and teenage alphas’ fantasies, all plump, pouting lips and cascading golden curls and big blue eyes that always give wilbur a conspiring wink as soon as his parents are out the door. if wilbur had an ounce less self respect, he’d be doodling “tommy + wilbur 4ever” in the margins of his maths homework.
the omega’s all-around amazingness, and wilbur’s big fat crush on him, is why he doesn’t bother kicking up a fuss, even though he wants to, when mum tells him, again, that he’s going out, again , and tommy will be here any second. wilbur’s met his mum’s boyfriend before, and kristin’s really nice, so he’s not mad about that, and besides, mum deserves a bit of time to himself. and wilbur thinks he’s already made it clear that he has exactly zero problems with spending more time with tommy.
it’s just that he feels really hot, all sweaty and dizzy, and his stomach has been churning all day, and what wilbur wants to do is curl up in mum’s lap and have his mother press his cool hands to his pup’s brow and hum soothing purrs until he’s asleep.
instead, wilbur staggers to his feet at the incessant ringing of the doorbell, reluctantly leaving behind the spot on the sofa that he’s gotten all cosy and snug, and lets tommy in. almost immediately, he wishes he hadn’t, because tommy looks fucking beautiful . he always does.
he flounces in, khaki skirt swishing above his knees, and flops down on the sofa with a punched-out ‘oof’, bouncing against the cushions. wilbur reckons that skirt is the blond’s favourite, because he wears it literally all the time, but the alpha won’t complain. he likes it too, but for different reasons. probably.
a cool palm rests itself on wilbur’s head, fingers ruffling between his messy curls. he’s been trying to grow it out recently, ever since he turned fourteen and suddenly started caring about what people think of him. “be good for tommy,” mum says, bending at the waist to drop a kiss on his forehead.
“I’m always good,” wilbur grumbles, tucking his feet up under himself. “and I don’t need a babysitter.” he says it every time, even if he doesn’t necessarily mean it.
“too many microwave dinners on fire says you do,” mum snips, straightening up. “ be good , wilbur.”
tommy shoots him a grin, cheeky and conspiratorial. “we’ll be fine, missus soot.”
“for the last time, call me phil.” mum rolls his eyes fondly.
“fine. we’ll be fine, phil,” tommy says with a bright, wholesome smile that screams “you can leave your child with me, I’m a semi-responsible teenage omega. what could go wrong?” it’s all very family-friendly and domestic.
as soon as mum’s out the door, tommy turns to him, his face all lit up and eager. “wanna watch a film?” he says, already reaching for the remote. “you can choose, I don’t mind.”
god, this is a big decision. choosing the film is important. it needs to be cool enough that tommy’s impressed by his taste, but not so cool that the omega thinks he’s pretentious. something funny, since tommy doesn’t seem like he’s a fan of horror, but wilbur doesn’t want to be lowbrow or immature. fuck, he’s been thinking about this too long and now his choice won’t seem effortless and cool, it’ll be obvious that he’s overthinking things. again. panicked, he quickly clicks on the first movie that looks like it might meet his requirements.
the foot-and-a-half between him and tommy is all wilbur can think about. if he concentrates, he can feel the heat radiating off of the omega’s barely covered shoulders. the thin sliver of midriff between his cropped shirt and khaki skirt might as well be a billboard, sucking in all of wilbur’s focus. he can’t help wondering what it might be like to run his hands over that smooth, pale skin. would the flat expanse of his tummy twitch and jump with shaky, excited breaths as wilbur cupped his chest? wilbur’s tummy does that sometimes, when he gets caught up in his own daydreams, and then his hand starts drifting downwards, and then, well, then his activities for the night usually begin, his overactive imagination working hard to churn out ideas for him to wank to.
sneakily, wilbur suspects that his fantasies are rather more tender than most of his friends’. not that he’d ever dare bring it up. but there are times when wilbur gets a vague sense of what most alphas his age are thinking of. usually when they’re all gathered around the corner shop on a friday after school and pooling their spare change to scrounge up enough for a packet of haribo, and one of their little group will look over to the racks of magazines, point out a particularly beautiful omega on one of the covers, and strike up a conversation about what they’d like to do to them. usually involving a lot of ‘wet pussy’ and ‘around my knot’ and ‘on her knees’.
wilbur’s reveries usually feature tommy, front and centre, and involve the omega saying things like “wilbur, you are so gorgeous and sexy and also incredibly intelligent and, by the way, the funniest person I’ve ever met. please, make me your mate, right here, right now. and then, please, tell me more about your geography gcse course.”
he manages to tear his eyes away from the tantalising flash of tommy’s waist, instead turning slowly to turn towards the television. that’s a mistake, however, because the alpha hero of the film seems to be in the process of undressing her love interest, slowly peeling the strange, sci-fi costume off the omega’s shoulders. heat starts bubbling in wilbur’s gut at the sight of gauzy fabric pooling around the on-screen omega’s feet, the camera panning further up his body until it reaches his face, not bothering to skip over any of the juicy bits. wilbur can’t help but superimpose tommy’s face over the leading omega’s bland, hollywood-pretty face. he knows tommy’s chest isn’t that large, but he also knows that his babysitter has a thinner waist, longer legs, bluer eyes, and a personality that coerces wilbur into guilty, all-too-serious fantasies about making the blond his mate. on the telly, the rough, grizzled alpha hero steps forwards, hands coming up to run over her companion’s full chest in a ‘trying to be sexy but we’re coworkers with a working relationship so I can’t really go all in on the groping your tits front’ way.
it’s having no less of an effect on wilbur for all its overacted eroticism, though, and he shifts awkwardly in his seat, trying to pretend he can’t feel the way hot blood is rushing to his groin, pulling all of his focus into that spot between his legs. wilbur might be a hopeless virgin, but he’s not stupid. he knows that, as a teenage alpha, he’s thinking about his dick more often than the rest of the general population, and certainly stifling more awkward boners. even so, this feels different.
this feels so much more, well, more. wilbur’s chest is tight, and he can feel a burning blush high on his cheeks. his boxers, which had felt just the right size this morning, and every day before that, come to think of it, now feel uncomfortably tight, cutting into his straining shaft painfully. in fact, everything down there feels painful. painful but good . wilbur wants to jump up and shout out that this is his territory, and he wants to put his scent everywhere, and he wants to put his scent all over tommy, and he wants to lean over and sink his teeth right into tommy’s neck, and then get on top of him and pin the omega down and fuck him until he’s fat with pups and staring up at his alpha with empty-minded adoration.
“are you okay?” tommy asks him suddenly, concerned by the quiet, miserable whine escaping wilbur’s throat, not that the young alpha knows that.
he can’t take it anymore, scrambling to his feet with a muttered “I need to pee- piss. I need to piss.” wilbur staggers upstairs, steps hindered by the painful swelling in his trousers, hoping that he wasn’t too obvious in his attempt to seem more grown up by swearing. stumbling into the loo, he carelessly throws the door shut behind him, and shucks his pants and trousers down around his ankles. time for wilbur to get a look at what’s going on.
in the harsh fluorescent light of the bathroom, things look seriously concerning. his dick is flushed an angry red colour, almost purple near the tip, and wilbur can almost see the way the vein running along the underside pulses with each beat of his thundering heart. anxiously, he wraps one tentative hand around the base, hoping to get a closer look, but instead he flinches back with a yelp, letting go of the shaft like he’s been burnt.
the skin around the base of his cock, where the smooth flesh nestles into wiry hair, is burning , normally velvety skin turned to sandpaper. except the sandpaper is turned inwards, and jesus christ his dick really hurts. wilbur’s pretty sure that the lemon-sized swelling near the root of his cock wasn’t there yesterday, either. it looks enough like a lemon, with bumpy, tender skin and an actually quite frightening colour, that he doesn’t bother muffling the cry for help that escapes his lips.
“tommy!” wilbur shrieks, panic sinking into every word. “I think something weird is happening to me!”
“wilbur?” his babysitter calls back, confusion and fear in his voice. despite the utter hysteria of the situation, he can’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction that tommy’s actually worried about him. the omega’s concerned scent wraps around him like a blanket of comfort as he hurries up the stairs, his sweet citrusy fragrance getting stronger and stronger. “wilbur?” he calls again, words muffled by the thick wooden door. “wilbur, are you alright?”
at this, wilbur’s brain manages to start itself back up again. if he was a computer, the windows logo would be flashing across his eyeballs. is he alright? his dick still hurts like hell, is still stained a bright, uncomfortable red, is still throbbing. and wilbur’s still resolutely not thinking about the weird bump at the base of his shaft.
“can you open the door?” tommy’s pleading voice breaks the boy out of his panicked thoughts, the harsh sounds of his own too-quick breathing loud in the otherwise empty room. “wilbur?” he tries again, a rough, raw edge to his words. “wilbur, can you open the door? I’m starting to get worried now.”
wilbur really wants to open the door, but, as he reaches forwards to twist the handle, he realises the position he’s in. one hand on the knob, the other on his knob, is not a sight he wants tommy, god among omegas, to see. he might be freaking the fuck out about his terrifying dick problems, but the last thing he needs is for his crush to catch him peering at his own swollen cock. wilbur glances down again nervously, twitching with anxiety. tommy’s scent is so thick, so cloying, so delicious, it’s making his head spin as his dick dribbles some sort of clear liquid over his fingertips. he stares, transfixed, at his own bubbling slit as the slimy fluid slowly drips over his hand.
“wilbur?” tommy tries again, whisper-soft as he raps gently against the bathroom door. “I promise it’s okay. just open the door, wil.” hearing tommy call him ‘wil’ with such tenderness has a punched out moan tumbling from wilbur’s lips, more and more of the strange liquid oozing from his cock. absently, his hands clench and unclench around his dick and wilbur chokes on his groan, shoulders hunching over slightly. “I’m opening the door now,” tommy murmurs, just audible through the oak.
with blurry eyes he sees the burnished silver of the door handle creak downwards, signalling his doom. tommy is going to be so creeped out once he realises that wilbur’s not injured, he’s not upset, he’s just freaking out over his dick in the bathroom. a blond head of curls peers around the door, clear blue eyes zeroing in on wilbur’s hunched over form. “oh,” he mumbles, seemingly unthinkingly. tommy’s gaze is fixed on angry-red-and-bruised-purple of the younger’s cock, a strange pinkness creeping over his cheeks. wilbur can’t tear his eyes away as tommy’s rosy lips drop open, forming a perfect pout. the omega inhales deeply, sniffing at the air hungrily, and an odd, glassy shine coats his eyes, making him look even more like a china doll.
they stare at each other for what feels like eternity, only the occasional flickering of the overhead light and wilbur’s heavy breathing to disturb the awkward silence. tommy’s scent wafts further and further into the room, settling over his skin like a warm bath. funny, he could swear that the omega’s scent didn’t used to be this strong.
“wilbur,” tommy gasps after a while. “go downstairs and wait for me on the sofa.”
dazed, confused, horny out of his fucking mind, wilbur stumbles down the stairs, gripping onto the bannister like a lifeline. “fuck!” he hears tommy screech, the high, hysterical word muted by the walls between them. “okay, okay.”
flopping down on the sofa like a stone to the bottom of a lake, wilbur distantly realises that his trousers are still upstairs, crumpled up on the bathroom floor. through the fog hazing his mind, wilbur feels a far-off pang of shame at the idea that tommy’s seen him essentially naked, in all of his scrawny teenage glory.
quietly cringing to himself, wilbur hardly notices when tommy sits down next to him again, quickly tucking his phone into his pocket. “okay,” the omega says, sighing heavily. “wilbur, d’you know what’s happening right now?”
wilbur barely has the wherewithal to answer, transfixed by the way tommy’s tongue darts out between pink lips, licking a glossy sheen over the rosy pout. slowly, he manages to shake his head, stupified by the heat cloying at his skin.
“okay,” tommy says again. “okay. um, wilbur, you’re in rut.”
well, that does make sense. what with the heat, and the confusion, and the desperate need to stick his cock in something.
“wilbur?” the blond says, tentative. “wil, d’you know what that means?” unfortunately, wilbur has sat through far too many sex ed classes with the middle aged nurses from the school medical centre, and he knows exactly what being in rut means. they were awkward, and uncomfortable, and, apparently, not effective, because despite a whole year of “what to expect”, he still had no idea what was happening to him. that accidental boner he got from nurse stanford’s clinical description of mating, and then got bullied for all year, was not worth it.
he clears his throat, staring determinedly down at his folded hands in his lap. “yeah,” wilbur croaks, trying his very hardest not to look at tommy. this is just his luck, to get his first rut while tommy’s here, and then make a complete and utter fool of himself while he’s at it.
“you, uh,” tommy starts, his scent thick with embarrassment. “you need to, um, make sure you get enough- enough stimulation. okay?”
now, wilbur is no stranger to self-pleasure. he beats the meat. he chokes the chicken. he visits mrs. palm. he fingers the bassoon. his hand and his cock are well-acquainted, to put it plainly. yet for some bizarre reason, the next words to leave his mouth are “okay. but, like- how do I-?”
“oh, jesus christ,” tommy sighs into his palms, covering his face with his hands. wilbur watches as he takes a moment, oddly silent behind the curtain of his hands, before turning back to the alpha with a forced smile. “okay, wilbur,” he says, very pointedly not looking anywhere in particular. “what you’re gonna want to do is just, um. take your dick in your hand, and, uh, uh, hold it. not too tightly, or- actually, it’s your dick, you can do what you want with it. and, uh, just try and think exciting thoughts about someone you like. maybe someone famous you think is pretty, or one of the omegas in your class.”
what wilbur is decidedly not going to tell tommy is that ever since the very first time he made himself cum, every single one of his fantasies has involved tommy in some capacity , sometimes by himself, sometimes mixed up with a couple of people. except for that one wet dream he had about his maths teacher, but that one was just weird.
“and then you just-”
okay. okay. okay. wilbur is fine, except wilbur is not fucking fine because tommy’s hand is on his cock, dainty fingers wrapped firmly around his swollen shaft. and now that hand is inching its way up and down the flushed member, slowly, so slowly, pumping at his cock. “holy shit,” he whimpers, trying hard not to buck his hips up into tommy’s fist and ruin everything instantly by cumming. “holy shit!”
tommy’s hand is wet with spit, shiny and slick, and it glides over the velvet soft skin of his dick with ease. the delicious slide of tommy’s fingers up and down his shaft is hypnotic to wilbur, the repetitive motions soothing his panicked mind while the gasping relief of pleasure mollifies his budding alpha instincts.
if it weren’t for his limited teenage stamina, wilbur could sit on the sofa for hours, letting tommy slowly bring him to completion. in fact, he’s pretty sure that same concept will be turning up in one of his dreams later on. perhaps he’ll be the lord of some manor, and tommy the pretty little maid who sits at his feet, devotedly doting on his master and his master’s cock. and tommy could be wearing one of those little black-and-white maid outfits with frills that barely cover his-
the next scrape of fingers against his cock is a little more painful than pleasurable, and wilbur winces. his discomfort must be obvious, because, with heavy lidded eyes, tommy leans forwards and lets his perfect lips fall open. a thin, hot string of drool oozes from between then, and wilbur eagerly tracks its descent, shivering when the slick liquid puddles over his cock.
clumsily, the omega smears the drool over his shaft, his movements unhurried and unpracticed. even tommy’s graceless fumbling his cock is enough to bring wilbur to the edge, breath coming in short, desperate gasps. “that’s not working,” tommy mutters to himself, drawing back and frowning down at wilbur’s cock, which has only gotten redder and more purpled at the tip. no! wilbur wants to wail, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration. it is working, I swear!
tommy leans back, stretching languidly like a cat, before he hops to his feet, off the sofa. with a sudden snarl of frustration, wilbur punches the cushion next to him, lip curling back as his hand clenches into a fist. he startles himself with his unexpected anger, guiltily remembering that time he punched a hole in his bedroom wall. he feels bad for losing control of his newfound alpha instincts, but he desperately, desperately wants tommy to stay next to him, coaxing drop after drop of pleasure out of him.
“cool it, little alpha,” tommy croons, slithering to his knees between wilbur’s thighs. “this’ll feel even better, I promise.”
wilbur gasps, throwing his head back with a heavy thunk, as soft, plump lips press the gentlest kiss against the underside of his cock. tommy glances up at him, a smug grin dancing across his face. again, and again, and again, he peppers kisses across wilbur’s shaft, wet lips leaving glossy marks across the burning skin. “good?” the omega asks, smiling like a cat that got the canary. wilbur can only nod eagerly, chin bouncing off his own chest. “this is gonna be better,” he purrs, and then his perfect, perfect lips are wrapped around the tip of wilbur’s cock, tongue tracing teasing circles around his slit.
“oh my god!” wilbur shrieks, hands flying to fist in tommy’s curls. he might have been able to pass himself off as clueless about jerking off, but he really is a loser virgin, and he’s never even considered the possibility of actually having his dick sucked, much less by tommy of all people.
the omega ducks his head, letting more and more of wilbur’s cock slip down his throat. it’s so, so good, warm and wet and smooth. tommy’s tongue licks sloppily at the underside of his cock, short, twitchy little laps as his throat spasms around the tip. despite the slurping, gagging sounds slipping out of tommy’s mouth as he bobs his head and suckles insistently, the blond doesn’t pull away, eyes crossed as he stares up at wilbur’s face.
“oh, tommy, tommy, tommy!” wilbur chants, voice cracking and splintering, but he barely has the spare focus to be embarrassed, since all his thoughts are condensed into his cock and currently being sucked out by the blond. the omega looks debauched, hair wild and chin shiny with his own spit, thin trails tracked down his face and neck by escaping trickles of drool. his lips are swollen and red, puffy from the constant abuse of wilbur’s cock sliding between them. behind his head, wilbur’s legs kick and twitch, spasming with pleasure as tommy slides his cock to the back of his throat, nose buried firmly in the wiry, dark hair at the base of his dick. it’s so good, and so much, and wilbur can’t help the way his whole body trembles, right on the verge of letting go of his already shaky control and just cumming down tommy’s throat.
with a gasp, the blond pulls back, coughing slightly as his eyes water. he opens his mouth to speak, but wilbur cuts him off with a snarl. “ don’t, ” he growls, and, although he can’t see it, his eyes are alpha-dark for the first time. “keep going.”
“wil,” tommy pleads, and that fond nickname, again, is enough to pull wilbur out of the strange mindset he’s found himself in. “you can’t knot my throat. you said you’d talked about ruts in your classes, yeah?”
the thick fog of lust hazing wilbur’s mind means he has no idea why tommy’s bringing up his sex ed classes. “y-yeah?” he mutters, bemused. his alpha instincts aren’t pleased that the sharp edge of pleasure that had him on the edge of cumming is receding, being replaced with clearer thoughts.
tommy’s mouth wobbles in a way that suggests he’s trying not to laugh. “okay, so, what’s necessary for a rut to end?”
“uh, what?” wilbur’s trying his best here, really, but he can’t see how nurse stanford’s lectures about the necessary conditions for a rut to be fulfilled are helpful right now. “um. the alpha has to knot something?”
“right!” tommy says, voice chipper like he’s a teacher talking to a class of pups. “so give me a second and we can get this ‘knotting’ show on the road.” suddenly, wilbur can really see how those lectures are helpful right now.
wilbur watches hungrily, eyes shining, as tommy clambers to his feet, looming over the alpha as he stands in front of him. dainty hands creep to the hem of tommy’s skirt, lifting the fabric slowly. it’s tantalising to watch inches of tommy’s long, pale legs appear from beneath the khaki material, and even more exciting to catch a glimpse of the bright cotton of tommy’s pants beneath the skirt. the front part is thin, translucent with the omega’s slick, and clings to his skin as the blond carefully peels them off.
“I’m so wet ,” tommy whines, balling up the scrap of cotton and chucking it at wilbur’s head. the younger barely even flinches as it hits him square in the face. the burst of tommy’s scent, his normally sweet, zesty scent made musky with lust, makes wilbur’s cock jump eagerly, twitching at the scent of an omega. wilbur’s omega, if he had his way. anyway, he’s way too distracted by the slow trickle of omega juices down tommy’s inner thigh to kick up a fuss about getting whacked in the face by some pants. “ wilby,” the omega whines, dipping the tips of his fingers between his slick folds. “fuck, just sucking you off makes me so desperate.”
he shuffles closer, planting his knees either side of wilbur’s lap. the alpha can’t help the way his chest jumps and shakes, so near to the object of his affections. the object of his affections who’s kneeling right over his cock. with the skirt still on, he can’t see the wetness of tommy’s cunt, but he can feel the heat, just over his dick, and he can smell the slick leaking from the omega’s pussy. tentative hands come up to hover over tommy’s waist, desperate to cup his thin middle, but anxious of overstepping. the blond catches his eye, a fond, gooey smile warming his face, and gives wilbur a nod, never breaking his gaze. eagerly, wilbur scoops up the fabric of the skirt, lifting it up to the omega’s waist to expose his dripping cunt. the sight punches a desperate moan out of him, tommy’s cunt flushed a pretty red and leaking slick. wilbur can’t resist letting the fabric slip out from between his fingers so he can cradle tommy’s trim waist, his hands, big for his age, or so mum says, fitting perfectly in the dip of the blond’s torso.
“fuck,” tommy mewls, voice high and needy with lust. “it’s a good job I am so fucking wet, wilbur, your cock is bloody massive.” maybe it’s cliche, but the compliment strokes his alpha ego in all the right ways, and wilbur lets out a pleased rumble, nuzzling his forehead in the space between tommy’s tits. then tommy sinks down, and all at once wilbur’s not a loser virgin anymore.
instantly, his alpha instincts settle, the way they’ve been nipping and needling at his hindbrain to mate, to breed, to knot, all fading away into a gentler, more enjoyable desire to just feel the hot, wet muscle of tommy’s cunt around him. “oh, god!” the omega gasps into his hair, squirming in his lap until their hips are pressed flush together. they sit there, both panting, both adjusting to all the new sensations swarming them, for a moment.
then tommy begins to move. he’s only bucking his hips slightly, lifting himself off the alpha’s cock a little with his slim thighs before letting himself sink back down, but it’s literally the best thing wilbur’s ever felt. the slap of skin against skin as the blond fucks himself on wilbur’s shaft is loud in the empty living room, but he knows it’s going to provide the soundtrack for a lot of dreams to come. “wilbur, holy fuck, wil!” tommy chants, mouth hanging open in pleasure, his pupils deep pools of pleasure in his fucked-out eyes. the omega changes tactic, suddenly grinding down, trying to coax the alpha’s cock as far himself as he can. he mewls as the spongy tip of wilbur’s cock brushes against some spot deep inside, and wilbur huffs happily in reply.
“god, this is fucking embarrassing,” tommy mutters, and wilbur’s entire world freezes up, then tilts on its axis. the omega’s weight on his lap is still as comforting, the warm wetness around his cock still as mollifying to his instincts, but wilbur feels like a bucket of cold water has just been thrown on his heart. tears prick in the corner of his eyes, sharp and painful. of course this is embarrassing for tommy, he’s being forced to let some pathetic little fourteen year old creep fuck him. wilbur is so selfish.
“hey, hey, hey,” the omega coos, words as soft as his palm as he reaches up to cup wilbur’s cheek. “what’s happened? there’s no need to cry, sweetheart.”
it hurts to speak, forcing words out around the lump in his throat, but still wilbur manages to croak out “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry for making you do this for me. it must be- I’m sorry.”
tommy’s nose bumps against his temple, the tip of it grazing gently over his skin. “don’t apologise,” he says firmly, thumb rubbing sweet circles over wilbur’s cheekbone. “you can’t help it. I’m happy to help you.” his words are kind, but empty. if wilbur was only a little stronger-willed, he could’ve handled it by himself. if he was only a little cooler, he could have found a girlfriend before all this, and have someone to help him through his rut who actually wants to be here.
tommy seems to realise that his words haven’t helped. his fingers are suddenly tight on the alpha’s jaw as he pulls his face upwards, forcing an uncomfortable wilbur to lock eyes with him. “this is embarrassing to admit,” he whispers, gaze burning hot. “but I have a bit of a thing for you, wil.”
holy shit. tommy has a crush on him. tommy (tommy!) has a crush on him. wilbur.
“what?” he laughs out, brain struggling to comprehend the gravity of the information just revealed to him. is this how isaac newton felt when he was discovering gravity? or the virgin mary? wilbur feels like he’s having an epiphany. “I have a crush on you, too!” he gushes, before stopping short. for a second, he dithers over whether to feel embarrassed over the fact that his deepest secret has just come rushing out, before concluding that if tommy already liked wilbur, he doesn’t need to try to impress him any more than he already has. epic.
“I know,” tommy says, nose scrunched up with amusement. his eyes crease in the corners, a grin crinkling up his whole face. “you’re not very subtle, wil.”
“oh.” well, nice to know that all of his attempts at secrecy and covertness were for nothing. normally, finding out that tommy already knew about his crush would be enough to send wilbur scrambling up to his room, ready to hide his face for all eternity. but right now, literally nothing could knock the wind out of wilbur’s sails. “okay.”
at another time, he might be more inclined to defend his secret-keeping ability, but tommy’s started moving his hips again, and suddenly wilbur can’t think of anything other than the omega’s tight, wet heat around his cock. oh yeah, they were in the middle of having sex before wilbur started crying.
“o-oh,” he groans, surprised by the sudden movement of tommy’s cunt around him. “ngh, tommy!”
“d’you like that, wil?” the omega murmurs, bending low to whisper in his ear. “do you love the way I feel around your cock? is it good, wilby?” wilbur can only nod weakly, relishing in the feel of tommy’s soft skin under his fingers. “I want to fucking ruin you for any other omega,” the blond whispers, his breath a hot breeze against his ear. “I want you to think about this pussy every time you fuck anyone else.”
“I don’t want to fuck anyone else,” wilbur protests, gazing up at tommy’s face, begging him to understand. he wants tommy , and his rut-addled mind can’t understand why the omega doesn’t get that.
“oh, I get it,” tommy croons, fisting one perfect hand in wilbur’s sweaty hair. “you wanna mate me, is that it? you wanna sink your teeth into my neck, little alpha? make me your little wife, and just bend me over whenever you want?”
the alpha can only nod helplessly, enthralled by tommy’s filthy words. “yes, fuck, yes, tommy! I wanna mate you, I wanna fucking breed you up. wanna fill you up with my pups.”
“oh, fuck!” tommy wails, thighs trembling with the strain of fucking himself on wilbur’s cock. the wet, noisy schlick-schlick-schlick of the omega’s cunt around his shaft makes the alpha feel like he’s going insane. it just all feels so good.
“tommy,” he pants, struggling for words. “tommy, I’m gonna-” the omega straightens up, throwing a hand up to cover the delicious dip in his neck, blocking it from wilbur’s sight. his inner alpha whines piteously, distraught at being denied the chance to force his bite on the omega, but sane wilbur is thankful for having the temptation removed.
“cum for me, little alpha,” tommy growls, hips rolling smoothly as he clenches and unclenches the soft, wet muscle hugging wilbur’s cock. “knot me, wil.”
wilbur has no problem complying, letting himself finally, finally tip over the edge. he bites down harshly on his own fist, hindbrain screaming at him to mark something , as he cums and cums inside tommy’s hot, tight little cunt, shooting load after load of sticky seed into the omega’s pussy. “fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, mindless with pleasure as tommy writhes in his lap. the pressure in his cock that’s been on just this edge of painful all evening finally gives, and wilbur rumbles out a growl of relief as his knot finally expands.
“fucking hell!” tommy mewls, thrashing against his chest. the omega’s whole body stiffens, his back arched in a way that must be painful, as his cunt gushes slick, squirting juices over their flush laps and down their thighs.
they sit there panting for a few moments, both gasping for breath. now that his knot is filling tommy up, snugly plugging up the blond’s cunt, wilbur feels like the clouds have parted from the sky of his brain. it’s a weird metaphor, but bear with him. he’s just cum the hardest, ever, in his life. he’s got other things to worry about other than literary devices for explaining the way his mind is suddenly clear.
“what the fuck?” he mutters, mostly to himself. “I feel way better. woah.”
tommy’s throaty giggle interrupts his thoughts, the omega grinning at him affectionately. “it was only your first rut,” the blond explains, soft and kind and teasing. “just a little tiny baby rut. teeny tiny little puppy rut. it barely lasts more than a couple of hours.”
“oh.” wilbur’s trying so hard not to be disappointed, but the truth is, he was hoping it would last a bit longer. is it really so wrong for him to want to bask in his crush’s affection and attention and fucking amazing pussy for a few more days?
“don’t mope,” tommy says, as if he’s read the alpha’s mind. “you still need some help. a bit of tee-el-see. and not the girl group kind. the snuggling kind.”
with that, the omega collapses against his chest, nuzzling his fluffy curls beneath wilbur’s chin. the angle is awkward, but wilbur would put up with literally any position if it meant he got to cuddle with tommy. “sleep now,” the blond mutters, his own voice drowsy. he pats the top of wilbur’s head clumsily, a low purr rumbling in his chest. the alpha is happy to doze on the sofa, head resting on tommy’s chest. tits are the best pillow.
they could be sitting there for a few minutes or a few hours, but wilbur’s rudely awakened by the jangling of keys in the door, his mum’s muffled voice floating through the wood. he freezes beneath tommy, suddenly panicked. literally the last thing he wants, after the awesomeness that was what just happened, is for his mum to walk in on him naked. cringe.
“hiya!” mum calls, wandering down the hall into the kitchen. he can hear the quiet tap of mum’s shoes on the neat tiles as he putters about. “wilbur? hun, are you up?”
above him, tommy opens his mouth to answer and wilbur snaps his head up, eyes wide with panic. “we’re in here, missus soot!” he shouts, still sat snugly in the alpha’s lap.
“how many times, tommy?” mum says, his voice getting louder as he gets closer. “you can call me phi- oh.” he stops dead in the doorway, eyes fixed on the spot where his son disappears into the babysitter. “hiya, wilbur,” mum says after a pause. an all too amused grin creeps across his face as he asks “enjoying ourselves, are we?”
tommy raises an eyebrow expectantly, turning back to face wilbur. “y-yes,” he manages to force out. “I- my rut- tommy said- uh. yes.” wilbur stutters to a stop, face burning with shame.
“rut?” mum says, brows pinching anxiously. “oh, poor baby. why don’t you run upstairs and get into bed? I’ll see tommy out, and then I’ll come up and tuck you in. ‘kay?”
normally, wilbur would protest at being talked to like he’s a pup, but all of a sudden the entirety of the day washes over him. in this second, the only thing he wants is to curl up in his bed and have mum kiss his cheek to send him off to sleep. he nods slowly, sluggish with exhaustion, and paws at tommy’s chest until the omega clambers off his lap. wilbur trudges out of the room, barely sparing the energy to glance behind himself and catch a glimpse of tommy shimmying his still-damp pants back up his thighs. he doesn’t bother trying to make out what tommy and his mum are saying to each other, their low murmuring floating up through the floorboards, and he doesn’t bother scooping up his trousers and boxers, still crumpled up on the bathroom floor.
wilbur moves through the motions of putting on his pajamas, pulling back the duvet, crawling into bed, like he’s in a dream. the slamming of the front door is the only thing that disturbs his half-asleep dozing, but he just wriggles onto his side and tries to-
what the fuck is he thinking? that was tommy. leaving. he can’t let tommy leave!
wilbur throws himself out of bed, not even bothering to slide his feet into his slippers before he’s thundering down the stairs and out the front door. “tommy, wait!” he yells, stumbling over the bottom step. he finds himself surprised by the look of hope on the omega’s face as he turns around. “wil?” tommy asks, an undercurrent of eagerness in his voice. “are you okay? nice pajamas, by the way.”
he glances down, blushing at the cheery cartoon hedgehogs that pattern his legs. “thanks. anyway, tommy, um-” wilbur cuts himself off, suddenly overcome with anxiety. “uh. um. thanks for helping me.”
tommy’s face falls a little, disappointment crawling into his eyes. “you’re welcome,” he says with a soft smile. “see you round, wilbur.”
“wait,” he says again. the alpha has no idea where the confidence in his voice is coming from, but he’s grateful for it. “didn’t- you said that you liked me.”
the corner of the blond’s mouth twitches upwards. “yeah.”
“yeah,” he repeats, scrambling for words. “so- so you should be my girlfriend.”
“should I?” tommy says, face scrunching up with laughter.
wilbur nods, fringe flopping over his face. “yes. yeah. you should.”
“wow,” the omega says, stepping forwards. “guess I have no choice.”
and then tommy is closing his eyes, and pouting his lips, and leaning in, and then he’s being kissed. wilbur blinks, startled, as tommy’s lips move against his, fine fingers coming up to clutch at his shoulders. and then, all too soon, it’s over. tommy is pulling back, lips shiny with spit, and giving him a soft grin. “see you later, wil,” he giggles, sauntering down the garden path and out the gate.
wilbur stands there, one hand raised to his lips like he’s the omega in some shitty chick flick. it’s embarrassing, but he’s in such a happy daze that he can’t tear himself away, instead sighing dreamily as the click-clack of tommy’s shoes on the pavement fades away.
god, the guys at school are gonna be so jealous.
—
“as-fucking-if,” schlatt scoffs, peering at the photo of tommy wilbur’s pulled up on his phone. “dude, next time you wanna pretend to have a girlfriend, don’t pick someone who looks like that . you gotta have a bit of realism, man.”
and, alright, wilbur will happily concede that tommy’s out of his league. they’re not even playing the same sport. still, he can’t wait to knock that smug, mocking smile off of schlatt’s face, hopefully along with that hideous collection of hairs he calls a moustache, when tommy comes by after school.
the bell rings, and wilbur quickly collects his phone back from the circle of derpy, dorky teenage alphas who’ve spent morning break gawking over pictures of his girlfriend. he’s the first of their little group of outcasts to get an omega, and he feels like a fucking king. who wouldn’t, when they’ve got tommy?
wilbur floats through the whole school day like he’s on cloud nine. not even double p.e is enough to bring his mood down, as he stumbles through the mud-packed cross country course fantasising about tommy’s chest. he might finish dead last, gasping for breath as he crosses the finish line to the jeers of his classmates, but he had sex yesterday, so literally nothing else matters.
he can’t even force himself to pay attention in history, normally his favourite lesson of the day. thinking about tommy’s pretty face scrunching up with fondness when he looks at him is a way more enticing prospect.
at the end of the day, everyone who’s ever had even a passing interest in wilbur’s life is lined up at the school gate, lurking and pretending like they’re doing anything other than lurking. he can barely control himself as a tommy’s usual bus screeches to a halt at the stop just outside the school, and a familiar omega steps off. his long legs look even longer in his pale thigh highs, his curvy waist even curvier with wilbur’s favourite jumper tucked into his skirt.
( “please,” wilbur had begged over the phone last night, having called up his new girlfriend as soon as the omega had left. “please, you have to come and get me from school tomorrow. and wear something really really sexy. not that what you normally wear isn’t sexy, I just-”
“wil,” tommy had cut him off before the alpha could launch into another panicked ramble. “I’ll be there. can I swing by your house in the morning and pick something up, though?” )
wilbur has to hand it to tommy, his girlfriend does an excellent job of pretending he can’t see the gaggle of teenagers all gawping at him and craning their necks to get a better view of the blond bombshell who’s just stepped onto the school grounds.
“wilbur!” his girlfriend calls, waving him over eagerly. wilbur complies, of course, scurrying over and wrapping his hands around tommy’s waist. in turn, his omega twines his arms around his neck, pulling them close together. the kiss is even better than yesterday, tommy moaning hungrily into his mouth as he lets his lips fall open so wilbur can explore him with his tongue.
best of all, across the car park schlatt has a face like a slapped fish, openly gaping at wilbur and tommy.