Chapter Text
It's late spring in Jackson. And like any other day, no matter the season or the weather, Joel is in his backyard working on a project.
A light sheen of sweat covers his skin. His dark green flannel is shoved up to his elbows, brows creased in concentration when the scent first drifts his way.
The unmistakable sweetness of ripe cherries. He'd know that smell anywhere, unfortunately enough for himself.
A few months back, you had moved in right next door—an unmated, unclaimed, all-around single Omega.
You had quickly befriended Ellie and tried your damndest to befriend Joel, too, but he had felt like such a creep. Because you were younger, and a stunner, and god forbid he let his imagination wander in the slightest. Even being friends with you was pushing his limits.
But you were just so sweet. You had a laugh that took over a room, kind eyes that never seemed to mind when he was grumpy.
A dangerous combination for Joel. He was just a man, after all. And Alpha at that.
So now, standing in his own backyard, your scent suddenly stronger than he's ever smelt it, he feels a little panicked.
Because not only can he smell you, wafting from what must be the open window of your bedroom, he can hear you now, too.
Whining.
And then, amidst the soft whines, suddenly, his name.
Like you can smell him too, and you need him.
Joel’s entire body goes rigid, the Alpha part of his brain absolutely screaming at him to run for you the second he hears it.
But he waits, because what if his brain just made it up? What if he barges into your home and you weren't calling him at all? How would that look?
But then you call out again, a little louder, a little braver, like you can feel how he's debating it.
And then he's off, stalking through his yard and to yours.
He finds your back door easily (he really needs to remind you to lock your doors) and ducks into your house.
All the lights seem to be off, and your scent is so thick, it's nearly choking him, and the sound of you whimpering is louder now.
He calls out your name, his voice tinged with desperation. In any other situation, he'd be ashamed, but right now, his entire body is thrumming with the need to help you.
Your POV
I smell Joel before I hear him. Heavy, woody, and warm.
I'm in the throes of my heat now, running off pure desperation and need.
When I hear Joel call out for me, a rush of slick covers my already soaked thighs.
“Upstairs,” I manage to choke out, curling in on myself as a fresh wave of cramps rocks through me.
I had heard and smelled Joel working in his backyard and used every ounce of my self-control not call out for him, but eventually my self-control ran out, and I'd given in, and he'd listened.
The sound of heavy boot steps thuds along my stairwell.
I can hear that he's taking them two at a time, rushing up to me.
When he rounds the corner and into my room, I hear his breath hitch.
He growls my name, low and rough, a sound that rattles your bones.
I look up at him and watch his grip tighten around the doorframe, his knuckles going white. His chest is rising and falling rapidly under his flannel.
I let another soft whimper at the sight of him, my brows pinched in a mixture of pain and desperation.
And then he speaks. “I got you.” His voice is low, rough like gravel. “Ain't gonna leave you like this.”
He kneels down next to the bed beside me, his hand coming up to brush some of the sweat-slick hair from my forehead. Then, his hand trails to rest against my cheek. His fingers are trembling against my skin, like he's fighting his own instincts.
“You shoulda taken some suppresses or locked your doors…” he trails off, voice thick with something I can't quite name. His eyes darken as they trail across my face.
“But I heard you call my name.”
I blink up at him blearily. “‘m sorry,” I whimper softly. I’m nuzzling up into his touch without even realizing I'm doing it. “Could smell you working. Missed you. Needed you.”
I can barely form proper sentences, my voice heavy and lazy. My hand reaches up on pure instinct, half to touch Joel and half to get my scent on his skin, and I scratch lightly at the stubble on his jaw.
I watch as a shiver runs through him and his throat bobs.
The air around us feels thick and almost humid.
The way his eyes are darting over my flushed skin suddenly makes me feel worried, like maybe he doesn't actually want to be here and is only here because I called for him and he's a good man.
“You don't have to stay,” I murmur, voice a little shaky. Because I want him to stay, but I also don't want him to feel forced to do so.
Instead, I give him that little out, showing him he can run if he wants.
I let my hand drop from his jaw and nuzzle back into my pillow with a shaky exhale.
“And what're you gonna do, huh?” He asks quietly, his eyes drifting over my sweaty forehead and the exposed column of my throat.
“Handle it myself, like usual,” I mumble into the fabric of my pillow, barely glancing up at him as I speak.
He's so close to me, his scent heavy and practically seeping into me, and all I can think about is yanking him into my nest, convincing him to stay.
I watch Joel’s jaw tick as he grits his teeth, his nostrils flaring as his eyes drag up the length of my throat until we lock eyes.
“You’re not gonna do that,” he mutters hoarsely, leaning down until his breath fans across my collarbones. I can practically feel the war he’s having with himself in his head, debating if he should stay or not.
My entire body shudders almost violently when his breath ghosts my skin. The whimper I let out is absolutely pathetic.
“Joel,” I whisper his name shakily.
That single syllable, whispered like that, seems to snap the last thread of control he had been clinging to.
“Shh, don’t,” his voice is a low growl in his throat as his hands finally give in- his rough palms framing my face as he guides me to him. His nose drags along my jaw, and he inhales deeply.
“I shouldn’t do this.”
His words hold more weight.
I’m not good enough for you.
I’m too old.
I’ll hurt you like I have everyone else.
But then I arch into him- soft and pliant- and he’s done for.
“You want me to stay?” His voice is gravel wrapped in velvet, thick with restraint. “Then say it proper.”
I go willingly, my head tilting back for him, my hands finding the front of his shirt, still damp with sweat from working in his garden. I cling to him like a lifeline.
“Please stay, Alpha.” I whisper, breathy and needy.
Joel let out a sharp, visceral sound- pure animal- as he burrows his face into myneck and inhales my scent. His hands drop to grip my hips, finger denting the plush skin of my thighs.
I tremble against him.
“Pretty thing,” he murmurs huskily, his teeth grazing my earlobe. “So desperate.”
Goosebumps litter my skin, and I let out a high-pitched trill, tilting my head back even further to expose more of my throat to him.
“For you,” I whisper sweetly.
His nose drags along the column of my throat, his fingers dig firmer into my skin, and he lets out a low groan against my skin.
“You’re playing with fire, little thing,” he murmurs, voice hoarse and rougher than usual as he nuzzles into the crook of my neck.
His hands slide further up my thighs, closer and closer to where I need him most.
“So let me burn,” I murmur, voice thick with need as my own fingers dig into his chest, clinging, searching.
Another growl rips from deep in his chest- raw, unchecked- as he surges forward and crowds me beneath him. His knee pushes between my thighs, and suddenly, I’m flush against him, heat meeting heat through layers of fabric. One of his hands fists in the hair at the nape of my neck, holding me just where he wants.
“Burn for me?” He breathes against my lips. “I’ll make you burn so pretty for me, baby.” His hips roll once- deliberate and slow- and a choked off sound escapes us both.
But then, a knock echoes through the otherwise quiet of my house.
And Ellie’s voice cuts through my haze like ice water.
“Joel? Are you in there? We’ve got patrol!”
I practically sob at the intrusion, and I grab at Joel, rough and needy.
“Can’t, you can’t go, please don’t,” I beg pathetically. My mind is all instincts, so the idea of him leaving has me terrified.
Joel presses his forehead against mine, his eyes closed, like he’s trying to fight his own instincts.
Reluctance is etched across his face as he takes a ragged breath.
“Joel,” I whisper his name, voice cracking with desperation. “Please. Please stay, please. I need you,” I choke out, one of my hands clinging to his shirt, the other sliding into his hair and tugging lightly.
He grits his teeth, a guttural sound tearing from his chest. He’s visibly unraveling- like every promise, every rule he’d ever set for himself- is shredded by my voice, my scent, the way I’m trembling against him.
“Baby… I know,” he sighs, his voice a rasp. “I know you need me. I can smell it. Feel it.”
One of his hands drifts up, and he drags his thumb across my bottom lip, rough and aching, and for a heartbeat, he considers ignoring Ellie entirely.
But then she pounds on the front door again, harder this time, and reality slams back into both of us like a bullet to the skull.
“I’ll come back,” he growls low, pressing his forehead back to mine. “Before the sun sets. Swear to God.”
And then he ducks his head and bites, not deep enough to claim, but sharp enough to leave a small mark just below my ear. I gasp and cling harder to him.
But then he’s pulling away, jerking back like stepping out of a fire, and storming off down the stairs before I can beg again.
I cry after I know he’s gone. Hot tears that track down my cheeks. I curl in on myself all over again, clinging to my blankets, to the remnants of his scent in my nest. I lift one of my hands and let my thumb trace over the mark he’d left on my skin, desperate for any connection to him.
All I can do is hope. Hope he holds true and comes back to me as he promised.