Page 14 of Heat Clinic

Our bodies don’t know what our minds do. All our alpha and omega brains understand is rutting and breeding.

Rut.

Cum.

Breed.

Claim.

I come again, my body squeaking out one last tiny orgasm as my walls flutter around his knot and he rewards me with one final lashing of seed. After he’s done, he purrs, and my bones turn limp. Sam sticks his tongue deeper down my mouth, like he’s trying to hollow a space for himself too, just like the alphas do between my legs.

The knot deflates and my pussy sighs with relief. The alpha pulls away and slaps me on the thigh with a smack that’s more noise than pain.

Good job, that slap says.

They don’t speak to me. Not like Sam does. Not at all sometimes, except to purr or growl or grunt or curse. Sam whispers naughty things in my ear while these alphas fuck me. He narrates it, adding teasing, bratty jabs and then praises me.

The next alpha that comes up to my station to fuck me is one I haven’t smelled before. The mashup of scents in this room is confusing, but I can smell the difference so sharply. So distinctly. It clears the haze of heat from my thoughts. My sensitive nose picks out his sweet cardamom and cream scent. It’s spicy, but mellowed. Like a chai latte, he reminds me of the drink I used to order whenever I spent late nights at the coffee shop while studying when I was in college.

He touches me gently, his fingers stroking me with such softness that I relax in my restraints, my thighs unclenching. Two press into me, working in and out with a steady rhythm that builds a different kind of orgasm inside of me. A deeper one. They curl and stroke against my front wall. I clench around him, my pussy squeezing like a vise.

They retreat, scooping out the lingering cum that saturates my folds, and then he leans down and presses his face to my cunt, sniffing deep before his tongue flicks out to lick me. The alpha teases my clit, retracting my hood and suckling me in his mouth.

I grind with the tiny degree of movement that my restraints allow and rub my face against his mouth. He fingers my entrance again and presses inside, curling to rub me while his tongue lashes at my sex-swollen clit.

Sam lets me break our kiss as I look down my body and watch this alpha devour my cunt like he’s a starving man who’s just sat down at a feast. An aquiline nose presses against my mound, and dark hair falls into his face. Blue eyes stare at me from under long, dark lashes through the small gap in the opening.

It feels different to look at him. Forbidden. But no one is stopping him and Sam is quiet, even as I fist my hand in his scrub top and squeeze.

This is supposed to be anonymous. An easy way to ease a heat or satisfy the urge to rut. But this is different in a way I can’t explain.

The fingers inside of me curl and stroke, and I come with a cry and gush on his face, more slick than he knows what to do with flooding his mouth and leaking from the corners.

Oh, God.

It’s embarrassing.

And it’s fucking hot.

He laps it all up, his tongue broad as he licks my folds clean and purrs against my aching cunt. It’s a soothing noise that leaves me mellowed and happy, the sound of a satisfied alpha that makes all of the tension in my body unclench. This purr saysyou’ve pleased me and I’ll take care of you now.

Yes, please.

The alpha stands and unbuckles his belt, his slick-covered fingers marking up the pristine dress fabric as he unlatches the eye hook and unzips his fly. He shoves his pants down his thighs, his painfully hard cock bobbing in the air.

My inane thought that breaks through the heat delirium isno underwear?

He palms his cock and taps it against my mound, his pre-cum leaking onto me as he rubs his tip through my pubic hair and folds.

He’s covering me in his scent.

My pussy clenches at the thought just as he notches himself at my entrance. Large hands hold onto my hips as he rolls his pelvis, back and forth, easing his large alpha cock into me as if I need to be eased into things. As if I haven’t spent the last who knows how long being fucked by a room full of alphas.

Where has this one been—and am I really his first omega of the session? None of the alphas I’ve seen have done up their pants after they’ve rutted an omega. Instead, they shuffle from station to station, their jeans or slacks sagging around their thighs or knees as they find the next omega hole to stuff with cock and knot.

His abdomen flexes with the roll of his hips as he presses a little deeper with each thrust until I’ve taken his entire length, my belly bulging with every canting as he seats himself to the hilt.

“F-fuck,” I moan, my hips rolling with his as much as the stirrups and restraints allow while we find a rhythm together.

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