Page 22 of Heat Clinic

“Yes.” I nod, and he smears our fluids on our blankets, touching each one as he spreads his cum and my slick around so that it will smell even more like us. So that it will smellright, instead of the scent-nullifying cleansers.

I purr, content for now until my heat ratchets up throughout the day and drives me out of my mind with lust again. Sam smiles that lopsided grin, and it makes me wonder how cute he was as a kid. How he must have had the same shaggy blond hair falling in his eyes and the same crooked smile, but with missing teeth. Is that what his children will look like?

Yearning hits me in my chest and makes me feel empty and happy and sad all at once.It’s just the heat, I tell myself. It’s biology. The evolutionary urge to pack up for safety and get pregnant fast so the alpha will want to keep and protect you.

Sam bends my legs up and folds me in half. “Hold your legs. Like that. Perfect. You’re so pretty, baby.”

In this position, my pussy’s on display as it peeks out between my thighs. I squeeze my knees to my chest and lock my arms around my legs. Sam sticks two fingers inside of me and scoops out more cum and slick, smearing it onto our nest. Big hands rub the globes of my ass, then pull away and slap them.

I yelp and rock from the surprise.

And then he gets up and walks to the bathroom, returning a moment later with a wet towel. He cleans me first, and then himself, and then he leans down and bites my thigh, smoothing the sting with a kiss. The bed creaks as he flops down beside me.

“Can I put my legs down?” Because I need to lie on my side and cuddle again. I want to feel his thick arms wrap around me and hold me tight against his chest as he notches my head under his chin and spoons me.

“That depends. How horny are you right now?” he asks.

“Uhhh… forty percent?”

He leans on one arm and ghosts a finger over the seam of my sex, smiling at me until his cheek dimples when I twitch.

Maybe… maybe more like fifty percent. He palms my cunt and holds his hand there, cupping me.

“The alpha from last night…”

My clit throbs against the pressure of Sam’s hand, and he must feel it because his eyes crinkle at the corners. Slick drips from me, but he pretends he doesn’t notice even as it coats his hand and dribbles down my ass.

The alpha from last night…God.My core clenches at the thought of him. Of the way he mastered my pussy like he owned it. Like it was his.

“He’s putting in courtship paperwork,” Sam says.

“What?”

Sam hums an affirmative sound. “It’s your choice if you want to consider it. Considerhim. He’s bringing his packmate into town on the chance you’ll agree to meet them.”

“His packmate.” Of course that alpha already has a partner.

“It’s up to you. Your information is confidential, of course. While you’re here in the clinic’s custody during a heat, you can’t legally make any mating decisions. The laws are… It’s complicated. He just wants to meet you. For you to meet them. No strings. No obligations. If you don’t like them, we’ll take care of it.”

Them.

It’s every omega’s teenage dream. An alpha. A pack. So then why do I feel a little panicked? This is not what I came here for. I came to the free clinic to have a decent heat for once and scratch that omega itch, then go back to my life with a few stories to tell. This is… It’s too much, too soon, too fast. How am I supposed to make important decisions when every single thought I have is interrupted by the need to hump something?

I let my legs fall and roll onto my side, suddenly hit with the need to burrow into my nest. To hide under the blankets where it’s warm and safe and it smells right. I grab the blanket that smells the most like me and Sam and cover myself with it.

Sam rubs my arm through the blanket, his smile gone. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I don’t know.” My head hurts from trying to sort all of my jumbled thoughts. What would an alpha, a pack, want with me? “God, why would they want me? I’m soold,” I say, pulling the blanket up over my head.

“What?” Sam sputters, his laughter dying when he sees my eyes are filled with unshed tears. “Oh, baby, you’re only thirty-six. That hardly makes you the Crypt-Keeper.” He rubs my back through the blankets and lies down so he’s spooning me. It’s less nice when I’m cocooned in blankets and can’t feel the heat coming off his skin.

I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Most omegas are mated and barefoot and pregnant and in the kitchen by twenty-five.” Most days, it doesn’t bother me. Not even when I stopped getting wedding announcements and started getting pregnancy postcards as, one by one, all of my friends and the people I went to school with found their partners or their packs. Every year, it seems like there’s more and more couples and throuples and polycules in the world than available people. But the romantic in me refused to let me settle and be happy with someone who didn’t drive my omega side wild.

Sam tugs at the blankets until it’s free enough that he can slip under it. He spoons against me, the press of his nudity comforting instead of sexual. He threads a hand under mine and splays it over my stomach.

“I won’t lie. The idea of breeding you is hot.” His cock twitches against my ass as if to prove his point. “And you’re hardly retirement age. So what if it hasn’t happened ‘til now? I see plenty of omegas find their packs in their thirties or forties or fifties or older. And omegas are fertile for a lot longer than betas.”

“Really?” Because that’s not what it feels like. It feels like everyone is on the same life plan. Everyone but me. Find your pack in high school or college. Graduate, land that dream job, get married or mated, pop out two kids, adopt a dog, and move to the suburbs. All I have is an apartment that gets more expensive every year, my plants, and an office job that can replace me tomorrow.

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