Page 60 of In Too Deep

“Nesting materials,” I finish for him with a sad smile.

I watch in real time as my words sink in, and Oli’s face transforms from confusion, to anger, to sadness, and back to confusion. I turn and cross my arms over my stomach and sigh.

“I haven’t had a nest of my own since I graduated high school. And I’ve never had anything like this,” I explain, motioning briefly to the omega paradise around me.

“But you’re an omega,” Oli replies, the sentence choppy.

Bobbing my head, I shrug. “Yeah, but for me, I didn’t really have strong nesting urges after I came into my designation. I had a reading nook in the library of my parents’ house that probably counted, but I didn’t have a heat until the summer after I graduated. My mom took me to a clinic so I could be monitored by professionals, and I was able to nest a little there.”

I look over to the bed, with its mountains of comforters, quilts, squishy pillows, and fuzzy throw blankets, sighing longingly. Iwould have killed for something like this during my first heat. Instead, I had sterile hospital blankets and paper pillows shoved into the bottom of the wardrobe in my room. And I couldn’t even close the door against the bright fluorescent lights because I had tubes and cords sticking out of me.

“It got better in college, once I got in with the omega clinic on campus. I didn’t have a dedicated space for me to use all the time, but I was able to use my own stuff to nest in the weeks leading up to my heat, and the nesting rooms were nice. But the last time I got to use one... well, you know what happened with me and Spencer. I didn’t have a heat after that and never had the instinct to nest,” I finish, eyes slipping out of focus as I take a few steps toward the bed.

Stooping low to move under the horizontal support beam and the bookshelf attached to it, I kneel on the edge of the mattress, sighing as I sink into the cloud-like softness. My hands glide over the covers, the ache of instincts long suppressed settling heavily in my lower belly. A whine escapes my throat, the years of trauma and self-imposed conditioning rallying to fight against the impulses. But then, a warm hand clasps the back of my neck, the alpha’s purr vibrating through the connection until I’m almost boneless.

“You don’t have to fight your nature, Tori. Not here. Not with us,” Oliver murmurs, his words distorted slightly as he continues to purr.

I nod slowly, my mind easing off to let my instincts have more breathing room. Taking a deep breath through my nose, I realize there aren’t any scent blockers in the air, only spearmint, blackberry, saffron, bergamot, cinnamon, and even a low undercurrent of spiced apple cider. I open my eyes as my head turns toward the source of the smells, tears blurring my vision as I realize that, tucked into cubbies along the wall, are piles of neatly folded clothes from each of my alphas.

Something inside me snaps awake, rising like a deep-sea monster toward the surface. An awareness of my body and my surroundings that I didn’t know was possible. Suddenly, the pillows that are so meticulously placed aren’t quite right, and the blankets aren’t spread correctly. It’s too orderly, too perfect. Not good enough, not for me and my alphas.

The hand around my nape squeezes once and then releases me, and I start to build my nest properly for the first time in my life.

There’s something so primallysatisfying about watching my omega make her nest for me. The way she fusses and shifts and fluffs and stuffs each corner of the space; it makes my alpha instincts melt like snow in spring. Tori seems to be in a form of subspace, hardly aware that I’m watching, leaning down with one arm braced on the crossbeam at the entrance to the sleeping area. She’s focused entirely on making sure that the clothes my future pack mates and I provided are placed just so among the covers, always pausing to take deep inhales of each scent.

I’m half tempted to record this so I can shove it in Coach’s face the next time I see him. Eli insisted we all needed to give Tori something for her nest, but Logan didn’t jump to volunteer like I thought he would. Like he was waiting for something, but he wouldn’t tell us what. Eli dropped the matter until, one day, he came home from practice with a sealed plastic bag containing afew of Logan’s quarter-zip pullovers, a pair of sweatpants, and an odd dress shirt. I had enough sense not to ask how he came to be in possession of them.

Eventually, Tori sits back on her heels in the middle of the vaguely round formation of pillows and blankets and clothes, her spine relaxing as she sighs deeply. My chest rumbles in an approving purr, and Tori’s head rolls until her half-lidded gaze lands on me. Her face flushes under the warm glow of the string lights, her pink lips slightly parted. If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think she was going into heat. But there’s still a spark of sanity in her mismatched eyes, which has me standing up.

“Is your nest ready, princess? May I come in with you?”

Eli stressed multiple times that joining Tori in her nest is nothing like joining her in bed. Nests are an omega’s territory and should be treated with the same care and consideration as we would treat the woman who creates it. Consent first, always.

Tori blinks slowly, then her chin dips in a nod, one of her hands coming up to point at her work bag, which she dropped at the threshold when I let her in. In only a few strides, I reach it, crouching down as I look at Tori for my next instruction. She doesn’t make any movement to call me back, so I slowly unzip the main pocket, giving her time to stop me if this isn’t what she wants. When I turn my attention from her face to the opening, I let out a surprised bark of involuntarily laughter.

“You brought this with you? Did you have it with you all day?” I ask through my laughter, extracting the bright pink silicone duplicate of Elijah’s dick and holding it up.

Tori’s lips curl up in a grin even as her face blooms with color. I rise to my feet, the heavy toy dangling in my hand as I prowl forward. With a squeak, Tori scrambles back into the nest, her giggles betraying any signs of fear she might be showing. Toeing off my shoes, I kneel at the entrance, smirking to myself. I didn’t test out the proportions as it was being installed, but now, as I’mcrawling across the mattress, I sigh in relief. There’s going to be plenty of room for all of us in here when the time comes.

Tori is half-lying down with her shoulders pressed against one of the padded walls, and her legs fall open on instinct as I get closer, allowing me to settle into the cradle of her hips. I set the dildo to the side before sliding my hands into her soft tresses near the base of her neck and pulling her face to mine to claim her lips.

Her scent is sugary sweet, the taste of her tongue making me moan and press my hardening cock against her core. Her hands take fistfuls of my t-shirt, holding on for dear life as we kiss. I purr hard enough to rattle my teeth, head spinning from the feeling of her legs wrapping around my waist.

She’s so perfect, responsive to every brush of my fingers, until she’s whining and clawing at me for more.

“Oli, please,” she moans, tipping her head back to expose the pale column of her throat.

Chuckling darkly, I scrape my teeth against her skin. “Are you sure that’s how you want to address me?” I ask.

While I’m not as strict with the rules for our kinky playtimes as Logan, Tori and I have our own language. If she wants me to make love to her, to worship her body like the goddess she is, she’ll call me by my name. But if she wants me to have my wicked way with her, she’ll call me–

“Mon roi, please, sir. I need you.”

That’s all I need to hear. I growl, one of my hands coming up to wrap around her throat. Gasping, her eyes lock with mine in the dim glow of the nest. Her pulse gallops under my fingers as I tilt her head from side to side, examining the flushed planes of her beautiful face. Her left eye, the lighter of the two, is bright like the summer sky, the right like a flawless sapphire, both with pupils so wide that only a tiny strip of color remains.

“Clothes off, princess,” I say on a breath, squeezing slightly before releasing her.

Without responding, Tori’s shaking hands come up to start on the buttons of her blouse. I sit back on my heels to give her some room, twisting so I can reach the back wall and the hidden storage cupboards. A soft press of the center panel releases the magnetic closure, exposing part of the sex toy collection I purchased for Tori. Knotted dildos, vibrators of different sizes and strengths, and more are tucked into holders, all of them setting the gears in my depraved mind to spinning. By the time I settle on a plan, Tori is naked and looking up at me.

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