Page 9 of Coco and the Misfits

4

ZACH

Coco…

She’s so pretty. So girly, frilly, flowery, sweet… like candy on my tongue. Her pink hair gets my heart pounding, my cock hard. Her smile gets my insides twisting. Her curves, oh boy… I have no words. Let us just say I fantasize about her at night.

Every night.

Seeing Coco is always a punch to the gut, followed by a fist around my dick.

Yeah, a pleasant punch. A pleasant fist. But it’s that violent, that visceral, I don’t know what to do with it. No other chick has ever made me feel this way. No other omega. No other person, period.

It’s… slightly terrifying. I’m still young. I don’t plan on a serious relationship at this point. Don’t get me wrong, I love sex. Fucking love it. I’m horny all the time and I’ve slept with my fair share of girls and guys.

Why the hell does Coco hit differently?

Anyway, like I said, not looking for anything serious. My mom had me when both she and my dad were very young and I always got the feeling they felt… trapped for a big part of their lives. They stayed together for many years because of me, and knowing that makes me feel guilty.

I grew up firmly believing that I shouldn’t look for my mates and establish a pack this young.

And why does Coco make me think of pack and mates?

Fuck.

I try to get her out of my mind but the idea that she might join one of my classes completely throws me off my game. I make mistakes. I stumble. The students laugh at my sudden clumsiness.

What the hell, right?

Being half-hard for most of the afternoon, ever since I talked to her, isn’t helping things when teaching martial arts. I’m wearing a groin protector but my dick barely fits in it right now. It’s uncomfortable and annoying.

A fucking disaster.

“Zach! Hey, Zach! What next?” a slender omega guy calls out and I jolt, finding myself frozen in front of the class.

I grin, covering up my discomfort, and guide them through the next exercise, then set them up in pairs and walk among them, correcting mistakes.

This is it. Everything’s fine.

But the tightness and the horniness persist until the end of my working day and I don’t like it.

A voice from the doorway of the locker room startles me.

“How’re you doing, son?” My dad grins at me, his duffel slung over a broad shoulder. “Did I manage to get a drop on you? What’s my prize?”

“Very funny,” I growl. “Hey, Dad.”

“I thought it was damn funny. You should have seen your face. I never catch you off guard anymore. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” I mutter.

“Hm…” He pins me with his gaze. Sometimes I think he can see the inside of my head, then I have to remind myself that not even I know what’s going on in there.

An alpha like me, he works here, too, as a trainer. He recently got himself a nice little pack and I’m not jealous at all. Am I?

Fuck.

I’m still feeling off, dammit.

---