Page 16 of Fresh Ice
Even more humiliatingly, Alonso was producing slick.
Alonso scrambled off his bed, flinching violently when Levy sat up as if he were about to follow him.
“Don’t,” Alonso warned, voice wobbling. Panic raced through his body like poison. “Don’t come near me.”
Levy raised his hands in surrender, lying back down awkwardly as Alonso’s pulse beat in his ears. Fear choked the breath out of him—he was trapped in a room with a rutting Alpha, and now he couldn’t leave without someone smelling him.
He moved slowly towards his bag, grabbing it and dragging it to the bathroom without looking away from Levy once. Levy didn’t say anything, but his wild eyes tracked Alonso’s every move.
“I’m going to sleep in here. If you try to get in, I’ll—I’ll…” Alonso didn’t even know how to finish the sentence.
Levy nodded, and Alonso locked himself in the bathroom.
His hands were shaking as he searched for his suppressants, rattling out double the dose and swallowing them desperately, gagging on the water he cupped with his hands.
His body was trying to revolt, but Alonso would force it into compliance.
It didn’t take long for the cramps to hit him, dizziness making his vision swim around him.
He lay on the ground and tried not to think about how his whole fucking career was over before it really started. He could only imagine what his dad would say when everybody found out he was an Omega.
There was a pained whine threading out of him, and Alonso didn’t know how to clamp down on it. His whole bodyhurt.
“Alonso?” The voice that filtered through the bathroom door was tentative, but it still made Alonso jerk away.
“Don’t come in!” he begged. He’d been warned so many times about what could happen in this scenario. Alphas were supposed to be able to control themselves, but it didn’t always turn out that way.
“I’m not,” Levy’s voice said. “Are you okay, though? I can smell…are you in pain?”
Alonso wrapped his arms around his middle. Of course Levy’s sensitised nose would pick up the distress pheromones he was letting out. “I’m fine.”
Silence and then a cracked, “Alonso—”
“Levy, please don’t come in.Please.”
There was nothing, and nothing, and nothing. Alonso could see Levy’s shadow in the slit under the bathroom door.
He waited for the handle to rattle, but, finally, Levy moved away with a quiet, “Okay.”
Alonso waited for Levy to come back, but minutes turned into an hour, and he let himself crumple to the floor, the pain taking over.
Alonso curled up in a ball and clenched his teeth through it.
**********
Alonso was startled out of an uneasy doze by a knock on the door. He shot upright, his head spinning.
Levy’s voice filtered into the bathroom. “Olive? Are you okay?”
He took stock of his body instead of replying, desperately relieved when he realised he wasn’t in heat anymore. Levy would tell whomever he wanted, but he wouldn’t have any proof.
Unless the medics checked him out with intention, that is.
Levy called out again. “Olive? The bus is leaving soon. We really gotta go.”
That finally forced Alonso into action, squashing a groan as his stiff joints stretched out, knees protesting the sudden weight. It wasn’t just the night spent on the tile floor—he always felt it for days after taking too many suppressants.
Alonso was shaking, probably from the sudden rush of adrenaline, the lack of food in his body, and the aftermath of the previous night. The last thing he wanted to do was face Levy, but he had no other option.
