Page 3 of Undone
Except he didn’t look comfortable at all.
Anthony seemed relatively okay for the first few hours, but as evening fell, he started burning up. His skin was so hot that Michael had to undress him to his underwear. He hoped it would help.
It didn’t.
Soon enough, Anthony’s muscles began to spasm, and low, pained groans slipped from his dry lips almost constantly. His scent grew even fouler—an aggressive, nauseating mix of alpha pheromones and arousal tangled with the unmistakable odor ofpain and distress. He was delirious, muttering nonsense under his breath, and shaking violently.
But it was when he fell silent that Michael felt real fear.
“Ant?” Michael whispered, pressing a hand over Anthony’s chest. His heart was pounding—frantic and wildly irregular, alarmingly so. Fuck, it could spiral into cardiac arrest at any moment. The medical droid had warned them about it—Anthony wouldn’t die from the rut itself, but from his body’s desperate, punishing response to it going unfulfilled.
Unless… unless it was fulfilled.
Swallowing, Michael shifted his gaze down Anthony’s body to the big bulge in his underwear.
He stared at it, his mind racing.
He didn’t want his friend to die. That was a fact.
But everything in him twisted with nausea at the mere thought of what saving Anthony would require.
It felt unthinkable. Unnatural. He was an alpha. Alphas didn’t submit. They couldn’t. They certainly didn’t let other alphas fuck them.
Yet Anthony’s life was on the line. Was his pride and physical discomfort really more important than his friend’s survival? Surely he wasn’t that selfish.
Michael bit the inside of his cheek. There was no guarantee that it would even work. Then again, why wouldn’t it? A hole was a hole, wasn’t it? And Anthony was unconscious; his body wouldn’t know any better.
His ass or his friend’s life. Michael had never thought he’d ever be forced to make a choice like that. The choice seemed unthinkable—but there was no real choice. Letting his only friend diewasn’tan option.
Anthony groaned, dragging Michael out of his spiraling thoughts. His large body started twitching uncontrollably. There was no time to waste.
“Ant?” Michael said, lightly slapping his friend’s cheek, desperate to rouse him. He wanted—needed—a second opinion. He couldn’t bear for this to be his decision alone.
But there was no response, only a low sound somewhere between a growl and a groan. Anthony’s wavy dark hair was drenched with sweat, his body twitching every few seconds. His scent became nauseatingly strong and thick, setting Michael’s instincts snapping with pure, uncontrollable aggression. It was lucky he was a Vos alpha, his cycle tied to a smaller moon than Torryn or Xeus—his temper wasn’t as explosive as that of Xeus and Torryn alphas. But smelling another alpha in rut was still beyond aggravating. Under any other circumstances, he wouldn’t be near Anthony during his rut. But these weren’t normal circumstances.
Nor was this a normal rut. If it had been, Anthony would still be lucid. He wouldn’t need sedatives. A strong-willed alpha could usually endure a rut until it passed.
But there was nothing normal about this rut. Sixteen hours in, and Anthony’s condition was only worsening, not improving. Maybe it was the alien venom. Maybe it was being stranded on a distant planet, far from their home world and the moons that regulated their species’ mating cycles.
Either way, Anthony would most likely die if this unnatural rut didn’t end soon.
He had to do something.
Anthony groaned again as another seizure seized him, his body twitching uncontrollably on the bed.
Shit.He was running out of time.He had to do it.Before it was too late.
His stomach in knots, Michael took off his pants and underwear. Ignoring his own soft cock, he grabbed the lotion he had found on one of the shelves, slicked up his fingers, and reached behind himself. He pressed a finger into his asshole, grimacing as he fought the instinct to clench against the unnatural intrusion. He thought of all the times he’d done this to omegas and tried to do the same thing to himself. But it wasn’t the same. He wasn’t already slick. He wasn’t an omega.
His hindbrain screamed that this was wrong, but Michael gritted his teeth and pushed through, forcing a second finger inside. His friend needed help, and he was the only one in a position to give it. He’d be damned if he let Antdie when he could actually do something to save him.
It was just a body. He could do this, and then he would pretend it had never happened. Besides, Anthony likely wouldn’t even remember this once it was over. Michael would be the only one who knew—the sole witness to the perverse act he’d been forced to perform to save his friend’s life.
Locking his jaw, Michael scissored his fingers, stretching his hole roughly. It felt strange—uncomfortable and unnatural, but it didn’t really hurt.
Finally, as ready as he was ever going to be, he withdrew his fingers and reached for Anthony’s underwear. Bracing himself, he pulled it off.
Holy shit.
