Tag: rhack

“Waiting on Want”

A quick sniff to air identified the pair as an alpha and omega respectively—again, not too surprising. Though he’d smelled mostly alphas and betas out on the main floor of the party, the occasional playful scent of omega filtered through, pheromones tantalizing even to someone like Jack, who’d fucked so many omegas in his time the thrill was almost lost. Of course alphas younger, less jaded than himself might jump on such pretty, sweet-smelling little minxes looking to hook up with anyone armed with a fat wallet and passable looks.

That didn’t alarm him. What did had something angry brewing in his stomach, fueled by the pitched whining of the omega clawing against the wall of the hallway, as if he could scratch through and escape.

Jack didn’t recognize this alpha, nor was he wearing any logos or colors that might identify him with any of the companies he knew. However, he did recognized the white shirt and black pants the omega sported as the uniform of the servers out on the roof-side bar. Jack could even see the glint of a silver name-tag pinned against his vest.

Well. That painted a particularly vile picture.

Jack saves server!Rhys from an asshole alpha who won’t take no for an answer at a party. Where their night will go from there is anyone’s guest.

It’d been years since Jack had been to a birthday party that wasn’t either his own or his daughter’s. Usually, he wasn’t interested in them otherwise, not that many were on such friendly terms with him that they’d bother, but tonight was an exception.

Tonight’s party belonged to the new CEO of Maliwan.

Jack didn’t know exactly how old the host was turning, but by that fresh-face and slighter build for someone of their endotype it couldn’t be too old, not that Jack let that lull him into a false sense of security. Lesser men had been taken out through underestimating their rivals, especially those leveling up through the younger generation. Jack wasn’t about to make that kind of mistake—powerful as he might be, he knew he could be taken down a peg if he missed a spot someone could easily slip a knife. He wasn’t about to trust that sandy-haired slip of an alpha, with eyes flat like a snakes despite their beguiling baby blue color.

Jack had already staked himself out as a powerful ally if treated well, a dangerous enemy if crossed. The invitation to the kid’s private party seemed a sign of goodwill that he’d taken despite the fact he’d rather be home right now rather than forcing smiles and handshakes to all the bootlickers and floozies trying to curry his favor once they’d realized exactly who was in attendance.

For the time being he’d planted himself on a couch near the edge of the rooftop bar, claiming a decent enough view of the downtown skyscrapers while keeping away from the louder thick of the party crowd.

Attractive plate-glass breaks ringed the perimeter of the rooftop, keeping the wind down to a light breeze that jostled the starry lights strung over the whole affair, though even these and the heating pillar behind him couldn’t totally hide that it was a bit of a chillier summer night than usual. Of course, that hadn’t stopped Jack from sipping his way through those little champagne flutes—colored blue and orange to match Maliwan’s colors—that coasted by on serving trays, as the cluster of brittle glasses on the table before him could attest.

A couple brown-nosers had noticed his presence and tried to cozy up to him, but thankfully Jack’d let enough disinterest bleed through for them to get the clue and bugger off. Right now he sat blissfully alone, arms resting along the back of his couch as he watched his would-be cronies try to weasel up to some other industry dignitaries in a pathetic bid to stand out.

Just as he was properly starting to relax into his buzz and thinking about flagging down a server for something to eat, those champagne flutes came back with a vengeance, striking him with the sudden urge to take a leak. He growled, trying to cross his legs and stave off the discomfort for a moment longer so he could enjoy himself, only to notice the bulky shoulders of the Torgue CEO trying to muscle his way through the crowd. Jack jerked, getting up a split second before the man turned to glance at the couch where he’d been sitting, just barely dodging another twenty-minute discussion over the latest in ballistic technology. Jack was here to relax and get drunk, not get dragged into one-sided conversations that risked busting his eardrums.

Jack slipped through the crowd back towards the inside of the building, brushing off touches to his shoulder and entreating cries of “Oh Mr. Lawrence, sir, fancy meeting you here,” uninterested in anything but whatever fancy bathroom this place had so he could go back to stoking his buzz.

Oddly the inside of the skyscraper had its AC on full blast. Jack nearly shivered underneath his layered shirt and blazer as he scoped out the bathroom, dodging late-coming party guests as he branched off into a quieter hallway, scoping out a restroom sign and following the little white arrow around the corner.

He stopped suddenly, sight before him a real surprise.

Jack had been to enough of these parties to understand they weren’t exactly chaste affairs. Any inhibitions the super-rich had left shrunk the higher up they got, and on the fortieth floor good manners and privacy were basically tossed out the window, usually with a little help from the fancy booze that flowed free at these sort of shindigs. So finding two guys pressed up against each other down some fairly-secluded hallway wasn’t exactly what shocked him.

A quick sniff to air identified the pair as an alpha and omega respectively—again, not too surprising. Though he’d smelled mostly alphas and betas out on the main floor of the party, the occasional playful scent of omega filtered through, pheromones tantalizing even to someone like Jack, who’d fucked so many omegas in his time the thrill was almost lost. Of course alphas younger, less jaded than himself might jump on such pretty, sweet-smelling little minxes looking to hook up with anyone armed with a fat wallet and passable looks.

That didn’t alarm him. What did had something angry brewing in his stomach, fueled by the pitched whining of the omega clawing against the wall of the hallway, as if he could scratch through and escape.

Jack didn’t recognize this alpha, nor was he wearing any logos or colors that might identify him with any of the companies he knew. However, he did recognized the white shirt and black pants the omega sported as the uniform of the servers out on the roof-side bar. Jack could even see the glint of a silver name-tag pinned against his vest.

Well. That painted a particularly vile picture.

A serving tray lay upside down on the floor by the omega’s feet, empty paper tins and crumbs scattered about. Jack’s expression, already tight, curled properly grim and annoyed at the sight. He crushed one tin beneath his shoe as he walked closer, brows twitching as the couple continued to ignore him.

“Don’t think this is exactly the most romantic place for this, huh?” Jack finally called. He saw the omega twitch, head snapping up at the sound of his voice, only for the alpha to bite down against his ear, ignoring the interruption. Jack’s eyes narrowed.

“Hey. Hey asshole.” He crushed a gruffer, more commanding tone into his voice, finally getting the alpha to lift his head. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m talking to you.”

“You mind?” The alpha snorted, tilting down the hall where Jack had come. “Kind of in the middle of something here.”

“Apparently.” Jack kept his tone dry, as if unconcerned with this alpha’s posturing. “I’ve come across plenty of stupid, useless alphas in my time but you almost take the cake. Really, there’s gotta be thirty, forty hot pieces of ass in any flavor you could want back there,” Jack nodded back in the direction of the rooftop, “and yet you’re so sorry you had to resort to assaulting the help? Wow.”

“Assaulting?” The alpha balked, before rolling his eyes with a sneer and shoving the omega harder against the wall, earning a squeal that had Jack’s teeth grit behind his lips. “Kind of a misnomer, don’t you think? I know he wants it.”

Jack doubted that very much. Any moron could smell the terrified pheromones that drifted from under the omega’s collar. No one but the maliciously ignorant could interpret the desperate little movements of his hips as arousal.

“Look. This kid’s just trying to do his job, he doesn’t need to be hassled by some horny asshole whose mom didn’t teach him it’s polite to keep it in his pants,” Jack growled, trying to keep his cool even as the conflicted scents before him had his hackles raised. The triumphant sneer on the alpha’s face, and the fact that he hadn’t moved his hands from his victim’s crotch, didn’t help Jack’s mood.

“What do you care? He’s not yours. He’s not anyone’s.” The alpha nosed down the omega’s stiff collar and sniffed his neck, drawing a low whine from trembling lips. “Besides, he’s been teasing me all night.”

“Please. He doesn’t look like he likes this. Any alpha worth their knot can tell when an omega actually wants them,” Jack snapped back, periphery drifting to a little side table on the hallway where a hefty brass lamp sat casting light on the whole sordid scene. It’d fit nice into his hand.

“Listen. Why don’t you just go back to the party old man?” He heard the alpha grunt. “Leave us who can still actually get it up alone.”

Scratch that. His eyes moved from the lamp back to the alpha, who was staring smug and assured back at him, his hands having properly unzipped the omega’s pants. The poor kid’s face was shoved against the wall, visible tears rubbed against his cheeks.

Jack usually wouldn’t back down from a challenge, but all told by scent and build this alpha wasn’t even worth the sting to his knuckles. Thankfully, there were other ways to stake his dominance.

“Believe me, kiddo, you’re not nearly half the alpha you think you are. Definitely not apex enough to throw yourself at random omegas and expect them to drop their pants for you,” he growled, squaring his shoulders and flaring his nostrils as the gums around his fangs twitched back. “Now get the hell outta here before I decide to take you on a forty-story free-fall.”

Jack’s eyes flickered to the window between them, reflecting the lights of adjacent buildings and the distance glimmer of the streets below. The other alpha followed his gaze for a brief moment, before his throat clenched in a noticeable swallow, his former bravado suddenly chipping away.

“What, you got something crammed in your ears?” Jack snarled. “Beat it.”

He usually didn’t rely on conscious use of his alpha pheromones, as his reputation and passive musk usually did the job and forced people to cede to him, but watching this asshole’s knees go weak together was well worth the extra effort. Finally he took his hands off the omega, standing up as straight as he could manage as he adjusted his clothes with a small cough.

“I—Excuse me. Should be getting back…” he trailed off as he stumbled past Jack, giving the older alpha a wide berth as he took off down the hallway. Jack watched until he was out of sight, sniffing the air to confirm he was completely gone and not merely lying in wait.

Satisfied, Jack moved to leave the shaken omega be when a pleading whine grasped out at him.

Any employee, business partner, or rival CEO knew Jack was far from a soft man. The only emotions he wore on his sleeve were greed and rage, and considering the power of his reputation Jack was loathe to poke any holes into it by showing any tenderness apart from those publicity stunts particularly crafted by his publicists.

But—damn.

Though his alpha instincts had helped him cut throats and climb ladders in his time, it stabbed him in the back here as he stood before this trembling omega, half-turned away yet now unable to tear his glance completely away from the other man. This close, without the smothering odor of the other alpha, Jack could properly identify his scent—crisp and clear like a freshly sliced orange with some buttery fuzz to the edges. It rode in waves off the omega’s body, a push and pull between the two of them.

Jack felt prickling up his spine, heated little pinpricks despite the air conditioning humming through the hallway. Those little hitching breaths as the omega tried to recover his composure did nothing to stop that heat, and before it grew unbearable Jack stepped forward, arm extended.

He meant to put his hand on the kid’s shoulder, to help him stop sagging against the wall and looking extra pathetic, but as he got close he caught a whiff of something light and lemon-scented drifting off the omega’s hair, and as he admired the way those silky auburn locks shone in even the dimmer light of the bathroom hallway he found his hand settled against the side of the omega’s head, wavy locks cradled delicately against his palm.

Jack felt the young man freeze at the touch, stillness traveling up his arm as it locked into place, as if shocked at Jack’s brashness.

The omega’s wide eyes met his own, and for a moment Jack thought he might bolt, composure stretched to a breaking point after not one, but two unsolicited advances by an alpha. Jack’s mind raced, oddly grasping for any reason at all to sway the omega not to run away. His mouth moved, tip of his tongue resting uselessly at the bottom lip as his fingers shifted against the side of the omega’s head.

Jack felt the contrast of stiffer, gelled strands of hair against the softer locks that’d been jostled loose by the encounter with the other alpha. Briefly, his eyes flitted down to the crisp white shirt pulled out of the kid’s pants and the glint of an undone zipper before they snapped back up. Top-down, Jack, top-down. Best just to pick one spot to start before he saw too much red to focus, and the omega’s hair was as good as any.  

Jack’s brain filed through the items in his pockets—wallet, keys, and phones in his pants, slim glasses clipped on his dress shirt’s dress pockets in case he grew sick of tacky contacts in his eyes—before he opened his blazer, slipping the slim black comb out from within the pouch sewed to the inner lining. Jack flourished it before the omega’s eyes, carefully drawing the hand cradling his head closer as he began to run the comb’s teeth through his ruffled hair.

He went slow, wary of the omega’s scalp as he brushed the locks from his tiny widow’s peak back over the top of his skull. He could feel the kid still trembling, saw how he pressed his folded hands against his chest as if his heart might leap out and slide across the floor if he didn’t hold it in place. Jack didn’t really consider himself a sucker for that dewy-eyed, vulnerable little omega look, but right now he felt the kid tugging at his sympathy.

“Looks like you spent a lot of time getting pretty for this evening, kitten,” Jack murmured, speaking directly to the omega for the first time as he tilted the omega’s head to the side and moved to address the stray locks at his temple, “Would be a shame to let a knothead like that ruin it.”

Jack almost wished he’d packed those tiny bottle of hair gel he sometimes snuck along on dates, but a couple swipes with the comb would have to do for now. Thankfully the kid didn’t look half bad, even with his hair not as crisply swept back into place as he might’ve liked. Jack kind of appreciated the little kinks and curls in his hair, though. Made him look cuter.

Thankfully it seemed the omega was finally starting to relax by the time Jack finished fixing his hair. He’d stopped crying, at least, the redness in his cheeks fading back into a gentle pink. Jack could see him better now, able to appreciate the fact that the kid was frikkin’ gorgeous. He always appreciated unconventional beauty, and the omega’s uncommon height and delightfully mismatched eyes had him intrigued.

Jack tucked the corn back against his palm before daring to slip two fingers under the omega’s chin and tilt it up towards him.

“What do they call you, sugar,” he asked, though this close he could clearly read the kid’s name-tag.

“It’s Rhys…I—ugh—“ He smeared a hand over his nose with a loud sniff. “Thank you for…you know…sorry, I should’ve been able to—“

“Hush, hey, you don’t have to apologize for that asshole’s crappy behavior.” Jack moved the hand beneath the kid’s chin to where his shoulder met his neck, rubbing gently as Rhys pulled himself back together. “Not your fault they don’t know how to keep their dicks in their pants and ask please before they whip ‘em out.”

“Yeah…guess so.” The omega’s voice was still a little clogged and breathless but it’s starting to steady. Good. Jack wanted to hear more of what he sounded like without the influence of a shitty alpha.

Night was still young, right?

Jack lightly pulled on Rhys’ shoulder, not enough to move him but it drew the omega’s attention.

“You still on the clock, sugar?”

“Uh, yeah, I was going back to the kitchen to get more appetizers when I—“

“Well I’m punching you out.” Jack’s hand slipped down to close around Rhys’ wrist, now properly tugging him along. “You’ve put on a polite smile for way too many dickbags tonight.”  

“Wait, no, my boss is gonna get pissed—“

“Shh. Rhysie.” Jack pressed a finger to the omega’s mouth. “No one’s gonna mess with you tonight. Not another alpha, not the guy who hired you. Believe me.”

Rhys’ lips jerked away from Jack’s touch even as his feet started to move, following behind the alpha as he was pulled down the hallway.

“But I—hold on, I still need to get paid—“

“You worried about that?” Jack snorted over his shoulder. “Listen, if money’s that big of a deal to you, I’ll be sure to tip you nice at the end of the night if you promise to just enjoy yourself.”

“I…um…” Rhys jogged up properly besides Jack, no longer resisting even as his mouth fumbled over the words. “If that’s…if that’s okay with you…”

Jack gave the omega’s wrist an encouraging squeeze as they entered back into the main hallway, keeping him close as more party guests brushed by.

“More than okay, babe.”

Jack led Rhys back outside into the thick of the party, quickly making a bee-line for the couch he’d previously occupied. A pair of homely looking betas in suits too classy for their faces had tried to set up there, but the moment Jack strode over the hopped to their feet and beat it, leaving him and Rhys alone as he pulled the omega down to sit besides him.

Good manners might have told him to take his arm off from the back of the chair, that maybe he was crowding Rhys or making him uncomfortable, but every time Jack thought to remove it he remembered how he’d seen some asshole try to force himself on the omega not an hour ago, and left his arm where it was.

The servers had cleared away the remains of Jack’s champagne glasses but quickly returned with a tray full of fresh ones. Jack grasped two in each hand for good measure, unsure of how much Rhys might drink if he wanted to drink at all and knowing he could knock back that many if his new guest decided to abstain entirely.

Much to Jack’s pleasure however, Rhys eagerly snatched one glass of champagne from Jack’s hand when offered to him, downing half of one in one long gulp.

“Looks like you’re a little more down to party then you let on before, babe,” Jack snickered at him as he grabbed his own, clinking it with Rhys’ when the omega finally came up for air before he tossed the drink down the hatch as well. Rhys smiled, nursing the champagne with a little more care now as he shifted in a bit closer to Jack, something that encouraged the alpha’s flirtation.

“Helps to have that guy out of my hair…and getting to sit down. My feet were starting to kill me in these shoes.” Rhys stretched out his legs, relaxing further into the couch. Jack took the chance to scoot in a bit closer in return, his fingers nearly brushing up against Rhys’ right shoulder.

Not too strong, now, Jack reminded himself as he crossed one leg over the other and slouched slightly into his seat all casual. Thankfully the Rhys sitting next to him now seemed a lot different from the shaken little omega he’d discovered in the hallway, his face all eased smiles and happy hums as Jack struck up some light conversation under the stars.

He soon how talkative the omega got once he had enough alcohol in him. Rhys brightened considerable as his cheeks flushed, and soon he laughed and bantered along with Jack, their bodies inching closer until their thighs pressed up against each other. Jack’s heartbeat quickened as he noticed in between laughing at one of Rhys’ surprisingly funny jokes.

He hadn’t realized how long it’d been since he’d had someone he could properly unwind with. Rhys wasn’t trying to butter him up or get something out of him, no. He just earnestly enjoyed Jack’s company, and well, Jack liked hanging out with the kid too.

By the time Rhys drunkenly rested his hand against the alpha’s thigh and filled his ears with snorting giggles at his own clumsy pun, Jack decided he wanted to see a lot more of him before the night was over.

“You wanna come back to my place with me, don’t you pumpkin?” Jack murmured against his ear, earning a squirrely little noise from Rhys but the omega was smiling, his cheeks perfectly flushed as Jack pulled him in closer. He hoped for a yes. The night had really turned around, and if Rhys agreed it would only get better.

“Mmm, I dunno, where you live?” Rhys hiccuped a little but turned to nuzzle noses with Jack, a charming little gesture that had the alpha blushing this time.

“Oh, not far, sugar. Not far,” He promised, fingers skirting a little more boldly down Rhys’ thigh. He wanted badly to see the omega out of these stuffy server clothes, and the buttons near the top of his collar had already slipped open like a divine sign.

Rhys rubbed his lips together, the edges quirking up after a moment in a playful smirk.

“Okay.”

Jack was grateful he’d decided to have Wilhelm drop him off at the party, considering his current buzz and the state of his new guest. He didn’t bat an eye when Jack slid into the backseat with Rhys nearly in his lap, only grunting in confirmation before taking the pair home.

Rhys’ steps grew even clumsier when the exited the car out into the garage beneath Jack’s penthouse. He marveled at the fancy lobby when Jack walked him inside, not that he had much time to glance around, what with the way the alpha urged him along, eager to get Rhys inside of the penthouse proper. He could ooh and aah at the splendor of Jack’s living quarters instead, right before he started beginning and moaning around the alpha’s dick.

Unfortunately, just as the elevator came to a halt on Jack’s floor, just as he was about to throw out his arms and properly welcome Rhys to his penthouse, the omega shuddered and moaned and threw up down the front of his shirt.

Jack yelped in surprise, immediately regretting it once he saw the look on Rhys’ face. He’d gone pale, his eyes wide and fixed down on his stained shirt. Jack saw them started to water, mismatched irises shimmering with shame and upset, the sight sending a stake of pain into his heart. Rhys’ stained lips quivered, trying to say something, but Jack grabbed him by the shoulders and guided him out of the elevators, speaking first as soon as he got Rhys into the foyer of his penthouse.

“Hey hey, easy sugar, easy. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it, okay?” Jack tried as Rhys started to hiccup, barely able to hold back upset tears. Jack swore inwardly, mind racing as he tried to put together a new plan, now that ravishing the pretty omega was out the window for the time being.

He grabbed a decorative marble bowl from off one of the side tables, dumping out the foam fruit and shoving it into Rhys’ hands in case of more nausea. He ushered Rhys towards the living room, situating the poor omega onto the couch with a reassuring pat to his shoulder.

“Just stay here, ‘kay? I’m gonna get you some new clothes so you don’t have to stay in this anymore.”

Rhys nodded glumly, his eyes half-lidded as he cradled the bowl in his fingers. He looked a little less pale than he had a few minutes ago but the sad, lost little look on his face was something Jack wanted to wipe off immediately. He noticed Rhys’ scent had started to turn and sour, with Jack’s own worry churning the booze still in his belly. He needed to get Rhys feeling better before he ended up tossing cookies too.  

Jack left the omega alone on the couch to go rifle through his closet, trying to find something that might fit a guy of slighter stature. He eventually grabbed the sweater he’d laundered this morning. The fabric was soft and a bit worn, but loose enough to be comfortable. He quickly returned back to the living room where Rhys had barely moved, still sullenly clutching the bowl which, thankfully, looked like it hadn’t been used yet.

“Think you can change out of this yet, or you need my help?” Jack offered as he knelt down besides Rhys, handing the sweater out to him. The omega shook his head after a moment spent composing himself, reaching out to take the garment from Jack.

“No…s’okay…” Rhys’ fingers rubbed over the well-loved yellow fabric, shoulders relaxing. “You got a bathroom where I can change?”

Jack almost wanted to tell him it was fine, that he could just strip down here if he wanted, but figured that’d might come on a bit too strong considering everything that’d happened. So instead he put his hand on Rhys’ back and guided him up, before pointing him down the hallway towards the bedroom.

“On your right. Take your time, okay pumpkin?” Jack watched as Rhys hobbled forward, making sure the omega was well-balanced, before he went off to the kitchen to fetch water and something bland in case Rhys needed to eat.

He found some crackers in the pantry he figured Rhys’ stomach could handle and filled a glass of water before returning to the living room to wait. Rhys made an appearance before Jack felt worried enough to look for him, his now bare feet quietly patting against the hardwood floors as he walks back into the living room. Jack can see he’s still a little closed in on himself, arms wrapped around his waist, and honestly Jack can’t really blame him. Throwing up wasn’t exactly the way he’d wanna end a night either.

And yet looking at this pretty omega—his hair washed halfway out of its gelled style and his eyes wide and worried yet gorgeous as they’d been at the party—had Jack smiling despite it all. He patted the space on the couch next to him, trying to adopt as friendly and non-threatening a posture as possible. He could smell Rhys’ apprehension, though a sweet scent of security was beginning to poke through.

Rhys finally made his way over to the couch and sat down besides that. Jack was conscious of the couple inches of space he left between them but didn’t try to close them now, lest he startle the omega any more.

“Got you some water and crackers.” Jack nodded towards the coffee table at Rhys’ knees. “You don’t have to have ‘em if you don’t wanna but you’re free to if you think it’ll help.”

“Thanks,” Rhys mumbled after a moment, his hands kneading the hem of the sweater in his lap. Jack could see the slip of dark blue boxers from underneath contrasted against the creamy skin of his thighs. The sight stirred his stomach pleasantly, but he tamped it down and kept his hands glued in his lap.

“I’m sorry…didn’t mean to throw up…” Rhys sniffed and rubbed his hand over his nose. His hand, formerly rested shakily on his thigh, moved to pick up the water bottle. Jack, in lieu of patting the kid’s shoulder and jostle him into more nausea, rubbed the back of the cushion Rhys rested against.  

You’ve had it kind of rough tonight to say the least. Just try to relax.”

Rhys gingerly reached for the crackers as he took the first cautious sip of water.

“Ugh…was trying to relax at the party…drunk too much…” He tried nibbling on a cracker, managing to get halfway through one before he washed it down with another mouthful of water.

“You’re not the first person to vomit on a prospective date, sugar. Don’t fret.” Rhys only nodded, letting Jack’s slip of “date” go by without protest.

“Yeah…just stupid…” Rhys mumbled after finishing off his cracker with another, heartier swig of water. His lips looked wet, stuck with fine crumbs as a sleepy pout pulled at the corners of his mouth. Honestly, he looked adorable, but as much as Jack wanted to he wouldn’t risk a kiss just yet, so he glanced away.

“Well. Hopefully you’ve got it outta your system now. Just relax. You want me to put something on? Would that help?” Jack gestured towards the television, now suddenly unsure of what to do with the omega. Wilhelm always waited in the garage for about a half hour after dropping his boss off, a force of habit thanks to the many nights Jack had changed his mind and decided he didn’t want to turn in after all. If the kid wanted to, he could get him home. But Rhys had already stripped down to his underwear and kicked off his shoes and didn’t looked all that fidgety sunk into the comfortable couch cushions besides Jack. In fact, when he finally raised his head to look at the alpha, Jack saw his eyes hung heavy and sleepy.  

Jack didn’t think many omegas would trust an alpha they’d just let met enough to risk falling asleep in their home. Honestly, he worried a little for the kid’s self-preservation instinct. Good thing Jack had been the one to take him in rather than someone else.

Rhys hummed and nodded a little in response to Jack’s question and the alpha quickly flipped on the TV, changing it to some mindless late-night talk show before slipping his arms around Rhys’ shoulders. The omega went with him willingly, exhaustion evident as he slid against the alpha’s side and rested his head against Jack’s chest. He wondered if Rhys was awake enough to hear how his heartbeat picked up.

By the time the credits started to roll on the talk show Rhys was asleep, his legs pulled up onto the couch and weight almost entirely laid against Jack.

The night had taken a complete one-eighty at least twice and honestly? Jack felt all right with it.

Much as he would’ve loved to show Rhys the cathartic power of a good knot, he wasn’t about to wake him back up to try to get in his shorts. Jack might be a bastard in about a hundred different ways, but he wasn’t about to force himself on an omega when they’d clearly had quite the long night. Better to let the kid sleep it all off.

Jack thought he’d done pretty good all told anyway. If Rhys didn’t end up too embarrassed by the whole vomit thing, Jack felt he was well on the way to a proper date with the cute omega.

But Rhys would be laid up with a bad back for a good couple days if Jack just let him sleep on his couch, comfy as it could be in a pinch. Jack wasn’t gonna try anything with the omega but figured he could get away with putting Rhys in his own bed. It was big enough to fit two and then some anyway, with plenty of space to help Jack keep himself in check.

It took a moment to properly fold the kid up in his arms thanks to his long legs, but finally Jack managed to cradle Rhys properly so he wouldn’t end up pitching over the moment he pushed to his feet. Rhys mumbles softly at the change in position, turning in towards Jack’s chest as his fingers kneaded sleepily at the fabric of the sweater.

He ignored the crick in his back long enough to get Rhys onto the bed, peeling up the rumpled blankets and nudging him carefully underneath.

When Jack rolled out of bed this morning he hadn’t bothered to properly tidy up, merely straightening the comforter out with a couple quick tugs and fluffing up the pillows before leaving it be. His maid didn’t come until tomorrow, though Jack debating rescheduling since he didn’t want her disturbing Rhys. The kid would probably want to sleep in after the night he’d had. Jack sort of wanted to keep him in his bed as long as possible anyway. Who knows what a late morning might bring, once Rhys felt less tired and nauseous. And if not, Jack had a couple great hangover cures in mind.  

Rhys took to the bed instantly, curling up on his side with a soft little mumble that got Jack thinking of sleepy kittens and other cutesy crap he usually didn’t enjoy. But jeez. The way Rhys snuggled into one of Jack’s pillows, mouth burrowed into the downy plump as his loose hair tumbled over his forehead and down his neck—no one could blame Jack for getting a little weak-kneed.

The alpha slid into bed, dimming the lamp just enough that he could still see Rhys as he turned on his side. Jack kept a gentlemanly distance between their bodies, though he allowed himself one last selfish little want as he reached forward to gently close Rhys’ wet, parted lips. Can’t have the kid drool all over his fancy pillow, right?

Jack’s fingers lingered on the omega’s soft skin, the drunken heat in his cheeks dimmed to a comforting warmth. The sour scent of distress had thoroughly faded back into the citrus-creamy that had Jack thinking of summers and sun and youth and sweetness, so before he turned out the light for good he cheated and snuck a little taste of Rhys’ lips.

i’m a dumb bitch who wrote long haired pregnant rhys because….i gotta have it.

Rhys first started putting his hair up about halfway through his pregnancy. Jack remembered the day he’d found a packet of colorful little ties on the bathroom counter and puzzled over their existence, only for Rhys to amble on it and pluck them out of his hand and use one to whip his hair up into a messy bun.

From there, his little collection had only grown, diversifying into fabric headbands and metallic hair clips to help keep the hair off his face and neck. Jack made his usual jokes—toned down just a bit considering Rhys’ current, very volatile emotions—but otherwise paid little mind to it. His mate’s formerly flawless beauty routine had taken a bit of a hit thanks to the pregnancy, and if Rhys wanted to cut out a bit of the hassle when it came to his hair Jack was more than happy to let him do it.

One day he arrived home a little early from work to find the house quiet but filled to the brim with Rhys’ scent. Jack cracked his shoulders, feeling his posture relax with the comforting atmosphere. He’d always felt a little antsy being too far away from Rhys ever since they’d bonded, but now with a pup on the way Jack couldn’t bear it for very long. Thankfully, as king of Hyperion, he had a decent amount of leeway when it came to setting his own schedule, and anything aggravating outside of that he could just dump onto Tim.

Jack toed off his shoes and shrugged his jacket onto the coatrack, disrobing the rest of his clothes as he went, heading towards the bedroom. He’d pick them up later—maybe—but right now all he wanted was to shower off them cuddle in beside his mate.

He nudged open the door to the bedroom, the full brunt of Rhys’ scent rolling over him so hard his knees nearly went weak. He pulled his teeth back against his lip, suppressing a moan as he scanned the room for his mate, eyes eventually settling on the lumpy mound of white comforters in the center of the bed. Of course—Rhys had been spending more and more time in his nest as he’d grown bigger and less willing to move.

Jack walked around to the side of the bed, smirking as he saw evidence his own clothes had been added to the pile. He moved towards the headboard, leaning forward to peer into the folds of the nest.

Oh.

Jack had caught Rhys napping quite a few times throughout the pregnancy. Growing a human was tiring work, after all, and he needed all the rest he could get. So finding his mate asleep wasn’t quite a shocker, but the sight of his hair down and undone threw Jack for a loop.

He hadn’t realized how much Rhys’ hair had grown in the past few months. Outside of the bath and shower where it hung plastered to his head and neck, Rhys almost always kept his hair up and back. Jack had grasped that it was getting longer and messier, but Rhys bundled it up in so many accessories it’d been hard to tell exactly. But with not a colorful hair clip nor sleek headband in sight Rhys’ hair was free to flow down against his neck and out over the pillow he’d stolen from Jack’s side of the bed.

Rhys slept peacefully, cradled in his nest with his hands folded over his belly. Blankets covered his body below the hips so Jack couldn’t tell if he was all the way naked, but his chest and belly were bare, showing off his plump curves and tender pink skin. But still Jack’s attention drew back to the hair, Rhys’ wavy amber locks glowing faintly in the light of the nightstand lamp.

Jack remembered commenting on Rhys’ pregnant glow before. He’d noticed the change in the omega’s skin and hair months back, commented on the softness in one of those endless compliment parades he trotted out whenever Rhys was bemoaning the less desirable changes in his body. But something about seeing Rhys’ hair this long got him even more fixated than before.

Jack sat down on the edge of the bed, as gently as he could muster as to not stir Rhys from his beauty sleep. He reached out, hand cupping the air around Rhys’ head before he finally settled his palm against it. Silky locks kissed his skin as he started to run his fingers through it, letting them slip through like delicate strands of fabric.

Damn. Jack marveled, watching the curls of hair fall back against the pillow. How’d he get so pretty?

He stopped when his fingers bumped against a small tangle of hair near the end of Rhys’ locks. He frowned and turned back towards the nightstand, grabbing a comb sitting near the edge. He picked out a couple of Rhys’ stray hairs, dropping them against the pillow before gently running the plastic teeth against the tangle. He worked the hair with as much care as he could muster, not wanting to rouse Rhys as he combed his locks out and let them fall back against his neck and shoulder.

Once finished, Jack placed the comb back on the nightstand and returned to petting Rhys’ hair. Eventually he slid into a reclining position, resting besides his omega as he respected the boundary of his nest. He’d learned well enough last time not to intrude without his mate’s permission. He had the angry, nipping bruise on his neck to prove it.

Rhys soon roused anyway, eyebrows twitching as he palmed his belly. Jack noted the movement beneath Rhys’ fingers, his own hand soon joining his mate’s to calm their pup down. Rhys’ eyes fluttered open at the added pressure, tilting his chin to the side to greet Jack with a sleepy smile. His hair slipped over his forehead in delicate strands as he snuggled against his pillow, contented scent wafting from within as he breathed.

“Hey.” Jack spoke first, his hand now crawling over Rhys’ own.

“…Hey,” Rhys mumbled after a moment, eyes half-open in sleepy slits. Jack’s heart lifted as he scooted over slightly, a clear sign to welcome the alpha into the nest. Jack promptly slid in, wrapping the blankets heavy with his mate’s scent around himself as he snuggled in close, head resting on the pillow next to Rhys.

“Like this look on you, sweetheart,” Jack whispered, his hand lifting off of Rhys’ belly to trail through his hair once more. He cradled one silky lock in palm, pressing it to his lips. Rhys chuckled, his voice low and soft from sleep.

“You don’t think it makes me look girly?”

“Pfft. You’re gorgeous no matter what, ‘kay?” The hair slipped from Jack’s hand as he moved to cradle the back of Rhys’ head. “Wear it however you want, babe. As long as I got something to pull when we’re getting frisky, I’m good.”

“Good thing I didn’t go through with jus shaving it all off, then,” Rhys teased as he snuggled in close to his alpha, letting Jack tuck his head beneath his chin. Jack chuffed against his scalp, pleased as he buried his nose in the silky, scented locks of his sweet, still-sleepy omega.

Ooooooh, how about “I thought you were different” for Rhack ;P

Jack wanted to tell Rhys it wasn’t his fault. 

The alpha interrupting him during the meeting had just been pissing him off so much. Jack figured it was time to teach the mouthy asshole a lesson. He hadn’t expected Rhys to try to step in and break it up, he’d expected his omega to stay back and watch, approving or not, as Jack took care of whatever problem was setting him off in the first place. But Rhys had been trying, lately, to draw him back from his bloodthirsty urges, to keep him contained and calm, and Jack should have anticipated him trying to stop the bloodshed. Or at least prevent Jack from causing another scandal. 

But it all happens too fast, and before Jack can catch his hand and realize the determined brown and blue eyes are nothing like the wan grey ones of the alpha Rhys is laying out on the floor, face petrified in shock as four thick lines of blood scour dow his cheek. 

Jack’s heart freezes in his chest, vision growing clearer without the haze of anger no matter how badly he might want to roll back and black out and not face what he’s done. The room is still around him, quiet, so unlike when Jack usually puts someone in their place and all the bystanders try to curry his favor and agree that such punishing wrath was well-earned, and for once Jack wants their sycophantic words though now, least of all, is when he actually deserves them. 

With no one else to break the silence Jack realizes he must fill the space, be first to speak, but he can barely muster a despaired croak. 

He wanted to tell Rhys that it was just a mistake, that he would never dream of hurting him, but the words stick in his throat and by the time he manages to clear it Rhys is already speaking, the look in his eyes already changed from shock to hurt and deep, bottomless betrayal. 

“I thought you were different…”

“Are you going to rip my heart out again?” for Rhack? :3

sorry these are drabbles and i changed the wording a bit 😦

Jack knows that Rhys is going to try to stop him—he just doesn’t understand that Jack can’t let that last humiliation lie. Staying home means letting those bandits win, and he can’t stand the thought, even if he’d barely escaped the last encounter with his life.

Still, he doesn’t resist when Rhys grabs him by the wrist, eyes wide and disbelieving and angry, with force behind his fingers Jack’s never felt before. It takes him a moment to realize he’s using his cybernetic hand, warm metal digits digging into the flesh just above Jack’s tattoo.

“You can’t do this.” Rhys’ voice shakes with the effort of breathing, trying to steady the pace of his heart as it sends bells of alarm through his body. “This is stupid. This is suicide.”

And he’s right, probably, but to Jack taking down the bastards standing in the way is worth the risk of death—after all, is any action really heroic without something valuable on the line?

“This is the only way to make sure they learn their lesson,” Jack growls, tendons in his wrist flexing underneath Rhys’ fingers, but he only squeezes tighter. It almost hurts, stinging up Jack’s arm into injuries not quite healed. Like his body’s trying to get him to listen to Rhys, but he won’t let it convince him.

Rhys’ next tearful, shaking plea almost does, though.

“Do you want to rip my heart out again?”

“I don’t know who to trust anymore.” or “There’s got to be a way out of this… I just can’t find it.” You’re pick on characters =3.

hurt rhys is always inspiring even when i feel down 

At the bottom of the cell where they’d been tossed like pieces of trash, Jack can’t help but feel small.

The foot of the barred door is just out of his reach when he presses himself up against the smooth walls and stands on the very tips of his toes, arm stretched out so far he can feel the tendon in his shoulder pull. It hurts, tension smarting through his body in a painful reminder of his injuries, but he’d got off fairly light all told.

“C’mon…” He grits his teeth, straining before trying to jump and grab onto the ledge peeking out from beneath the door. He misses, nails scraping uselessly against the wall as his feet slam back against the ground. Pain zings up to his hips as he winces, clasping one arm around his body.

“Jack…” A voice behind him rasps for the first time since they’d been tossed down there. Jack puts aside escape for a moment and crouches down besides the man laying at his feet. Rhys had landed badly when he’d hit the ground, arm twisted the wrong way. He’d hit his head hard enough to scrape a fresh wound against his temple, and even though he’s awake now the fogginess in Rhys’ eyes has Jack worried.

“It’s gonna be all right, kitten.” Jack’s hand brushes against his assistant’s cheek, unwilling to move his head and risk worsening any invisible injuries. “There’s gotta be a way out of this…I just gotta find it. You just lie down and work on staying conscious.”

“Mm…kay.” Rhys eyelids flutter wider like he’s genuinely trying, but a wince of pain has him closing them a moment later as he hisses. Blood from his head-wound bubbles and drips down over his eyebrow towards the bridge of his nose. Jack wonders if he should try to staunch it with his sleeve, if its worse the risk of infection. This cell is grimy as all hell, anyway.

“Don’t worry…” Jack murmurs over Rhys, carefully caressing the warmth still in his lover’s cheeks, “It’s gonna be okay. I promise. You’re gonna be all right.”

Rhys doesn’t respond this time, though his eyes open a sliver enough that Jack feels he can move away and return to figuring out their exact plan. His nails are split, some bleeding slightly from his last attempt, but from the dark spots of blood against the wall he can see he was only a few inches off from grabbing the ledge.

Jack crouches, muscles in his legs tensing. He fixes his eye on the bottom of the door, tip of his tongue licking his lips. This time for sure, he’ll get up there and get them out of here.

And then these guys are gonna pay for what they did to Rhys.

this drabble was supposed to be an answer to one of the angst prompts but it didn’t end up really fulfilling is so….yeah

sorry it blows

Jack had never been good at apologies.

Really, when one was the actual king of a good portion of the universe, apologies seemed a little beneath him. But pride and power didn’t erase the sting he felt in the aftermath of a fight with Rhys, where even the ruler of Hyperion found himself banished to the couch with the bedroom door slammed in his face.

The impatient beat of his heart hated that he needed to give Rhys time to cool off, and though he wished he could rip that door open and force some forgiveness between them he didn’t, instead moving to the kitchen and trying to recall the recipe for banana bread he knew Rhys liked best. The kind with coffee mixed in for the extra little kick in the morning.

Jack was bad at apologies.

He mashed the browning bananas into goop, whipping them together with wet ingredients, then slid it all into the flour. He licked a bit of batter off his thumb, the bitter taste of coffee edging into the sweetness. He felt the heat of the oven against his hip as he opened the door and popped the filled bread tins inside.

Jack set the timer on his watch and rested back against the counter, staring at the digital numbers counting down.

He frikkin’ sucked at apologizing.

But Rhys deserved he try. He was probably the only one who deserved it.

Jack shuffled out of the kitchen and through the living room until he stood before the bedroom door, clenched hand lifted hesitantly before the sleek wood. He swallowed, annoyed by the tense lump in his throat.

He’d finally worked up the courage to knock when the door suddenly clicked, knob turning as it opened outwards. Jack’s eyes widened as Rhys’ met his from inside the dim bedroom lighting, both their mouths opening at the same time as they spoke over each other’s words.

“Rhysie, I’m sorry I—“

“—You making something?”

They both stopped, each waiting for the other to continue but they only shuffled awkwardly. Rhys rubbed the hem of the blanket draped about his shoulder. Jack coughed and shifted his weight on his heels.

“It’s your favorite,” he finally answered, “I just thought…you know, those bananas were gonna go bad. Figured it’d be a good idea.”

“Uh-huh.” Rhys swallowed. “Smells really nice. I’m pretty hungry…haven’t eaten in a bit…”

Jack’s stomach growled in agreement. Right. He hadn’t eaten much either. He glanced at the timer on his watch. Five more minutes.

“There’s a bit more time before it’ll be ready…wanna hang on the couch? Or would you rather hole up in bed a little more?” Jack tried some light teasing and, thankfully, Rhys’ smiled.

“Think I’ve got my fill of that for today…if you don’t mind…” Rhys leaned in a little closer, until Jack closed the distance and loosely wrapped his arms around his waist.

The tightness in Jack’s ribs properly  started to unwind as soon as Rhys returned the hug.

Any employee, business partner, or rival CEO knew Jack was far from a soft man. The only emotions he wore on his sleeve were greed and rage, and considering the power of his reputation Jack was loathe to poke any holes into it by showing any tenderness apart from those publicity stunts particularly crafted by his publicists.

But—damn.

Though his alpha instincts had helped him cut throats and climb ladders in his time, it stabbed him in the back here as he stood before this trembling omega, half-turned away yet unable to tear his glance completely away from the other man. He could feel prickling up his spine, heated little pinpricks despite the air conditioning humming through the hallway. Those little hitching breaths as the omega tried to recover his composure did nothing to stop that heat, and before it grew unbearable Jack stepped forward, arm extended.

He meant to put his hand on the kid’s shoulder, to help him stop sagging against the wall and looking extra pathetic, but as he got close he caught a whiff of something light and lemon-scented drifting off the omega’s hair, and as he admired the way those silky auburn locks shone in even the dimmer light of the bathroom hallway he found his hand settled against the side of the omega’s head, wavy locks cradled delicately against his palm.

Jack could feel the young man freeze at the touch, stillness traveling up his arm as it locked into place, as if shocked at Jack’s brashness.

The omega’s wide eyes met his own, and for a moment Jack thought he might bolt, composure stretched to a breaking point after not one, but two unsolicited advances by an alpha. Jack’s mind raced, oddly grasping for any reason at all to sway the omega not to run away. His mouth moved, tip of his tongue resting uselessly at the bottom lip as his fingers shifted against the side of the omega’s head.

Jack could feel the contrast of stiffer, gelled strands of hair against the softer locks that’d been jostled loose by the encounter with the other alpha. Briefly, his eyes flitted down to the crisp white shirt pulled out of the kid’s pants and the glint of an undone zipper before they snapped back up. Top-down, Jack, top-down. Best just to pick one spot to start before he saw too much red to focus, and the omega’s hair was as good as any.  

Jack’s brain filed through the items in his pockets—wallet, keys, and phones in his pants, slim glasses clipped on his dress shirt’s dress pockets in case he grew sick of tacky contacts in his eyes—before he opened his blazer, slipping the slim black comb out from within the pouch sewed to the inner lining. Jack flourished it before the omega’s eyes, carefully drawing the hand cradling his head closer as he began to run the comb’s teeth through his ruffled hair.

trying for a modern AU omegaverse drabble…I really hope I can finish this, I’ve finished barely anything lately 😦

“Just Juicy”

Jack motioned towards one of the hardwood chairs, filled out with fluffy white pillows. “Sit, sit kitten. I’ll get everything ready.”

Rhys settled down in the seat, kicking his feet up on the glass-top coffee table as he relaxed into the soothing sea breeze. Now that he’d properly stepped inside one, Rhys could appreciate in full just how tricked out and luxurious these cabanas were. The solid walls of the cabana sported several frames full of watercolor artwork splashed in common ocean motifs, from a family of dolphins to a colorful sunset to minimalist brushstrokes resembling a shoreline from above. A small dark wood cabinet on the lefthand side contained bundles of rolled up towels and a couple aesthetically placed starfish and sand dollars, while Jack stood on the right next to a tiny bar and fridge. Rhys’ stomach groaned, reminding him he hadn’t eaten a proper lunch yet.

“You got anything good in there?” He called as Jack rummaged through the fridge, expecting some kind of snacks or alcohol, but instead watched as Jack hoisted a large watermelon up onto the bar and turned to flash a grin at Rhys.

“In the mood for something refreshing, sugar?”

Trash summer-themed stuffing kink fic featuring sugar daddy AU! I had fun with this even though it’s not super deep or anything like that lol. Well, enjoy it for what it is, right?

When Rhys’ phone buzzed in his pocket halfway through robotics lecture, he figured it was Jack sending him flirty texts, as he usually did whenever he knew Rhys was attending class. When he snuck his phone out of his pocket, head still tilted towards his professor while his eyes traveled down beneath the desk, he quickly saw he was right—well, half right.

He could tell by the little image—Jack sporting a pair of yellow sunglasses tipped down on his nose—next to his name who had texted him, but when he brought the screen closer he could see Jack was interested in more than just some casual flirting.

“u wanna go to beach, sugar? 😉”

Rhys had honestly planned little more than hanging out at Jack’s apartment and making getting a jumpstart on next week’s homework, but now he found himself thinking of warm sand and cool breeze and relaxing waves. Without a car and willingness to suffer public transit for longer than ten minutes someplace like the beach had always felt a little out of reach, but now that he was dating Jack those things weren’t relevant. Jack’s spontaneity continued to be a bit of an adjustment, but Rhys wasn’t about to decline a nice afternoon off full of his boyfriend’s characteristic spoiling.

“yeah, i’m down,” Rhys tapped out quickly, crossing his legs under his desk to better hide his phone, “u want me to go home and get changed?”

Jack’s response was immediate.

“nah wils gonna pick u up in 10. hell have everything for u.”

Rhys supposed it didn’t matter that his class didn’t end for another half hour.

After excusing himself for a “bathroom break”—an excuse his professor probably didn’t buy, considering Rhys had taken his laptop and bag along with him—Rhys found himself outside the engineering building on the little roundabout, waiting for the familiar sleek black car to pull up to the curb.

He slid into the seat, shrugging his book bag off besides him before buckling up and settling in for the ride. Wilhelm’s familiar slicked, coarse hair crested up over the driver’s headrest and nearly brushing the roof of the not-all-that-small car. Rhys often wondered how such a beastly guy could possibly fit in anything smaller than a hummer, but the guard-turned-driver’s gruff exterior preempted any personal question Rhys might ever want to ask.

“Here,” Wilhelm grunted, not moving his eyes from the road as he reached back and shoved a shopping bag into Rhys’ hands, “Jack wants you to wear one of these.”

He mumbled a confused thanks as he sat back in his seat, peering inside the bag. Within he could see all of the new swimsuits Jack had bought him in anticipation of summer, including the bikini top Rhys wasn’t sure he would ever consider actually wearing out in public. He pursed his lips as he brushed through the suits, eventually deciding on a pair of tight swimming trunks he remembered trying on a few weeks back when he and Jack had gone to the mall to check out the new seasonal wear. Rhys liked how hugged his butt and thighs perfectly, the vibrant aqua color complementing his tattoos.

He’d started rubbing the stretchy, expensive fabric when Wilhelm spoke up again.

“He wants you ready by the time we get there, if you can manage changing in the car.”

“W-What?” Rhys started at the suggestion. Wilhelm’s terse sigh had him feeling embarrassed at his reaction, but he wasn’t exactly used to stripping down in front of strangers.

“Can put up the glass if it makes you more comfortable.”

“Uh…I guess…” Rhys mumbled as Wilhelm rolled the partition window up, dark glass enough to shield Rhys while letting the guard still check the backseat window. He still squished himself up against the side door, hiding behind the carseat as he unbuckled his belt and wiggled his pants off.

Thankfully he’d only thrown on jeans and a lazy shirt for today instead of his more complicated outfits, and before long he’d managed to wrangle himself into the tight swimsuit. He folded up his discarded clothes and placed them neatly into the shopping bag before shyly knocking on the partition.

“U-Um—I’m done now!” His voice squeaked as the glass scrolled back down. He could see the edge of Wilhelm’s amused grin from around the headrest and blushed, busying himself in his phone as he waited for the drive to end.

Rhys figured Jack was taking him to some popular local beach, but as the car pulled up to some fancy gate he quickly realized of course Jack would belong to something as ridiculous as a beachside country club. His heart leapt in his throat as Wilhelm rolled down the window, stiffly handing a golden card over to the guy manning the little booth. After a moment he passed the card back and the gates before them opened up, revealing a smooth stone path winding up to a sprawling red and white building springing out from the manicured lawns.

Rhys felt a little embarrassed getting out of the car in his swimsuit and almost wished Wilhelm would come with him, but the guard had already drove off as soon as Rhys had scampered out of the backseat. He frowned, wrapping his arms around himself as wealthy families and well-dressed socialite types passed him on their way in and out of the club’s entrance. His phone suddenly buzzed in his hands, and he nearly dropped it before managing to fumble open his inbox.

“wil drop u off yet? tick tock sunshine”

Rhys shimmied off to the side of the main doors, getting out of the way of the other guests as he thumbed out an answer to Jack.

“yeah i’m here but all these rich people are kind of scaring me. help?”

Laying on the vulnerability was the best way to actually get Jack to do what he wanted. He rubbed his thighs together, dancing awkwardly in his flip-flops as he waited on a response. Finally, his phone vibrated again.

“lol aww babe thats adorable. just go up to the desk and tell em youre here for jack lawrence theyll take you right to me.”

Rhys bit his lip, annoyed Jack just couldn’t come and get him himself, but fine. He awkwardly slipped through the beach club entrance, one arm still clutched around his body as he tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. His flip-flops slapped against the terra-cotta tiles, plasticky sound extra loud as he approached the front desk and the two polo-clad hostesses helping guests.

“Hi, I—um—“ he fumbled, cloistering his half-nude body against the little podium’s glossy driftwood decorations, “I’m here to uh—Jack Lawrence is here and I’m his uh, guest? He wanted me to meet him here—“

“Mr. Lawrence?” One of the hostesses piped back, voice cheerful yet knowing. “Of course, he just informed us! One of our attendants will take you right to him.”

The burly, blond guy with the same uniform polo stretched across his chest soon came to guide Rhys through the club’s lobby and out onto the shoreline, helping him feel slightly less self conscious and more like he belonged here.

The sight of the brilliant white sands and crystal blue waters helped him forget the initial awkwardness, breath taken by the beauty of the large private beach. Elegant white sailboats and gaudy little kayaks peppered the ocean beyond the cresting waves, while the shore was busy but not nearly as crowded as some of the public beaches Rhys had been to as a kid. More of the same white-clad employees flitted expertly about the shore, passing between clusters of baby-blue umbrellas and dark wood lounge chairs, laden with trays topped with fancy food and brightly colored drinks.  

Rhys kept following the attendant down a wood-plank path embedded in the sand, watching the little scenes of summer fun pass alongside him as they moved towards a roped off area of the beach filled with an array of covered cabanas. They looked much, much fancier than those he remembered from his youth—those usually nothing more than a cheap thatch roof propped up on shaky supports—almost like little three-walled houses set up on the sand. Indeed, when he glanced inside one as it passed, he could see they were lavishly decorated, with elegant chairs and tables surrounding a glass coffee table and nearly hiding a crisply made daybed in the back. The wispy, cream-colored curtains framing the cabana drifted in the sea breeze, the smell of fresh linen and salt drifting his way.

As they walked further and further the cabanas grew emptier and emptier, until they passed a row completely unoccupied as far as Rhys could see. Just when he was about to question whether this guy was leading him to Jack or to something more nefarious—maybe these rich dudes were gonna harvest his young blood for immortality or something, or enslave him in their smiling khaki-short-white-polo ranks—when he finally stopped in front of a particularly large cabana, smiling towards the entrance.

“Mr. Lawrence, sir, your guest has arrived.”

“Oh yeah? Frikkin’ finally!”

Jack came bounding out from the entrance in the cabana, clad only in a pair of yellow and white shorts and the pair of sunglasses from his picture in Rhys’ contacts. His pecs and arms glistened in the sun, muscles bulging attractively against his tan skin and despite the fact that Rhys had been a little annoyed with the whole run-around of getting to his boyfriend, his appearance and charming grin as he dropped a twenty into the attendant’s palm and switched attention back to Rhys had him feeling proper butterflies.

“Damn. You’re looking good, sweetheart,” Jack crooned, hands immediately gluing to one of their favorite positions on Rhys’ body—settled appreciatively atop his hips, right where the tight blue spandex met his skin.

“Kind of wish you’d worn that bikini, though.”

Rhys rolled his eyes as Jack led him under the shade of the cabana, one hand remaining on his hip.

“In your dreams…you’re gonna have to sweeten the deal lots more to get me to wear that thing in public.”

“Maybe next time, then, ‘cause you’re already in for a world of sweetness and spoiling today.” Jack motioned towards one of the hardwood chairs, filled out with fluffy white pillows. “Sit, sit kitten. I’ll get everything ready.”

Rhys settled down in the seat, kicking his feet up on the glass-top coffee table as he relaxed into the soothing sea breeze. Now that he’d properly stepped inside one, Rhys could appreciate in full just how tricked out and luxurious these cabanas were. The solid walls of the cabana sported several frames full of watercolor artwork splashed in common ocean motifs, from a family of dolphins to a colorful sunset to minimalist brushstrokes resembling a shoreline from above. A small dark wood cabinet on the lefthand side contained bundles of rolled up towels and a couple aesthetically placed starfish and sand dollars, while Jack stood on the right next to a tiny bar and fridge. Rhys’ stomach groaned, reminding him he hadn’t eaten a proper lunch yet.

“You got anything good in there?” He called as Jack rummaged through the fridge, expecting some kind of snacks or alcohol, but instead watched as Jack hoisted a large watermelon up onto the bar and turned to flash a grin at Rhys.

“In the mood for something refreshing, sugar?”

“Ooh, watermelon? I can’t even remember the last time I had that…” Talk about nostalgia. Rhys remembered summertime in his parents house, when his mother would occasionally splurge on the sweet, juicy snack, cutting it crosswise and topping the massive, circular slice with whipped cream. She called it “watermelon pie,” in retrospect a sneaky move to get Rhys to eat a “healthy” dessert. Too bad his sweet tooth had still ended up getting the better of him as an adult.

But while it was no beachside ice cream sundae, digging into a fresh slice of watermelon did sound pretty good right now. He pulled himself up to kneel on the chair, mouth watering as he waited for Jack to start cutting him a piece, but the older man stood still and merely looked back on him, wearing that smug grin that meant he was about to put a plan in motion.

“Oh come on, Jack, don’t tease…I’m starving…” He pouted, reaching over the armrest to tug at the man’s shorts. Yet the amusement in his smile only grew.  

“Don’t worry, I’m definitely gonna let you have some. One condition though, sweetheart,” Jack trailed his fingers down the side of the melon, following the pattern of green stripes.

“I’m not too hungry yet, so I wanna see you eat it on your own.”

Rhys’ lips parted, sizing up the fruit, how it dwarfed even Jack’s large hands in comparison.

“Are you serious? Jack, that’s gotta be like a five pound melon…”

“Now now, you don’t gotta finish the whole thing, sweetheart, just what you can manage.” Jack tapped his finger against the thick rind and winked. “Then I’ll spoil you rotten for the rest of the day. Promise.”

Rhys furrowed his brow at the watermelon, trying to figure out Jack’s game before it dawned on him. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Oh don’t tell me…this is another one of your things…”

“No idea what you’re talking about, sugar. Just trying to give my boyfriend a nice, refreshing snack so we can best enjoy such a beautiful beach day.”

Rhys snorted and shot him a disbelieving eye. He wouldn’t be fooled. Rhys knew about Jack’s varied kinks. He’d even noticed the rapt way Jack watched him eat before, especially if the meal in question had been home cooked. He’d played around with it a bit as soon as he’d figured it out, enjoying Jack’s food in such an overly coquettish fashion that he felt pretty silly, but Jack ate it all up. He loved watching Rhys enjoy meals in such a luxuriating fashion, and if it earned the young man more of his boyfriend’s attention then he was more than willing to lavish attention on Jack’s stranger kinks.

But watermelon wasn’t exactly a home-cooked meal, and most of the aforementioned scenarios had been enjoyed in the privacy of Jack’s own home. Though—Rhys’ glanced sidelong towards the entrance of the cabana—they were fairly secluded here, and he felt the club’s staff had purposefully put them far away from the families and other couples renting the spaces. They were obviously familiar enough with Jack’s shenanigans.

So, fine. If it earned him a relaxing afternoon complete with some lazy canoodling on the cabana’s daybed, he’d play along.

“All right. I’ll play your game…” Rhys unfolded his knees and sat back properly on the chair. “But only if you buy me the biggest, most expensive thing I want for dinner later.”

“Sure, sure, kitten. If you have enough room left, I’ll fill it with whatever you want.”

Jack pulled a blue plastic cutting board and a large knife out of the drawer in the bar, whistling to himself as he sunk the knife into the watermelon, edge slicing deftly through the rind as he worked it around the fruit’s girth. Rhys swallowed as juice spurt out from the cut and onto Jack’s forearm, where the muscles beneath his tanned skin flexed with effort. He’d nearly sliced all the way around when he slid the knife out and set it aside, instead going in with his hands. When Jack slipped his fingers into the leaking gap and cracked the melon open Rhys couldn’t help the way his cock stirred in his swim trunks.

Jack chopped one of the halves into large, but still manageable slices, before arranging them neatly on one of the clean white plates provided. He slid it across the coffee table towards Rhys, expression devious and interested as he sat in the chair across from him.

“Well. Go ahead, sugar. Whenever you’re ready.”

Rhys grabbed the first slice and bit into it without really thinking, the juice exploding into his mouth in a rush of sweet. He moaned in surprise, breaking off a huge chunk of melon that he struggled to swallow as more fluid flooded into his throat. He covered his mouth, cheeks bulging as he tried to chew, juice wetting his lips redder.

“Don’t choke, kitten—no need to end our fun that early,” Jack joked as Rhys struggled to swallow down the watermelon, taking a deep breath when he finally managed to get it down.

“S-Shut up…” Rhys coughed, before finishing the rest of the slice in slower, measured bites. Once he finished he placed the gnawed rind back on the plate and grabbed two more slices in each hand.

The watermelon tasted sweet and perfectly ripe, succulent flesh a pretty dark pink. Rhys sucked at the excessive juice that dripped from the fruit after each bite, licking it off his fingers as he shoved more into his mouth, taking his time so he wouldn’t choke again.

More juice dripped down his chin and down his neck towards his collarbone. He moved to wipe it away only for Jack to catch his wrist, eyes fixed to the trails of pinkish fluid now dripped onto his chest. He gulped, his cock twitching in his shorts at his boyfriend’s grip.

“Don’t.” Jack’s eyes twinkled, silhouetted by the sunny shore behind him. “We’ll get to that later, don’t worry.”

Rhys flushed, remembering the daybed behind him. Jack picked up one particularly large slice and nudged it into his palm as he let go of his wrist. Rhys cradled the piece in both palms, licking his lips and looking up under his lashes at Jack as he took a tender bite. The other man’s smile curled in utter satisfaction, like a spoiled cat, as he lounged back into his chair, resting his palm against his cheek.

Rhys finished half of the huge slice before he realized how full he felt. He cradled the half-empty rind in one palm as he looked down at himself. The watermelon’s thick, succulent flesh began to settle heavily in his stomach, making him feel bloated though he knew he’d only eaten a couple of pieces. His flat, yet slightly squishy middle looked a little tauter than before, and when he placed a hand against it and took a deep breath it expanded slowly, laboring with the fullness like a balloon densely filled with liquid. Oddly, this feeling didn’t diminish his arousal—in fact, it only wound tighter and hotter inside him.

Jack noticed the way he touched his stomach, and chuckled, nudging the still-laden plate even closer.

“Come on. You can handle a lot more. I know you can, sugar.”

Rhys knew. Full as he felt he knew he could eat more—after all it was just watermelon, not anywhere close to those decadent, elaborate meals Jack made whenever he itched to watch Rhys indulge in food. He could more than handle fruit that was half liquid.

Rhys ate through two more thick slices before his stomach started to properly protest, rounding out even more than before with the amount of the melon he’d packed in. The waistband of his shorts now clung close to the underside of his slightly bulging belly, marking little indents into his skin. The juice streaming down his chest had finally dripped over his abdomen, leaving pinkish trails in their wake that stuck to his skin. He moaned, bracing one hand against the side of his stomach as he dropped the slice he’d just finished, missing the plate completely as it splatted against the table.

“Mmm…Jack…” He whined, reclining back into his chair. Rhys felt like all the fruit he’d eaten was pressing back up against his lungs, keeping him plugged up and full and in serious need of a nap, but to his dismay Jack rose and grabbed another thick slice in hand. He caged Rhys against the chair as he braced his other hand against the armrest and waved the tip of the piece right under his nose.

“Oh, just one more, sweetheart, let daddy feed you one slice and we’ll stop, promise.”

Though Rhys had reason to doubt Jack’s promises based on past experience with him, he couldn’t deny his boyfriend when he pressed so close, handsome smile persuading Rhys to trust him. So he opened his mouth and let Jack slip the tip of the slice between his lips, letting the juice dribble down to his chin as he chewed.

Jack fed him lazily, even breaking off a piece of the slice and pressing his fingers between Rhys’ lips, feeling the boy’s tongue weave between the digits as he slid the morsel of watermelon from Jack’s light grasp. It was messy and Jack’s fingers tasted like salt and sand, but when they left his mouth Rhys let out a whine at the loss.

The sunlight suddenly darkened as Jack drew the drapery of the cabana around the front, shutting out the world around before he swept back to Rhys. The young man rested his hands atop his belly, suddenly wary of the pressure building both there and down below, his cock now straining against his shorts, no doubt obvious to Jack as he again loomed over Rhys, expression wavering between fondness and lust.

“Oh Rhys…Rhysie…” He shook his head, lifting one finger to stroke under Rhys’ sticky chin. “You’re just such a good boy for daddy. You cut class early to come to a place you’ve never been before, you gorge yourself just ‘cause you know it’ll make me happy…you’re so perfect.”

Rhys knew Jack was no stranger to talking like this, buttering him up with compliments so Rhys would continue to do exactly what his boyfriend wanted, but right now he played right into Jack’s hands, trembling and gasping and letting out a watery “r-really?”

And Jack smiled, almost earnest, and slipped a piece of errant hair off of Rhys’ forehead, tucking it back with a smooth pet as he kissed between his eyes.

“Course I do, babe. So perfect for me.”

Jack’s words were so nice and sweet, they flooded through him and made him feel full and safe and secured. Rhys tipped his head back, eyes slipping shut as Jack’s lips started to move, down his cheek and to his chin, briefly, before moving onto his neck. Sucking against his skin, like he could draw the sweetness of the dripping watermelon right from it.

Rhys shivered as one of Jack’s hands came to rest atop his bloated stomach, casually rubbing as he worried hickeys against his neck. It felt good, the touch to his tender middle plunging down to his crotch, where the head of his cock started bleeding precum against the fabric of his shorts.

“Such a tasty little thing you are…just wonderful…” Jack groaned against Rhys’ throat, before moving down to his chest where his nipples stood, pink and flushed and firm. Jack welcomed them into his mouth, earning a low gasp from Rhys as he squirmed beneath his boyfriend’s touch.

As Jack touched him, stroked him, sucked him, Rhys became all too aware of the sluggishness in his own body. Indeed, as Rhys’ nipples popped out from between Jack’s lips, he suddenly felt too heavy to move, to get up or do anything in return for his lover—thankfully Jack’s hands slipped under his back and legs not a moment later, hoisting him up from his chair. Jack carefully stepped away from the front of the cabana towards the back, where the daybed lay in shadow, cool white linens an invitation to soil with their body’s, to cushion Rhys’ sticky skin as Jack laid him down and prepared to do whatever he willed with his boyfriend.

Rhys welcomed whatever more he had in mind with open arms.

Rhys bit his lip, annoyed Jack just couldn’t come and get him himself, but fine. He awkwardly slipped through the beach club entrance, one arm still clutched around his body as he tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. His flip-flops slapped against the terra-cotta tiles, plasticky sound extra loud as he approached the front desk and the two polo-clad hostesses helping guests.

“Hi, I—um—“ he fumbled, cloistering his half-nude body against the little podium’s glossy driftwood decorations, “I’m here to uh—Jack Lawrence is here and I’m his uh, guest? He wanted me to meet him here—“

“Mr. Lawrence?” One of the hostesses piped back, voice cheerful yet knowing. “Of course, he just informed us! One of our attendants will take you right to him.”

The burly, blond guy with the same uniform polo stretched across his chest soon came to guide Rhys through the club’s lobby and out onto the shoreline, helping him feel slightly less self conscious and more like he belonged here.

The sight of the brilliant white sands and crystal blue waters helped him forget the initial awkwardness, breath taken by the beauty of the large private beach. Elegant white sailboats and gaudy little kayaks peppered the ocean beyond the cresting waves, while the shore was busy but not nearly as crowded as some of the public beaches Rhys had been to as a kid. More of the same white-clad employees flitted expertly about the shore, passing between clusters of baby-blue umbrellas and dark wood lounge chairs, laden with trays topped with fancy food and brightly colored drinks.  

Rhys kept following the attendant down a wood-plank path embedded in the sand, watching the little scenes of summer fun pass alongside him as they moved towards a roped off area of the beach filled with an array of covered cabanas. They looked much, much fancier than those he remembered from his youth—those usually nothing more than a cheap thatch roof propped up on shaky supports—almost like little three-walled houses set up on the sand. Indeed, when he glanced inside one as it passed, he could see they were lavishly decorated, with elegant chairs and tables surrounding a glass coffee table and nearly hiding a crisply made daybed in the back. The wispy, cream-colored curtains framing the cabana drifted in the sea breeze, the smell of fresh linen and salt drifting his way.

As they walked further and further the cabanas grew emptier and emptier, until they passed a row completely unoccupied as far as Rhys could see. Just when he was about to question whether this guy was leading him to Jack or to something more nefarious—maybe these rich dudes were gonna harvest his young blood for immortality or something, or enslave him in their smiling khaki-short-white-polo ranks—when he finally stopped in front of a particularly large cabana, smiling towards the entrance.

“Mr. Lawrence, sir, your guest has arrived.”

“Oh yeah? Frikkin’ finally!”

Jack came bounding out from the entrance in the cabana, clad only in a pair of yellow and white shorts and the pair of sunglasses from his picture in Rhys’ contacts. His pecs and arms glistened in the sun, muscles bulging attractively against his tan skin and despite the fact that Rhys had been a little annoyed with the whole run-around of getting to his boyfriend, his appearance and charming grin as he dropped a twenty into the attendant’s palm and switched attention back to Rhys had him feeling proper butterflies.

“Damn. You’re looking good, sweetheart,” Jack crooned, hands immediately gluing to one of their favorite positions on Rhys’ body—settled appreciatively atop his hips, right where the tight blue spandex met his skin.

“Kind of wish you’d worn that bikini, though.”

another preview of a thing

The deep end of the pool met the surrounding lake, separated only by a huge, floor to surface panel of crystalline glass. Rhys gasped at the sight, bubbles of air blossoming from his lips before he remembered to keep his mouth closed. Light from above filtered through the surface in little slanted columns, shimmering clearly off into the distance beyond the boundary of the pool. He could see shapes way out there, some large and dark, others thin and silvery, clustered together and mostly likely a school of fish. He swam a little bit closer, blue light reflecting off the glass as he activated his ECHOeye, trying to get a read on a couple of the fauna swimming around on the other side. A group of small yellow and blue streaked fish fluttered close, tiny bodies glimmering and perfectly in synch. His eye quickly zeroed in and etched out the info—Pandoran Azurstripe Snapper, juveniles, indigenous to the open waters of Lake Shining Horizons, feeds on shrimp and plankton—just as the school turned abruptly at the glass and swam back off into the clear depths.

Rhys wondered if they tasted good. Maybe Jack would wanna try fishing? Seemed like an old guy kind of thing, though if he mentioned that Jack might shy away from cooking him a fancy, fresh-caught fish dinner.

He finally had to break for the surface, pushing himself up through the water until his head popped up for air. He took in a deep breath and smiled to himself, before slowly swimming back towards the edge of the pool—and a waiting Jack. Who had apparently stripped down all the way and slipped on a pair of Hyperion-branded swim trunks Rhys had never seen before.

“You joining me?”

I’ve been sharing snippets on discord all night so….I’ll be charitable