14. Sexual Blackmail

FOURTEEN

SEXUAL BLACKMAIL

“Incredible,” Lucas uttered, poking the tip of one of Oliver’s newly acquired fangs. “Do you feel different?”

“No,” Oliver replied, tilting his head out of the alpha’s grasp. “Just tired. And hungry.”

But that wasn’t quite true, because he did feel different. Very different, in fact—like the strained tightrope of his life had finally snapped, and he had solid ground beneath his feet for the first time in years. Despite the heat still addling brain, as he sat with Lucas in the middle of his bedroom he had never felt so anchored in his own body. Like he was finally living fully in the present.

Nodding, Lucas rubbed a thumb across Oliver’s cheek. “I’ll go to the shop in a bit.” The alpha sucked his own lip, as though carefully considering his next words. “Reed, without dredging up old memories, has anything like this happened before?”

Oliver ran his tongue across his teeth and glanced down at the giant koala squashed between his knees. He wanted to say— yes , something did happen the only other time he’d been knotted—nothing he wanted to talk about, but something that had been playing on his mind ever since he saw Patrick’s name on the business card.

“I—yes and no. It’s difficult to explain.”

It wasn’t difficult to explain. In fact, it was the easiest thing in the world to ‘explain’. The doctors had even given it a name. Post-traumatic heat suspension.

“I didn’t— this didn’t happen,” he said, gesturing to his mouth and groin. “But I didn’t experience heat for a long time afterwards. It took three years for estrus to come back. It really messed with my equilibrium, if I’m honest.”

Lucas swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he looked at Oliver through dark lashes. “Do you think it’s happening again?”

A deep blush spread across Oliver’s chest, over his throat, and across his cheeks. Groaning, he buried his face in Roger’s furry head. Lucas’ nostrils flared as he leant forward to grasp Oliver’s upper arm. “What is it?” He said, the blankets falling away. “Another heatwave?”

Oliver only gripped the koala tighter as the alpha tried to wrangle it from between his arms. “N-No,” he said, “It’s not that.”

Lucas huffed, finally pulling the animal free. Pushing Oliver onto his back, he tugged a blanket over them both, blocking out the light and sound until the world outside was nothing more than a quiet hum. “Tell me,” he whispered, dropping onto his side as he nuzzled into Oliver’s neck.

“It’s…”

“Embarrassing?”

Oliver chuckled and threw an arm over his face. “Something like that.”

“Reed, I have told you plenty of embarrassing things since we met. I think it’s time you returned the favour.”

Which was true, wasn’t it? Lucas had been honest and upfront about his feelings since the moment they met, and Oliver had been… well , a bumbling, blushing idiot if he was being honest with himself. He’d rebuffed the alpha’s sincerity at every turn because it was easier than letting himself feel something… anything that wasn’t denial of his own desire. He twisted to bury his face in the alpha’s endless chest.

“I hate you,” he huffed, settling himself in Lucas’ armpit. “But if you must know… no , that isn’t happening again. In fact, it’s the opposite.”

Lucas hummed deep and low, sending a tremor of delight straight up Oliver’s spine. Wriggling, he pressed his thighs together. “Stop that,” he whispered, the words breathy.

“Continue,” Lucas said, caressing Oliver’s hip.

“I…uh…well…I’ve been having these phantom heat symptoms pretty much since that first night at the kickboxing club. I’ve been smashing a load of Matteus’ suppressants to try and keep everything under control…but…well, here we are. It’s why my mood’s been so fucking erratic, and why I…well, let’s just say accepting hand jobs from colleagues isn’t exactly part of my day-to-day.”

Grinning, Lucas pressed his face into Oliver’s hair. “So what you’re saying, Reed, is that you like me.”

Oliver squirmed in the alpha’s embrace, face burning with red-hot mortification. “I think you’re a pain in the arse,” he said, refusing to meet Lucas’ gaze.

Prying the sigma’s face out of his armpit, Lucas pressed his fingers into the nape of his neck “But I could be your pain in the arse,” he said, nipping Oliver’s lower lip.

Oliver swallowed— hard . So hard, in fact, the noise he let out was almost comical, like a fish gulping for air. “Well I… look, Lucas, a lot of things get said during heat. It’s just biology… our brains tricking us into thinking?—”

“Are you having a heatwave right now?”

“W-Well, no but?—”

“So I must be speaking the truth.”

Oliver let out an exasperated sigh, because Lucas was the most frustrating man to ever exist.

“I want you to do three things for me, Reed.”

Oliver cocked an eyebrow. “Y-Yes?”

“First, I want you to think about it. Think about it long and hard. Second, I want you to go to the doctor, because taking someone else’s medication is beyond idiotic, even for you. Third, I want you to tell me, here and now, what you would like me to do about the rest of your heat.”

Oliver blinked as he stared up at the alpha, mouth slightly agape. “I don’t want you to miss work… the investigation… they need you.”

His words were met with a hard kiss. “I called the Inspector whilst you were sleeping. He’s letting me work remotely if you require my assistance. But, I won’t force it on you.” His fingers splayed across Oliver’s belly, the heel of his palm massaging the soft skin just above his pubic hair.

“Well, I… what do you want?” Oliver whispered.

A small smile pinched the alpha’s lips. “No, Reed. Tell me what you want.”

Swallowing, Oliver’s eyes darted to anywhere that wasn’t Lucas. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

Lucas sucked in a breath. “A burden?” He said, mouth trailing to Oliver’s neck. He licked the kiss swollen scent glands at the dent of his shoulder. “What a stunning misinterpretation of the situation,” he whispered, before moving down to capture a nipple between his lips.

Oliver’s back arched as the alpha dragged his teeth and tongue over the sensitive lines of his chest. “You’re not playing fair,” he gasped, when Lucas’ head dipped between his thighs.

“Who said anything about playing fair, Reed?”

“Yeah, but you—ah!”

The tip of Lucas’ tongue dragged a searing line from his balls, all the way to the apex of his cock.

“You were saying?”

The alpha engulfed his length in the hot confines of his mouth, thumbs massaging deep circles into his perineum. Whatever protest Oliver had lined up died on his lips, as his toes curled into the blankets.

“Yes?” Lucas growled, hands sliding up Oliver’s thighs, pushing them back.

“F-Fine,” he panted. “Bring your laptop here… and my phone… it’s on my… my desk. F-Fuck you… and your fucking… mouth—ah!” Oliver came with a pathetic whimper as Lucas lapped up the seed dribbling down his balls.

“Glad we could come to an agreement.”

“That’s sexual blackmail,” Oliver huffed, running a hand through Lucas’ hair.

“Was it? If you recall the definition of blackmail, Reed, I think you’ll find?—”

“You’re a dick,” he whispered, gathering Lucas into his arms.

“It’s been said.”

The morning passed in a blur of sex, laughter, and toast. Lots and lots of toast. “See, I told you I have food in the house,” Oliver said, brushing away crumbs from the front of his hoody. Lucas grunted, pulling on the chinos that had just finished in the drier.

“Yes, but you need more than bread and butter to survive, Oliver. Have you finished that list?”

Glancing down at the paper in front of him, Oliver hummed and tapped the pencil against the kitchen table. “Yep. That should be all,” he said, handing Lucas the paper.

“It only says chocolate digestives.”

“Mhm,” Oliver replied, turning back to his toast.

“Reed, are you seriously a functioning adult?”

Oliver glanced up, giving the alpha a quizzical look. “Yeah. I own a dishwasher and everything.”

Lucas shook his head and tucked the paper into his pocket. “Take this,” he said, handing him his work phone. “My number is saved as ‘personal’ in the address book. Ring me if another wave starts and I’ll come straight back.”

“Okay, yeah. Will do,” he replied, suddenly feeling nervous.

Lucas’ expression softened as he bent down to kiss his forehead. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

He followed Lucas into the hallway, handing him the key as he closed the door.

“Right. Cool. Okay. Yeah. I’ve got this,” he muttered. Padding to the living room, he plopped onto the sofa. Perhaps a few minutes of shitty TV might calm his nerves. It didn’t. Before he knew what he was doing, he was standing in the hallway again, staring at the front door. Shaking his head, he walked into the kitchen and flicked the button on the kettle. Then he stood in the hallway again. ‘Idiot,’ he thought, before shuffling back into his bedroom. It looked like a bomb had gone off. So he tidied it. Then found himself back in the hallway. “This is fucking stupid,” he whispered.

Lucas’ phone made a sound from the kitchen. Checking it, he was rather alarmed to see a text message from one Detective Constable Matteus Smithson-Reed flash up on the screen. Rather naughtily, Oliver picked up the phone and clicked on the message. Had it been anyone other than his brother, he would never have opened it.

It read, ‘I’m sorry to bother you, Sgt, but is Ollie okay? He hasn’t arrived yet and I can’t get through to his phone. Thanks, Matteus.’

Oliver baulked, because he couldn’t recall a time that Matteus had sounded so polite. He went back and forth with himself for several minutes before finally deciding to call him.

Matteus answered after one ring. “H-Hello?” he said, sounding flustered.

Oliver toyed with the idea of putting on a deep voice, but then remembered his brother was pregnant so probably wouldn’t see the funny side. “It’s me,” he replied. “I’m okay.”

Matteus let out a long, relieved sigh. “Thank God, Ollie. The bond has been going haywire. I couldn’t make out what was happening. But then I thought, hey they’re probably just having wild sex somewhere, so I tried not to think about it. But then you didn’t arrive at work, so I didn’t know what the hell was happening.”

Oliver’s nose wrinkled at the thought of his brother knowing that he had been practically fucked into a different time zone. All. Night. And. All. Morning. “I—er—it’s complicated. But I’m not going to be in for the rest of the week.”

There was a pause, then, “You’re in heat, aren’t you?”

Oliver thought about lying, but reasoned it would probably cause more problems in the long run. “Mhm.” He rubbed the tense line that was forming between his eyebrows.

“That’s wonderful!” His brother squealed.

“Matteus we had better not be having an open conversation in the office.”

“No, no, I’m in the car park. Julie was just dropping off some cakes for the team.”

“Cake? What kind of cake?”

“Lemon drizzle.”

“You fucker. Why don’t you ever make me lemon drizzle?”

“I-I will! I’ll make you all the lemon drizzle you could possibly eat.”

Oliver glanced at the freezer and realised he had made a terrible, terrible mistake. “O-Oh, no. That’s okay. Just save me a slice.”

“But it’ll be stale by then. In fact, I’ll make one tomorrow and bring it over for you and Lucas… if you’re feeling up to it.”

“How do you know I’m with Lucas?”

“Because you’re calling off his phone, dipshit.”

“Oh… oh yeah. Mine’s lost. Sorry, I should have said.”

“Lost, huh?”

“All you need to know is that it involves the pond in High Enfield Park.”

Matteus barked out a laugh. “You fell in again, didn’t you? God, you’re an idiot. Wait there whilst I tell Julie.”

“N-No, Matty. That’s not necessary.”

“You fell in the pond again?” A deep voice spoke.

“Hi Julian.”

“You know ponds carry all kinds of harmful bacteria, right?”

“I wasn’t having a fucking swim,” he snapped. “B-But while I’ve got you, can I ask a quick question?”

“Sure.”

Oliver let out a long breath, weighing up his next few words. Perching himself on the corner of the table, he asked, “How old were you when you got your fangs?”

“Hm, sometime around puberty, I guess. Why?”

“Just a hypothetical question. Nothing to?—”

“Your fangs popped out. Didn’t they?”

He heard Matteus gasp. “I knew it,” he said. “I knew you were actually an alpha. I told mum, I said this would happen.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think—” He heard Julian trying to reason with his brother, but he was fighting a losing battle. Sighing, his voice turned back to the phone. “Was it just the fangs, or?”

Oliver rubbed the back of his neck and stared up at the ceiling. This was fucking mortifying, and he wished he’d never asked. “No. Not just the fangs.”

Matteus screeched from somewhere in the near vicinity, and Oliver could just picture the two of them huddled over the phone. “I knew it. I sodding said, didn’t I, Julie? I said he was an alpha this whole time.”

“I’m not an alpha, Matty. I’m in heat, for God's sake.” He said the last part through clenched teeth.

“So, has he knotted you? Have you knotted him?”

Oliver spluttered as he stood. “That is none of your fucking business, brother.” But then he thought about it for a moment. Could he, theoretically, knot someone now? Was it big enough? Would it work properly? Then he thought about knotting Lucas and almost burst into a fit of laughter—because he imagined it might be like a West Highland Terrier trying to fuck an American Pitbull. “Has he given you the bite? Have you given him the bite?”

“For the love of—no!”

“But he did the primal howl thingy… surely that means?—”

“That doesn’t mean anything. He’s just helping me through the heat, then we’ll return to work like nothing happened.”

Matteus let out a frustrated groan. “Bullshit. You’re so full of shit, Oliver. Just how long are you going to let this go on? He’s an alpha for fucks-sake, and it’s pretty clear for anyone to see that he fucking adores you. You keep doing this, Ollie. You keep doing this to yourself and it makes me so fucking sad. Not to mention what it must be doing to him. Jesus Christ, do you really think you’ll be able to work together now you’ve been knotted but not had the bite? It’s not fair, Ollie, not fair to either of you. Just pull your head out your arse and see this for what it is. He’s your mate. Let yourself be happy.”

Matteus was huffing by the time he finished ranting, and Oliver had to hold the phone away from his ear. He could hear Julian trying to soothe him with quiet words of reassurance.

“I know,” Oliver eventually said, gaze dropping to his feet. “You’re right. Perhaps I should just let him go. See the rest of this through by myself. I don’t want it to turn into another Patrick situation.”

“Fuck Patrick!” Matteus yelled. “Fuck that fucking cunt. He’s the one that made you like this. He’s the one that put you in the hospital for months on end. He’s the one that shattered your confidence. You were never like this before him, and I’ll be damned if you have to be the one who suffers for that disgusting piece of shit.”

Oliver decided it was probably a bad time to tell Matteus that Patrick was actually Alfie’s new social worker. So, letting out a long breath he said, “Matty, it’s okay. Just calm down. Stress isn’t good for the baby.”

“Stress? Stress! You’re making me fucking stressed, pal.”

“I’m sorry, Matty. I’m sorry, I’m just going to go now.”

“N-No, Ollie. Wait. I’m sorry. Please, just… don’t leave it like this. I’m a dick. These pregnancy hormones make me a dick.”

“Have you told the Inspector?”

“No. I’m waiting until after the twelve week scan.”

“Twelve weeks? Shit, that’s ages away.”

“I know but that’s my choice. Just… don’t you dare push Lucas away. Promise me?”

“I can’t promise anything.”

“Then promise you won’t make any rash decisions. Talk to me first, okay? I might not know him that well, but he seems like a good man.”

“He is.”

“I’m so relieved to hear you say that, Ollie.”

“Can I trust you not to kill our colleagues in a lemon drizzle induced rage?”

“More like an idiot-brother induced rage. But no, I’ll be fine. Julie’s taking me out for lunch.”

Oliver hummed, “Nice. Anyway, I’m going now. Can you tell mum that I’m not dead and I’ll contact her when I get a new phone?”

“Sure. Love you.”

And Oliver’s chest ached, because they hadn’t said to one another in years. “Love you,” he replied, a smile softening his lips. “You too, Julian. I guess.”

“Yes, Ollie. Love you too,” Julian chuckled, before hanging up.

Pressing his face into his hands, he collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs. Shit , he’d never heard his brother sound so angry. Perhaps it was just the heat, but he wanted to cry as his eyes welled up and his lip quivered. What a confusing thing his body was. Though, he found he didn’t hate it as much just recently.

“Is carrying shopping bags an Olympic sport or something?” Oliver said, sliding two massive sacks of groceries off Lucas’ shoulder.

“I didn’t see the point of doing two trips,” he replied, heaving the rest onto the kitchen table.

Oliver frowned, turning on the kettle. “I would have come down and helped you.”

“Says the man who never asks for help himself.”

Lucas had him there.

Grumbling, Oliver unpacked the bags—amazed at the sheer variety of fruit and vegetables. Usually, he’d have made do with takeout or a ramen bowl, but the selection before him was on another level. “Are you planning on opening a farmer’s market out of my flat or something?” He said, putting away a root vegetable that he couldn’t even name.

Lucas sucked his teeth as he poured two cups of tea. “No. But you’re going to eat healthier, at least whilst I’m here.”

Oliver had the fleeting urge to tell Lucas to stick his vegetables where the sun didn’t shine, before thinking better of it. “You sound just like Matteus,” he said, scowling at a punnet of strawberries. “He texted you, by the way. I called him off your phone. Hope that’s okay?”

“Of course,” Lucas replied, straining the tea and wiping down the countertop. “I saw him when I stopped by the station. He was in the car park, angrily throwing some lemon drizzle around. There are two slices in that box over there.” He pointed to a plastic container on the edge of the table.

Once everything was away, Lucas leant against the fridge and clutched a mug between his hands. “I met Julian.”

Oliver’s eyebrows shot up as he reached for his own cup. “Oh yeah? How did that go?”

Grinning, the alpha looked at him over the rim of his cup. It was only then that Oliver realised he had a mug with the words ‘I LOVE TITS’ printed across it, with a photograph of two speckled blue tits. “I don’t think he knew what to make of me. There was a fair amount of posturing which caught me off guard.”

“What a cock,” Oliver replied, shaking his head. “But his heart’s in the right place. He’s just protective after… everything. And he had his pregnant mate with him, so it was probably to be expected.”

Nodding, Lucas gently placed his mug down. “Reed,” he said, stepping forward to grasp Oliver’s elbow.

“Y-Yeah?”

“I want you to know that I would never knowingly hurt you. And if you ever want to talk about what happened, I will listen without judgement.” The softness in the alpha’s gaze made Oliver’s chest ache. His hazel eyes had shed their playful edge and in its place was something else. Something intimate, something like longing, something that looked remarkably like a four letter word Oliver didn’t want to think about.

‘ Don’t you dare push him away.’

Oliver’s eyes flitted back and forth between the door and Lucas. He wanted to dart out the kitchen, lock himself in his bedroom and bury his head under the blankets. It’s what he was used to—how he coped. But as his eyes drifted back to the alpha, he thought for one fleeting moment that he might share it with him. He was already sharing his body, after all, so after a moment of indecision he looked up at Lucas with a resolute expression.

“I’ll tell you. But it’s not a pleasant story.”

“Okay,” Lucas whispered, taking hold of his hands. “But only if you’re comfortable.”

And that brought forth a bitter laugh that had long been coiled in the back of Oliver’s throat. Because he would never be comfortable talking about it. To anyone.

“I was, um—” he began, eyes downcast, as he shuffled from one foot to the other. “I was twenty-one. He was twenty-nine. We met at a rock tribute concert of all the fucking places. I have no idea why I was there, it’s not even my style?—”

Lucas nodded, rubbing little circles across the backs of his hands.

“We were… in a relationship for two years. Or at least I thought it was a relationship. I only go through heat once a year, and he worked away a lot, but looking back, I was just horribly fucking na?ve. Anyway, he came back from a long-distance trip when my second heat came around. We went through the motions, said all the things and I thought… this is it . This is who I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with.”

His breaths grew shallow as he struggled to stop the words from shaking. Partially from sadness, but mostly from the repressed anger he still held within his belly. Lucas said nothing, but his steady breathing was enough of a comfort.

“But after the heat was over, I became horribly unwell. I was so unwell, in fact, that I was in the intensive care unit for two months. It turned out that I had an extremely rare case of blood poisoning. I was… hallucinating for most of it. The infection made me so ill that I couldn’t eat or drink or walk.”

He shivered as he thought back to that time. How Matteus and Julian had sat at his bedside for days on end, talking to him through the fog of confusion. How his mum and dad had held his hands and cried. He didn’t understand why they were upset, and didn’t even know who they were at one point. But their faces haunted him every night before he fell asleep. They thought they were losing him, and he’d never forgive Patrick for that.

“But how the hell did I end up with blood poisoning, you might be wondering? I didn’t drink back then, never touched drugs—so what the fuck happened? Well, it turned out that he had been heat hopping around different omegas, and when he came home to me he didn’t clean himself properly.” His nose wrinkled as he tried not to fall into his usual pit of disgust. “So all that bacteria ended up inside me. It got into my womb and then infected my blood.”

“Oliver…” Lucas began, pulling him against his body.

“There’s more,” he continued, because why stop now? He was infinitely grateful for the alpha’s arms keeping him upright. “Whilst in the hospital, I found out that I had fallen… pregnant… during that last heat cycle. If you can fucking believe such a thing. Well, needless to say, I lost the pregnancy.”

Except he hadn’t just lost the pregnancy. He’d discovered then why the conception to birth rate in sigma’s was so low. The doctor had tried to explain that he’d suffered a blighted ovum, but Oliver didn’t want to listen at the time. Only following a routine doctor's appointment months later, he discovered that his body had actually absorbed the fertilised egg, and the miscarriage had been triggered when his body, in its attempt to conserve its energy, had shed the unused uterine lining. The sweet, albeit bumbling, doctor had explained that whilst it could happen to all secondary sexes; the risk was far, far higher in sigmas. Ninety five percent higher.

However, the doctor also explained that chromosomal issues could have caused it because of incompatible mates—which Oliver found to be an infinitely more appealing explanation.

Breathing in, he closed his eyes, because that wasn’t even the whole of it. There had been a lot more horrible words and misdeeds that were solely between him and Patrick Coletta. Oliver could have told Lucas the rest, but given that there was every possibility they could meet, he couldn’t risk him knowing it all.

He could never truly mourn the loss of the pregnancy because it happened whilst he was out of it. It felt totally abstract, just a HCG reading on a sheet of paper that showed he had been 6-8 weeks along. The doctor had apologised, saying things like “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr Reed” and “It will hurt less with time.”

It was like his brain was keeping the memory at a careful distance, so as not to trigger the deep-buried trauma. However, he grieved for what was likely his one and only chance of ever having a biological child. And that was unforgivable. Patrick had destroyed him, and he thanked God, or Buddha, or Allah every fucking day that he had Matteus, Julian and his parents to build him back up.

He didn’t cry, as one might expect. He’d shed enough tears for that time in his life. So when he looked up, he did not expect to find the alpha crying silent tears of his own.

“Oh. Oh shit, don’t cry. Please don’t cry,” he said, cupping Lucas’ face. The alpha gently took hold of his hands, kissing his palms with so much affection that Oliver had to look away. “I didn’t tell you for sympathy. Or because I want your pity. I told you so you can understand what I meant in the car… when I said I was scared. Fuck , I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Lucas pulled him into his arms, pressing his face into his hair. “I want you to understand what I meant in the car, too.”

Oliver sighed, relieved that the alpha hadn’t pushed him away. “Which part?”

“I will love you. If you’ll let me.”

Oliver’s eyes squeezed shut as he clung to the alpha. “You could have anyone.”

“So could you.”

Oliver scoffed and cocked a brow. “Have you met me?”

Nodding, Lucas swiped away a tear that slid down his cheek. Shit, he looked so beautifully tragic when he cried. “I have,” he said, clearing his throat. “And the more I see, the more I want.”

Oliver let out a long breath, as if someone had pushed all the air out of his lungs. “I want to feel the same,” he whispered. “Fuck, I want to. But, my version of love has been twisted into a bitter and spiteful thing. You deserve better than that.”

Lucas drew their faces level. “Oliver, stop telling me what I do and don’t deserve. Do you think I’m some kind of saint?”

Oliver chuckled, rubbing his face across Lucas’ sternum. “I knew you weren’t a saint when you told the staff at Bella Italia I had a wasting condition, just to get a table. Where’s your honesty and integrity now, Sergeant ?”

Lucas’ mouth hung open for a moment. “Reed, I would never have said that if I’d known.”

“I know,” he replied, grinning as he slapped the alpha’s arm. “If anything, it was a stunning display of foresight. Or was it hindsight? Either way, you should know that I’m perfectly healthy now.” Except for the lingering daily dose of self-hatred he shared with his cereal each morning. “And don’t be offended if I get some swabs done when this is over.”

Lucas nodded. “I understand.”

As if on cue, Oliver’s stomach rumbled. “I’ll do you a deal. I’ll stop bossing you around if you make us something to eat out of all this food.”

“But what if I like your bossiness?”

Oliver smirked and wriggled out of Lucas’ grip. Sauntering towards the door, he looked over his shoulder. “Then I’ll just have to make up for it later.”

When the next heatwave came, things were been different. The previous urgency and hunger had melted away into something… sensual. The sex became more than a frenzied pounding of flesh on flesh—there was touching, a lot of kissing, and an endless string of intimate words whispered against one another’s skin. They barely moved, instead letting their bodies melt together in a way that made it hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

“Did the family chef teach you to cook?” Oliver asked, running his hands through Lucas’ hair as they lay tired and satiated in one another’s arms.

The alpha chuckled. “My pai, actually. You should try his feijoada. It’s like something from the Heavens.”

“Is that the dish with offal? Because don’t forget I’m English born and bred. My palate doesn’t extend much beyond beige.”

Lucas nipped his neck. “Oh, I don’t know, Reed. You handled that tasting menu pretty well.”

“Yeah, right up until a hormonal tsunami almost ended me. I still blame you for that, by the way.”

“And I will gladly take the blame.”

Tutting, Oliver kicked Lucas on the arse cheek with his heel. “I’m meant to be coordinating the victim interviews, but the only thing I’ve coordinated this week is my fucking hormones. And badly, I might add.”

Lucas let out a low hum, as though acknowledging their shocking lack of police work. “We could catch up on some interviews. I have the disks in my briefcase.”

“Don’t people usually watch shitty rom-coms during estrus? Not interviews with sex-offenders and abused children.”

“Are you saying I’m a bad date, Reed?”

“I mean… we could totally do that, in-between all the sex.”

“How about in-between sex and feijoada?”

Oliver sipped from a glass of apple juice, the laptop buzzing to life as he snapped Helena Cartwright’s second interview into the disk reader. Why the hell West Newton Constabulary hadn’t upgraded to a digital system was anyone’s guess. The screen flashed black, then white, then back to black, before the familiar sight of the interview suite flickered into view.

“Right, Helena. Take a seat,” Nancy said from somewhere off screen.

“Thanks,” Helena replied, sinking into one of the over-comfortable tan sofas. Oliver was relieved to see that she donned her usual ripped jeans and oversized t-shirt combo. That, at least, had returned to normal.

“Would you like a drink, H?” Nancy asked, running through all the usual rapport building questions.

“No thanks,” Helena replied, her hands twisting nervously in her lap.

“Patrick?” The beta turned to someone still off-screen.

“Sure, thanks, Nance,” a man with a Northern Irish accent replied.

Oliver gasped as he slammed the laptop shut, his heart practically leaping out of his chest. Shit. Holy fucking shit. He’d known it was coming, but hearing him again caught Oliver completely off guard. His leg twitched, fingers digging into the table as he stared at the closed laptop. “Fuck,” he whispered, rubbing his temples.

They hadn’t seen one another since Julian ran him out of town six years prior. Patrick played the victim right until the very end, swearing blind that he had no idea what the doctors were talking about.

Despite the blood thumping in his head, Oliver opened the laptop and continued with the video—if not for himself, then for Helena and all the other children who had been made victims. Sheepishly, he pressed play and watched as the tall, auburn-haired alpha—now in his mid thirties—stepped into view. He still wore the same linen shirt and blue slacks combination that Oliver remembered. Even when he’d been a trainee social worker, he’d worn something similar. He was just as tall as Lucas, but leaner and nowhere near as broad.

“You doing okay, H?” He said, giving the girl an easy smile. The same one that had sucked Oliver in all those years ago. He wanted to say that he felt nothing as he stared at Patrick on the screen. Wanted to say that he was over everything that had happened. But something about the long-buried familiarity of his movements, his mannerisms, his speech brought back a flood of emotions that chased away his earlier contentment. Tension roiled in his gut, and he knew it was something he was going to have to face.

What annoyed Oliver the most was that Patrick was good . Really fucking good at being a social worker. Throughout all the interviews, he guided Helena and the others seamlessly through Nancy’s questions, offering just the right amount of support when they needed it. A far cry from Shirley fucking Spencer. He was good at his job, and it was like watching a double act as he and Nancy played off one another.

“How’s it going?” Lucas entered the kitchen, making Oliver jump.

“F-Fine,” he blurted out, as the alpha stood behind him.

Lucas’ chest rumbled as he rubbed the back of Oliver’s neck. “Is he the new social worker?” He pointed at the screen.

“Yeah.”

“He seems alright. Better than Shirley, at any rate.”

“That’s not exactly difficult.”

“I suppose not. Tea?”

“Yes please,” Oliver replied, trying his best to look normal as he smiled up at the alpha.

It didn’t work, because Lucas narrowed his eyes and pressed the back of his hand to Oliver’s forehead. “Everything okay?” He asked, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes.

“Uh-huh,” Oliver replied, turning his attention back to the screen. “Could I have a coffee, actually? Please.” The alpha’s expression softened as he nodded. As though fatigue might explain Oliver’s change in mood.

Suddenly, his work phone rang, an unfamiliar number popping up on the screen. “You don’t have to answer it,” Lucas said, pulling out two cups.

“It might be important,” Oliver replied, staring at the screen.

“It might. But it might not. Want me to answer it?”

“N-No, thanks. I can get it.”

And that, ladies and gentlemen, had been one of the worst mistakes he could have made.

“DC Reed?” A familiar Northern Irish accent said, making Oliver’s throat go dry.

“Yes,” he replied, trying not to look at Lucas.

“Ollie, is that you?”

“It is.”

“Hey Ollie. It’s Paddy.”