22. Left, Right Goodnight

TWENTY-TWO

LEFT, RIGHT GOODNIGHT

“Oh God, sorry Ollie, I’m so sorry to call you at this hour,” Pember slurred, and Oliver couldn’t tell if he was drunk, high or in a state of panic. Frowning, he kicked his legs around to detangle them from the sheets, before sitting on the edge of the bed. Lucas followed, propping his chin on his shoulder.

“Pember, it’s okay. Slow down.”

“Oh shit, Ollie. I think—I think I’ve been spiked. I can’t—my head it?—”

Oliver’s stomach dropped. “Where are you? Are you safe?” He clutched the phone to his ear, there was music and loud chatter in the background.

“Y-Yeah, I’m at the Octane Club in Enfield. I locked myself in a cubicle, in the omega bathroom—told him I didn’t feel well. Oh God , Ollie, he just wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Oliver let out a relieved sigh and rose to his feet. Glancing behind, he saw Lucas slip from the bed, already pulling on his clothes. “Okay Pem, that’s good,” he said, trying to keep his tone even and calm. “Just keep yourself locked in. We’ll come and get you. Are you certain you were spiked?”

Pember took a breath, then, “N-No but… my head. I was with that social worker guy from the police station, the one I told you about. I shouldn’t—I didn’t—I just got so sick of my mum pressuring me, so I called him. We had dinner, then my head went all fuzzy and suddenly I was at the club. I’ve never even been to a nightclub before, Ollie. It’s so loud, I don’t know who these people are!”

Rage coated Oliver’s veins, the kind of cold, hard anger that could turn dangerous if left unchecked. Lucas must have sensed it, because he was at his back in an instant.

“R-Right, stay on the phone.” The words shook as they left Oliver’s mouth. “We’re on our way.”

“I can’t stay on the phone, Ollie. I’ve only got four percent battery.”

“Well then, keep the fucking door locked, Pem. Don’t move until we get there.” His tone was far sharper than it should have been. Not because of the omega, but because, of course , it had to be Patrick fucking Coletta.

Hanging up, he frantically tried to locate his discarded clothes. Somehow, the top was hooked over the curtain pole, his shoes were in the bathroom, and he located the jogging bottoms behind the TV unit. Pulling them on, he winced, realising the bottoms were still damp with slick.

“Here,” Lucas said, pulling a pair of his own trousers from the wardrobe.

Oliver tugged them on, only for them to fall down immediately. “Belt?” Unfortunately, the belt didn’t help either.

“We’re stopping at the flat,” Lucas said, plucking the room key up from the desk.

Oliver let out a sharp breath. “We don’t have time, Lucas! I’ll just go in these.”

Lucas frowned and strode over to him, reaching out to splay a hand against the wall. “If you think you’re going anywhere near a night club smelling like that, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Oliver scoffed and almost stamped his foot. “But, Pember?—”

“We’ll get to Pember. But it’s my job to look after you ,” he growled, dropping his head so their eyes were level. “Are we clear?”

And there it was. The difference between having the bite and not. The alpha predator circling and snarling with the feral instinct to protect what was his. Oliver let out a sharp breath before nodding, because as much as he hated to admit it, Lucas was right. The Octane Club was a proverbial den of iniquity, and he’d lost count of the number of sexual assault cases he’d been deployed to during his days in uniform.

“Good,” Lucas replied, pressing a hard kiss to his mouth. “Let’s go.”

“You heard him, right? The guy Pember’s with.”

Lucas grimaced. “Our good friend, Mr Coletta.”

They had no choice but to catch a hotel taxi back to Oliver’s apartment—given that the BMW was still parked at the police station. He baulked when the driver told him the four and half minute drive cost ￡25. “Should I wait?” The driver said, rolling down the window as they stepped out of the car.

“Absolutely fucking not,” Oliver replied, paying the fare and slamming the door shut. “Bloody daylight robbery.”

Racing up to the apartment, he flung the dirty clothes into the wash basket and pulled on a fresh shirt and trousers. “Ready?” Lucas said, hanging in the doorway as he looped the keys to the Yellow Peril around his forefinger.

“Yeah,” Oliver replied, snatching the keys from his grasp. “I’m driving. After last time, I don’t trust you with YP’s safety. You know—after you crashed her into a grass verge and took home half the fucking countryside inside the front grill?”

Lucas chuckled, dropped a coat over Oliver’s shoulders, and followed him out of the apartment.

“I can assure you, Reed, she was quite satisfied with my after-care. Pineapple air freshener included.”

Smirking, Oliver locked the front door and hurried down the stairs to the underground car park. “I don’t doubt it,” he replied, glancing back at Lucas. “But I’m not sure she’ll ever drive straight again after your heavy-handed touch. You’ve got to treat her like a lady.”

Lucas grinned as they strode towards the sunset yellow Citroen. “Oh? And what about her owner? Should I treat him like a lady, too?”

Oliver let out a contemplative hum. “Luckily for you,” he said, patting the alpha’s chest. “Her owner doesn’t mind a bit of rough or tumble.” He shoved Lucas against the passenger door just to prove his point. A playful smile spread across the alpha’s face as he pulled it open.

Sliding into the Yellow Peril, Oliver had to admit that she looked—and smelled—absolutely fucking fabulous. Her seats were clean, the dashboard dust-free and the centre console clear of its usual sweet wrappers.

“Wow,” he said, turning the key and starting the engine. “I think you’d make better money valeting cars.”

Music boomed through the streets of High Enfield, the night time economy well and truly in full swing. Parking, however, was proving to be an issue.

“Jesus Christ,” Oliver said, narrowly avoiding a heavily intoxicated male that staggered in front of the car. “It’s like the land of the living dead out here.”

“High Enfield’s a university town, correct?” Lucas said, as a swathe of brightly coloured miniskirts passed by the car.

Oliver nodded. “Yeah. There’s an agricultural college on the outskirts of town. Young farmers are hands down, the worst on a night out. All they wanna do is consume their weight in cider, fuck and fight. Which would be fine if they didn’t fill up our sodding custody block every Friday night.”

Lucas hummed. “At least they aren’t trying to shoot or stab each other. Last year we had nearly fifteen thousand stabbings in my borough alone. There’s a space there.”

“Fifteen thousand?” Oliver gasped, undercutting a taxi to swing into a vacant parking bay. “Sorry,” he mouthed, holding up a hand to the driver. “Jesus Christ, London sounds like the Wild fucking West.”

“You’re not wrong.”

Thankfully, the parking space was just around the corner from the club, and Oliver could already sense Lucas’ unease. No doubt, the Local Authority would have already suspended Patrick, and he might have even lost his job because of Oliver’s report. But he knew all too well that the alpha—or any alpha for that matter—could be unpredictable when cornered.

Pulling out his phone, he sent a text to Pember. ‘We’re here. Just a few more minutes. Are you okay?’

Within seconds, there was a message back. ‘I’m okay.’

As though sensing Oliver’s own roiling anxiety, Lucas folded a hand around his, entwining their fingers as they walked up the busy high street of High Enfield.

“Alright?” Lucas asked, turning his body as a group of merry-makers passed by.

“Yeah,” Oliver replied, catching their reflection in a nearby shop window.

They looked damned good together, he couldn’t deny that. Lucas, the imposing, dark-skinned, black-haired alpha of most people’s wet dreams. Oliver, his pale featured, sharp-eyed counterpart.

“I just want to get in, grab Pember, and get out. Patrick, he—if he sees us, he’ll say something. Or try to provoke us. Well, just me, probably. Just don’t lose your head, Lucas.”

The alpha huffed as he raised the back of Oliver’s hand to his lips. “I won’t. So long as he doesn’t try anything with you.”

Oliver barked out a laugh. “If he tries, I’ll boot his knot into next millennia. But if he’s hurt Pember?—”

“Then he’ll feel the full weight of the law crashing down around him,” Lucas replied, squeezing his hand.

Oliver smirked and glanced up at the alpha. “The full weight of the law, huh? I’ll have to start calling you Inspector fucking Morse with lines like that. There it is,” he said, pointing towards The Octane Club. “Just in case the strobe lights and loitering perverts didn’t give it away.”

And he had to admit that he missed driving around High Enfield on a night shift, bundling drunks into taxis and getting into scraps with teenagers that had had one too many bevvies. He loved the Child Protection Unit, but it just wasn’t the same adrenaline rush as trying to subdue a full on pub brawl in the middle of the street.

“PC Reed!” the enormous alpha doorman called out, uncrossing his arms as they approached the main entrance. There was a huge ‘No Shifting Permitted’ sign just to the left of the double doors.

“Evening Nicholas, long time no see,” Oliver replied as they fist bumped. “And it’s—er—it’s DC Reed now.”

Nicholas grinned, his huge fangs even larger than Lucas’. “Is it now, you fancy fucker? Hung up your blacks for a trench coat and winklepickers, have you?” Then Nicholas’ gaze drifted down to his and Lucas’ entwined fingers.

“Something like that,” Oliver replied, shifting uncomfortably under the other alpha’s appraisal.

Grinning, Nicholas leant forward and pressed his fanged mouth close to Lucas’ ear. “You’ve got your hands full with that one, pal,” He whispered, but loud enough so Oliver could hear. “I once saw him punch a guy so hard, he threw up his doner kebab.”

Lucas only smirked and tipped his head, as though silently saying, ‘Yes I could believe that, actually.’

Oliver tutted. “No, Nick. That was you. I caught the sick—all over my boots.”

“Was it? But you arrested that guy dressed as Queen Vic, right?”

“Yes. Look, as much as we’d love to stay and chit chat we’ve got business inside. Can you let us in?”

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. “Business? What kind of business? Police-y business?”

Oliver huffed impatiently. “Our friend requires some assistance. We won’t be long.” Nicolas nodded and unclipped the velvet rope, which almost made Oliver laugh because The Octane Club had no business thinking it was that fancy.

“What do they look like? I’ll put a call out on the radio.”

Oliver shook his head. “It’s okay. He’s holed up in the omega bathroom. We’re just getting him and getting out.”

Nicholas nodded. “Up the stairs, across the balcony, past the disco ball and—well, you don’t need me to tell you. Shout if you need help, but judging by the size of your side piece, you should be fine.”

Letting out a mischievous snicker, Oliver glanced up at Lucas. Side piece… he was more of a front, back, underneath, and on top piece.

“Thank you,” Lucas said, patting Nicholas’ shoulder as they walked into the club.

“Oh, Ollie?” The alpha called after them. “Your brother single yet?”

Oliver frowned over his shoulder. “He’s been happily married for eight years. Time to give it up,” he called back, the words barely audible over the boom of the music. Shrugging, Nicolas adjusted his earpiece and turned back towards the street.

Alphas and omegas grinding against one another on the dance floor did not make for a safe environment at the best of times. Add alcohol, hormones, and inexperienced university students to the raging cocktail of debauchery, and a police officer could easily find themselves over-run with sexual assault cases. He’d rescued more na?ve omegas from over-eager alphas, than he could keep track of, Pember was now another one.

Patrick though… the Octane Club seemed low, even for him.

Bodies moved around them, the stench of sweat and sex so cloying that it made Oliver’s eyes water. Lucas tensed at his side like a coiled spring, and Oliver wasn’t sure if that made him more or less anxious. He did not want to be letting Lucas out of a custody cell in the morning, so taking a deep breath he tried to send reassurance across their bond. ‘I’m here… Safe… Together… Mate.’ It must have worked, because Lucas squeezed his hand and visibly relaxed.

Glancing over the balcony, his gaze drifted to the dance floor below with its flashing purple and white tiles. The sheer number of people packed into one space was overwhelming, and Oliver thanked God that the omega bathroom was on the second floor.

“There,” Lucas growled, angling his chin towards a tall figure leaning against the wall at the far end of the walkway.

Wrinkling his nose, Oliver grabbed both of Lucas’ hands and pulled him down to eye level. “Keep your head,” he said, leaning forward to nip the alpha’s bottom lip. “Or I’ll thrash you from here to next Tuesday.”

Lucas smirked, planting his mouth just under Oliver’s left ear. “You’re lucky the rutt is wearing off, Reed.”

Oliver sucked in a breath. “Rescuing friends first. Post-rutt fuckery later,” he said, giving the alpha a stern look. “Keep an eye on dipshit over there. I’ll get Pember.”

“Yes boss,” Lucas replied, levelling his eyes at the still-unaware Patrick. With that, Oliver turned on his heel and strode towards the door.

Patrick was sweating, his cheeks unnaturally flushed whilst the rest of him remained a pale, sallow colour. Biting his nails, he spat out the shards with unnecessary agitation, as his jaw set into a tense, corded line. He was high as a kite. Cocaine probably, given the way his tongue licked his teeth over and over again.

As soon as Oliver got within reaching distance, the alpha’s head jerked up. Oliver carried on walking, not meeting his gaze or stopping to look back at Lucas.

“Well, if it isn’t?—”

“Fuck off,” Oliver barked, pushing through the door and into the safety of the protected bathroom. The security guard immediately tensed, squaring his shoulders as his head swivelled to Oliver. Then he relaxed.

“Oh, PC Reed, it’s you,” he said, settling himself back against the wall.

Oliver did a shoulder check before sighing and turning back to the security guard. “Evening Will. Busy night?”

“Like you wouldn’t fucking believe,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his cropped beard. “Wow, when’s the last time you were out and about? Gotta be… four, maybe five years?”

“Probably,” Oliver replied, reaching to push open the bathroom door.

“Wait,” Will said, mousey brown hair falling across his forehead. “You can’t go in there. It’s omega’s only.”

Oliver nodded and stepped back. “I know. I’m here to help a friend.”

Recognition dawned on the beta’s face. “Ah, is it that pretty lad with the dark brown hair?” There were, of course, plenty of pretty omega’s with dark brown hair, but Oliver didn’t have the time or the patience to argue specifics.

“That’s the one.”

Nicholas sucked his teeth and straightened his black tie. “Yeah… he didn’t look so good. I tried to help him, but he said someone was coming to get him. Is that ginger prick still hanging around outside?”

“Yes. Unfortunately.”

Will shook his head. “ Motherfucker, I must have told him to move away at least five times.”

Oliver frowned. “Just kick him out. If you’ve asked him to move and he refuses?—”

“I know, that’s what I said. But Nick said he’s running with the Eastern Europeans. The Boss gets real fucking tetchy if we mess with his Polish pals. Shit just slides right off ‘em.”

Oliver raised a brow. “Polish pals?”

“Mhm.”

“Ollie?” a small voice called from inside the bathroom. “Is that you?”

Will let out a breath and nodded towards the door. “Just keep your mouth shut,” he said, letting Oliver duck under his arm as he held it open. “Don’t know when you got those fangs, but please don’t send the omegas into a fucking frenzy.”

A fucking frenzy, or a ‘fucking frenzy’? Knowing the young farmers, one could be as likely as the other.

The flowery, sweet scent of the gathered omegas sent a bolt of interest straight to his cock—not his fault, simple biology. Ignoring it, he walked down the line of stalls until Pember popped his head out of the end cubicle. Relief instantly spread across the lad’s face as he wiped away a tear that clung to his cheek.

“Ollie,” he said, legs trembling as he fell into his arms.

“It’s okay, Pem. We’re here,” he said, patting the omega’s back. “Did he hurt you?”

Pember rubbed his face against Oliver’s chest—an overfamiliar gesture, but one he couldn’t entirely blame him for given the circumstances. “N-No. I just had this really bad feeling when I was around him. We didn’t even make it to the main course, and I wanted to leave.”

Oliver nodded. “How did you end up here, of all places?”

“I-I don’t really know. I just remember feeling really dizzy and getting into a car.”

“I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Pember’s head shot up, his eyes going wide. “N-No, Ollie! Please don’t. I don’t want my mum finding out about this. Please, I couldn’t take it!”

Oliver let out a breath as he rubbed Pember’s back. “Your mum’s got a lot to answer for, you know? You shouldn’t feel like this is your only choice. You’re an intelligent guy, Pem. Don’t let arseholes like him ruin your life.”

Pember groaned, pressed his face into Oliver’s chest, drawing the attention of the other omegas who were fixing their hair at the sinks. “I know, I know. I’ve decided after today I’m moving out.”

And shit , how Oliver’s heart ached. Pember was the same age he had been when he met Patrick. How he wished he’d have had Pember’s instincts back then. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

“Okay,” he sniffled. “But please don’t take me home. Anywhere but there.”

Sighing, Oliver hooked a hand under Pember’s arm and led him out the bathroom. “I have a sofa you can crash on. It’s not very comfortable, but it’ll do until morning.”

“T-Thank you Ollie. Is your mate here too?”

“Yeah. Lucas. He’s outside.”

As they slipped out the door, Oliver thought for one horribly disorientating moment that Lucas and Patrick had disappeared. However, as his eyes flitted around the balcony, he spotted them close to the bar. They stood with their faces close together, Lucas’ hand clasped firmly around Patrick’s upper arm. Lucas loomed over him, despite being similar in height.

“Come on,” Oliver said, directing Pember towards the stairs.

Glancing back over his shoulder, he was relieved to see Lucas stalking towards them, and Patrick, it seemed, had the good sense to stay put. It stupidly gave him a small glimmer of hope that they might make it out unscathed. However, as they reached a cluster of sofas, a whoosh of air and a slap on his back sent him and Pember barrelling forwards. Pember landed in a heap on one of the chairs, as Oliver went flying into a group of betas gathered by the stairs.

“Watch it!” They barked, pushing him away. Snapping his head up, Oliver saw Lucas standing slightly off balance and Patrick with his hands raised. Patrick must have pushed Lucas. Arsehole . Oliver snarled, whipping around, ready to launch himself at the red-haired alpha, but Lucas caught his shoulder, yanking him back against his chest. Patrick’s lips twisted into a sneer as spittle flew from his mouth.

“How it must gall you, DS White,” he spat, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “To know I bred the bitch, whilst you fuck a barren womb.”

Lucas snarled, his eyes growing dark with hatred.

“Fuck you,” Oliver spat, shoving Lucas behind him. “Crawl back into whichever cesspit you emerged from.”

Patrick threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, I will. And I will sleep all the better knowing that I ruined you, Oliver Reed.”

Oliver’s mouth tugged into a spiteful grin. “Do I look ruined to you, Paddy ?” Venom dripped from his every word as Lucas gnashed and snarled at his back.

“You look desperate, Ollie. I give it a month before he tires of your bullshit. Maybe two, given that you’re a semi-decent lay.”

Oliver dropped his head and bared his teeth. “You bore me.”

With that, he turned, shoving Lucas in the chest before he did anything he’d regret. That was when a glass smashed at his feet, and he suddenly realised something had hit him on the back of the head. Lucas lurched forward, cradling him against his chest as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“It’s not bleeding,” Oliver said, twisting his head back to look at the still sneering Patrick.

“No,” Lucas hissed, “But he’s about to be.” Then Lucas stepped forward and delivered one short, sharp jab to Patrick’s nose, popping it in a spray of blood. The alpha reeled backwards, clutching his face as blood poured over his lips. Then, all hell broke loose as Patrick threw himself towards Lucas in a flurry of fists. Lucas side-stepped as the ex-social worker lost his balance and tumbled forward into a table full of drinks.

Unfortunately for Patrick, it was a table of half-cut males and they looked incredibly pissed off at having their drinks tipped all over them. Patrick yelled and threw himself forward again, making a bee-line for Oliver. Oliver tutted and stuck out his foot, sending him flying into the wall.

“Shit,” Oliver hissed, realising the drunk males were rounding on Lucas in the absence of Patrick. Then there really was a brawl, as several of the males shifted—despite the signs—and those that didn’t shift were so drunk they had no idea who they were attacking. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for other members of the public to get caught in the cross-fire.

Oliver pushed through the onslaught, ducking and dodging as fists flew towards his head. Suddenly, he felt something clamp around his shoulder, only to realise that Patrick had shifted, his fur the colour of brick dust. The alpha was on Oliver’s back, jaws gnashing as they tried to rip at his flesh. Fortunately, Oliver was faster and in the blink of an eye, he twisted around and rammed his fingers into the soft spot just behind the alpha’s ear.

He reeled back, arms and legs spasming as he was forced to shift back. The reprieve was short-lived, as a—very naked—Patrick drew back his fist with a feral expression, making him look half-mad.

So, Oliver did the only thing his brain could fathom in the split second he had to react. He brought his knee up and smashed it into Patrick’s groin with a sickening thud. The alpha howled, face twisted with pain as he stumbled backwards into a wiry man with thin features and narrow eyes. He caught Patrick’s arm, flicking his head toward the nearby exit.

Oliver snarled, teeth bared as he ran towards Patrick again. His eyes momentarily focused on the other man’s leather jacket and low-rise jeans, gaze falling on the purple waistband of his boxers. He halted mid-sprint as he saw there, slightly to the left, was a little pink jellyfish.

Eyes widening, Oliver lunged forward again, shoving Patrick aside as he grabbed for the man’s arm. They locked eyes for the briefest of moments, and Oliver knew he was looking at the man that abused Alfie. But then the air shifted, and he heard Lucas growling as a chair clattered against the wall. So, dropping his head, he leant forward and gave the man a cold, hard glare before turning back to rescue his mate.

I’m coming for you.

The three of them sat on the curb, soaking wet and pissed off. Lucas had a bloody nose, again , Oliver had bloodier knuckles, and Pember just looked ill. During the frenzy, someone had punched the fire alarm and set off the sprinklers, which stopped the fighting—albeit too well—as the entire club poured out onto the street.

Oliver glanced up at the CCTV camera overlooking the front entrance, and then at another pointing towards the car park. If his memory served, The Octane Club had cameras all over the place and he’d be able to track Patrick and the jellyfish man as they left. Even better if they fled in a car.

Then a horrible realisation set in, of just how fucked up the whole situation was. Patrick had been—until recently—a social worker that covered many different parts of the UK. He worked for some of the most deprived local authorities across the country, and had access to some of the most damaged and abused children. The most broken of all the biscuits. And now it seemed he was friends with child abusers?

Oliver’s mind reeled as they walked back to the car, and he barely noticed as Pember stopped every few metres to vomit.

“Reed,” Lucas said, pointing at the omega as he hunched over a nearby bin. What should have been a five-minute walk turned into twenty, and Oliver used the time to tell the alpha everything.

“Does Patrick know you know about the jellyfish connection?” Lucas asked, guiding Pember by his skinny arm.

Oliver shook his head. “No. I told him Alfie hadn’t made any disclosures.” Thank Christ he’d been feeling spiteful enough to keep him in the dark.

“Good. That’s good,” Lucas said, rubbing the back of Oliver’s neck. “We need to be careful here, Reed. If they come to learn what we know?—”

“They could pack up shop and move on again.”

“Exactly. If we want that CCTV we’ll have to be discreet about it. In fact, I don’t think the boss will want us anywhere near it, to tell you the truth.”

Oliver nodded. “I know. I know.” Sighing, he turned to the still-vomiting Pember. “You okay, buddy?” Pember groaned in response. “You sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?”

“I’m sure,” he said, spitting out a glob of saliva before heaving again.

Oliver patted his back sympathetically. “Think you can make it to the car? Because I’m freezing my tits off out here.”

“Y-Yeah, but drive slowly. I don’t think my stomach can handle much more.”

Pulling a blanket out of the airing cupboard, Oliver threw it over the snoring omega on his sofa. He’d just about peeled him out of his vomit soaked clothing and helped him pull on some of Oliver’s old pyjamas. His breath was rank, and he had chunks of sick stuck in his hair, but that would have to be a problem for the morning.

Quietly closing the living room door, he sighed and padded to his bedroom. “What a day,” he muttered, tugging off his own clothes.

“Indeed,” Lucas said, returning from the shower and letting the towel drop from his waist. They stood together, dressed only in their underwear, gazing out the bedroom window.

“How the fuck did we get here?” Oliver said, wrapping his arms around the alpha’s waist. “A month and a half ago I was preparing for the trial of Clinton Greer, and now I have you standing in my bedroom, an ex that’s possibly a sex-trafficker and an omega that’s spewed up half his guts on my sofa.”

Lucas chuckled, resting his chin atop Oliver’s head. “A month and a half ago, my team and I were chasing Adrian Moore across Germany. If only I’d known I’d end up bumping into DC Oliver Reed when I returned.”

Oliver grinned. “You’d have stayed in Germany, right?”

When his question was met with silence, he realised the joke had fallen flat. He stared up at Lucas with an expectant expression. The alpha appeared calm as he gazed out the window, but the anxious vibration across their bond stated he was anything but.

“What’s wrong?” Oliver whispered, pushing his face up into his neck.

There was a pause, then Lucas held him tighter. “I…” the words trickled away.

Huffing, Oliver peeled his face away from the alpha’s throat and waited for him to continue. Lucas only sighed and pressed the tip of his nose into Oliver’s hair. “I just… I want you to know, Reed, that even if we never conceive a biological child, I would still choose you. Every time.”

Letting out a long breath, Oliver reached up to brush a tendril of hair behind the alpha’s ear. Lucas caught his hand, kissing his palm. It should have been a tender moment, but Oliver knew precisely what was fuelling Lucas’ uncertainty.

“He’s gotten in your head. Hasn’t he?”

Lucas sighed. “Yes.”

It was then Oliver realised that the alpha wasn’t as stoic as he first thought. Yes , he was quiet, yes ; he was strong, reliable, consistent—all the things Oliver lacked. But he was also stubborn and passionate… vulnerable . It had been that fiery stubbornness that brought him to West Newton in the first place, and the vulnerability that drew them together. Oliver knew then that he loved Lucas far more than he could ever comprehend.

“Tell me how to make it better,” he whispered, reaching up to cup the alpha’s face. “But be mindful that we have a very unwell omega in the next room.”

Lucas chuckled, brushing his fingers over Oliver’s ribs. He huffed out a breath and said, “There’s one thing, but you’ll find it terribly embarrassing.”

Wrinkling his nose, Oliver took a deep breath and said, “Tell me.”

Lucas sighed and pressed his mouth to Oliver’s forehead. “Could you… put on your white t-shirt. The one you sometimes wear to bed?”

Oliver narrowed his eyes. “It’s in the wash basket.”

“I know. Please?”

So he did, cringing slightly at the week old bodily smells that clung to the fabric.

“Lie down.”

Which, again, he did, eyes doe like as the alpha crawled up from the bottom of the bed. The shadows cast by his chest and shoulders completely eclipsed Oliver in the low light.

He hooked his fingers behind Oliver’s knees, pulling him beneath him until he was completely covered. Then he dropped his shoulders and pressed his head into the crook of Oliver’s neck, rubbing his face across his skin. He inhaled slowly, drawing in Oliver’s scent as though it were the best smell known to man. When he exhaled, his breath warmed Oliver's entire body in one hot flush. He continued to rub his face all over his throat and across his collar bones, raising his arms up so he could rub underneath them too.

There was not an inch of Oliver’s skin that Lucas didn’t scent mark, which was a slow and thorough process, and perhaps even more intimate than being knotted.

“It’s okay,” Oliver whispered, cheeks burning as Lucas worked his way beneath the white t-shirt. “I’m here,” he said, running his hands through the alpha’s hair.

Eventually Lucas stilled, his head still buried under Oliver’s shirt as he pressed his cheek against his stomach. “I love you,” Oliver whispered in the quiet darkness of his bedroom. But Lucas was already asleep.