3. Loft Extractions

THREE

LOFT EXTRACTIONS

The night was long and full of terrors. Well, full of hot sweats and uncomfortably realistic dreams, at least. It was 4:00am and the only two souls awake were Oliver, and a rather chatty pigeon that had taken up residence outside his bedroom window. He let out a long groan, scrubbing his hands over his face. The suppressants had finally kicked in during the early hours of the morning, the medication cooling the inferno in his gut to a dull ache.

However, all the suppressants in the world couldn’t numb the terrible anxiety the episode had caused. His body betrayed him, and that was terrifying.

Staring up at the ceiling, his eyes followed the swirling design of the plaster art. As much as he wanted to keep Helena Cartwright safe, another part of him hoped she would refuse to speak, and Lucas White could go back to catching drug smugglers far away from the sleepy town of West Newton.

The pipes clanged behind the wall as he turned on the shower for the second time that night. The cold water was no longer a relief to his burning skin, which was probably a good sign, as it meant his body temperature had returned to normal.

Sliding a fluffy robe over his shoulders, he padded to the kitchen. The halogen bulb flickered as he pressed the switch, the yellow light stinging his sleep deprived eyes. He felt like he’d been living in a cave for ten years, which was the usual conclusion to his annual heat cycle.

As he waited for his toast to pop up, he pulled out his laptop—which was a mistake because the first thing he saw was an email from Lucas. Slapping the lid back down, he decided instead to tidy the kitchen whilst waiting for the dark roast coffee to brew. The only upside of his hormone induced torture was that his apartment had never been cleaner.

Sitting back down with toast in hand, he let out a long breath. And then another. Just check the fucking email. With any luck, Lucas would be cancelling the meeting and pissing off back to the city.

Well, that in itself was wishful thinking because the email read:

DC Reed,

I shall meet you in the car park at 08:10hrs. Bring portable recording equipment.

Kind regards,

DS White

Metropolitan Police

Two sentences. That was all. The email had been sent at 3:10am. Was the alpha having trouble sleeping, too? Oliver—being a sterling detective—checked the shared messaging system to see when he had last been online. His eyes widened in horror when he saw a little green icon next to Lucas’ name. Then there was a little green icon next to his own name. Two little green icons amidst a sea of grey icons. Shitting fuck, he was an idiot.

A message suddenly pinged across his screen.

‘Read that paperwork yet?’

Oliver jumped up from the table, almost sending his coffee and toast flying into another dimension. He thought about shutting down the laptop and throwing it out the window, but Lucas would see that he had already read the message. Instead, he decided to act like a grown fucking adult, and replied to the message with all the sincerity it deserved.

‘No .’

And that was that. Feeling pleased with himself, he cracked his knuckles and prepared to shut down the computer.

‘I’ve just emailed it to you. Could you take a look with me?’

Cocks. Flying fucking cocks. Glancing at the time, he was very distressed to find that it was only 4:45am. He wished he’d stayed in bed and avoided the whole thing.

‘Sure.’ He typed back.

Nice one, buddy. Cool and collected. A long pause stretched between him and the screen, and he wondered if Lucas had given up and gone back to bed.

Then, ‘Thanks, could you have a look at page 6 and tell me what you think?’

Oliver let out a long sigh. Good. This was good. No calls, just messages. He could handle messages. Flicking to his emails, he opened the document. The first page read, ‘Restricted Access. Authorised Personnel Only.’ Well, he supposed that must have made him ‘authorised personnel’.

Scanning the first few pages, it seemed like a standard briefing document containing people and places he didn’t recognise. But then he got to page six and saw Helena Cartwright’s name. The entry read:

‘Helena Cartwright, 12, alpha female, found to be travelling with Adrian Moore in a blue Sandero, eastbound to Wicking. Police seized and itemised Cartwright’s attire and personal effects, which included: 1 pink Armani tracksuit, 1 smartphone, 1 silver Gucci handbag, 2 pink Dior pumps, and underwear. Cartwright did not appear to be in a state of distress but was evasive when speaking to officers.’

Oliver frowned and flicked back to the conversation with Lucas.

‘Helena’s a tomboy. Or she was when I saw her last year. She’d never have worn all that designer crap.’

Lucas began typing immediately.

‘Do you think she’s being groomed, or is it a case of her tastes changing?’

‘I’ll reserve judgement until I see her. And the male, what was he wearing?’

‘Page 8.’

Oliver scrolled to the page and read: Adrian Moore, 47, male alpha. Listed was an equally expensive array of clothing. Oliver began typing.

‘Weird that they’d be driving around in a Sandero—a mid-range family car. I’d have expected something flashier given what they were wearing.’

Lucas replied, ‘Sandero’s have a well-known glitch in their GPS software. If you hack the chip, you can trick the car into thinking it’s been somewhere else.’

Oliver frowned and typed out a response. ‘Was it a rental?’

‘No, it should have been in the showroom at the High Enfield dealership.’

Oliver hummed and took another sip of coffee. Everything clicked into place. ‘Is that why you were at the court? Were you applying for a search warrant?’

‘Yes.’

‘You didn’t look very happy about it.’

‘The judge was a cock.’

Oliver snorted into his cup, knowing exactly which judge Lucas was referring to.

‘You know they monitor our conversations, right?’’

‘My comment still stands.’

‘Did you get the warrant?’

‘Yes. Can I call you?’

Oh. Oh no, he wasn’t off the hook after all. He glanced at the clock again as a rush of warmth pulsated down his legs. It was only 5:28am, but he felt like he’d done a full day’s work already. Shaking his head, he took another sip of coffee. He’d have to face the alpha in a few hours, perhaps he could use the call as a little warmup.

‘Sure,’ he replied.

Within seconds, his work phone rang and—much like the toast—he nearly smacked it into another time zone. He stared at the number on the screen, working up the nerve to answer. Clearing his throat, he said, “Hello?”

“Reed.”

Oliver squeezed his eyes shut at the smooth way Lucas said his name, and how it seemed to reverberate through his very core. “White,” he replied, trying to sound confident and cool. Lucas chuckled across the line, and oh no , Oliver was hard again. He prayed the alpha couldn’t sense his arousal through the phone line.

“You sound tired,” Lucas said.

“I didn’t sleep well.”

“Neither did I.” There was a pause, then, “The beds here are terrible.”

Oliver covered his mouth, attempting to hide a smile the alpha would never see. “Where’re you staying?”

“The Cherry Tree.”

Oh, no. Oh no no no . The Cherry Tree was only a few minutes drive from Oliver’s apartment. He could probably see the top few floors from his bedroom window. “O-Oh, really? That’s unfortunate. Wait, the Met is paying for you to stay at a five star?”

Lucas hummed. “It seems so.”

Oliver pouted. “Jammy bastard. When I had a training course at Scotland Yard, they put me up in the police accommodation. I had to share a room with four soap-dodging uniform officers. Sorry, I mean, respectfully , sergeant. I’m sure you’re neither jammy nor a bastard.”

God he was a grade A twat.

Lucas coughed out a laugh, one that sounded genuinely amused. “Reed, come and have breakfast with me.”

Then Oliver coughed, almost choking on his coffee. “W-What? No…I mean, I can’t. I have…things I need to do this morning.”

He couldn’t tell whether the rebuttal offended Lucas, but he could hear a rough scratching sound—as though he were scrubbing his fingers across unshaven skin.

“Anyway,” Oliver continued. “I’ll see you at ten past eight in the car park.”

“Right.”

“Oh, and could you do me a favour? Could you wear something a little less fancy? I’ll explain when I see you.”

“Sure.”

“Cool. See you later.”

With that, Oliver hung up before his treacherous tongue could betray him in the same way his cock had. He threw his head back in frustration. Perhaps he should take the wolf out for another run—help clear his head of the stupid, gravelly, voice that had just spoken to him over the phone.

He flicked through the rest of the briefing document, familiarising himself with the relevant names and places. All he needed to focus on was keeping Helena Cartwright safe. The rest was for Lucas to manage. When he’d finished reading, it was already 7:00am.

Foregoing his usual suit and tie, he pulled on a pair of black jeans, brown ankle boots and a roll-neck jumper. He popped another suppressant before brushing his teeth and walking out the door.

By the time he reached the police station, he craved a cigarette so badly he almost stopped off at the newsagents to buy a ten pack of Benson and Hedges. Resisting, he opted instead to make a cup of black coffee and started preparing the portable recording equipment. Then decided the fish tank in the corner of the office looked fucking dire, so pulled out the water pump and started cleaning it. Just as he was elbow deep in green water, the rest of his colleagues arrived.

“Alright, mate? You’re here early,” Nancy said, resting her laptop bag on the desk. “And you’re… cleaning the fish tank?”

Irritation spiked through him. “Yes Nancy, is that so fucking unusual?”

Raising an eyebrow, she replied, “Ollie, you’ve never once cleaned the tank. In fact, I don’t think I’ve even seen you feed the fish.”

Oliver scowled. “Yeah, well. It’s only a matter of time before someone reports us to the wildlife officer. Look at the poor fuckers.”

Nancy frowned, red hair falling over her shoulder as she tipped her head. “Is something wrong, Ollie?”

Before he could answer, Matteus walked in, strawberry milkshake in hand. “Wow,” he said, eyebrows raised. “Miracles really do happen.”

“Oh, will you two piss off?”

Matteus gave him a knowing look as he put down the milkshake and sidled up next to him. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he said, “This phantom heat is really doing a number on you, huh? We’ve got some phantom nesting going on over here as well.”

“Matty, this isn’t… just go away.”

By the time eight o’clock rolled around, Oliver was so worked up that he had to splash some cold water across his face. Just get in, speak to Helena, get out . He chanted the phrase in his head as he packed up his laptop and went to grab the recording equipment.

“Ready?” Matteus said, standing in the doorway with a bag slung over his shoulder.

“What do you mean, ‘ ready ’? You’re not coming.”

“I know. But I’m helping you carry this equipment down to the car park, whether you like it or not.” An impish grin played on his brother’s lips as he began walking towards the double doors. “Hurry, dear. We don’t want to keep the sergeant waiting.”

Grumbling, Oliver tried to dislodge the bag from Matteus’ shoulder, but the omega held onto it with the strength of an ox. As they walked down the stairs and towards the car park, Matteus hummed and looked over his shoulder. “Call me if you need anything. I know I take the piss, but I’m here for you. Okay?”

“Yes. Thank you,” Oliver snapped, holding open the door.

As they rounded the corner to the staff bays, the roar of a six cylinder twin turbo was unmistakable. There sat Lucas White in the scuffed up British racing green BMW, his forearm resting across the open window, and a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose.

“Fuck,” Matteus muttered.

Oliver gave him a look that said ‘ do you see what I mean ?’

Matteus gave him a look back that said ‘I’ll see you in the afterlife, brother .’

Taking a deep breath, Oliver approached the window and bent down. Lucas slid the sunglasses to the end of his nose and stared up at him with the intensity of a predator. “Morning,” the alpha said, his voice like rolling thunder.

“Hi,” Oliver replied, keeping his tone even. “We don’t take personal cars to jobs.”

Lucas smirked, running the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip. “This is an unmarked vehicle. If you couldn’t tell by the piss-poor state of the bumper.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow. “You’re kidding, right?”

Lucas’ smirk grew even wider. “See for yourself.”

Frowning, Oliver sidestepped around the car and peered at the front grill. Sure enough, he spotted hidden blue lights peeking between the carbon fronds. “Just how big is the Met’s budget?” He asked, though it was a small comfort that even his city-bound colleagues took no pride in the up keep of their job-cars.

Shuffling back round to the window, Lucas looked as though he were about to answer, when his gaze slid to Matteus. His eyes flicked between the two of them, nostrils flaring before his gaze finally landed back on Oliver. And Oliver couldn’t really blame him. Matteus was beautifully androgynous, the very embodiment of a male omega. Whilst they shared the same white-blonde hair, grey eyes and freckled cheeks, Oliver had the sharper jawline and heavier brow. He was also broader and had much longer legs.

“Get in,” Lucas said, snapping Oliver out of his thoughts.

Annoyance prickled his neck, the alpha side of him momentarily flaring at the command. “You’re joking, I hope?” Lucas tipped his head and frowned in response. “There’s no way we’re meeting Helena in that thing. If she’s being groomed—which we highly suspect she is—the last thing we want is to be surrogates for her abusers.”

Lucas’ hazel eyes studied Oliver’s face, ghosting over his lips and ears. “Explain.”

Oliver tutted. “It’s why I asked you to wear normal clothes. If we rock up suited and booted, she’ll just look at us like another couple of rich blokes ready to take advantage of her. These kids are more perceptive than you think.”

“It’s true!” Matteus piped up.

Sighing, Lucas slid his hands around the steering wheel before pulling the key out the ignition. “So, what are we going in?”

Oliver smirked and pointed towards a blue Honda Jazz that was parked under a tree. Well, it had once been blue… underneath all the dust and bird shit. No one in the Child Protection Unit bothered to clean the cars unless they were transporting kids.The alpha wrinkled his nose, the look of disgust giving Oliver a small pang of victory. Those feelings of playfulness were rising in him again, and he clenched his teeth to stop them bubbling out.

Matteus waved them off with a wide smile—a little too eager to send them on their way. Oliver frowned as he glared at his brother in the rear-view mirror, thinking of all the ways he’d get revenge.

“Your brother?” Lucas asked.

“Yeah,” he replied, turning left onto the main road.

“He seems excitable.”

Oliver inclined his head and put the car into third gear. “He is. You should see him on a Wednesday night after a few shandies.” Thoughts of Matteus and Nancy clinging to a bucking bronco during their most recent night out brought a smile to his face.

“What happens on Wednesdays?”

Oliver cleared his throat. “Pub crawl. We finish early, so we go for a few drinks.”

Lucas nodded. “Tomorrow’s Wednesday.”

“It is.”

“Will you be drinking?”

“I fucking hope so.”

Lucas’ eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror, and Oliver could tell he was looking at the two child seats in the back. “Do you have children?” Oliver asked, not entirely sure why he wanted to know.

“No.”

He nodded. “I-I just wondered if you were eager to get back to them. That’s all.”

After a moment of silence, Lucas replied, “Just a cat at home. Sasha.”

Oliver thought that was kind of cute.

“That’s nice,” he said, rolling his neck to work out a strip of tension. “There’s a black cat that sits outside my local Chinese. Pickle. He’s a grumpy fucker but I like him. My landlord doesn’t allow pets, so it’s just me and Roger at home.”

“Your mate?”

“What?” He spluttered. “Oh, no. Roger’s a stuffed koala.”

Lucas’ mouth spread into a wide grin, his sharp canines glinting in the morning light. “How very unexpected of you, Reed.”

Was he mocking him again? The way the tip of his tongue touched his teeth suggested he was.

The traffic lights flicked to red as they approached the next junction. “Every fucking time,” Oliver muttered.

Lucas chuckled, crossing an ankle over his knee as the car drifted to a standstill. Damn , the man had fine legs. Long and lean, even under the grey chinos. Lucas must have caught him looking, because he tilted his head with a playful smirk. Oliver cleared his throat and looked back at the road.

“Thanks for doing what I asked. I think the three-piece suit would have been a bit much for the meeting.”

“Didn’t you like the three piece?”

Oliver loved the three-piece. In fact, he hadn’t been able to get the damned thing out of his mind all morning. Then there were the shorts…and the tattoos…and the two little earrings at the top of his ear. Fucking hell.

“It was nice. But West Newton isn’t like the Met. We’re country folk. Most of the population are farmers, born and bred. My parents included.”

“But not you.”

“No. What about you?”

“Jewellers. Both my parents are high end jewellers,” Lucas replied, his eyes fixed on Oliver.

No wonder he was so flashy.

Oliver nodded. “But not you.”

Lucas turned his gaze back to the road. “I don’t have the fingers for it.”

“Pardon?”

“You need small fingers to use the equipment. Setting gems requires a certain level of finesse, which I do not possess.”

Oliver grinned and dragged his eyes over the alpha, his gaze falling on his hands. They were, in a word, huge . Like two big bear's paws folded across his lap. He laughed at the thought of Lucas hunched over a desk, struggling to set a tiny ruby into a piece of jewellery.

“Why are you laughing?” Lucas said, with an appalled expression.

Oliver coughed back another laugh. “S-Sorry, the thought of you struggling just tickled me a little.”

“I’m glad my failings are so amusing to you.” Lucas huffed and pushed the sunglasses further up his nose.

“I never said you were failing,” Oliver scoffed. “I’m sure you have talents elsewhere.”

He wanted to die the moment the words left his mouth. They were supposed to sound light-hearted—teasing, almost— instead, they came out like a poor attempt at seduction. Lucas shifted in his seat, dropping his shoulder and leaning close to Oliver’s ear.

“I could have told you all about my many talents over breakfast, Reed.”

Luckily the lights chose that moment to change so he could distract himself by putting the car into gear. God, he hoped the roll-neck sweater hid the blush spreading up his throat.

“Yes. Well. The fish tank in the office needed cleaning.”

“At six o’clock in the morning?”

“Yes.”

“Will it require cleaning again tomorrow?”

“Most definitely. Every day, in fact.”

“Hm.”

They sat in silence for the rest of the journey, Oliver’s knuckles practically turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. Lucas sat as still as a statue, eyes turned towards the road.

Eventually they arrived at the care home, where a portly beta woman in her mid-fifties stood waving at them from the front door. “That’s Shirley,” Oliver said, turning off the engine. “She’s Helena’s social worker.”

Lucas frowned. “Where were the social when all this was happening?”

“That’s what I’d like to know.” He grimaced. “Let’s go.”

Shirley rushed towards them in a flurry of arms as they stepped out the car. “She’s inside, DC Reed. She’s not happy today, so you’ll have to tread carefully.”

And Oliver wanted to say, ‘ Gee thanks, Shirley .’ It’s not like he hadn’t been treading carefully for the whole three years he’d been working with Helena. Instead, he just smiled and allowed her to fuss and fret for a few moments.

“This is DS Lucas White,” he said, eventually growing tired of her bluster. “He’s from the Met.”

Shirley took a few steps back as she looked up at Lucas. She barely reached the middle of his chest. “Y-Yes, I remember you saying so on the phone. Nice to meet you.”

Lucas nodded and held out an arm. “Shall we?”

Helena was waiting for them in the little living room; she had her knees curled up to her chest with a pair of teddy bear slippers on her feet. She wore denim shorts and an oversized t-shirt. Oliver remembered her like that, not the obstructive designer-wearing up-start described in the paperwork.

“Ollie!” she said, jumping up from the sofa and running to give him a hug. Which set his alarm bells ringing almost immediately, as Helena was not one for physical affection. Nor had she ever hugged him before.

“Hey, H. How you doing?” He said, gently placing her at arm's length. Her eyes immediately slid to Lucas, who loomed in the doorway like a spectre. She looked momentarily fearful before her back straightened and her top lip twitched. Definitely an alpha in the making. “Don’t mind him,” Oliver said, reaching back to poke Lucas’ chest. “He might look flashy, but he’s alright.” Helena nodded, as they moved over to the obnoxiously bright floral print sofas.

After exchanging small talk, Oliver finally said, “H, do you know why we’re here?”

Helena sucked her teeth before taking a sip from a glass of coca-cola that was on the table. “You wanna talk about my boyfriend?”

Oliver’s heart sank, and he glanced up at Lucas. They shared a look that said ‘definitely being groomed.’

“R-Right. Do you?—”

“I have some new Lego,” she said, eyes flicking to the doorway. “My foster mum got it for my birthday, wanna see?”

He smiled. “I’d love that.”

Helena squealed before running out the room, leaving the two of them alone. “Lego?” Lucas frowned. “I think she’s trying to distract you, Reed.”

Oliver shook his head. “Nah. For as long as I’ve known H, she’s loved Lego. She could build you literally anything. Kids like to distract their brains whilst they speak about horrible things.”

Lucas’ eyes softened. “You’ve worked with her for a long time.”

“I met Helena my first day on the job, back when I was in uniform. I arrested her step-dad for beating the shit out of her mum. Helena was just a toddler then—she didn’t really know what was going on, but I could see she was scared. It’s why I wanted to move to child protection.”

A small smile pinched the corners of Lucas’ lips. Not the teasing, playful smirk he’d seen until then, but a genuine smile. It was lovely, and it made Oliver’s heart ache a little.

Helena came barrelling back into the room like a bull in a china shop, a huge crate of building bricks in her arms. They both sat on the floor, sorting the bricks and sharing ideas.

“Hey, H. Can Lucas join us? He loves Lego and knows how to make a really cool sports car.” He shot the alpha a look that said, ‘Right? Right?! ’

“That’s right,” Lucas said, sliding onto the floor beside him. Their knees bumped, and Oliver gave the alpha a reassuring look as they sat cross-legged on the cream carpet.

To Lucas’ credit, he managed to build something resembling a vehicle. Oliver, on the other hand, had somehow made a contraption that could only be described as a demented bumble bee. Lucas huffed out an amused breath, so Oliver elbowed him in the ribs in reply.

“Look, I never claimed to be a expert?—”

“So, what do you wanna know about Addy?” Helena suddenly said.

Their heads jerked round to find Helena staring at them with an expectant expression. They discovered she met him whilst playing an video computer game. He sent her gifts in the post—a new phone, money, clothes—which he’d told her to keep a secret. He’d called her princess and said he’d take care of her. His first name was Adrian, but she preferred to call him Addy. They’d met up twice. He’d taken her to the cinema and bought her popcorn and alcohol. She’d met some of his friends and they gave her nice things, too.

They had no time to set up the recording equipment, so Lucas discretely made notes as she spoke.

“H, did Addy ever do anything that made you feel uncomfortable?” Oliver asked.

She seemed to think about it for a moment. “Nah. But he said he wanted me to make friends with kids my age. He took me to this house in Wicking. It was by the fishing pond. You know the place? There were some other kids there. I accidentally picked up one of their phones.”

Oliver knew the place. Knew the place very well as a matter of fact, as it was the same street where the Greer family resided. Low income households with even lower engagement from the local authority. Social services were notoriously bad in that particular part of town, with only one person working out of the little run-down office.

Glancing at Lucas, Oliver asked, “H, where’s the phone now?”

Helena sucked in a breath and broke apart the aeroplane she was working on. “In the loft. I chucked it up there because I didn’t want Shirley to think I’d nicked it. You can take it if you want. I don’t need it.”

They left Helena and Shirley chatting in the living room and made their way up the narrow staircase. The room was relatively small, but crammed to the brim with Lego, paper, pencils, workbooks. All the things Oliver knew she loved.

Sighing, he looked up at the loft hatch. It was an old house, and the ceiling was much higher than expected.

“We’ll have to find a ladder,” he said, setting down his backpack.

Lucas hummed and bent down to tap his calf. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Reed.”

Catching his meaning, Oliver’s face flushed. “You sure? I’m heavier than I look.”

“I doubt that,” Lucas replied. “On three.”

Oliver sighed, but placed his foot in the alpha’s hands, and on three he was heaved into the air. Bracing his hands on the loft hatch, he pushed it open. A layer of dust fell into his eyes and mouth, making him cough.

“Alright?” Lucas asked, holding Oliver’s foot against his torso.

“Yeah,” he replied, painfully aware of his arse cheek pressing against the alpha’s face, as he felt the heat of his breath through the fabric of his jeans. Warmth coiled in his gut, the same heat from the previous night radiating up his legs. Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare . He cursed his body.

Scrambling for purchase, he hooked his fingers over the edge of the hatch and pulled himself into the darkness. Horrible disorientation distorted his vision for a few seconds, before he finally pulled out his phone to use the torch. Coughing again, he looked around the wide, dark space.

“Fuck,” he said, eyes falling on the heaps of clutter surrounding the opening. “She’s hidden loads of stuff up here. This must have been going on for a while.”

He could hear Lucas sighing from the room below. “Just find the phone. We can come back for the rest if necessary.”

Just as he was about to begin digging through a box of junk, Oliver’s eyes drifted to a pink and black phone that was lodged near the hatch. “It’s here,” he said, pulling a pair of blue latex gloves from his pocket. He held it through the opening and pointed towards his rucksack. “There’re some evidence bags in the side pocket.”

As Lucas busied himself with packing up the phone, Oliver enjoyed seeing the alpha from above. It’d likely be the only time he’d be able to look down on him, after all. His hair was thicker and curlier on top than Oliver realised, and he had a truly magnificent set of traps.

“Swing your legs over the edge, I’ll help you down,” Lucas said, reaching up.

“You sure? I could just jump.”

Lucas tutted. “This isn’t my first loft extraction, Reed. You’ll break your ankle.”

Blinking the dust out of his eyes, Oliver did as he was told and dangled his legs over the edge. Lucas, being the six foot five man that he was, caught his ankles and pulled. Oliver yelped as Lucas’ fingers slid under his jeans and up the bare skin of his calves, dragging their bodies together as he pulled him from the loft. His fingers pressed into the muscles of Oliver’s thighs and over the curve of his arse, extracting a tiny whimper from Oliver’s lips.

Lucas’ hands really were huge—even more so when they circled around Oliver’s slim waist. His breath caught as the alpha’s face dragged over his stomach, between his ribs and to the crook of his neck.

Oliver shivered as they seemed to hang there for a moment—the alpha’s hot breath on his throat as he pressed his face into the space beneath his jaw. Without meaning to, Oliver’s arms folded around Lucas’ neck, drawing him close as he pressed his face into his hair. He smelled clean, like shampoo and the hotel linens.

“Reed,” Lucas whispered against his skin, teeth grazing the cord of muscle that ran between his shoulder and ear.

“Alpha,” Oliver breathed into his hair, the omega side of him thrashing and whimpering to be let loose.

Clapping a hand over his mouth, he pulled back, mortified by how breathy and wanton his voice sounded. Untangling his arms from around Lucas’ neck he tried to push away, but the alpha held him in place, leaving him suspended in his arms in the middle of Helena Cartwright’s bedroom.

He wanted to wrap his legs around the alpha, the omega side of him screaming, t ake me, take me, take me . His pheromones lay waiting just beneath his skin, the suppressants the only thing keeping them at bay.

However, the police officer in him commanded, take your fucking hands off the sergeant you filthy pervert. Straight to horny jail for you .

There was a knock, and Lucas growled against the crook of his neck. They untangled themselves just as Shirley pushed open the door. “Find it?” She said.

Oliver’s nostrils flared as he stared at the social worker, and Lucas must have given her a similar look, because her face dropped as she slowly backed out the room. Refusing to meet the alpha’s gaze, Oliver scrubbed a hand through his hair and pulled on his backpack. “Let’s go,” he said, moving towards the door.

They walked back down the stairs in silence, the only sound coming from Lucas’ heavy footfall. They said goodbye to Helena, both of them promising to play more Lego soon.

Shirley was waiting for them at the front door, her shoulders slumped and expression downcast. She started mumbling something about how difficult Helena had been recently, and how she didn’t know what to do with her. Oliver’s temper flared, his lip curling back over his teeth, and before he could stop himself his hand flew out to slap the wall next to Shirley’s head. She yelped, eyes going wide as she looked momentarily dumbstruck.

“Shirley,” Oliver growled at the beta. “Stop making excuses and pull your fucking finger out.”

Without warning, Lucas’ fingers pressed into the back of his neck, tugging him against his chest and away from the terrified looking social worker. Oliver’s body reacted, the touch doing something that made the anger fall away in an instant.

“Thank you for your time,” Lucas said, abruptly turning them both away.

They stayed like that all the way back to the car, Lucas gripping the scruff of his neck like a naughty kitten. Oliver wanted to run away. Wanted to curl up in the safety of his bed and never think about that moment again. Unfortunately, standing between him and home was Lucas White and the long car ride back to the station.