5. Operation Sceptre

FIVE

OPERATION SCEPTRE

Op Sceptre - Restricted. That’s what the sign on the door read, as Oliver shuffled into the briefing room. An Op name meant resources, people, and time to build a case that would stick. Something about that sent a little thrum of excitement through Oliver’s chest. He’d worked decent sized cases before, but never one with an Op name.

Pulling up two chairs at the back of the room, he and Nancy scanned the space to see who’d been invited to the party. The Met officers immediately crowded around the long conference table in the centre, leaving the West Newton officers hanging awkwardly around the periphery of the room. It was their fucking police station!

“Pst, Ollie, look,” Nancy said, nudging his shoulder. “Frank and Annie from cyber crime are here. Oh, oh and look, there’s Harry from the fraud squad. Hi guys!” She said, waving awkwardly at the three West Newton officers huddled together in the corner.

Harry, a mousy-haired brown-eyed beta, gave Oliver a distinctly pointed look. Two years prior, they had an extremely short fling that ended in Harry declaring that—whilst the sex had been great—he wanted to settle down, and that Oliver simply didn’t meet the criteria for baby making. Well, the joke was well and truly on him because two years later, Harry was just as single as Oliver. Still, Harry possessed a rather magnificent set of arse cheeks that Oliver still thought about every now and again.

By the time everyone had taken their seats, the team was twenty members strong, roughly half of whom were West Newton, the rest Metropolitan. The distinction between the two forces was laughably obvious as they crammed together in the dimly lit room. The Met were all sharp lines, tailored suits and perfectly coiffed hair. West Newton was a little more… homely. Tea-drinking, Clifford the Big Red Dog loving grandmothers sprang to mind.

Just as Oliver began to fidget, the door to the briefing room swung open. Inspector Callahan strode in, flanked by Lucas and Oliver’s own sergeant, alpha Blake Smith. Callahan flashed them all his easy-going smile, Lucas kept his head down, and Blake just looked pissed off. He couldn’t blame him. Op Sceptre had wiped out a good portion of the Child Protection Unit in one fell swoop.

“Morning all, thank you for coming,” the Inspector said.

A chorus of “Morning boss,” echoed around the room.

Oliver’s eyes flicked to Lucas, who was already looking at him through the crowd. For a moment, it felt as though they were the only two people in the room and he had to look away from the intensity of the alpha’s gaze.

Nancy nudged his arm. “Pst, do you think I should invite everyone on the pub crawl tonight? You know… as a little ice-breaker?”

Oliver covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. “Nance, that’s very sweet, but I doubt the Met have even heard of a pub crawl.”

“ What ? They’re coppers, aren’t they? If there’s one thing every copper has in common, it’s that they like a drink.”

“Look at them, Nance. Do they look like they consume anything other than kale and protein shakes? Besides, I don’t think West Newton high street will thank you for having twenty police officers descending on its night time economy.” They both giggled, snapping abruptly back to attention when the Inspector cleared his throat.

“You’re being split into two teams,” he said, eyes moving around the room. “A squad, and B squad. Nice and simple. We’ve placed you based on your individual specialisations. A squad will be led by DS White, B squad by DS Smith. Both report directly to me. Questions so far?” When nobody answered, the Inspector continued. “On A squad we have, DS White, Nancy Purslow, Harry Clarke, Fatima Kaur, Oliver Reed…”

He and Nancy fist bumped when their names were read out, but his mood soured slightly when he felt Harry’s eyes on him.

“Right then, you’re probably wondering where all this is going. As DS White and DS Smith undoubtedly explained on the phone, Special Branch currently has several outstanding suspects from an organised crime group operating across central Europe. They believe the group is making moves to set up a trafficking ring in West Newton and the surrounding boroughs. We all know how vulnerable our towns have become with the introduction of the high-speed rail-line. Unfortunately, it’s only going to get worse now that West Newton acts as a thoroughfare between London and the North.”

Murmurs echoed around the room following the Inspector’s words. Every single one of the departments had felt the impact of the high-speed rail-line. Economic crime was up by fifty percent as unlicensed tech stores set up shop close to the station. Domestic and child abuse had risen exponentially, as families poured in from the city. It was only the tip of the proverbial iceberg, as the tiny divisions of West Newton and High Enfield struggled to keep up with the growing demand.

“Thanks to DS White and DC Reed,” The Inspector continued, tipping his head towards Oliver. “We now suspect that they have—at least in part—been operating out of an address in Wicking. It is strongly believed that Adrian Moore and a group of his associates have been targeting children in the local care system. The simple fact is—social services cannot keep up with the growing number of families, so many children have slipped through the net. Some of you, especially those of you in child protection, will know of Helena Cartwright.”

Oliver glanced at Lucas, who gave him a small nod.

“Adrian Moore and Helena were found together in a vehicle four days ago, and since then, Helena has provided crucial information to the police. Tomorrow morning, A squad will execute a search warrant at the High Enfield Sandero dealership. It is believed that a member, or several members of staff, facilitated the use of a showroom vehicle for Adrian Moore. B squad will carry out a simultaneous warrant on the address in Wicking. We are still waiting for the examination of the mobile phone seized by DC Reed, and as of now, no other children have been reported missing. However, we anticipate that will change in the coming days. Questions?”

When there was none, the teams filtered off to their respective ends of the briefing room. Lucas, to his credit, allowed the West Newton officers to carry out the most important task of all.

“Brew anyone?” Nancy asked, tapping the kettle. All the West Newton officers nodded and threw their mugs down by the tea station. The Met officers just looked confused.

“Hey, Ollie. Long time no see,” Harry said, sidling up to him as they waited for the water to boil.

“Hi,” Oliver replied, flicking through a stack of papers, in an attempt at looking busy.

“How’ve you been?”

Fucking peachy, mate.

“Pretty good,” he replied, readjusting his tie.

“T-That’s good. Did Nancy tell you there’s a pub crawl happening tonight? Wanna come?”

You mean the pub crawl Nancy and I started four years ago?

“Yeah, I’m going.” His words must have sounded sharper than intended, because the next thing he knew, Lucas appeared at his side.

“Oh, you too DS White! You’re more than welcome to come. You and the other Met officers.”

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” Nancy drawled, jostling his shoulder. “Are you stealing my thunder?”

Harry looked momentarily stricken, which brought Oliver no small amount of glee.

“I’m only joking with you, baby-cakes. The more the merrier,” she said, waving her hand towards the other Met officers. They all looked sheepish as they glanced at one another.

“Thank you, Nancy,” Lucas said, but was looking at Oliver. “So long as we’re not intruding?”

Oliver gave him a small shake of his head before turning back to his papers. “So why are we waiting until tomorrow to hit those two addresses?” He asked, clutching a mug of hot tea between his hands. It was a fair question, and the rest of the team turned towards Lucas.

The alpha nodded and took a seat at the head of the long conference table. “The simple answer is that we cannot take the risk. The group that we have under surveillance is well organised and has the resources to disappear at the drop of a hat. Whilst we’re fairly certain we know which address to hit tomorrow, if we make a mistake, the children will be long gone. It’s the same with the car dealership. We can’t risk the staff informing Moore’s associates before we have time to firm up the plan. So in this case, it’s safer to wait.”

Oliver nodded and took a sip of his tea. When the rest of the team returned to their tasks, Lucas leant across the table and pushed his mouth close to Oliver’s ear. “I know patience isn’t your strong suit, DC Reed, but please try and contain yourself for just a little longer.”

A small grin tugged on Oliver’s lips. “I don’t know what you mean, sergeant.”

Oliver had to give credit to the Met officers, because they all turned up at West Newton’s finest establishment that evening—The Cock and Bull. Or The Cock and Balls, as it was known locally. There were many-a-joke to be said about the pub—the fact that the bronze bull statue next to the front entrance had two colossal bronze testicles hanging between its legs, being one of them. And that—strangely enough—said testicles were the shiniest part of the bull’s body. The second, was that unlike many of the smaller pubs in West Newton, it was police-friendly.

The Met officers—bless their souls—looked horribly out of place; like prized show ponies thrown in amongst a herd of scruffy nags. But at least they were making the effort. Oliver chuckled to himself as he watched them trying to make small talk over the rim of his wine glass; his foot tapping softly on the table leg. Nancy, in particular, was engrossed in conversation with the blonde-haired alpha with the choppy bob cut.

Lucas dutifully bought the first round of drinks, and Oliver couldn’t help but admire how his black shirt clung to his shoulders as he put the tray on the table. He reached across to place a pint of Guinness in front of Nancy, his shirt riding up slightly and—was that a fucking belly button piercing? Oliver swallowed another gulp of wine, hoping it would cool his rapidly warming neck.

They all chatted and made respectable small talk, but the longer the evening went on, the more drunk Harry got. Pulling up a chair next to Oliver, he accidentally sloshed a few drops of cider into his lap.

“Ah, sorry about that, Ollie,” he said, grabbing a napkin and patting his leg. “Oof, you been working out?” His fingers squeezed Oliver’s thigh, and he bristled at the unwanted touch.

“Just the usual,” he replied, tone clipped as he brushed Harry’s hand away.

Harry hummed, resting his head on Oliver’s shoulder, breath stinking of booze. “And here I thought you’d gone and got yourself a revenge bod.”

Oliver wrinkled his nose and dropped his shoulder, annoyance coiling in the pit of his stomach. He already had a revenge bod, thanks very much .

Glancing up, he found Lucas’ dark eyes on him, jaw tensing as Harry pressed his mouth to Oliver’s ear. “This party’s boring. Why don’t you take me home and fuck me like you used to?” The beta said, spilling yet more of his drink into Oliver’s lap.

“Why don’t you drink some water before you make a tit of yourself?” he snapped back, using the spilled drink as an excuse to escape into the restrooms for a few minutes.

When he reached the narrow corridor to the toilets, he was in an absolutely foul mood and just wanted to go home. Rounding the corner, he found the way blocked by four stocky alphas, pacing up and down outside the door. Then it hit him. The unmistakable scent of omega heat.

To him, it was a sickly sweet scent, like an overripe peach that had sat out in the sun for too long. Growing up, he’d been exposed Matteus’ heat pheromones plenty of times. However, it held a strange bitter twang, which he supposed was his body’s natural deterrence to stop him from accidentally mating his own brother.

Even so, the heady stench of omega heat radiating from the bathroom, sent a bolt of interest straight to his cock. Great , now he was tipsy, horny and pissed off. What a fucking great night it was turning out to be. He could have just turned around and walked away, but something about the agitation in the alpha's body language gave him pause.

Pushing past the males, he stepped into the communal sink area. The scent hit him like a tonne of bricks, and he had to cover his nose to stop himself from heaving. He heard whimpering coming from one of the cubicles, then a soft sob.

“You alright?” Oliver called, pulling out reams of paper towels from the dispenser and holding them against his nose.

“N-No!” the voice called back, softly spoken like Matteus. “A-Are you?—”

“I’m not one of them,” he said, blinking several times as his voice echoed around the room. “Do you need help to get out of here?”

“Yes! Oh God, yes. My meds… I’ve been sick the last few days and struggled to keep them down. Are the alphas still out there?”

Oliver sighed. “Yeah, but there’s a side door you can use. I’ll give you my jacket to help cover the scent. Is there someone you can call?”

“M-My mum, she’s waiting outside, but I’ve been too scared to come out.”

Oliver let out a breath. “You know there’s omega bathrooms on the other side of the bar, don’t you?”

“Y-Yeah, but I got confused and ended up in this one.”

Oliver shook his head and slipped off his coat, “Come on, before any more of them come.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, just hurry up.”

Slowly, the lock on the cubicle clicked open and out walked a short, umber-haired omega. He peered up at Oliver with all the innocence of a baby deer. Holding his breath, Oliver dropped his coat over the boy’s shoulders and picked up a bottle of cologne from next to the washbasin. Usually it would have cost him two quid a squirt, but instead of spraying it he unscrewed the lid and doused the boy in a horrendously floral fragrance. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

“That way,” Oliver said, pointing towards the open door. “Is that your mum, in the silver Mini?”

“Y-Yeah! That’s her. Thank you so much, but… how will I return the jacket?”

“Just drop it off at the police station. No rush.”

The boy nodded, pulling the jacket around himself. “I-I… I’m Pember, by the way.”

“Oliver,” he replied, giving the boy a small nod.

“Thank you, Oliver.” Just as he slipped out the restroom, the main door swung open and three of the four alpha males strode in.

“Where’s the little omega gone?” One said, his cropped hair and large gut giving him the look of a proper thug. “We were looking forward to having some fun with him.” He rubbed his groin as if to highlight his point.

The anger sitting in Oliver’s belly, coiled into a tight ball of rage. Still, he grit his teeth and tried to let the comment wash over him. “He’s gone, so piss off.”

“You what?” The man said, squaring his shoulders. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

Oliver sighed, because now the alpha was just asking for a good tongue lashing. “A cock-sucking donkey shagger, who couldn’t figure out which hole to stick it in if he tried.”

The man's nostrils flared, his thin lips curling over his sharp teeth. All three men rounded on him, fists raised as saliva flew from their mouths. The alpha with the large gut threw the first punch, his fist missing Oliver entirely as it smashed into the paper towel dispenser.

Oliver stamped on his foot, driving his heel into the man’s toes. He cried out, tripping over his own feet as he went stumbling into one of the other men. They both landed in a heap on the sticky tiles, limbs tangled together as they struggled to get up.

Oliver loaded his fists, holding them up defensively. Just as the third man was about to throw another punch, the door burst open, almost flying off its hinges as Lucas strode across the threshold. His eyes immediately darkened, pupils half-blown as the lingering scent of the omega triggered his alpha senses.

“Reed?” He growled, predatory gaze snapping to Oliver.

“It’s not me,” he replied, gesturing towards the door. “The omega’s gone, but these three fuck-wits don’t know how to take a hint.”

Lucas let out a sharp breath, the colour draining from his previously heated cheeks. The look of relief was obvious, as he dragged his gaze over Oliver’s jacket-less shoulders.

“I’m alright,” he mouthed, before turning his attention back to the intruders.

Enraged, the third man threw back his arm and launched an almighty haymaker straight towards Oliver’s face. He dodged it, unfurling his fist as he prepared to slap the man across the back of the head. Before he had chance, Lucas grabbed the man’s arm, wrenched it back, and flung him into one of the cubicles. He landed against the toilet with an almost comical ‘slap.’ Lucas growled and scooped Oliver up under his arm.

“H-Hey!” he cried, kicking his legs as he was carried out of the bathroom.

“We’re leaving,” Lucas growled, dropping him onto his feet and directing them both towards the exit. Oliver was about to protest, but as they marched towards the double doors, he clocked the three alphas barrelling out of the bathroom.

Now, contrary to public belief, bar brawls were not commonplace in West Newton, and as such, the local police station was ill-equipped to deal with them. Oliver was not in the mood to test cross-force response times that evening, so chose the sensible option of flinging himself into a nearby taxi. Lucas slipped into the seat next to him, eyebrows raised as he waited for him to give the driver his address.

“P-Pendle Cross,” he said, stuttering slightly from both the adrenaline let-down and the thought of revealing his address to the alpha.

Lucas’ brows pinched together. “Pendle Cross? Isn’t that near?—”

“Rhys’ club. Yeah.”

“Okie dokie,” the driver said, turning off the ‘vacant’ sign on the roof.

For most of the twenty-five minute car ride back to Oliver’s apartment, the only sound came from the car radio, the driver’s humming and Lucas’ heavy breathing.

“You okay?” Oliver said, tapping the back of the alpha’s hand.

“Yes,” Lucas replied without tearing his gaze away from the window.

Oliver studied the side of his face, before turning his own gaze back to the road. Whilst his sigma hormones had certainly reacted to the omega’s heat, it was nowhere near as potent to him as it was to a true alpha. He’d seen the madness it could cause, how that scent alone could turn an alpha’s brain inside out—especially the males. He’d locked up many an alpha who failed to contain their urges.

As much as he hated his sigma body at times, it must have been truly terrifying to be an omega losing control of their heat, or an alpha waking up to the consequences of their actions.

Lucas let out a long sigh, eyes half closed as he stared down at his clasped hands.

“Hey,” Oliver said, wiggling a finger into the space between the alpha’s palms. “Thanks for getting me out of there. Those guys were arseholes.”

Lucas finally looked at him, his expression melancholy. He sighed. “I thought it was you. I thought they’d done something to you. Thought they’d…” his words trailed off as he brought a hand to his face.

“Nah,” Oliver said, resting his tipsy head on Lucas’ shoulder. The alcohol and lingering adrenaline was making him bold. “You’re joking, right? I don’t think they could have thrown one decent punch between them.”

“But there were three of them, and one of you.”

He nodded against the alpha’s shoulder. “Exactly. You should have seen the way they were pacing outside the toilets. The poor omega wouldn’t have stood a chance. Jesus, I thought our society was past all that.”

“So you dove in, head first, without a care for your own safety?”

“W-Well, I mean…”

Lucas just shook his head. “Of course you did, Reed.”

The taxi came to a gentle stop outside his apartment block. Lucas paid the fare and slipped out alongside him. “I’ll walk the rest of the way,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I need to clear my head.”

Oliver nodded, pointing towards the high rise silhouette of The Cherry Tree Hotel. “Just walk towards that building. The pavement’s well lit, so you should find your way.”

Lucas nodded. “Thanks,” he said, turning to leave.

Oliver watched him go, sighing as the alpha flipped up the collar of his jacket to protect his neck from the chill. His broad shoulders were slumped, his posture downcast as he walked under the blinking street lamps of Pendle Cross.

Just then, a clap of thunder rolled across the sky. Oliver blinked as a few droplets of rain fell into his eyelashes, then onto his cheek and in his hair. He glanced up to see the dark clouds rolling, lightning flashing deep purple behind them. Then, the heavens opened and a torrent of water blanketed the entire street.

He glanced back at Lucas, who was still walking with his head bent despite the downpour. Oliver felt two paths opening before him. One, be a total dick and let the alpha make the miserable journey back to the hotel. Two, invite him in until the rain calmed down. His legs were already propelling him down the street before he’d made up his mind, his body casting shadows under the artificial lights. He grabbed Lucas’ arm, pulling him around with a sharp tug.

“Come inside!” He had to shout over the roar of the thunder. “At least until the rain subsides!” Lucas looked momentarily conflicted, but nodded as he threw a hand up to protect Oliver’s head from the rain—for all the good it did.

Steam rolled off them as they reached the top of the stairs, wet clothes rapidly cooling over their skin. A shiver ran down Oliver’s spine, having the alpha at his back, but he busied himself with unlocking the door in the most tipsily cack-handed way possible.

“I’ll get you a towel,” he said, finally turning the key and pushing it open. Lucas followed, hovering in the kitchen like a giant shadow as the dark shape of him was silhouetted in the dim light. He took off his dripping jacket, hanging it over the back of the chair as Oliver went to get a towel. “Here,” he said, throwing it over Lucas’ head. The alpha chuckled as he pulled it down, drying his hair and ruffling it in a most delightful manner.

“I’m gonna change,” he said, slipping off his shoes and padding to the bedroom.

Shutting the door, he stripped off his clothes and threw them into the laundry basket. He glanced at himself in the full-body mirror, sighing with relief to see that his omega-induced erection had subsided. Then he thought about how Lucas’ body must have reacted, then thought about—stop thinking about Lucas’ cock. Fucking pervert.

He heard mumbling from the kitchen, so quickly pulled on a pair of tartan pyjama bottoms and a white crew neck t-shirt. Traipsing through the hallway, he found Lucas staring concernedly at a shrivelled potted plant on the windowsill.

“Christ, Reed. Your cat-grass is in a sorry state. Don’t you ever water it?”

Oliver frowned, folding his arms. “My what?”

“Cat-grass,” he repeated, pointing at the pot. “It’s the easiest plant in the world to look after.”

“Oh, is that what it is? Yeah, Nancy gave it to me for Christmas. Said something about it attracting more pussy to my flat.”

Lucas barked out a laugh, eyes dragging over the tartan pyjamas as he turned to face him. Something about seeing the alpha standing in his kitchen—shoulders relaxed, brows very much un-furrowed—sent a thrill of nervous anticipation through Oliver’s chest. The taxi had gone, and they were very much alone.

Clearing his throat, he said, “Isn’t Sashamissing you?”

Lucas shook his head and took a seat at the kitchen table. “Not one bit. She’s having an extended sleepover at my sister’s house. Being spoiled rotten by the sounds of it.”

Oliver nodded, shuffling to the drinks cabinet to withdraw two glass tumblers and a bottle of spiced rum. Placing the glasses on the kitchen table, he poured the two of them a drink. It was probably a terrible idea to carry on drinking, but something needed to kill the butterflies flapping about in his stomach.

“Your sister?”

Lucas nodded, tapping the rim of his glass before taking a sip. “Aliya. She’s an accountant in London.”

Oliver let out an appreciative hum. “Wow, a family of high flyers. Jewellers, accountants, police sergeants.”

Lucas nodded and gave a small smile. “Not bad for two omegas that met in the slums of Favela.”

Oliver coughed into his glass, sending the rum flying up his nose. He spluttered, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Two… omegas? That’s incredible. And rare, you and your sister must be… what? One in a million?” Lucas raised his eyebrows, his tongue darting out to touch the side of his mouth. “Oh God. Oh God , sorry Lucas, that was so fucking insensitive of me,” he said, words coming out in a garble.

Shit, maybe the rum was a bad idea.

Grinning, Lucas held up a hand. “Calm down Reed, before you spontaneously combust. You’re not wrong, it is pretty rare. Aliya and I were conceived through IVF.”

Oliver nodded rapidly. “And did the lab accidentally swap out the sample for giant sperm? Because that would explain a lot.”

Lucas huffed out another laugh as Oliver withered in his chair, hands concealing the blush illuminating his cheeks. He was never, ever , mixing rum and wine again. Leaning across the table, Lucas pried Oliver’s hands away from his face, fingers brushing over his knuckles.

“You know, Reed… in the three days that I’ve known you, I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so much.”

Oliver groaned, drawing his pyjama-clad legs up to his chest, and peering at Lucas like a fucking child. “I’m glad you find my idiocy amusing,” he mumbled.

“That’s not what I meant.” Lucas reached forward to brush a stray hair out of Oliver’s eyes. “What I should have said is—I am very glad to have met you.”

They gazed at one another for a long moment, the unyielding warmth of Lucas’ eyes tugging at the aching place in Oliver’s heart. He’d felt it once before, only to have it ripped away because someone decided he wasn’t enough. It left a crater in his chest, one that had laid dormant and ignored for six years. He couldn’t do that again. Not now, not ever . So, instead of acknowledging the comment, he pulled his hand away and rose to his feet.

“Fancy a brew whilst you wait for the rain to stop?” He turned his back on the alpha.

There was a pause, then, “I take my tea black.”

Wrinkling his nose, Oliver flicked on the kettle. “Black? Black ? Who the hell drinks black tea?” He scoffed, turning to look at Lucas. “I knew you were a degenerate.”

“So says the grown man that can’t even keep a sprig of cat-grass alive? Jesus Reed, I feel sorry for those fish you claim to clean every morning.”

Oliver spread his hands and shrugged. “I didn’t even know it was cat-grass until you pointed it out. As for the fish…well…dead guppies tell no tales.”

“I should lock you up for herbaceous neglect.”

“That’s not a real offence.”

Reaching across the countertop, he ran his finger over the dead plant, frowning at its crispy leaves. He really was terrible at keeping things alive. The next thing he knew, searing pain lanced across his forearm, the steam from the kettle burning his skin.

“Ouch!” He yelped, cradling it against his body.

Lucas was at his side in an instant, tugging at his wrist to pull the injured limb into view. The skin was angry and red, the thin sheen of a blister already forming. “Run it under cold water, unless you want the blister to balloon,” Lucas said, guiding him over to the sink.

“I-It’s fine… it’ll be fine.”

“Reed, for once in your life, will you do as I ask?”

Turning on the tap, Lucas gripped his wrist and held it under the ice cold water. He flinched, his back thumping into the alpha’s broad chest.

“The water hurts more than the burn!” he whined, trying to pull his arm away.

“It’ll stop in a minute. Just stay still,” Lucas replied, one hand holding Oliver’s arm, the other on his hip.

Their bodies pressed together, and Oliver could feel every hard line of the alpha’s stomach, the swell of his pecs, the strength in his arms as they trapped him against the countertop. He swallowed, trying to keep his breath steady as he stared out the kitchen window.

He wanted to focus on the pinpricks of light in the distance, but their reflection in the glass made it impossible to focus on anything else. He looked small, nestled against the alpha’s chest. A shock of white-blonde hair contrasted against Lucas’ black shirt and dark skin.

Warmth crept up his neck as the alpha’s fingers pressed into the back of his hand, his thumb brushing over the tendons of his wrist. It shouldn’t have been erotic, but it was. It shouldn’t have been a turn-on, but Oliver’s cock was very much rising to the occasion.

“You smell like whiskey,” Oliver whispered, licking his lower lip.

Lucas pressed the tip of his nose into his hair, breath hot on his scalp. The hand at his hip trailed up his body, fingers grazing along the tendons of his throat as he tipped his head back. Oliver looked up at the alpha, his eyes wide and unintentionally doe-like.

“And you smell like the earth just before a lightning strike,” Lucas whispered, “When the atmosphere holds its breath for the coming storm.” His voice was low and slow, like the draw of a bow across a bass note. Oliver’s nipples pebbled at the sound of that voice, the cotton of his t-shirt suddenly irritating his skin. He inadvertently pressed his hips back, a tiny whimper escaping his mouth as the hard line of the alpha’s cock pressed across the top of his arse.

A rumble emanated from Lucas’ chest, sending ripples of pleasure up his spine. The alpha dragged his mouth along the curve of Oliver’s ear, his tongue drawing a searing line to the sharp angle of his jaw. Oliver’s mouth hung open as the alpha’s scent enveloped him—want, need, possession sinking into every pore.

Oliver’s legs trembled as he gripped the worktop, completely forgetting the pain in his arm. Lucas practically purred as he placed a string of featherlight kisses along his hairline, then across the freckles peppering his cheeks and nose.

“Are you—going to tell—the Inspector—about all these—kisses?” Oliver stuttered, every word threatening to turn into a moan.

He felt the alpha smile against his cheek. “We’re off duty. I think these kisses are allowed.”

“Oh,” was all Oliver could say as he nibbled his lower lip.

“Don’t suck your lip or I’ll be tempted to bite it,” Lucas whispered, gently snapping his teeth.

Oliver yanked his hand away from the tap, his dripping wet fingers sliding up the arm that held his throat. He needed something to hold on to because his traitorous legs were about to give way any second.

Lucas growled, pushing Oliver’s t-shirt up to splay wet fingers over his stomach, making it dip and tense as droplets of water trickled down the slight swell of his abdomen. The alpha’s knuckles dragged a slow circle around his navel, tracing a line to the waistband of his pyjamas.

“Can I touch you, Reed?” He said, teasing a finger under the elastic. “I want to hear that dirty mouth as you lose yourself.”

Oliver whined, his brows pinching together as the haze of lust blanketed his senses. Despite all the touching, all the flirting and the teasing, Oliver knew deep down that the alpha didn’t want him. But as the thrill of desire crawled up his legs and pooled in his belly, the fear of rejection was slowly ebbing away. Perhaps it was the alcohol making him bold, but in that moment he wanted to be touched more than anything. To feel wanted, even if it was just for a moment.

So, against his better judgement, he whispered, “Yes.”

Lucas’ hand slipped into his pyjamas, running his fingers along the hard length of his arousal. Oliver tipped his head back, fully exposing the expanse of his throat to the alpha, who growled low in his belly. His teeth grazed the scent gland under Oliver’s ear as he pinched the front of his pyjamas, pulling them down just enough for his erection to spring free. It was obvious and attentive.

“I-It’s not—it’s not like yours, Lucas,” he whispered, words catching in his throat as the alpha stroked a thumb along the base of his cock.

“Reed, nothing is like mine.”

As if to prove its point, the alpha’s cock pressed into his crease, sending a rush of warmth to Oliver’s lower back. It was as though Lucas could sense his need as he nuzzled into the crook of his neck, tasting his rain soaked skin.

“Your scent,” he whispered, “I want it.”

Oliver mewled, rocking forward, hips pushing back as he leant up on the balls of his feet. The alpha followed, curling his body around him, silently telling him that there was no escape. But Oliver didn’t want to escape. He wanted to feel, wanted to fuck, wanted to be taken repeatedly.

“Patience, little sigma,” Lucas purred, taking Oliver’s cock fully in his hand. Pressing his thumb along Oliver’s slit, he drew his foreskin back in one smooth movement. Clear seed spilled over the tip, dribbling down Lucas’ fingers as he stroked him long and slow.

“Is this your little knot, Reed?” Lucas said, circling his thumb and forefinger around the base of his shaft.

“Y-Yes,” Oliver moaned, face burning with equal parts embarrassment and desire.

Lucas grinned against his cheek. “It’s adorable.”

Oliver huffed, but it quickly turned to a whimper as Lucas massaged his knot between his fingers. The sensation was unreal, drawing long rolling waves of leg-shaking pleasure that rippled from his very core.

“Ah—alpha,” Oliver moaned, as his hand slipped back to tangle in Lucas’ hair. Lucas nipped his earlobe, then his chin, before finally kissing his way into Oliver’s mouth. Their tongues pressed together, sweeping and tasting and lapping across each other.

“I want to leave a mark on you,” Lucas whispered, lips slipping from Oliver’s mouth and brushing over the scent gland.

“L-Lucas… Lucas,” Oliver moaned, over and over as the alpha stroked his length and sucked love-bites across the surface of his skin. He could have flayed open his throat with those fangs, but the bites were soft, and affectionate.

“Do you want me to take you, Reed? Right here in your kitchen?”

“Y-Yes,” he whined, toes curling against the glossy floor tiles.

“Then could you do something for me? Could you let me hear that filthy mouth as you come from my hand?”

Then it was Oliver who growled. “You’re so fucking greedy,” he said between clenched teeth.

Lucas grinned, rocking their bodies back as his hand clasped tighter around Oliver’s throat. “I just love to see you suffer, Reed.”

“Stop fucking teasing me,” he hissed back.

Lucas hummed and something in him snapped, the last thread of dignity that held his sex-fuddled mind together. His tiny knot pulsed under Lucas’ fingers, his balls growing so tight it was almost painful. Every hair prickled on the back of his neck, and he pushed up onto the balls of his feet as wave after wave of his seed splashed onto his stomach and into Lucas’ hand. A string of expletives left his mouth, the words rolling into a jumble of wanton moans.

His inner thighs were wet and trembling as Lucas held him, powerful arms keeping him upright, keeping him safe. “Reed… Reed… Oliver… Ollie,” Lucas panted against his skin, the heat of his breath like an inferno.

The air was thick with the smell of sex, and Oliver wanted nothing more than to drag the alpha into his nest and fuck him senseless. He twisted in his grip, throwing his arms around Lucas’ neck. Their mouths smashed together in a furious torrent of rough, hungry kisses, Lucas practically bending Oliver backwards over the kitchen counter.

Then the alpha’s phone rang. They ignored it at first, each focused on shedding their clothing as quickly as possible. Then it rang again. And again. Then Oliver’s phone began to ring too.

With his mouth still half clamped around Oliver’s nipple, Lucas brought the phone up to his face. Squinting at the screen, Oliver stuttered, “I-It’s Inspector Callahan.” The name was like a cold rush of ice water being tipped over his libido. “Oh no, now Blake’s calling,” he moaned, reluctantly pressing the phone to his ear.

“Ollie?” DS Smith said.

“Y-Yes?” He replied, slapping Lucas’ arm as he tugged at his pyjamas.

“What are you doing right now?”

The colour drained from this face, his cock practically shrivelling at the thought of his supervisor somehow knowing he was two minutes away from being fucked into the next century.

“I-I, I’m… I’m knitting?”

Lucas’ head snapped up, smirking as he gave Oliver a look that said ‘Knitting ?’ He could have said anything, and that’s what his big detective brain came up with.

“Have you heard from DS White? We’ve been trying to get hold of him. It’s urgent.”

Oliver was about to lie and say that, no , he hadn’t heard from DS White. And that said DS White was most definitely not biting his neck and peeling off his shirt at that very moment.

“I-I, er?—”

“DS White here,” Lucas said, cool as a cucumber, as he took the phone from Oliver’s hand. “Yes. Right. Understood. I’ll start making my way over.”

“You what?” Oliver mouthed, grasping Lucas’ arm. “What the fuck do they want?”

Hanging up, Lucas tossed the phone onto the kitchen counter. “Reed. Helena Cartwright’s gone missing.”