UTTERLY UNPROFESSIONAL

At 11 pm, I decided it was time to get ready. I headed to the bathroom and took a long, thorough shower. The company advised us to use the strongest antiperspirants to ensure an undisturbed experience for our clients. After that, I put on my outfit—it looked a bit like what ninja warriors wear in the movies, the real ones, not the turtles. I also grabbed my ski mask and tucked it into my pocket; riding through the city wearing it would’ve been asking for trouble.

The student’s studio apartment wasn’t far, maybe a twenty-minute drive, right near the college campus—super convenient. I parked a short distance away and scoped out the area, checking to see if I could get to his window without being noticed.

Luckily, the student seemed aware his neighborhood wasn’t exactly intruder-proof. Some of the apartments faced a backyard full of shrubs, which gave plenty of cover. According to Mr. Ragu’s layout, the student’s place was smack in the middle of the building: the sixth window from the left, seventh from the right—the kitchen. Even from a distance, I noticed he’d left the window slightly open, like he was setting the stage for me.

Everything was lining up. My heart started to race as I got closer to the window, the thrill making my pulse pick up speed. I checked my phone—1:04 am, prime break-in time when everyone’s usually dead asleep.

Not feeling a need to overthink it—that would just make me more jumpy—I hoisted myself onto the windowsill and nudged the window open. It swung without a hitch. I left my shoes on the lawn, hoping nobody would find them, and stepped inside in my black, non-slip socks.

In my pocket, I had condoms, a lube sachet, and a black satin ribbon to tie his hands. I rarely tied clients up tightly; it was mostly for show, no need for metal chains.

The kitchen was tiny, as you’d expect in a studio apartment. I took a deep breath out of habit, even though I’d been taking the super-strong pheromone suppressant Seprudin 750 since I joined the company six months ago. It always felt a little strange not picking up the scent of omegas, and them not smelling me. But it was a rule. The company didn’t want clients sniffing out zero pheromone compatibility and having it ruin the mood.

As I moved deeper inside, though, I caught the faintest hint of something nice—sweet and charming. I couldn’t quite place it, but it gave me a slight shiver. Even with the suppressant, I felt a little warmth in my groin.

The apartment was quiet and dark. I tiptoed into the hallway and spotted two doors—one shut, the other cracked open. The open one led to the bedroom, where that light, elusive scent was coming from, teasing at the edges of my senses. Sometimes it slipped away; sometimes I felt close to catching it. Were my alien genes breaking through the suppressant?

Holding my breath, I snuck into the room. My night vision kicked in—a perk from my extraterrestrial ancestors. Now, I could clearly see the bed in the center of the room. Curled up under a quilt, surrounded by a meticulously crafted omega nest, lay a small figure.

My heart fluttered.

I knew immediately he wasn’t really sleeping. His heart was racing, pounding way too fast. I could hear it as clear as day—he was probably startled awake by my not-so-stealthy entrance, or maybe he’d been just lying there the whole time, wide awake, waiting for my visit. He kept still, though, despite his heart thumping in quick, nervous beats.

Closing my eyes for a moment, I tuned into the sounds of the room—his breathing, the nervous swallows. Being a purple alpha, my hearing was more acute than the hearing of other alphas, so I caught all the subtle, organic sounds. Obviously, he knew I could tell he wasn’t asleep; he was just lying there, pretending, playing along.

A lot of clients did this—nervously waiting for the company employee to show up. Probably hadn’t slept a wink, and this guy seemed no different.

Slowly, I moved around the bed, studying his nest in the darkness. It caught my attention—it was intricately made. The blankets and scarves were woven into tight braids, forming what looked like… a perfect rose! Wow. I’d never seen such an impressive and complicated nest before, not even online. It was a work of art, a masterpiece—the king of all nests!

So, I stood there in utter amazement. My ex had always thrown together a sloppy, half-hearted nest out of old clothes and rags, but this guy had poured his heart and soul into his.

Realizing I’d been hovering there like a creep, staring at his hypnotic, rose-shaped nest, I snapped myself out of it.

C’mon, Storm. Focus.

It was time for action, so I grabbed the edge of the quilt and yanked the cover off with a sharp tug.

Damien finally screamed.

Loudly. I guess it was a relief for him to let out that sound—the tension he’d been holding in, keeping him taut as a bowstring. He started to sit up, but I leapt onto him, landing in the middle of his nest. Oddly enough, I didn’t want to wreck it. Normally, I wouldn't give a damn and would destroy my ex's shabby nests.

But now? Funny, I wanted this to stay intact, to survive the whole thing. I knew nests had that effect on alphas—their violent instincts tended to diminish a bit when they were surrounded by the nest’s scent. While crafting it, omegas excreted small amounts of pheromones via their wrist glands, and the scent could be quite distinctive—reflective of the omega's mood during the crafting or their general mental health. This time I was strangely eager to feel the full effect of it. But no luck. The damn pheromone suppressant.

The young omega was wearing only a t-shirt and nothing else, which was quite convenient. I was now on top of him, pressing his warm, soft body against the bed.

Wow, such a nice feeling… like landing on a silky pillow.

He raised his hands and tried to push me away, but I grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the sheets. I could hear his gasping, the weak, helpless sounds he made as he was trying to throw me off him, and this spiked my discomfort for some reason.

Why the hell was I squashing this little omega?

It just felt wrong. I hoped he’d say the safe word. But… he didn’t.

And since he didn’t, I had to keep going, despite everything in me protesting against any form of brutality toward this soft, warm human being. I hated the idea of jerking him around, tossing him across the bed, or treating him roughly. Damn it! I had this idiotic thought that I would rather have him embrace me… lovingly.

What? Seriously, Storm?

I blinked in shock. I never had such a strange feeling with any other client.

Wrong, just wrong, bad, bad, bad… kept popping up in my head like an 'Update your Windows' notification.

Why the heck did I hire myself into this filthy company? Never before in my life had I had to force an omega into anything, and it just made me physically sick. But what should I do now? Resign? Escape? Fuck, it felt like a trap.

For a moment, I just lay there, keeping him pinned down, taking deep breaths, and listening to his quiet whimpers. Well. Since I was already in this mess—whatever the hell it was—I decided not to rush things. Calm down, Storm. Just breathe. Despite all the wrongness alerts going nuts in my head, it was unexpectedly pleasant to lie on his plush body. That strange scent I could only half-sense, lingering at the edge of my subconscious, was becoming easier to catch.

A garden full of fragrant pink sweet roses? When I was a kid, I loved eating marshmallows dipped in rose jam. My dad made that jam after collecting pink rugosa rose petals, and I was its biggest fan.

The whole time I was sniffing, my face stayed buried in his neck because, for some reason, I avoided looking into his eyes. I’d seen them briefly before I lowered myself—wide, dark, and, of course, monochromatic. My night vision had its limits. Slowly, I shifted closer to his neck glands, lifting my ski mask just a bit, and instinctively inhaled his scent one more time. Maybe now? Nope.

Damn suppressants. I was so close to catching it—figuring out what kind of mateship we had. But it kept slipping away, and the frustration was maddening.

Out of habit, I let my nose linger over his glands for a long moment, noticing they’d never been marked before. Just smooth skin under my nose, untouched by the teeth of other alphas.

All in all, he was just a twenty-year-old guy. Maybe he’d already had one heat, or maybe it was still ahead of him. Lots of omegas had their first heat between eighteen and twenty-two.

I swiped my tongue over his glands and Damien made a strange vibrating sound. His body tensed, trying to push me off, but the resistance quickly faded. I used the moment to pull a ribbon from my pocket and tie his hands. This time, he didn’t put up much of a fight, which was a huge relief. I kept feeling this weird revulsion at wrestling with him. The difference in strength between us was immense, and for that very reason, it felt simply unfair.

God, how much I wished he’d just participate willingly.

Wait… in a way, he did! I realized he sensed my hesitation because his struggling slowed down. Tying someone’s hands when they’re actively resisting is no easy feat—you need both hands on the ribbon—but he suddenly went still, lying motionless as I tied him up. Proof of his consent?

If I’d really followed his instructions from the script, I should have been handling him more roughly—he wanted it to be that way, at least at the beginning of his scenario. But that wasn’t something I could bring myself to do. And I think he realized that, and let me bind his wrists, lying there and waiting submissively.

As I finished, I hesitated. On a strange impulse, I slowly slid my hand into his small, soft palm. And I kinda… awkwardly held it for a while, the room filled only with our breathing. Eventually, his fingers moved and very lightly closed over mine. Was this another way of showing me he consented? It felt pleasant, this gentle, delicate touch of his.

Out of nowhere, I felt an odd urge to say something to him. I remembered he wanted compliments—about his looks, his body, his sex appeal, and how much I desired him. Allegedly. Or, in this case, for real. Now seemed like the perfect time to dive into the scenario.

Smiling to myself, I leaned in close and whispered into his ear, "I’ve been thinking about you all day. I couldn’t focus on anything else but the thought of having you tonight. I fantasized for hours and got hard, wanting to be inside you so badly."

My words sank in, and he let out a short, rapturous sigh—I knew he wanted to hear my confessions of pure ‘desire and obsession’. The funny thing was, I didn't even have to lie. I had been thinking about him all day, even before I accepted his assignment. Four days already!

"I wish I didn’t have these damn suppressants," I murmured. "I’d love to scent you right now, to just drown in your fragrance. I know it would be beautiful and sweet, just like you."

He made another sound—a light, disbelieving snort mixed with a sigh, something he couldn’t quite hold back. For some reason, I knew exactly what it meant: he didn’t believe he could be beautiful to me—or to anyone else, not truly.

Leaning forward, I kissed him just under the jaw and along his neck, covering his skin with wet smooches and leaving light love bites since he hadn’t forbidden them in his scenario. Being close to his ear, I murmured, "You don’t have to believe me, but it’s all true. You’re very cute. Your eyes are so sad and beautiful, and your lips—God, they’re so soft. I feel like tasting them… and maybe I will?"

Impulsively, I shifted a little, just to be able to kiss him, but then I froze. That tiny, nagging thought hit me: had he requested that in the scenario? My stomach sank as I cursed under my breath. No, I was almost certain he hadn’t.

So, my lips hovered just an inch above his, before I sighed and pulled back. Instead, I went back to kissing his neck and collarbones, sticking to safe territory.

Then I felt something unexpected—something hard, pressing lightly against my side.

Jackpot! My actions had an effect after all. Damien liked it—and it was all about making him happy.

Though I obviously didn't have an ounce of a real rapist in me, I still wanted to make the most of his scenario. Therefore, I grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head, and it stayed up there, wrapped around his wrists because of his bound hands. Now my mouth could slide lower over his bare torso, and it was then that I discovered what Damien meant when he said he was a bit chubby.

His body had a soft, streamlined shape; his shoulders were rounded, and his chest was as filled out as that of a pregnant omega. The cones of his breasts rose stiffly, the areolas were puffy, but the tips were hard and taut, waiting for my mouth. I wasn’t going to let them down.

"Wow, you have really sexy nipples. I've always liked the puffy nipples on pregnant omegas. You're perfect!" And then I closed my mouth on his nipple.

Yep, I’ve fucked a few pregnant omegas in the past, who were bored with their alpha husbands and quite intrigued by the possibility of sex with a purple alpha. Not that I was proud of it, but hey, at least I could appreciate their pillowy soft bodies, and Damien was a nice example of such sweet roundness. Tom was all chiseled and lean, and I realized where my true preference lay: softness and curves.

My tongue was circling his nipples. "Gosh, you really taste like candy fudge, gonna devour you…"

Damien let out a quiet moan when I enclosed my mouth around his left areola and sucked it in; his body trembled—I knew he absolutely loved it. The sounds he was making changed—becoming deeper, louder, more guttural, and primal.

At one point, he even made a quiet sound in the AO mating language that meant ‘Continue, it feels good’. Since those sounds were partly involuntary, I took it as a huge compliment and encouragement to keep sucking and licking his nipples, which were now hard as pebbles. My other hand sweetly tortured his right nub, and I could feel him trembling under me, arching his spine, making louder and louder hot huffs.

Suddenly, he actually lowered his bound hands and wrapped them around my neck, which almost made me ecstatic, but he quickly corrected himself and threw his arms back behind his head. Yeah, the whole home invasion scenario was still on… Too bad, it would feel more like making love, but I guess that wasn't what he wanted.

Damien's body was incredibly warm, his skin as smooth as velvet, and I took such pleasure in this that my rock-hard dick throbbed almost constantly, pressing into his calf.

Maybe I could mention it? I lifted myself up, popping his nipple out of my mouth, and mumbled, "Do you feel how hard I am for you?" I rubbed my cock against his leg to prove it even more, "I want you so much, and your beautiful, soft body!"

But there was more on the list I should praise. Of course, my night vision didn’t allow me to see colors, so I added, "What a pity I can’t see your freckles. I love that delicate sprinkle across the shoulders, where the sun kissed the skin in the summer, leaving these traces behind…" As I said it, I was half-expecting a wave of debilitating cringe to wash over me, but it never came. Somehow, that awkward sweet talk felt right in the moment.

And… Damien actually responded. Very quietly, more like a shy whisper, "I have freckles on my shoulders and arms."

Why did I feel so giddy hearing him respond? It gave me the confidence to embrace the newly discovered poetic side of myself even more.

"Mmm… that’s great! For me, freckles are like small reminders of warm sunny days, the sunlight trapped forever on your skin. I could kiss them too, but well, your hands are tied now."

Strangely elated and invigorated by this little interaction, which seemed more like cute lover talk—something beyond this strange scenario—I slid my mouth down to his belly. It was tender, soft, slightly bulging, like a pleasant silken cushion. I took my time with his pretty belly button and then sucked lightly on his love handles, humming at how fluffy and lovely they were! His dick pulsed intensely under my arm, hot and rock hard, pre-cum dripping constantly.

Damien liked it—and it made me swoon. He let out a constant purr, his breath hitching, his pulse racing.

It was time for the main course.

My mouth found his penis, and indeed it was just as he had described it—on the smaller side, but a well-formed pretty one, and sooo hard, it might as well have a real bone inside.

"Nice, shapely dick!" I mumbled, and once again, I was being honest. I actually liked it; it was always a hardship for me to dick-shame people in all those scenarios, so finally, for once, I could be true to myself.

I took it deep into my mouth, all the way to the end, pressing it against the back of my throat, and Damien moaned loudly and shamelessly. Then…

…unexpectedly, a sweet and milky liquid spilled into my mouth.

The omega let out a stifled gasp, and I realized that he had come. That fast? Pretty shocking. I certainly wasn’t a master of blowjobs—maybe decent—but to have such an immediate effect? Damien obviously appreciated my foreplay more than I ever dreamed of, and it felt like a small miracle.

"You taste like whipped cream!" I mumbled, a little surprised because it was considered a sign of… something very specific. But since it felt simply impossible, I slid my lips down without paying any more attention to the subject. My eyes landed on his smoothly shaved pink testicles and I gently sucked one and then another into my mouth, trying to simultaneously mumble incoherent praises under my breath about how round and perfectly creamy-pink they were, and how very pleasant they felt in my mouth. It probably sounded comical, but that was very much my goal.

And… indeed, I heard his quiet, melodious giggle. Damien found it amusing—another reason for me to preen a bit. Sure, I hadn’t followed his home-invader scenario to a T, but that hadn’t ruined his mood, and it was a win.

Encouraged, I continued to kiss and lick over his balls, moving lower to his perineum. Damien visibly enjoyed my efforts, panting loudly, and his dick didn't even bend a little. It stood proudly, pointing to the ceiling. And then I just had to see… the place. It was time.

So, I grabbed his hips and flipped him onto his stomach in one swift motion.

Damien let out a muffled squeal that resonated in my nervous system, making me almost feral.

And that was the moment that made me freeze.

Something very unusual caught my attention. But the view was still monochromatic, dammit, and I needed to be sure!

So, I raised myself slightly and reached toward the nightstand, where I saw a small lamp, right next to his glasses. I pressed the button, and the room was flooded with a soft golden light, bringing Damien's body out of the grayness into the vibrancy.

Blinking, I focused my sight. Of course, before I investigated this strange discovery, I couldn't ignore the very impressive sight in front of me. His solid butt was as plump, soft, and smooth as I had imagined. And I've always loved big, juicy butts. It's been a long time since I've seen such a springy, bulging, and round behind on an omega. Perfection!

And then I finally had to face the other thing—there was no way to miss it now… who he really was.

Damien wasn’t your typical omega. He belonged to another subspecies—my subspecies to be exact—just a different subgender.

They were called rose omegas.

Similar to purple alphas, their counterparts—rose omegas had a high percentage of alien DNA, and it showed in their bodies—though not as obviously as it did with purples.

Damien’s intimate entrance was unique, like rose petals softly closed, but now slowly opening, revealing the pink, wet inside as my eyes focused on it.

Wow. I swallowed hard, truly amazed.

His rosy pucker wasn’t the only sign of his heritage. After all, some omegas had a somewhat similar look to their entrances while during their heats—vividly pink and slightly protruding, but there was more to it with Damien.

Around his opening and running up along his spine was a pink line, shaped a bit like the stem of a thorny rose. Like a real stem, it wasn’t perfectly straight but curved gently, bending around his vertebrae and forming little thorn-like protrusions (though they were flat like tattoos, not actual bumpy thorns). The closest thing I could compare it to was a pink lightning bolt etched into his skin, like a streak cutting through a stormy sky. This pink "stem"—or lightning bolt, depending on how you saw it—continued up to his shoulder blades, where it spread out into hundreds of thin lines, disappearing like branches of lightning (or roots, if you prefer), sinking into his skin and fading away.

From what I’d read, not every rose omega had the same lines. The patterns could vary—some covered the entire back like winding vines, others had sharper contours, and some had smoother, wavy lines. It seemed to be unique to each individual, like frost patterns on glass—never the same, always one of a kind.

Yes, I stared. I’d never been with a rose omega before, even though I knew that only among them could I find my perfect mate. But of course, meeting a rose omega didn’t mean he’d automatically be my match. They were rare, but not that rare, making up around 1.5% of all omegas—a percentage similar to purple alphas. Still, there were thousands of them out there, especially in big cities. Meeting my fated mate among them would be like finding a needle in a haystack.

There was a prolonged silence in the room as I attentively studied his body. Damien tilted his head forcefully to the side so he could look back at me and gauge my reaction. Our eyes met, and for a moment, we just stared at each other, my breathing halted.

Should I even react at all? He hadn’t mentioned it in his script, so he probably wanted me to continue like nothing had happened, right? I had already changed enough of his scenario, so making it worse by commenting on his rose omega nature would just be insolent. I was pretty sure he didn’t want to be fetishized or for it to become the focal point of our meeting, for the same reason I hated when my purple nature was the big thing.

Swallowing hard, I pulled myself out of the shock and decided to play along with the home invasion story, making sure not to give him any more hints that this was quite a surprise for me. In fact, I resolved to ignore it completely, treating him like any other omega.

"Fuck! You have an awesome ass, oh man, I guess it should be me paying you for this service, not you—paying me! That's a little unfair, a butt like that is a godly asset!"

And… yes, here I came full circle again, violating his scenario script even more.

Damien specifically had expressed in his list of expectations that he didn’t want off-scenario conversations, it wasn’t like with the ‘dog-man’, who didn’t mind. His scenario was meant to feel real: a real assault.

However, the funny thing was… at that point, I didn't even care. I knew he wanted to hear compliments more than anything—possibly because he was insecure about himself, self-conscious about his looks. To make those praises convincing, they had to be genuine, real-life observations. I had this feeling he’d know if I was lying, just like I could sense, in this strange way, what he thought of the situation.

The nervousness mixed with excitement filled him—it was so thick, so palpable that it seemed to hang in the air around me, like a mental mist enveloping the room.

But he also wanted me to proceed, so with sincere passion, I placed my hands on his buttocks, wiggling and squeezing both of his plump cheeks. I began to play with them, patting, kneading, and still murmuring cringeworthy praises: "What a glorious ass! I'm going to cover it with hickeys and suck on those succulent, juicy globes!"

And again, I wasn't lying—I was mesmerized by his sweet roundness, enamored with it. I leaned in, nibbling on his satin skin with my mouth, sucking, and lightly biting. "My fudgy-pudgy omega…" I babbled nonsensically.

Damien made really cute sounds, similar to the grunting of an excited bunny or the squeaking of a little squirrel; it was adorable. And then I parted his buttocks again and just had to say something nice about what lay between them too.

"Well, I guess you don't believe me when I pay you sincere compliments, but again—I don't have to make it up. You have a beautiful little hole, and it is already so wet for me. I'm going to take good care of it."

Excited, I lowered myself and gently ran my tongue over it, discovering its pleasantly sweet taste. Damien shuddered and let out a whimper. I couldn't help myself, although I usually didn't like rimming, this time around I really didn't have to break myself to do it. My tongue started sliding around his petaled entrance, licking his sweet, delicious slick.

A purr of satisfaction escaped my lips, for it was not only pleasurable for him, but for me as well. My arousal skyrocketed and my dick was so hard it almost hurt. I wanted nothing more than to thrust into that tiny hole, but… I had to prepare it well first, that's what he expected. And, not to be too modest, that's exactly what was needed here, as I had been called a ‘monster' for more than one reason. So, I really got down to business, first licking him for a while with my tongue sliding in with swirling motions, playing with his little folds, while Damien moaned and groaned loudly. I even slipped my hand under his hips, and he was still hard, leaking copious amounts of pre-cum.

"Your cute cock is demanding to be satisfied again! It makes me very happy to give this sweetie some joy!" I made another comment of masterclass cringe level, but I just knew what would be awkward for another omega—was very welcomed by praise-hungry Damien.

How could I even sense him so well? It was almost like telepathy.

Concentrating even more, I went back to swirling my tongue down his tight hole, but after a while I decided to also slide my finger there, starting with one that was inserted shallowly, carefully. The lube bag was close by, but I didn't need it; he was so wet, his slick trickling down his perineum. I licked it greedily from time to time, savoring the delicious taste. It was really strange—I had never found the flavor of omega's slick to be particularly mouthwatering. It was tolerable for me, but well, not as yummy as Damien’s!

My next move was to gently massage the opening with one finger, slowly sliding it in and out. After a while, I added a second. When he moaned slightly, I immediately slowed down and withdrew my digits, then went back to penetrating him with only one. I didn't want to rush anything; every minute was important. Only when I was sure he was ready for the second finger did I slide it in again slowly, muttering under my breath, "You're so tight, I can't wait to get inside you!"

Even though I had a hard (very hard! ) time waiting, I couldn't let him down by sloppily following his instructions regarding penetration. He wanted to be diligently prepared and treated well, and I was going to give him that. So I took a lot of time with slow massaging and circular motions, stretching, scissoring, and lightly rubbing his prostate before I moved on to inserting a third finger.

"I'll add the third," I muttered warningly, so he would be ready. He groaned deafeningly when I did it. So, I left the third finger inside for a while, but didn't move it, letting him get used to such a significant presence. After all, I was 7'2", and my hands weren’t exactly small. But since he really needed to be spread wide for me, it was a good thing. Meanwhile, I kissed his plump, pillowy buttocks, and my second hand reached down to his dick again to begin stroking it gently, giving additional stimulation.

Damien was taking deep breaths; it was obvious that he was trying hard to fully relax, and after a while he actually succeeded. My patience was really more than I ever had with any other omega, but he deserved it, so he was going to get it. In a way, it was also a mental preparation, and even though I was only obligated to spend about an hour here, I was willing to stay as much time as he needed. After a few minutes, I was able to slide my fingers in deeper and also move them slightly from side to side, stretching his entrance even more.

Finally, the moment I was waiting for came. Damien was nicely open, relaxed, and so very wet. His pucker glistened, looking downright inviting. The pink petals were parted, swollen, and slippery; so delicious.

My poor dick, already stiff beyond the point of pain, was about to finally experience some pleasure. I took out a condom, tore open the package, and put it on.

Then, I leaned over Damien’s head, gently kissed his cheek, and whispered in his ear, "You know you can say no at any time, right? I will stop. You don’t have to explain anything. Whenever you need me to stop, just say it."

Yep, not much of a home invader scenario anymore, but what was strange—I could feel my energy adjusting to his. Damien wanted this; he didn’t want to be treated like a real victim anymore, despite hiring a company to do so. He was grateful for the change in script… how odd that I even knew it.

Finally, I settled between his legs, then leaned over and pressed my dick against his entrance. I waited for a while, just for him, so he was fully mentally ready and aware of what was going to happen.

But Damien didn’t say anything; the safe word didn’t appear. So I knew he wanted me to continue. In any other case, it would be so damn unprofessional—no employee of Dark Dreams should behave carefully like that, potentially destroying a client’s wild, non-consensual fantasy scenario. But my principles were more important, and so was my reading of his mood. It was the right thing to do, to give him all the options to back out. Only after that, did I start to go deeper into him, very, very slowly. At that exact moment, feeling me pushing, he suddenly turned his head and twisted it so he could see my dick!

I stopped right away, letting him take it in. I was still almost completely clothed, my mask on, with only my eyes and lips showing. I pulled down my pants a bit, but not much more was visible. Except for one thing. I didn’t have my gloves on, nor the usual skin-colored thin cover patch I used over the purple lines on my hands.

His eyes fixed on my dick, his pupils dilated, and then they shifted to my hands, where the purple lines were visible. As before, I let him have his moment, taking in these signs that revealed my subspecies.

We were both the same kind; two sides of the same coin.

Damien didn't seem surprised by my purple-pink lines; Ragu had to let him know who was coming to see him. In no-penetration scenarios, it didn't have to be disclosed, but in the case of a planned intercourse—it was company policy. Clients couldn’t be put in situations where they discovered that a ‘monster’ had come into their beds. And we were considered along those lines, for sure. Purple alphas with monster dicks and monster bodies that could turn into something no one really wanted to see. Some customers might object to having us… up their asses.

But since Damien was a rose omega, his body was designed to handle me, which put me at ease.

Finally, his ogling was over. He turned his head to the side and rested it on the pillow, a clear signal for me to continue.

Again, my dick pressed against his entrance.

"Gosh, you're so tight, like a virgin," I murmured, inching in as he panted—his breath short and raspy. "I hope that's not the case, though. You deserve more than just being fucked by some weird guy you paid for!" I burst out, further ruining his scenario.

After a six-month streak of perfect scores and glowing reviews, I had failed miserably on this one. I was pretty sure I deserved a one-star-out-of-five review. But I wasn’t myself today. Damien melted my brain—something inside me flared up as I marveled at him, at his body, his energy. He was so delicious, warm, and exciting.

He looked like… mine.

Dammit, I didn’t want to do this anymore for this fucking company—taking gigs like Johansson’s over and over. It’s not that I didn’t know what I was signing up for before, but now it hit me twice as hard.

The whole depression thing, the numbness, the emptiness. I dreamed of having someone like Damien to come home to after work. I didn’t want to meet strangers anonymously and screw people with kinks that didn’t align with mine—not even close. I wanted to… make love, however boring that sounded. Under my purple exterior, I was just a vanilla, simple guy. The problem was, people assumed I was something different, and that was, in a way, my tragedy.

Feeling somewhat desperate and almost sad, I plunged deeper and deeper into him with every inch. But my body wasn’t unhappy at all, like it had a mind of its own. Damien felt just too perfect; his hot velvety channel—a place to be.

Even though I had a condom, I quickly realized that things were getting out of control—I was about to explode—and I never had trouble with premature ejaculation before! But now, I had to stop, taking a few deep breaths. And a few more… However, my excitement wasn’t going anywhere; it was growing wild! Ah, that cute, round ass that was taking me in—I was so miserably doomed to fail with my fleeting strength.

Desperately clutching his buttocks with my fingers, I groaned, "Fuck, I'm about to come, I can't help it…" My voice sounded helpless.

This whole endeavor turned out to be a major catastrophe. It would have been over without the rubber. Unreal—the power of my arousal seemed almost out of this world. How could this chubby omega turn me on so damn much? Yes, he was incredibly tight, which had its effect. But still, there was some strange element to it. I usually needed to fuck a guy for at least a few minutes to cum, and now I was about to burst just from one push? Incredible, and a bit suspicious, especially knowing how it worked with… True Mates. They would cum immediately, at their first penetration. But this scenario was improbable. The first rose omega I ever fucked and that would be IT? Nah, stupid thought.

Finally, after a while, and after many deep breaths to calm myself, I managed to bottom out inside him and stayed there, wanting him to get used to my presence.

In the meantime, I stared. Fuck, it looked crazy—my massive dick was embedded in his ass, and it looked really wild. His petals were now stretched impossibly, tightly circling my base like a coiled pink rubber band. It seemed inconceivable that he could be comfortable with my dick so deep in his guts. His belly had to be extra bulging because of it!

Needing to check it, I lowered my hand and, on the way there, discovered that he was still rock hard! As soon as I lightly squeezed his dick, he… came again! Wow. Moist liquid oozed down my fingers, and Damien let out a raspy moan. I had a hard time believing it, feeling his cock pulsing under my grip… How could this be even possible? So fast? One movement of my hand? I was so puzzled that I forgot to check for a 'dick-bulge' on his belly.

One thing was for sure, I probably shouldn't try to solve it right now . I needed to start moving, and I did.

Only…

…to also orgasm immediately! Shivering and gasping loud, I cursed under my breath. My body was shaking, my dick was spurting, I was panting, completely out of control. Dammit! I just couldn’t hold back.

To hide my premature eruption, I continued to thrust, and curiously enough, had no problem with it, staying fully hard, despite usually being oversensitive right after. Damien's dick didn't get soft either. Maybe he took some kind of pill?

Now was the time to work. I withdrew almost all the way and then plunged into him slowly, feeling his slick flowing profusely over his thighs. Damn, he was really turned on. I’ve never had sex before where my partner came twice and was still hard, except during heat periods, of course.

In a daze, I continued to rock inside him, slow, but the stimuli were still cosmic. I realized that unfortunately, I wouldn’t be able to prove myself in this intercourse—my pleasure was rising like a rollercoaster car, madly fast, blinding me, making me shiver. Maybe two minutes after, I weakly groaned out, "Damn, you're too tight, I can't handle it—"

Moments later, I just gave up, exploding inside like a Yellowstone geyser, falling into ecstasy as a dazzling pink light spilled in front of my eyes…

How wonderful (and embarrassing) it was! Impossible to describe—my body was literally vibrating, my fingers were hooking into his buttocks, and I was muttering under my breath, some silly things about how breathtaking the heavenly tightness inside him was… no idea what else—probably his name, maybe a few embarrassing confessions, definitely riding that cringe train at full speed.

My failure was complete: straying from the scenario, having multiple premature ejaculation issues, talking unprofessional shit. But hell yeah, hitting the bottom never felt so good.

Damien fell flat on his stomach, trembling. Wait, did he… also? Again? I sank down on top of him, crushing him with my weight and muttering in his ear, "Sorry, but damn, it's been a long time since anyone turned me on like this. If you give me a moment, we'll continue because I'm still hard for you."

Damien didn’t answer, apparently he was dedicated to the script—such a strikingly opposite attitude to mine.

And then I noticed what else was happening—my knot started to grow! I groaned in shock, but I was in such a position that I couldn’t pull back fast enough. Within seconds, I found myself locked inside him.

Damien groaned loudly.

"Oh shit, oh shit, sorry, sorry!" I breathed out because I knew that knotting up customers was also not a part of the company policy! It was considered something too intimate, something that could only happen between close people, not during casual sex with a hired man. An absolute madness.

My face turned red with shame, but there was nothing I could do. My knot was firmly lodged inside, fully swollen, connecting us tightly.

"I'm sorry, Damien. This scenario didn’t go as I hoped. I don’t know what’s going on; I don’t think I’m up for the job. I’ll pay you back with my own money because I completely wrecked your script."

I was convinced there would be no answer, but I was very wrong. Unexpectedly, I heard his voice. It wasn’t a whisper this time, but a pleasant, gentle tenor with a low, silky timbre.

"Nothing bad’s happening. You don’t need to apologize. After all, this is uncontrollable, and it’s actually… a compliment." His face remained turned to the side, so I couldn't see his expression.

"Listen," I said, "the problem is that this is my first time having sex with a client. Before this, I only took commissions related to spanking, and toys. But I’m not cut out for this. I should stick to what I’m good at, so I will return the money to you."

A moment of silence passed, and then suddenly, he spoke again.

"To tell you the truth, I think you’re great. You made me believe this wasn’t scripted, that everything you said, you really meant."

I laughed quietly, pressing my lips to his neck.

"And you know," I murmured, "the funny thing is, everything I said was true. Every word. It’s all true—you really are so… sexy to me."

It was super weird, talking to him with my knot deeply submerged in him, without seeing his face, and he couldn’t see mine. I only knew that the scenario had crumbled into dust.

My knot didn’t want to deflate even a little. I made a few movements with my hips to check if I could maneuver at all, and Damien let out a quiet moan in response, probably feeling the head of my dick rubbing over his uterine entrance.

"If you want, I can continue. To tell you the truth, I damn well like it," I muttered, sounding like a horny student who just discovered sex.

"Okay, continue," he whispered quietly.

So I did just that. I began to thrust into him again, feeling the super-stretched condom heavily filled with my cum squelching inside, but I didn’t even pay attention to that. This time, I was lying on top of him, my head pressed against the side of his head. I could hear his breathing speeding up and quiet moans as I rhythmically plunged into him, massaging his prostate and the entrance to his uterus.

And it was a damn godly feeling. So godly that I started to feel unexpected tingling in my gums… as if my mating fangs were about to emerge—a rather rare occurrence outside of heat! Was my body priming to mark Damien? With quite an effort, I halted it, but it took a lot of my focus.

Unfortunately, my orgasm was quickly gathering momentum again, sneakily using the time while I struggled to stop myself from marking and mating… a total stranger . Kinda crazy.

Trying to focus on adding to his pleasure instead, I slipped one hand under Damien’s body, placing it on his hard nipples, and squeezed them lightly. He moaned, and I could feel his hips making gentle movements, coming out to meet me.

"Faster, a little faster," he whispered, and I obeyed him, knowing it would be my downfall.

Our bodies were now slapping, slamming, our groans filling the room. My mind was dizzy and enchanted by him. All I wanted was to stay there, to wallow in him, to sink myself in his energy, to be free from all my problems and just remain merged with Damien.

Maybe two minutes later, I felt him suddenly tighten, his passage squeezing my knot, pulsing, milking me. He groaned deafeningly, as he had reached his peak again. This pushed me toward my own climax, toward the inevitable rush of pleasure…

I really didn’t know if it had been seven minutes since my previous orgasm, and the knot was still on. I started to feel silly, like I was missing something obvious.

"Are you in heat?"

"No," he said quietly.

"Then why—" I stopped myself.

I couldn't bring myself to say it, to express the unbelievable. This other possibility, this improbable, miraculous, yet simple answer to everything. The idea I resisted so much… calling it unrealistic. But in truth, only one type of mateship had that kind of chemistry—overwhelming, constant, undeniable, like magic.

And yet, in our society, it was almost customary to deny such a possibility with all our might. They called it protecting yourself from disappointment .

Since childhood, we had heard it in schools and colleges: "Don’t let yourself be fooled by the elusive prospect of finding your ideal mate. Keep yourself in check, stay realistic." The programming kicked in hard now, and I rejected the idea once again.

But what about my powerful gut feeling? Should I really ignore it?

I lingered on the thought as minutes passed in silence, my intense brooding helping to dissolve my knot, so I slowly pulled my dick out.

There was nothing else to do here, we had a clear rule not to prolong our presence in clients' homes, to avoid making them feel uncomfortable.

At that very moment, when I was about to say something, the condom, which was filled beyond all reason, slipped off my dick, and a pretty gigantic puddle appeared on the sheet, just under his buttocks. Yyy… Yup. I conveniently ignored it because I had more important things to do, like, um, talking with Damien.

"Damien, I—I have to go now. I'm sorry this scenario turned out so strange. I'll ask the company to reimburse you—"

Then he said something that stopped me cold.

"It was my first time."

I froze, only blinking like an idiot, it just didn’t register.

"Wait. You mean your first time having sex?" I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

"Yes."

Words spilled out of my mouth before I could think better of it: "Gosh! Seriously? You hired a company for that? You could have any alpha you wanted!"

Damien let out a huff and muttered, "I thought one of your prerogatives was not to criticize your clients—or question our decisions?"

I cleared my throat. "Of course! I wasn’t trying to criticize. I was just… surprised. I don’t know why, but it upset me. You deserve so much more!"

"You don’t know what I deserve," he blurted out, his tone robotic, like he was trying to distance himself from the situation.

But it didn’t feel genuine. I could sense it—he wasn’t happy.

Was the reality of what happened sinking in for him too?

Instinctively, I moved to the side, rolling off his body. His bound hands, which had been above his head, came down, and I quickly untied him.

Then, without thinking, I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close. It was pure instinct, and he didn’t protest—something that only strengthened my conviction that this situation was far from ideal for him. If I wasn’t criticizing him, he was doing it himself.

Damien lay quietly in my arms, his forehead resting against my chest, and I gently stroked his hair. It was such an unusual thing to do—completely inappropriate for an employee to show this kind of tenderness to a client. But I couldn’t stop. Something in me just knew he secretly wanted it, needed it. Almost… like we were true lovers, like we meant something more to each other.

His confession—that it was his first time—changed something in me. It seemed crucial to give him this moment, to acknowledge its significance. So, I pressed him tighter to me, stroking his hair gently. I couldn’t just get up and leave him like this. That would’ve been even more detrimental.

Strangest of all, I could almost hear his thoughts, clear as day. He wanted me to hold him—desperately.

Gradually, as long minutes passed, Damien started relaxing in my arms, calming down, finding comfort in my touch. He liked it—loved it, even. And he appreciated that I was giving him my private time, my tenderness. I had never experienced this kind of harmony with another person in my life.

But then the confusion bubbled up again, insistent and impossible to ignore. Only with the highest mateship could people share this kind of connection—this unshakable awareness of each other’s feelings.

After what felt like half an hour of lying together in silence, I realized I couldn’t prolong this any longer. "I’m sorry, Damien, but I have to go now," I whispered, gently moving away.

His hands, which had been resting lightly on my chest, fell to his sides. On a sudden impulse, I took one of them and placed a soft kiss on the back of it.

Then I sat up, and our eyes met. He looked into mine through the holes in my ski mask.

"Your eyes are almost fluorescent turquoise. Are you wearing contact lenses?" he murmured.

"No," I said softly. "This is my natural eye color."

Silence filled the room. It really was time to leave.

As I started to roll off the bed, I failed miserably at dodging the massive cum puddle, and my elbow plunged straight into it with a wet, obnoxious smack. However, I remained unfazed and kept my cool. Unfortunately, in my desperate attempt to avoid sinking further into the cum pool, I nudged the edge of his nest—messing up part of it.

No!

I froze mid-movement, a shiver running through me.

For some reason, it didn’t feel right. I was as though I’d damaged something precious, something I had no right to disturb. It was almost as if I’d taken something away from him.

Without thinking much, I quickly bent down and, with clumsy hands, started to repair what I had disrupted. I knew I shouldn’t; alphas had no business meddling with nests, touching them, or even commenting on them. But I couldn’t ignore the strange urgency I felt to fix it.

Damien watched me in silence, just sitting there with his eyes wide open. I spliced the blanket back together with the decorative red ropes and reinforced the structure with a long, silky scarf. My movements were not graceful, but I was determined.

After a few minutes of effort, the job was done.

"Why did you do that?" Damien asked quietly. "Why did you fix my nest?"

Did he seriously ask me that? It seemed so obvious to me. I looked up at him, still sitting in the middle of the nest, his disheveled amaranth hair framing his face. He was naked, his pale pink body marked by delicate freckles and… my kisses, glowing softly in the golden light of the bedside lamp.

I mumbled, unsure of my own reasoning, "It’s obvious. Out of respect for you. It’s the most beautiful nest I’ve ever seen, by far! And I want it to stay perfect." The words felt silly, even absurd, but I couldn’t take them back.

Not wanting to embarrass myself further, I straightened up and made my way to the door. At the doorstep, I paused, turning back to him one last time.

"Thank you for the honor of being your first," I muttered. "And… sorry for breaking the script. I’ll make sure you get your money back."

"There’s no need," he said gently. "You didn’t destroy it. You re-invented it. You made it perfect ."

Our eyes locked for a few… perfect seconds.

Time seemed to freeze; only our hearts were galloping.

Boom, boom, boom…

And I was… dying inside because I was leaving him.

My mouth opened to say what this all meant to me, but instead, I closed it and averted my gaze. He was still my client. And I had my duties.

Then I left in a hurry, my mind spinning as though I were on a wild merry-go-round. I broke into a full-on sprint toward the car, like running at top speed would somehow help me burn off some of this pent-up anxious energy. But it didn’t. I needed to process it all, to calm down, to somehow make sense of it all.

What had happened there? What had really happened between us?

***

I don’t even know how I got home. It felt like I had stepped into some surreal computer game. My head was spinning, I was completely dazed. All I could think about was going back to Damien’s apartment and continuing what we had started.

Maybe it really was that bad with me—the whole paid-for-sex thing?

My inner desperation and longing for an actual human connection probably made me a poor fit for what the company expected from its employees.

When I got back to my house, I didn’t bother showering. I just collapsed onto my bed and sank into endless ruminations. I had no idea when I fell asleep; my thoughts were so scattered and disjointed that I couldn’t keep up with them.

My phone woke me up. The screen displayed Mr. Ragu’s name, and waves of stress immediately hit me.

Could this be about my next assignment? So soon? So mercilessly? I hadn’t even had time to process everything that had happened.

I hesitated, debating whether to answer. But eventually, I did.

To my surprise, Mr. Ragu wasn’t calling about Johansson. He got straight to the point, asking if I could drive to his husband’s company the next day, around 1 pm, to talk. Apparently, the rest of his week was packed, and this was the only available time slot. I felt a wave of relief, happy that I didn’t have to think about Johansson.

But just as I started to relax, Ragu added, "One more thing. This morning, the client you saw yesterday contacted us."

I froze. Of course, this part of the conversation was unavoidable. If Damien had decided to file a complaint about me, I would just have to accept it with humility.

"He was so impressed," Mr. Ragu continued, "that he gave you a bonus for how brilliantly you executed his script. Twenty thousand dollars."

What? I sat up, mouth open, blinking.

"How’s that possible?! He only paid a thousand for the commission itself. And now he’s giving me so much more? Is he rich?"

"Yeah, he is," Mr. Ragu replied casually. "He’s from the famous Lowen family, though he keeps his life low-profile. But he asked for it to be revealed to you. He had his reasons for going with the low price initially, though it’s not my place to explain that. But I’m sure he will—when you ask. The money will be sent to your account today."

Wait a minute… something didn’t feel right. I could easily just accept it, pay off the rest of my installments, and move on. Easily?

Hell no.

Instead, I heard myself saying, "I want to return it."

Incredible. Returning money while repossession agents were chasing me?

And Damien certainly wouldn’t be any poorer for paying me. The Lowen family was one of the wealthiest in our country, being the shareholders of Malden Pharmaceuticals, DevApp (a large software development company), and also press moguls, owning East Times Magazine, among many other ventures, including The Omega Red Line Agency.

"Excuse me?" Ragu’s voice sounded like I’d yanked him out of a dream in which it was simply incomprehensible to refuse money from someone in an actual billionaire family . Hard to believe, and yet…

"That’s right. I want to return the money."

Mr. Ragu snorted loudly. "You’re crazy, Storm! That’s not how we operate. It’s not even—"

"Either you return it, or I quit. Right here, right now. Return it!" I raised my voice.

The silence that followed was long and deafening.

Finally, he cleared his throat and said warningly, "You're being difficult, Storm."

"Don’t care. I need you to return all of it. Every cent—including the initial thousand dollars."

"You're out of your mind… Lowens sleep on money!"

"It’s not about that."

A few seconds of silence. "Was he that bad or that good?"

If he’d been standing in front of me, I might’ve slapped him and ended up in jail for assaulting my own boss. It took everything I had to respond calmly.

"I’m dead serious. Return the money."

Finally, I heard him let out a long exhale.

"Fine, Storm. I’ll do it."

For a moment, only our breaths could be heard on the line.

Then Mr. Ragu cleared his throat and added, "The thing is… there’s more. You don’t know what happened after he praised you. He said his first heat starts in two or three days, and he wants to hire you for that period! He’s offering another considerable sum."

My emotions boiled over.

My brain was about to fry from the overload of conflicting emotions, and a strange rage surfaced. Like hell, I would have such an intimate moment with Damien for fucking money! I could never taint it like that.

"I refuse."

I really didn’t even control my own mouth. Be paid for making love to Damien? A person I truly didn’t even know… but hoped to change that. Nope, never again, not if I had any say in this.

The silence on the other end of the line was heavy and tense.

"He offered fifty thousand," Ragu said eventually.

I burst into laughter, feeling like a madman. "Mr. Ragu. Offer me a million, and I still won’t take it. Don’t care. Doesn’t change my mind. I won’t take a dime from him."

The silence deepened.

Finally, he asked, "May I know why? The company's reputation is at stake. He specifically requested you—no one else. We need to deliver!"

My eyes closed and I lowered my head.

"I just can’t, boss, because me and him… we’re True Mates."

I wouldn't even dare repeat what his answer was.

Thank you for reading ‘Invade Me’ .

If you want to find out how Storm's relationship with Damien unfolds, pick up the second part: ‘ Heat Me’.

Or maybe you’re curious about the challenging cases of people who signed guaranteed-mate deals with Fate's Choice, and how Storm would find their perfect matches? Check out ‘Buy Me’, ‘Accept Me’, ‘Unbreak Me’, ‘Unchain Me’, ‘See Me’.

If you encounter any issues with the text, please send me an email at [email protected], and I will take care of it as soon as possible!