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“Trust me,” Alex says, barely restrained glee in his voice. “You’re going to love this.”
Buck puts his hands in his pockets and looks at the warehouse they’re heading toward. It seems like it should be condemned. “I told you, MMA or whatever this is, it’s not my kind of thing.”
If Buck had any say in the matter, this is not how he would be spending his Friday night. He doesn’t have any say, though, because Buck has alienated nearly everyone in his life, and Alex—a guy Buck rented a room from for about three months four years ago—is the only person who answered Buck’s desperate plea for company.
Loneliness is not a side effect of suing the department that Buck had been expecting. He knows that his life is pretty well enmeshed with the rest of the 118’s, but he hadn’t realized that the rest of his social life had withered away while he wasn’t looking. Now, Buck’s choices on a Friday night are either staring at a wall in his new, cold apartment or this. Alex had said he was taking Buck to a fight, but he’s starting to get the impression that it’s not that simple.
“Buck. This kind of fighting is everyone’s thing.”
They’re getting close to the warehouse now, and apprehension tickles the base of Buck’s spine as he starts to hear the thump of bass and the sounds of a pretty large crowd. “What’s so special about it?”
“It’s an omega fight.” Now Alex’s glee has shifted into something more hungry.
“W-What?”
“Not like you’re thinking. Well, maybe a little. I don’t know what you’re thinking. It’s a proper street fight, and the omegas that come here are fucking tough, man.”
“I don’t get it. There’s an omega division for almost every sport. That isn’t crazy.”
“It’s not omega versus omega. They’re fighting alphas. Up to five of them in a row. It depends on how long it takes them to lose. Or throw the fight.”
“Why would they throw the fight?”
Alex grins wolfishly, bared teeth reflecting the dim street lights. “So they can get claimed.”
The apprehension that had earlier been only a slight brush now grips Buck fully. It quickly morphs into a kind of rush that he has felt before—arousal, danger, unease—which muddies his thoughts. He’s almost certain that he understands what Alex is hinting at, but he can’t quite let himself believe it just yet. Alex doesn’t elaborate either, just grins wider, and carries on walking.
As they head toward the entrance, Buck notices more people. There are pockets of activity here and there, groups smoking and chatting; it’s the typical scene Buck is used to seeing outside of bars and clubs. He starts to pick up bits and pieces of conversation as he passes.
“The last guy he picked couldn’t even fight, he just had a big dick—”
“—my buddy, he said, an omega has to be gagging for it to come here—”
“—so slutty. And they’re right there in front of you—”
“—wanna get my hands on him.”
Buck swallows.
He isn’t surprised to sense the undercurrent of arousal in the air; it’s to be expected given the general direction of the conversations he’s overheard. Still, it’s unrestrained and pungent, not the kind of behavior you get in polite society.
The scents in the warehouse only get thicker and heavier, overlapping with each other in an indistinguishable malaise. He wouldn’t be surprised if some of the desperate stink had suffused down into the concrete.
Alex hands a few bills to the thick-necked alpha at the door, and Buck’s attention snags on a group of guys near the entrance. Even from a few feet away, Buck can see their jittery, almost-juvenile excitement.
“Did you hear that that omega is here?” one of the men says as he slings his arm around his buddy, pulling the guy close. They must be tipsy already because none of them are whispering, despite the show they’re making. “Jaime saw him when he went to piss out back. He was getting ready.”
Another guy in the circle brings his beer can to his lips and then pauses. “Which omega?”
“You know the one—he’s even more of a fucking slut than the rest of the omegas that come to fight. Hopefully he’s feeling like being a cumdump tonight and lets more than one guy win.”
The casualness with which the guys talk about the people—the omegas—that are fighting sends a guilty jolt of electricity up Buck’s spine. Buck is well-travelled. He’s been to sex clubs before, he’s even been to less-than-legal fights before, but nothing like this. The chatter and the stories only get filthier and wilder as they head deeper into the cavernous space. There’s a makeshift bar with coolers full of beer, and as Buck grabs a couple, he hears two people talk about how this omega—the same one as the others were speculating on—has never willingly lost a fight.
It turns out tonight’s omega has a reputation.
Buck can’t tell what’s true and what isn’t, but it doesn’t matter: despite any misgivings he might have, he’s half-hard by the time he and Alex find a good vantage point for the ring. A woman near him whispers about how her roommate saw the omega a couple of weeks ago, when an alpha knotted his mouth, and how there was come still on his chest when he fought the next guy. Buck shifts his weight.
Now they’re closer to the ring, the scents are shifting as well. There’s a sweet undercurrent cutting through the acrid layers of alpha desire. It’s clearly omega. Some of it is stale, like the scents nearer the entrance, but there are also some fresh, powerful notes in there. Buck scents the air unashamedly, and Alex laughs.
“I told you, man, this is everyone’s thing.”
Buck doesn’t quite agree yet, but he has to admit he’s intrigued. There’s no sour fear lingering anywhere that he can tell. There’s the memory of violence, clear from the distinctive metallic tang of blood, but there’s nothing but passion here.
There’s something else as well. It’s kind of muddled, fighting through the wider cacophony, but it hits the back of Buck’s nose like a sucker punch. It leaves his mouth watering and his palms sweating. It’s the kind of scent that inspires a reputation.
He looks around, trying to see if there’s any hint of the omega that’s fighting—the one that’s got the crowd raucous and wild before anything even happens—but it’s fruitless. There are a couple of guys near the ring, one wearing shorts and a compression shirt, while the other takes long swallows from a plastic water bottle; both are clearly gearing up for the fight. No one cares about the alphas.
Then the air shifts, and Alex elbows Buck. “Here we go.”
The inescapable scent from earlier is intensifying, becoming thick and cloying, a physical presence in the room. People start to shout and whistle as a woman with an undercut and keen eyes surveys the room. She starts talking about rules and safety, but Buck hears little of it. He’s too focused on that scent, on the bare-bones ring and the flimsy-looking chainlink fence that surrounds it. Whatever happens here is rough, and it’s unpredictable.
A man comes down the makeshift walkway. He’s tall and lean. Shirtless. He raises a fist as he gets closer, and the crowd responds accordingly.
“Are you slick for us already, baby? You smell like you’re dripping!” a man near Buck calls.
Similar jeers are coming from all directions. The omega cups his ear, and they come faster, each call spurred on by the last, until they’re overlapping and only the common words stand out. The consensus of the crowd is clear.
Omega. Fuck. Wet. Slut.
The omega steps into the ring proper, the sweat on his skin glistening under the harsh fluorescents, and Buck forgets how to breathe.
It’s Eddie.
++++
“There are some rules,” Lena had started, but Eddie was already rolling his eyes.
“Let me guess, don’t talk about it?”
“I think that’s implied, with the whole ‘illegal fighting’ thing, but sure, let’s call that the first rule. It’s the second rule that’s important,” she stressed. “That’s what everyone is really there for.”
Eddie shifted. There’s something in her tone, hungry and eager. “What is it?”
“Whoever beats the omega gets the omega. Right there, right then.”
“By ‘get’ you mean…?” Eddie knew the answer, but he had needed to know without a doubt what this was.
“Claim. The omega gets knotted.”
His mouth has been dry. “And, uh. And there are omegas who go for this?”
Lena’s smile had widened, and there was a slow-building note of satisfaction to her scent. “Plenty. Most of them only come for one fight, they get what they want, and then they get out. Some come back. A special few become the show.”
By now, Eddie knows he’s the show.
The alphas and handful of betas who come to see these fights have made that much clear, with their words and their scents, both of which get wilder and more obscene each time Eddie makes an appearance.
Tonight, the atmosphere is especially heady. There’s the usual thick fog of scents, overlapping and potent, but something in that mix is special. When Eddie was getting ready, he knew something was different; he felt desperate and needy, even more than usual, and he was dripping before he even got into the ring.
This must be what it’s like for the alphas out there, in the crush of bodies. Back when she had first suggested this place as an outlet for Eddie, Lena had mentioned what the sole, raw omega scent felt like to an alpha out in the crowd. It cut through every other sense, and your attention narrowed down to that single point. Every time Eddie walked into this room, that happened to every other person here. All of that attention, right on him.
Eddie plays into it, sue him. He’s here to fulfil a specific role; he might as well have fun while he’s at it. It’s only while he’s in this shitty warehouse, after all.
For most of his life, being an omega has been a non-issue. Aside from one painful heat when he was sixteen and just presenting, he has organized his life so he doesn’t have to think about it. Thankfully, the rest of the world made that very easy. When Shannon—now presented as a pretty beta—moved back to town, it made sense that Eddie should start dating her. With his new suppressants, Eddie was, for all intents and purposes, a beta. He knew that’s what Shannon thought, at least.
He and Shannon were a logical pair, and even his parents, who had their own opinions of her, agreed on that point. Eddie corrected Shannon’s assumption eventually, but at that point, his designation was just another in a long list of insufficiencies and faults.
Being presumed to be a beta didn’t bother Eddie. He liked that people thought of him as a calm, level-headed kind of guy. It was who he wanted to be. Steady. Reliable.
By the time he joins the 118, it’s just another word on his medical file.
Eddie knows his new team, with the exception of Bobby, made the same assumption as countless other people before them. He didn’t see the point in correcting them. What did it matter? Eddie knows none of them would care, but things change; they always do. The way his parents looked at him changed. The expectations for his life changed.
So even when the first heat Eddie had experienced in decades had hit, he made sure that nothing changed. Bobby gave him his required heat leave, no questions asked, and Eddie told everyone else he’d gotten the flu. The excuse had only worked because he and Buck weren’t talking right now; otherwise, the alpha would’ve been on the doorstep within the hour, with a vat of soup and half of Walgreens’ inventory, and that would’ve been the end of that.
He still doesn’t know exactly what triggered his suppressants to fail—there’s an embarrassment of riches when it comes to finding something to blame, losing Shannon, almost losing Chris, the stress of the lawsuit, sheer dumb luck, and the unavoidable reality of time—but it didn’t matter, it wouldn’t change the fact that heat that followed was hell. Eddie could deal with the physical pain, the unending cramps and fever, but the sensation of slick running down his thighs and the need curling in his gut had nauseated him.
It was overstimulating and unfamiliar, and more than anything, it was a physical reminder of how many ways Eddie had failed.
He’d failed Shannon, as a husband and as a mate. Not that they were ever mated officially. Maybe if Eddie had been a true beta and better matched, they would’ve done it. Shannon would’ve wanted to stay. He grieved what he should’ve been, what they should’ve been, if only he had been built better.
He’d failed Christopher. Eddie hadn’t been a good example. Not as an omega to his pup, nor as a man. He’s hidden things and been selfish. He hasn’t given Christopher a stable family, prioritising his own comfort, running away, and letting everyone believe he’s something he’s not.
He’s also failed himself.
Now he was lonely and aching, with no one who could possibly want to help him through this, because Eddie had ignored this part of himself. He’d abandoned his omega, and now he’s suffering the consequences. He’s nearing thirty and alone, unwanted.
Throughout his heat, Eddie was out of control.
He tore through his sheets with desperate, clawing fingers. He bit his pillow and ripped that as well. Ruined three pillows that way. His omega was angry and frustrated. Eddie understood why. It’d been neglected and smothered for over a decade, pushed down into some deep, dark, shameful recess of Eddie’s body. Push through and brush it off, that’s what Eddie had been told his entire life, and that’s what he’d done. Now, he was suffering the consequences. His omega didn’t want to be ignored again. He didn’t have any toys, not that he thinks they would’ve satisfied him either. Instead, Eddie spent most of the time with four fingers shoved inside his hole, and at least two more in his mouth. He came several times, and slick continued to soak his bed, but when the heat finally subsided, Eddie didn't feel any better.
Lena met him at the Muay Thai gym they both frequented, the day before Eddie was going back to work. He was using a suppressant patch instead of his usual medication, and apparently, it wasn’t nearly as effective, because she smelt it on him immediately. She could also tell the heat didn’t exactly go smoothly. Eddie's prickliness had been a dead giveaway, apparently. It all came tumbling out after that. It was easy to talk to Lena about it. He had only known her for a few weeks, and that means she barely knew him. The idea of Eddie she had in her head wasn’t fixed, so there was nothing to ruin.
If she were interested in male omegas, Lena would be the perfect mate for Eddie. On paper, anyway. He doesn’t feel any real attraction toward her. What’s another flaw for the pile, he supposes.
That’s when Lena suggests the fights.
Immediately—too immediately, really, it’s not something he should’ve been so eager for—Eddie was intrigued.
Signing up to take part in a fight like this was a stupid, reckless decision. It’s everything level-headed, rational, beta Eddie Diaz isn’t. But he isn’t a beta. It’d been stupid and reckless to pretend otherwise. At least there, where Eddie knew the outcome, he still had some semblance of control.
The first time he takes a knot, it’s euphoric. Everything he’d been anxious about, that never-stilling soup of expectations and rules and worries, melts away in an instant. Eddie just has to be here, in his body. A body that fights, a body that takes.
It’s exactly what he needs, so he throws himself into it. On a strict schedule, anyway.
He invests in some high-quality suppressant patches and scent blockers and wears them during the day. Then, once a week, Chris stays with Pepa, and Eddie goes out and gets railed in front of a crowd. He hadn’t expected to enjoy the public part as much as he did, but it was addictive. They wanted him. They liked that he was tough and cocky, and still took it so prettily. All of the instincts he didn’t even know he had made for the perfect show.
Most of the alphas he fights are well-trained and strong, but Eddie doesn’t have an issue beating nearly every one of them. Maybe it’s the fact that Eddie is used to sparring with opponents like them, or maybe they’re all slick-drunk before they step into the ring. It doesn’t matter. Eddie beats them, or he lets them win. He always waits for an alpha that he thinks can give him what he needs, one who can hurt him and fuck him properly, like an omega. Usually, Eddie has one picked out before the first guy even steps out in the ring in front of him.
There’s a look in the eye Eddie has started to notice, or a note to their scent. Something in them that tells Eddie that they’ll be able to treat him like the animal he is. They’ll be able to shut out everything other than Eddie’s basest instincts: fight, defend, submit.
The alphas are always cocky; tonight’s picks are the same.
The slow, assessing sweep of their eyes is the first brush of foreplay. Eddie knows what they see. His bare neck. The sheen of sweat on his skin. The swell of his ass under his shorts. They’ll all know Eddie’s reputation; they’ll all think they can break him. The first two guys end up on their backs in quick succession, with Eddie dispatching them efficiently and effectively. Quick, sharp movements that only scratch at the edges of the thing waiting under Eddie’s skin.
It’s the third alpha who squares up that Eddie is interested in.
His shoulders are broad, visible under the loose, cotton shirt he’s wearing and already sweating through. It’s not a showy look. It’s almost soft. Eddie likes it when there’s no pretense. He likes it when they look as though they could’ve walked in off the street. Sometimes he imagines it: an alpha walking by, catching a stray scent, and being helpless to resist. He wants the alpha to want him that badly; he wants to be irresistible. In here, Eddie knows he is.
Today’s alpha is fast. Eddie feints and drives a knee upward, right into his ribs. He grunts and recovers more quickly than Eddie was expecting, but even so, he manages to dodge the oncoming fist.
“Stop playing with me, baby,” the alpha croons. “We can all smell how much you want it.”
Eddie bares his teeth. “Doesn’t mean I want you.”
With a practiced rhythm, Eddie strikes the alpha’s chin and then his ribs once again. He takes it well. Eddie can feel the wetness starting to slide down his thighs. He’s starting to pant.
The next hit finds its target, knocking the wind from Eddie’s lungs. He knows that he should move, that the next blow will be coming in quick succession, but Eddie lets it fall. He’s ready to fall.
“Fuck,” he grunts when the promised hit connects. The alpha’s teeth glint.
Eddie stays standing in the same spot instead of backing up. He attempts to swipe the alpha’s jaw one last time, but the other man is quicker than Eddie gives him credit for. The alpha sweeps Eddie’s legs and then, before he can catch his breath, Eddie is on his back.
The crowd roars.
When there’s a mass of people all focused on one thing, it’s easy to think of the sound as a homogenous beast. Eddie, though, has learned to pick out certain subtleties. He hears the desperation of the crowd. He hears their fantasies. He hears their jeering and their encouragement. They know what is coming as well as Eddie does.
Eddie doesn’t fight it as the alpha pins him. He looks the man in the eye, burning gaze to burning gaze, right up until the bell rings.
Match over.
In an instant, Eddie is being manhandled, his bare chest pressed down onto the cool ground. Eddie doesn’t need the hands guiding him; he knows the drill. He gets on his hands and knees, and electricity zips under his skin as he moves. He’s already getting wetter. He’ll be soaked by the time the alpha pulls off his shorts. Eddie must reek. They’ll all be able to smell it by now.
Even with Eddie now compliant, the picture-perfect omega slut, the alpha keeps his hand pressed, hot and insistent, between Eddie’s shoulder blades. Eddie isn’t going anywhere, but he appreciates the touch of dominance; his back arches in response, in what Eddie knows will be a graceful curve, ending with his ass presented high. The alpha pulls Eddie’s shorts down to his thighs in a rough, efficient move, exposing bare skin to the air and to the waiting eyes he knows are fixed on him.
“Isn’t this neat?” The words are soft and appreciative, but the alpha pulls on the waistband of Eddie’s jockstrap, letting it snap back with a sharp crack that he feels more than hears. He’d have a job hearing anything over the shouts.
“Knot him already!” Someone a couple of feet away jeers. They must be close, with their face pressed right up against the wire fence. Desperate. “Or I’ll do it for you!”
A growl builds in Eddie’s chest, and his lip curls. They should know by now that it doesn’t matter how much they want Eddie; the only thing that matters is what Eddie needs. Thankfully, the alpha Eddie picked tonight isn’t an idiot. He spreads Eddie’s cheeks with his thumbs, and Eddie can almost taste the instantaneous effect the sight has on the alpha’s scent.
“Look how wet you are. You’re desperate for this, aren’t you?”
They all say that when they have Eddie on his knees. So wet, so desperate, so slutty. It’s usually true, but tonight the slick and sweat has been soaking through Eddie’s shorts, leaving his thighs tacky and damp. Eddie knows how he looks, how he smells. He knows what they all think.
The alpha plunges two fingers straight into Eddie’s hole, and they sink in with little resistance. It’s not nearly enough, but still, Eddie hisses. “What? Is that not enough?” Eddie pushes back on the digits; it’s the only answer he’ll give—another finger slides in easily.
“So loose.” When the alpha speaks, Eddie doesn’t know if it’s to him, the crowd, or if the guy just can’t help the words. Whatever the intention, the watching, waiting bodies respond. They all stink, thick with desire, and all of it for Eddie. They all want to be where this alpha is. “You’re so perfect for this. I wanna take my time with you. But they all paid for a show, didn’t they? Didn’t you?” There’s no mistaking it with that last remark, with the way he shouts them. The crowd responds in kind. “If I fuck around too much, they’ll break down that fence. Take you for themselves.”
Whatever blood had been remaining in Eddie’s head rushes blindly southward at the comment. The alpha isn’t wrong. They all want a go on Eddie’s holes, all of them. He knows if they got the chance, the people who watch him with greedy eyes wouldn’t hesitate. They’d take it in turns using Eddie. And Eddie would stay where he is, letting himself be used. Another rush of slick escapes his hole, rolling down his thigh. A low, rumbling growl sounds from behind him, and the hand clamped on his hip tightens. Hard enough to leave a bruise, Eddie hopes.
“Never seen an omega this needy,” the alpha says, and his voice is starting to go a little ragged. He isn’t even in Eddie yet.
Eddie looks over his shoulder and meets the alpha’s dark eyes. “It’s ‘cause no one gives me what I want.”
There’s that growl again. Good. Eddie keeps looking as the alpha pushes his own shorts and underwear down, revealing his large, red cock. It’s not the biggest Eddie’s seen, but it’s thick and promising. He takes his fingers out of Eddie’s hole and uses the slick on them to coat his cock. He doesn’t really need it, but Eddie’s sure the alpha enjoys it. He even takes the time to lick his fingers. The crowd enjoys that.
Eddie doesn’t need to taunt him any further. The alpha knows what to do. He shoves his dick into Eddie’s hole with little preamble, sliding smoothly down to the hilt. Eddie is split open in the span of a breath, and he can’t help but whimper. There’s no adjustment period, no check-ins. The alpha draws back and thrusts back in. Hard. Each time he repeats the movement, there’s a wave of dissonant noises: the grunts from the alpha, the slap of his balls against Eddie’s skin, the hoots and cries from the crowd, the metallic clang of the fence as the bodies it holds back cause it to rattle, and then there’s Eddie’s own sounds. He pants and whines, and when he feels the tell-tale sensation of the alpha’s knot begin to expand and catch, he moans in earnest. He moans wantonly, and maybe if he were anywhere else, he’d have the presence of mind to be embarrassed.
The moment the alpha’s knot expands to its full width and breaches Eddie’s rim, locking them together, Eddie comes in his jock. It’s not surprising. Most of the time, a knot is all it takes. He’s disappointed whenever it isn’t the case.
This alpha isn’t one of those rare, boring men. He hooks an arm around Eddie’s stomach and drags him backward as the alpha shifts and sits back on his heels. When Eddie is seated in the alpha’s lap, he feels the first hot spray of come fill him up. He isn’t sure if the alpha knows Eddie has come, but it doesn’t really matter; this isn’t about him. Eddie is just a vessel for the winning alpha’s pleasure, and it seems like this alpha likes to play.
First, he runs a finger up Eddie’s stomach.
“He’s got pretty tits, doesn’t he?” the alpha calls out to the crowd. The response is just noise to Eddie’s ears. All he can focus on is the fullness of his body and the tightness of his skin. He wants more, he realizes. This teasing is making Eddie even more greedy than usual. “Think he wants me to play with them?”
“Please, Alpha,” Eddie pleads, despite knowing the question isn’t for him. Luckily for him, the crowd is in agreement.
Rough, clever fingers pinch and tease his nipples, which were already hard and sensitive. Just when Eddie starts to get adjusted to the twin sources of stimulation, the alpha starts to shift and slowly grind his knot against Eddie’s prostate. It’s blindingly good. A deep, surging wave of pleasure that emanates in waves from Eddie’s core. He might come again, he thinks wildly, untouched once more if the alpha keeps this up.
That kind of focus, unfortunately, is too much to ask for. As soon as Eddie starts to submerge himself fully in the sensations of his body, the alpha starts sniffing around Eddie’s neck. Then he licks the scent gland, right where a mating bite would go. It’s brazen, even for a situation like this. Eddie growls lazily in warning, and it’s enough to redirect him, thankfully. Instead, the alpha starts sucking on Eddie’s earlobe, then mouthing at Eddie’s jaw.
The waves of come inside of him have slowed by the time the alpha finally deigns to touch Eddie’s cock. He leaves Eddie’s nipples alone, sliding his hand down and squeezing Eddie’s crotch through the damp jock. The alpha snickers next to Eddie’s ear. “Did you come already? That needy for a knot?”
“Please,” is the only reply Eddie can give.
“He’s hard again. Do you guys want to see him come?”
A predictable array of shouts follows. Eddie can smell the way their arousal skyrockets. The alpha pulls Eddie’s cock out and doesn’t waste any time with teasing or tricks; he just squeezes the tacky skin and jerks Eddie off roughly. Eddie whines and tries to fuck himself up into the man’s fist, but every time he does, the knot tugs on his oversensitive rim and Eddie’s whines grow louder and more pathetic.
“Come on, Omega, give the people what they came here to see.” Eddie obeys. He comes for a second time, surprisingly hard, and it paints Eddie’s stomach. There’s no time for him to catch his breath, though, because the alpha scoops some of the come off on his skin and pushes it past Eddie’s lips. He sucks them clean, slowly and deliberately. The show’s almost over, but only almost.
When Eddie’s done, the alpha repositions them again, with Eddie back on his hands and knees. His knot is deflated enough that the alpha can pull out slowly, with only a slight twinge of discomfort on Eddie’s side. As soon as it’s free, Eddie feels the familiar sensation of come dripping out of his hole. He’s a mess. Skin covered in sweat and alpha stink, another load of come now joining the rest. He’s nearly naked, save for the shorts still trapped around his thighs and his ruined jock. The alpha pushes two fingers back inside of Eddie’s hole and starts to finger to come out of him, rubbing into Eddie’s skin as he does.
The noises around him settle into a kind of white noise. There’s nothing distinctive or meaningful in it anymore; it just envelops Eddie and muffles everything else.
Eddie’s head is blissfully quiet.
++++
Buck is spiraling. There are no other words for it.
He’s spiraling. He’s hallucinating. He’s thrown another blood clot, but this one went straight to his mind—via his dick—and has now ruined whatever is left of Buck’s life.
He’s jacking off for the fourth time since the fight. Since—
It’s been approximately twenty-six hours since Buck left the warehouse after seeing whatever it is that he saw, and he’s come three times already. The first time was right after the alpha pulled out and had that self-satisfied look on his face. Buck couldn’t take it anymore. He pushed his way out of the crowd and left the building. When the night air hit his skin, Buck realized he was burning. His cock was straining at the front of his jeans. He couldn’t get an Uber like this. He found somewhere reasonably private looking and jerked himself off, quickly and with a decidedly blank mind. He looked right at the brick wall in front of him, at the light hair on his wrist. He knew he couldn’t close his eyes, even as his come splattered the wall. He knew what he’d see.
When he had finally gotten home, Buck’s heart had still been racing. He was starting to unravel. A shower didn’t help. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, not as pent up as he was. He put his hand under his sweats again, and this time he let his eyes flutter shut.
It can’t have been Eddie.
The omega Buck had seen, with close-cropped hair and a lean but powerful build, can’t have been Eddie, because Eddie isn’t an omega. Maybe Buck is just missing his friend. He wasn’t that close to the ring, anyway; his eyes could be playing tricks on him. He could’ve imagined the mole on the back of the omega’s thigh that matched Eddie’s exactly. He could’ve imagined the other mole, the one just under Eddie’s eye. Eyes that were wide and wet. Glassy. Buck’s an imaginative guy; he could picture Eddie in perfect clarity if he wanted to. The only problem with that explanation is that the next logical line of questioning is why Buck was imagining Eddie like that.
Imagining Eddie on his hands and knees, getting fucked in front of god knows how many people.
By the time Buck was twisting his wrist and thumbing his leaking slit, he couldn’t stop seeing it. Eddie’s parted lips, his heaving chest, the generous curve of his ass. He came over his fist, remembering the way Eddie’s expression shifted the second the alpha’s knot locked the two of them together; Buck knew from the way the tension leaked out of Eddie’s shoulders that he had come from it. His scent had shifted, seconds later, but Buck didn’t need that to know what was going on with Eddie.
Buck sleeps, finally, not long after finishing, but it’s anything but restful. When he wakes up, he’s hard again, with the phantom scent of Eddie’s scent at the edge of his mind.
That’s the other thing. The scent. It can’t have been Eddie, because Eddie doesn’t smell like that. Buck would’ve remembered a scent like that. Sharp yet disarming, pulling you in deep, deep until you don’t realize you’re drowning in him.
Buck was barely awake when he came that time. He was rutting against his sheets, thinking specifically about Eddie’s neck and the way his head lolled back against the alpha’s bulk. The long, sloping slide of it. The flawless skin. The drips of sweat. The openness of Eddie’s body. Buck is growling before he even is fully awake. His mouth waters. He’s coming. Again.
The whole thing was on a loop throughout Buck’s day.
Being out of work and a pariah amongst his friends had been difficult to deal with on a good day; now it just meant that Buck didn’t have a single thing to distract him. It’s not just the reality of Eddie’s designation and apparent proclivity for public sex that’s on Buck’s mind—although that fact features heavily—it’s everything he saw that night. It’s how competent Eddie was in the ring, how effectively he took down the alphas. It’s how in control Eddie was, even when the winning alpha was tossing Eddie’s body around like a ragdoll. That alpha was the one fucking Eddie because he was the one that Eddie had chosen. It was clear who was in charge.
Buck goes for a run, and as his stupid, faulty leg hits the pavement over and over again, he gets stuck on the same thought: Buck is better than all of those alphas. He knows without a doubt that he could’ve beaten any of those alphas in a fight. He doesn’t have the same training as Eddie, but Buck knows his own skills. He’s strong and he’s fast and he’s a good alpha. If Eddie didn’t know him, Buck is confident Eddie would pick him.
He’s hard again by the time he gets back home.
There’s little shame left in Buck’s body by the time he wraps his hand around his cock for the fourth time. He’s in the middle of his kitchen with his shorts pushed down (just like Eddie), there’s sweat coating his skin (just like Eddie), he’s desperate for it (just like Eddie).
Buck is better than the alpha that fucked Eddie last night. That guy barely gave a shit that Eddie got off; he certainly didn’t notice how Eddie came untouched. Buck noticed. Buck could’ve wrung out another orgasm out of him if that was what Eddie had wanted. Whatever Eddie wanted, Buck could’ve given him it. Buck bites his wrist as he strokes himself harder, and there’s a simmering aggression under his skin that he knows he’ll need to smother later. It’s not enough, not nearly enough.
When he comes, it’s a shock. It bursts out of him and coats the counter he’s been leaning against.
Embarrassment and relief and a still-burning desire linger on his skin. He blinks and finds himself sitting on the cold, lonely floor of his empty kitchen in his empty loft.
Why didn’t Eddie tell him about any of this?
Buck knows that things are weird between them right now, and he knows that it’s his fault, but he and Eddie have been best friends for over a year now. What did Buck do that meant that Eddie couldn’t trust him with this?
The fight club is one thing, but knowing that Eddie is an omega…that’s something even bigger. It shouldn't be, but it’s monumental. Eddie is still the same person; being an omega doesn’t change anything, but the fact that Eddie has hidden it does. Buck can’t even talk to Eddie about it. Yet another thing that Buck only has himself to blame for, Eddie had been clear enough about that particular topic in the grocery store last week. The goddamn lawsuit and its goddamn rules. Buck doesn’t know what to do.
When his skin starts to get sticky and uncomfortable, Buck picks himself up off the floor. He showers again. He makes himself dinner. He sends his daily text to Maddie so she knows he’s alive. He sits on his cheap couch and stares blankly at the TV. It’s only been one day, but he knows he can’t continue like this, not without any answers. All Buck seems to do these days is get himself stuck; this can’t be another thing holding him down in limbo.
He opens his phone and looks at his text thread with Eddie. The last message was from three weeks ago, right after the deposition, where Buck tried to apologize, even though he knew he wasn’t supposed to be in contact with anyone. Eddie hadn’t replied. The message before that was from Eddie, two weeks prior. He was asking if Buck was still moping. Buck hadn’t replied. There’s no way that Buck can end that silence by asking Eddie if he’s an omega and also ‘by the way, are you a frequent flyer at a less-than-legal omega fighting ring because I think I saw you come twice last night’.
None of the plans that enter Buck’s head feels particularly sensible, but he supposes this isn’t a sensible situation. The only thing that sticks in his head, nestled right next to the memory of Eddie’s scent and the sight of his dick, is the inescapable belief that he has to go back.
++++
Eddie sinks into his body as he goes through the motions of his pre-fight routine.
First, he takes off his scent blocker patch and scrubs at his skin until it’s red raw. He follows that with some light stretches while chugging a bottle of water, systemically loosening up each area of his body. Then he warms up fully, shadowboxing and jogging on the spot. Each stage strips away a layer of the outside world and leaves Eddie less in his head and more in the anticipation of the moment.
Just like last week, he’s wet by the time he walks out of the makeshift changing room and heads toward the ring. Maybe last week hadn’t been a fluke, and this is Eddie's new baseline. A new level of neediness. He wouldn't be surprised by anything at this point.
The first few guys who come up to meet Eddie’s challenge are nothing. He barely even notices what they look like. Number four might be a contender, based on his size and the easy way he stands, but Eddie can smell something better. It’s close, close enough that Eddie would bet it’s the last fight of the night, and the scent is intriguing enough that Eddie is happy to take the chance on this last alpha. Whoever it is, Eddie will let them play, then he’ll make a decision. Still, he’s never left this place unsatisfied, and he doesn’t intend this to be the first time.
He pins number four efficiently and smirks as the guy snaps and snarls at him. None of it is particularly intimidating. The crowd jeers and shouts as it always does when Eddie is alone in the ring, so Eddie turns and surveys the people watching. There are a couple of faces he recognizes, and at least one alpha he’s sure he’s fucked. People shout requests and pleas, but Eddie just watches them with a neutral expression. They’ll get their show soon enough. Eddie hops from foot to foot and rolls his shoulders back, the only movements he allows himself; despite the energy thrumming within him, urging him forward, he remains coiled and ready.
Finally, new footsteps approach, and Eddie turns to meet the last alpha.
He chokes. Both on the scent of the man in front of him, and the surprise of seeing who it belongs to.
Buck.
Buck is the last alpha.
Buck, who must have washed off whatever scent dampers the LAFD prescribes for their mostly alpha staff.
Buck, whose scent is heavy and alluring and complex, stinks of desire and worry and resolve and shame.
Buck with a compression sleeve over the leg that Eddie knows was crushed mere months earlier. Buck with a loose tank that shows off his wide, strong shoulders, and the peek of his defined pecs. Eddie hasn’t seen Buck in a while, especially not in a circumstance where they’d be working out together. He’s glad Buck has been keeping in shape. It’s good for your mental health, he thinks deliriously.
Buck is bigger than Eddie; he’s always been aware of that fact. Buck’s a tall guy, and he can’t help but take up space. Eddie’s just never thought of Buck’s size as something at all imposing. Even that first time in the firehouse, when Buck was trying his best to intimidate Eddie by throwing his weight around, Eddie had been more amused than anything else.
Now something spikes in Eddie’s pulse.
Buck’s face is blank—an odd sight compared to Buck’s usual animation—but Eddie can read the determination in Buck’s bearing. He steps forward, and Eddie steps back, but he doesn’t drop his guard.
“What are you doing here?” Eddie says, hoping to keep his voice low enough so the exchange stays between the two of them.
“Same as everyone else.”
If it wasn’t for the way Buck immediately breaks eye contact and lets that shiver of insecurity into his body, Eddie would’ve laid down his life and said that this man in front of him was a doppelganger.
Eddie starts to circle Buck, just to keep his body moving, and tries to think. There are dozens of questions looping through his head right now, and none of them seems like the right one. Is this just a coincidence? Did Buck know? How long had Buck known? Had he seen Eddie fight before? Is that why he’s here? Did he see Eddie getting railed and want a bit of it for himself? Why couldn't Eddie have told Buck that he was an omega back when Shannon first turned up? Why did Buck have to hire that lawyer?
“Really?” Eddie presses. “You know what everyone else is here for? Who everyone else is here for?”
Eddie watches Buck swallow. Eddie smells the twist of want in Buck’s scent.
“Yes.”
Well.
If they’re going to do this, Eddie isn’t going to back down. If Buck thinks he’s a big, tough alpha, sure, whatever, Eddie will treat him like any other overinflated alpha in this place.
Eddie moves. In one smooth maneuver, he enters Buck’s space, drives his fist into his friend’s stomach, and hops back out of Buck’s reach. It’s a solid hit, but it doesn’t seem to have affected Buck much; it’s like there’s barely anything for him to recover from. That steadiness only aids Buck, because while Eddie is used to a certain rhythm to these fights—both the alphas underestimating Eddie and their lack of practical experience giving Eddie a reliable advantage—Buck is fast with honed instincts. He manages to grab Eddie's arm before he can pull it back into his usual stance. Buck uses this to drag Eddie in close, and Eddie doesn’t resist. He lets Buck close the gap, just enough so Eddie can use Buck’s momentum against him, raising his knee and kicking Buck’s stomach. Buck’s grip loosens, and Eddie takes advantage of the momentary distraction, yanking his arm away and getting back into a safer position.
They circle each other again, and Eddie doesn’t take his eyes off Buck. If he wants to maintain the upper hand in this fight, it’s necessary, but each second he spends looking at Buck, Eddie feels as though he’s losing some other kind of fight. Eddie goes for Buck a couple more times, using his signature swift style. He gets in his strikes, but he’s still making little headway.
“You want to fight?” Eddie spits, his frustration making itself apparent. “Fight!”
Buck hasn’t even attempted to hit Eddie. Each time there’s a clear opening, whenever Eddie gets in a jab or a kick, Buck instead tries to grapple him, his fingers closing around Eddie’s skin, leaving a burning afterimage. Eddie can feel the strength and the capability in those fingers, but Buck is just fucking around. He isn’t trying. Eddie wants him to try.
Eddie’s punches get sloppy. He can see and feel it happening, and he can’t stop himself. This isn’t the way he’s supposed to feel in this ring. He’s supposed to be in control, right up until he isn’t, right when he decides to let go. Buck isn’t letting that happen. Eddie bares his teeth, and his fist glances off of Buck’s jaw. Buck’s hand wraps around the back of Eddie’s neck, and he gets a lungful of Buck’s scent. Eddie feels small. Swallowed up. He can feel himself leaking. It’s not even a good fight, and he’s still so wet.
“Eddie,” Buck growls, because it is a growl. Eddie recognizes his name in the animalistic sound as it rumbles past Buck’s clenched, resistant jaw. There’s a moment of weakness in Eddie’s knees, and Buck must sense it, because he doesn’t let the moment pass. He moves with speed that should be scary, sweeping Eddie’s legs and wrapping his falling body up in Buck’s wide arms. They fall together, and Buck stays in control, grappling with Eddie as they struggle on the concrete floor. Did Buck wrestle in high school, Eddie thinks hazily, he must’ve.
Unsurprisingly, Eddie ends up trapped beneath Buck’s bulk, but at least he knows what to do in this situation. Now that he’s been brought down and pinned, Eddie stills his body and waits until the bell rings out, signalling that Eddie has lost the bout. Buck’s scent is everywhere. He’s drowning in it. It muffles the outside world so much that Eddie would’ve missed the signal if it weren’t for the cheers from the crowd and the subsequent spike in their anticipatory arousal.
“You won,” Eddie says, through gritted teeth. There’s not a lot of wiggle room in Buck’s hold, but still, Eddie attempts to arch his back and press up into Buck’s crotch. This is what Buck earned. Eddie isn’t going to deny him that. “It’s time for the prize.”
Buck exhales sharply, and Eddie can feel him nosing at the back of Eddie’s neck, scenting him. People are hooting and hollering on all sides, cheering them on. They’re just as desperate as they always are, and Eddie realizes he feels the same. He tries to grind against Buck again, and this time he feels Buck’s cock, half hard and unavoidably big.
There’s a shift, and this is it: Buck is going to shove down Eddie’s shorts and take him. The only alpha who weakened Eddie’s front since he started this whole thing. Eddie’s mouth waters, and he waits, patient and ready to present. Buck’s grip tightens, and then it disappears.
Eddie turns—because he can turn, no one is holding him down any longer—and Buck is standing. He’s looking down at Eddie. His skin is flushed and shining with sweat. He’s undeniably hard underneath the layers. He’s staring. He’s leaving.
The response from the crowd is nothing short of riotous, but it slides off Eddie like the first warning drops of rain. All he’s focused on is following Buck.
“Hey,” Eddies says sharply, the second they’re alone in the back room. Had someone shown Buck where the changing rooms were, or had he followed Eddie’s scent back here? “What are you doing? I thought you knew the deal.”
“I did.” It’s a quick, overly bright response from Buck, and god fucking dammit, Eddie can’t believe this is the first conversation they’ve had in weeks. Eddie hates him, or he wishes he did. Weeks of nothing, and now Buck was here, disrupting Eddie’s only outlet. Not only disrupting it, but also rejecting Eddie in front of a group of people who are certainly not going to let Eddie forget it.
“You made me look like a fool, you know that, right?”
“Nobody signed a contract, Eddie.” Buck sits down on one of the rickety chairs and sprawls in that way of his. He’s still hard. Eddie grinds his teeth.
“I don’t know if you noticed, but it’s not exactly a contract kinda place, Buck. That doesn’t mean there aren’t expectations.”
Buck sighs and rubs his hand on the back of his neck before scratching at his hair. “Do they have you locked into some kind of agreement? Are you going to be in trouble because I didn’t, what was it you said, claim my prize? Christ, Eddie, you don’t talk like that.”
“Says who? There are parts of me you don’t know about, Buck.”
Buck laughs sharply. “Clearly.”
There’s a level of petulance to Buck’s voice that Eddie suddenly can’t stand. He can tell Buck is pissed that Eddie hid the fact that he’s an omega, but he has no right. It’s Eddie’s business. Business that has only become relevant recently, right when Buck blew everything up. The sour reality of Buck’s rejection is starting to set in, making Eddie’s skin crawl and his stomach churn.
“You’re in the wrong place, Buck. That’s what's clear.” Eddie turns away from Buck and walks back in the direction of the ring, but Buck is following. He doesn’t grab Eddie, even though he easily could. Buck doesn’t touch Eddie at all. Eddie clenches his fists.
“Eddie. Where are you going?”
He looks at Buck and grins, showing plenty of teeth. “There are plenty of alphas out there who will give me what I want. You don’t need to worry about it. Go home. Stay and watch. I don’t care.”
Buck doesn’t say anything else, and Eddie pretends he finds that satisfying.
None of the noise or any of the scents from the main section of the warehouse died down in the few minutes Eddie was away, but they’re restless now, agitated. He knows the feeling. The promoter is shouting at Eddie as he walks past, but he doesn’t hear any of it. This fuck up has nothing to do with Eddie. Besides, Eddie is going to make it right.
Indistinguishable complaints meet Eddie as he shoves his way back into the ring. He bares his teeth at some of the rowdier patrons, not that it does anything to cow them. Eddie scans the room and the bodies with the same efficiency he brings to any emergency situation. He easily spots two of the guys he fought earlier.
“You two,” Eddie shouts, pointing at them. “You up for round two?”
One of them gets with the program immediately and scrambles to be let into the ring, his clumsy limbs not exactly a promising sign. The other looks unsure, and Eddie rolls his eyes. “Both of you,” he emphasises. “Now or never, Alpha.”
That gives the alpha the kick up the ass he needs to move.
Still, when they’re both in the ring, Eddie can see the doubt written all over their faces.
“You want me?” Eddie says, and puts up his guard, loosening his knees and easing into his usual stance. He doubts either of them will strike immediately, but despite how badly he wants to get to the next part, he can’t make it too easy for them. “That’s what you’re here for. You all want a taste of the slutty omega? That’s what you call me, right?”
He wonders if some of the confusion on his opponents' faces is coming from the fact that Eddie rarely speaks when he’s in this place. There’s usually no need for it. His body does almost all of his talking. Now he can’t seem to stop.
“Maybe two of you will be able to take me on.”
The two alphas glance at each other briefly, and Eddie is aware that there’s a chance that they’ll tear chunks out of each other rather than focusing their efforts on Eddie, but he’s pretty confident in his ability to keep their focus.
“You come here because you think you’re the one who can take me down, and that you think you’ll get a chance to fuck me.” Eddie hops on the spot a couple of times, trying to sink back into his normal mindset. “I want that too. I want someone to handle me. Properly.”
Both of the alphas have shaken off whatever lingering doubts they had about the change in circumstance; Eddie can smell their resolve.
“Don’t let this second chance go to waste. You think you can do it? Handle me properly? Fuck me properly?”
They move slowly, but deliberately. Eddie knows he’s going to have a hard time keeping an eye on both of them. Neither man answers Eddie’s desperate challenge, but the crowd is loud enough to count as a response. Eddie’s won them back over. He’s giving them exactly what they want and more. Maybe two won’t be enough. Maybe Eddie will take as many knots as he can. Maybe they'll make everything quiet.
The first blow comes, and Eddie lets it land.
++++
Buck thinks about going to Eddie’s house the following morning, but before he can even begin to talk himself into action, his phone rings.
He’s been reinstated. Effective immediately. That means he has a shift. Today.
He runs to work, trying to burn off the lingering, unsettled energy.
He’s only somewhat successful.
The first second he sees Eddie, Buck trips over his feet. Eddie doesn’t look up, but Hen does look at him funny. It’s the first in an unending day of funny looks.
Buck’s caught between needing to talk to Eddie desperately and knowing that starting that conversation now, at the beginning of his first day back on the job, could only end horribly. In the end, Bobby takes the decision out of his hands by making Buck the man behind for the entire shift. The team comes back in between calls, but most of them ignore Buck anyway. Eddie’s cold shoulder, at least, doesn’t seem out of place.
By the time the rest of the team is getting ready to go home, Buck is fit to burst. He sees Eddie heading for the changing room, and he can’t help but follow. His mouth is halfway open, an apology on the tip of his tongue and the best of intentions to follow, when Eddie pulls off his shirt.
There are bruises on Eddie’s skin that Buck knows he didn’t leave. Some of them are clearly caused by fingers or a mouth. Is this how Eddie always looks these days? How has no one else noticed? Sure, a couple of them could be written off by a bad call, and maybe Eddie had told the team he was seeing someone, but even then, it’s a lot.
“What happened?” Buck asks. The words are sharper than he intends.
Eddie folds his shirt and puts it in his kit bag, pulling out the clean, plain replacement from his locker. He doesn’t look at Buck as he dresses himself. Finally, he turns to meet Buck’s eyes. His expression is shuttered.
“What are you talking about?”
“The bruises,” Buck hisses. “They weren’t—they weren’t there. Before.”
“Before what? Say it, Buck, c’mon.”
Buck swallows. Eddie is so closed off to him right now, in a way he’s never been before. Buck hasn’t ever had to rely on Eddie’s scent to get a grasp of his feelings before—Eddie has always been a beta to him, muted and smoothing, why would he think about his scent—and yet he aches over its absence now. “Before I left you.”
“Before you humiliated me,” Eddie amends.
“Eddie, that’s not—you know that’s not what I meant. I just—Eddie, this whole thing. It’s crazy. You know that, right?”
Eddie turns to look at Buck fully now, and there’s a glimmer of the hurt Buck knows he’s feeling leaking through the steely front. “Which part? The fact that I’m an omega? Or the fact that I enjoy myself while being one?”
“I won’t lie, and say that finding that you’re omega didn’t shock me,” Buck starts, trying with all of his being to choose the right words, “and I’m hurt that you never told me, but—”
“I never told you I was a beta either,” Eddie interrupts, “but you had no issue assuming that.”
“Eddie. That’s not the point.”
“Sure it’s not.”
“Look, we can talk about omega politics and how I’m an ignorant alpha asshole some other time. Honestly, I’d love to actually talk to you about this properly. I promise. I’m just worried about you. About the, uh, other stuff.”
“You can say it, Buck. You were there. Did you stay for the finale? Or did you chicken out again?”
Buck swallows. “I went home.”
He hadn’t wanted to. He’d heard the way the crowd responded to Eddie’s return. Everything in him had wanted to turn around and follow Eddie back out. Everything in him had wanted to stop Eddie from leaving in the first place. Buck could only imagine what the second-rate alphas left in the audience would do to Eddie, how they’d touch him with unworthy, incapable hands.
Buck didn’t want to see what he’d given up.
“You missed a real show,” Eddie says, a bitter, mean twist to his voice. More than anything, this is the source of Buck’s worry. Eddie isn’t mean. He isn’t bitter. He isn’t angry like this either. Buck has fucked up; he’s aware of that, but that’s not the only thing going on here.
When Buck doesn’t immediately answer, Eddie starts to walk away; Buck can’t let him do that again.
He reaches out and wraps his fingers around Eddie’s wrist, locking them in place. Eddie stops and turns back to look at Buck. He’s expecting another thunderous look, but Eddie’s eyes are just so, so sad, and it breaks down whatever lingering hurt Buck had been feeling.
“Eddie,” Buck starts, but he finds he can’t say anything further than that.
“I don’t want to argue with you anymore,” Eddie says, and god, he sounds tired.
“Me neither. Honestly. I’m sorry. For everything. This week. Today. This summer. This month,” Buck rambles. He breathes and wishes he could smell Eddie fully. “There’s a lot I have to apologize for. I just want to talk to you. I don’t want it to be like this anymore.”
“I know you don’t.”
“Can we talk? Properly?” Buck asks. His hand is still on Eddie's wrist, and neither of them has moved.
“Fine. Not here, though.”
It’s a short drive to Buck’s loft. They don’t go to Eddie’s, even though he’s the one driving. He wants a quick escape, Buck supposes.
In the car, there’s a lingering hint of Eddie’s scent, and despite himself, a familiar stirring begins in Buck’s gut. All he wants to do is run his nose along every inch of this space, trying to find more, more of the maddening scent. Then, of course, he’d end up scenting every inch of Eddie. Which isn’t exactly productive right now.
“Do you want a coffee or something? Tea?” Buck says as soon as they’re home. “I’ve got some of that grapefruit juice you like from that co-op near the station. I also got some beers, and actually, there’s an IPA—”
“Buck.” There’s a shadow of a smile on Eddie’s face as he interrupts Buck’s tirade.
“Sorry.” Buck breathes and starts again. “Do you want a drink?”
“Grapefruit juice will be fine.”
It’s good to have a task. Buck moves around the kitchen, pulling two glasses off the drying rack and the jug of juice from the fridge. Two glasses poured. One slightly more than the other, which is the one that Buck hands to Eddie, who is now sitting at the island. Buck’s hands tap the countertop as he watches Eddie take a sip, working up to speech.
“I’m sorry,” Buck says, after a too-long silence. Great start.
“What for?”
“Um, well. I can list it all, if you want. But it’s all the same thing, really. I’ve been selfish. And I’ve not been here. You needed me, and I was too obsessed with my own issues to notice. Even after the tsunami, and you were trying to help me, when it should’ve been the other way around.”
Eddie lets out a long breath, and it’s clear that the release of air represents more than just today’s tension. “In all fairness, it was easier to focus on you than think about anything going on with me.”
“How’s that been working out?”
Eddie shrugs and looks toward the windows. “It was working until I wasn’t allowed to talk to you anymore.”
“Eddie—”
“Don’t say you’re sorry again. I know you are. It’s fine.” Eddie waves at him vaguely, which lessens Buck’s confidence, if he’s being honest. “It’s over, right? Case closed?”
“Yeah.”
“Then we can get back to normal. If that’s what you want.” Now Eddie is looking at him properly. He meets Buck’s eyes. There’s a further, unspoken question clear in Eddie’s words. Buck wants to answer, but he doesn’t know how to say it.
Buck doesn’t want things to go back to normal, but that means a lot of things. He doesn’t want them to hide things from each other; he doesn’t want to be this oblivious when it comes to Eddie again. Buck wants to go back to being in Eddie’s pocket. He wants to be Eddie’s best friend again. He wants to take care of him, whatever that means. He wants everything.
What Buck doesn’t want is for Eddie to think that this is just sex to him. That Buck only wants more because he found out about Eddie’s designation. It’s not entirely untrue, but it’s not all of it. Losing his spot in Eddie’s life, realizing how much he’d missed, smelling Eddie’s true scent, seeing how beautiful and strong he’d been in that ring, knowing without a doubt that he could give Eddie what he needed; all of it had left Buck in a tailspin he’s only now coming out of.
Instead of giving a real answer, Buck stalls.
“Why do you go to that place?” he asks. He could’ve asked how long it’d been going on, but Buck is afraid he wouldn’t like the answer. Not because of what Eddie’s been doing, but because it’ll only prove how much Buck has been absent for.
“It’s something I needed. I’ve never—” Eddie stops himself and pushes his hair back. “You were right to assume I was a beta. I never gave any indication I was anything but. I didn’t want to. It never really mattered.”
“Hell of a pivot,” Buck says, aiming for a joke. It lands right, judging by Eddie’s soft exhale.
“That’s what the first heat in a decade will do, I guess. I don’t really know how to be an omega.”
Buck breathes in once, indulgent and steadying, as the memory of Eddie being an omega immediately comes to the front of his mind. “You don’t do things by halves, Eddie.”
Eddie drinks some more of his juice and shrugs, but there’s the beginnings of a blush on his cheeks. Buck wants it to grow.
“You looked incredible.” It’s a whole foot over the line they’ve both been toeing, and Buck watches as Eddie looks down at his drink, dark eyelashes fanning across his cheeks, a small, pleased smile on his face.
“Some people said something to that effect.”
Buck walks to the sink and dumps out his juice, leaving the glass there. He comes around to Eddie’s side of the island, still keeping his distance. “And your scent. I can’t believe I never noticed it before.”
“I was on suppressants.” Buck watches Eddie swallow. “Until, uh, they failed a while back. After the tsunami.”
“You went into heat?”
Eddie nods. His cheeks have finally pinked up properly. He takes another drink.
“Were you alone?”
Eddie nods again. “Fucking sucks. Only had two heats in my life, and both of them fucking sucked.”
“I wish I were here.”
“Why? Wouldn’t have changed anything.” Eddie’s look is challenging. Buck shrugs.
“I could’ve helped.”
Another long, silent beat. “I don’t think I would’ve accepted any help.”
“What about next time?” Buck asks, as neutrally as possible.
“You want to be my heat partner, Buckley?” The teasing edge to Eddie’s voice stokes the simmering in Buck’s body.
“If that’s all you want, sure.”
“How about you tell me what you want? Tell me, Buck.”
The fear of his clumsy words still sits immovably in Buck’s chest, and, well, he’s always been a man of action. Buck closes the last of the distance he’s been chipping away at for the last half an hour (all day, really) and presses his lips to Eddie’s, as soft as he can. It’s a fluttering, gentle kiss, but it’s all Buck trusts himself to do right now. He slides a hand across Eddie’s jaw, running his thumb across those pink cheeks.
“Tell me again,” Eddie says quietly.
Buck kisses him again, letting it linger this time. Eddie kisses back tentatively, but quickly growing in confidence, until their lips are sliding against each other, rhythm clicking into place. “I want it all,” Buck says, and that’s the only thing he can say at this point.
Eddie stands abruptly and kisses Buck again, but there’s a clear difference between this kiss and the last. From the outset, it’s deeper, after Eddie’s tongue traces the seam of Buck’s lips and slips inside. Buck’s hands find themselves on Eddie’s hips, and as soon as they do, he walks Eddie backward until he hits the kitchen island. Eddie bites at Buck’s bottom lip and arches up against him. Buck pulls Eddie closer. His hands belong here on Eddie’s waist; he can’t believe he never saw it before.
Now that he’s here, that he’s so close to Eddie, Buck can’t help but be indulgent. He presses a kiss to Eddie’s jaw before moving down to his neck, where his scent ought to be the most intense. Whatever patches he’s wearing must be near their limit now, anyway. At the first hint of Eddie’s true scent, sweet and heady, Buck groans into Eddie’s skin, rolling his hips and pressing their crotches together. It’s not nearly enough, but it’s there. Buck licks at the spot and puts just enough pressure on it with his teeth to get Eddie whining as well.
“God, Eddie,” Buck says. He presses his nose to Eddie’s scent gland again and breathes deeply, catching a proper lungful of Eddie’s scent. He mouths at Eddie’s neck and sucks a mark. Buck wants nothing more than to make that into a permanent claim. Instead, he does whatever he can to make it clear that Eddie is his right now, while also sliding his hands downward and palming Eddie’s ass. As well as the hints of Eddie’s scent, Buck can smell his slick.
“Wait,” Eddie says, and he’s pushing at Buck’s chest.
“Hm?”
“Buck, stop,” Eddie says again. His tone is gentle, but Buck pulls away sharply.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m great. Too great.” His cheeks are so pink. So is his neck, showing the evidence of Buck’s attention. “I want something.”
“Anything.”
Eddie grins at him. “Don’t say that until you’ve heard what I want.” There’s little that Buck wouldn’t do for Eddie, so he’s pretty confident in his first answer, but he indicates to Eddie to continue anyway. “I don’t want to go any further.”
“Oh, Eddie, of course that’s fine, we can go as slow as you—”
“No, no. Not like that. I want you to fuck me. Knot me, all of it. Just not right now. Not here.”
“Okay,” Buck says slowly, not quite getting it. “Whatever you need.”
“It’s not something I need,” Eddie corrects, but his cheeks are blushing almost as hard as they had been in that ring—oh. Buck is pretty sure he knows what this request is going to be. There’s a flutter in Buck’s chest, but the insistent, simmering desire under his skin doesn’t dim. “But it is something I want.”
++++
It takes a little convincing to get the promoter on board, especially after last week’s fiasco, but when Eddie explains the grand finale he has planned, the ring is theirs, and Eddie keeps his normal Friday night slot.
That gives them five days. Five days to reestablish their places in each other's lives. Five days of actually talking, about all of the crap of the last couple of months, and all the little things they’ve missed. Five days for Buck to settle back into work and the team.
Five days of holding Buck at bay.
Sure, Eddie hadn’t been cruel. There had been plenty of make-out sessions, ending in wet boxers on both sides, but that had been the line. Eddie wanted to stay untouched, so to speak. He wanted Buck to give it his all tonight.
“Those people who come to see me, they’ve seen some good fucks. I want you to be the best,” Eddie had said, after his initial ask.
“That’ll be no problem,” Buck had agreed easily.
“It’s not just them,” Eddie added, “I want you to prove it to me. I don’t want to be made a fool out of again.”
“Eddie—”
“You don’t have to keep apologizing, I told you I get it. I just want to, I don’t know. I like the idea of going out like this. On this high. Show all of those desperate fucks who won me for good. I wanna show off the alpha who’s going to mate me.”
Buck’s grin had been feral, and they’d ended up horizontal after that.
When they’re finally in the ring—together finally, with no surprises from either party—Eddie and Buck don’t fight. Neither of them needs that particular form of foreplay right now. They wrestle a bit, and Eddie doesn’t make it easy for Buck, trying to slip out of his hold more than once. It’s enough of a show to get the crowd into it, and Eddie revels in the feel of Buck’s strong hands fighting to keep him in place. There’s an intimacy to grappling like this: sweaty skin sliding together, long swathes of their bodies pressed tightly, twisting and holding, a hair’s breadth from all-out dry humping. When Buck gets Eddie in a vice-like hold that’s near impossible to get out of, Eddie squirms and does his best to turn it into actual grinding.
It’s a pantomime version of a real struggle. More like actual, professional wrestling Eddie supposes, although he’s pretty sure those matches don’t end with the unmistakable press of your opponent's hard cock against the small of your back. It only takes a couple of minutes of play-fighting to get them in the position, and a couple more for the heat of Buck to be too much for Eddie.
“Please,” he begs, after Buck pins him for the third time. Buck has one of Eddie’s arms held behind his back while his chest is pressed against the ground. Eddie has little leverage in this position, with his knees trapped under his body and Buck’s bulk behind him. Eddie’s panting, and it’s only in part due to the exertion of the fight. Slick is already leaking down the back of his thighs and he knows Buck knows the effect this is having; they’re pressed so close together he can probably feel it.
“You ready to submit?” Buck says, right next to Eddie’s ear. He could whisper it, but he says it loud enough that the audience will also be privy.
Eddie groans and his thighs are quivering, ready to buckle at the strength of Buck’s words, if not his body. Still, Eddie is greedy. He wants more. “Make me.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Buck loosens his grip on Eddie, giving him just enough slack to start to move. Eddie doesn’t get very far. Despite it being the last thing he wants to do, he tries to pull away from Buck but it seems that’s exactly what Buck wants. As soon as Eddie tries to get to his knees, Buck hooks an arm around one of them, spreading them apart, and then using Eddie’s weight against him and flipping him onto his back. He pushes one knee up to Eddie’s chest and braces his arm there too, putting a little pressure on Eddie’s neck as he does.
“Are you going to submit?” Buck asks again, louder this time, a growling edge to the question.
Eddie feels dizzy with relief and anticipation as he replies. “Yes, Alpha.”
There are people reacting all around him, and for the first time since Eddie came to this place, he realizes he’d forgotten about the crowd. The only thing that matters right now is Buck, he wants to be good for Buck.
Buck leans down, pushing Eddie’s body further, and kisses him. It’s barely a kiss, all tongue and teeth, and Eddie closes his eyes and gives as good as he gets. He wants Buck to get messy and this is a good start.
“You ready for my knot this time? Been thinking about it?” Buck says, an inch away from Eddie’s lips. He rolls his hips against Eddie’s clothed ass, and Christ, what a promise that weight is.
“Every day,” is Eddie’s honest answer. Buck has been holding back this week, but so has Eddie. He’s fingered himself more times than he can count, and half worried at one point about carpal tunnel, but nothing that he did even came close to just the feel of Buck’s erection through layers of fabric. Buck presses his face to the side of Eddie’s neck and breathes deeply, grinding against Eddie again as he does. “Please, Alpha. I need it.”
Buck makes short work of Eddie’s shorts, throwing them to the side—distantly he hopes that Buck hasn’t thrown them too far, if it’s within arm's reach of the fence then he’s lost them forever—and he unceremoniously shoves two fingers into Eddie’s slick hole. The jockstrap Eddie’s wearing today is a light pink, which Buck had picked out. Eddie didn’t realize that jocks could be considered ‘pretty’.
“So wet for me already, huh?” Buck’s eyes have a dark, dangerous glint to them. It’s something that Eddie has rarely seen before on his best friend’s face, and he finds he enjoys it. Eddie tries to push down on Buck’s fingers but Buck has him pretty well pinned. “Can’t believe what a slut you are for this. You’re a slut for most alpha’s but you’ve never been this wet, have you?”
“No,” Eddie confirms, and the word turns into a whine as Buck slides another thick finger into his hole. Eddie doesn’t even know why he’s messing about with this kind of foreplay, they both know that Eddie could take Buck’s cock right now if that was what Buck wanted. But Buck wants to play and he wants to talk. He wants everyone to know how good Buck is for Eddie. That’s what he’s been telling Eddie every night this week, when they were in bed or on the couch or in a bunk at the firehouse, furtively rubbing themselves off on each other's bodies.
“You were built for this. And I was built for you.”
Buck pushes down his own athletic shorts down far enough to get his cock out. Eddie cranes his head to get a good look at it: red, thick, and just as perfect as Eddie has imagined. Buck is leaking steadily already. They’re both wet, it seems.
“Please, Alpha,” Eddie repeats. It’s all he can think to say.
“You know how to play it pretty, sweetheart.” Buck’s smile is sweet and small, even here, and it leaves Eddie’s chest aching.
Then he pushes Eddie’s knee back up to touch his chest, and pushes inside.
Eddie cries out at the first breech; Buck’s cock spreads him just as wide as he had imagined, and it’s a long, steady slide before Buck is fully seated. There’s a hammering in his chest, that’s echoed in the steady noises from the crowd.
“God fucking dammit,” Buck groans, “how do you feel this good?”
“Alpha,” Eddie says between pants.
“Yeah, that’s it, sweetheart. That’s me. You’re my omega, aren’t you?” Buck starts to move, leaving little time for Eddie to adjust, just the way he wants it. After a couple of thrusts, Buck rearranges them a little, moving Eddie’s other leg and putting it on his shoulder. Eddie ends up splayed in a way he never has been before—the alphas he’s fucked before have rarely been more creative than the traditional presenting position—and it means that each time Buck drives into him he’s getting deeper and deeper.
There’s wetness on Eddie’s face, and he doesn’t know whether it’s tears or sweat or both. He claws fruitlessly at the floor. His whole body feels wrecked from the sheer rightness of this.
“Oh Jesus, sweetheart. I love you.”
Eddie whines and nods desperately, hoping that Buck gets it. Buck puts his hand on Eddie’s chest, and he knows that he does.
Abruptly, Buck shifts again. He widens his knees, and maneuvers Eddie’s legs so they’re wrapped around Buck’s waist. Then he wraps an arm around Eddie’s back and lifts him up so Eddie is sitting in Buck’s lap. It all happens in one smooth movement, and the strength and confidence on display sends another wave of slick rushing out. Buck swears at the sensation and growls against Eddie’s neck.
“My omega.”
“Yours,” Eddie agrees, clinging to his almost-mate. Again, he doesn’t have that much leverage and is at the mercy of Buck, but Eddie grinds on Buck’s cock as best he can. He can already feel Buck’s knot brushing against his prostate, so it won’t be long until they’re locked together—in more ways than one.
Buck has a tight grip on Eddie’s waist and he bounces Eddie up and down a couple of times, each movement a little more difficult as Buck’s knot continues to grow. Finally, Buck slams Eddie down one last time and his knot pops into place, a hot wave of come following shortly after. As if there is a switch in Eddie’s body, synced to Buck, Eddie comes as well, filling the front of his jock. The waves of Buck’s orgasm continue and he starts to encourage Eddie to move in small circles, keeping the loop of pleasure going and going.
“Please Eddie,” Buck whispers, and these words are just for them. “Can I do it?”
“Yes,” Eddie agrees, desperately. “Make me yours.”
Buck’s teeth pierce his skin. For the first microsecond, there’s a wave of pain and Eddie cries out, but almost as quickly as it starts, the sensation shifts to something else. It’s not quite pleasure—although Eddie is feeling that too—it’s something all-encompassing and physically hot. It spreads out from his neck and settles in his chest. He can feel Buck’s heart beating, a staccato rhythm that echoes Eddie’s. Everything else in the room melts away until it’s just that heartbeat.
When Buck pulls back, Eddie kisses his bloody mouth. Their fresh mating bond settles and strengthens as they make out and press their chests together, as wrapped up in each other as they can possibly be in this moment. There are loud sounds on all sides, Eddie doesn’t know if they’re good or bad, but he knows they’ve put on a hell of a show. Deliriously, Eddie thinks that this warehouse might just be the most romantic place in all of Los Angeles.