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Your lungs burn as you sprint through the forest, body aching as you try to get further away from town. You can hear some of your fellow omegas off in the distance; screams and cries as they’re caught and claimed. Something in you makes you want to stop at those sounds, drop to the ground, and curl up. Give up. It would be easy. So, so easy. Maybe you’d get lucky and the alpha or beta who found you would be nice. Maybe they wouldn’t hurt you. Would take things slow. Would be a decent person.
Yeah right, like there are any decent people in this town, participating in the mayor’s fucked up games.
Slick is starting to coat the insides of your thighs, making it harder to run.
Making your location more obvious to anyone nearby.
You keep going, the sounds of the hunt fading as you make your way deeper and deeper into the forest.
You don’t know how long you’ve been running, how far you are from town or how deep you are in the forest. All you know is the pain blaring through you, starting to override any rational part of your brain. Your legs hurt, your chest hurts. Your lungs and throat and feet hurt . You drop to your hands and knees, panting hard as you try to catch your breath.
Was it your heat? Was that the reason you felt like this? As if your body was trying to combust?
Or was it that chemical they’d doused you in before letting you loose?
Everything was brighter, louder.
Amplified.
You’d suffered through heats before but never like this. It had to be whatever they’d sprayed you with.
Fuckers .
A lazy breeze greets you, stirring the overhead leaves. You let your eyes drift close, enjoying the cool air caressing your burning skin and the rustling of the trees. It’s nice, this small reprieve, the breeze, the sound of the trees.
Nest .
Your eyes snap open at the thought, and you scramble to your feet.
No. No nesting. No stopping. No letting some random pervert find you and claim you.
You try to move, to take a step forward, only to crumple back to the ground, the world spinning.
Balling your fists, you try to bite back a sob with little success as a wave of heat crashes over you. You don’t even realize you’re crying, a steady drip of tears wetting the ground as you try to collect yourself.
Fuck it .
You crawl to the base of a large tree, its roots thick and wild. There are small, natural dens under some of the roots, enough room for you to tuck yourself away under one. It’s cramped and smells of rich, damp earth. Your throat constricts at the thought of crawling in there, but you have no choice in the matter. It’s safe. Or, safer, anyway.
You start to tear at the little clothing you’d been given, just a step above rags. The cloth grates against your skin as you tug it off, but you don’t care. You make what pitiful little nest you can at the moment with what you have. You’re not really sure if it’s better or worse, laying bare in the sad nest you make. Better, maybe. It quells some of the instincts raging inside you.
A nest is a nest, even one as small and miserable as the one you’d made.
Another pang of heat and pain hits you, and you curl into yourself with a whine. It’s now that you’re in a confined space that you catch the scent of your own slick. It makes your stomach turn, how strong it is. Sweet, fertile. You’ve never hated it more.
At least you’re finally alone.
“Over here!”
Shit .
You tense at the voice. You hadn’t heard anyone approaching, but you hadn’t really been able to listen either, as caught up as you were in your own situation.
Now you can, though. You hear a group of people headed your way.
Hunting as a pack wasn’t normal, but it wasn’t against the rules either.
Was this going to be your fate, stuck as the plaything for a pack? Or were they one of the businesses you’d heard about? There had been so many whispered rumors. So many anxious touches and darting eyes. You hadn’t known what to believe, but it wasn’t the most far-fetched theory that some of the businesses around town would hire a pack of betas to hunt down omegas. To drag them back into town, unclaimed, to get used as toys and breeding stock.
Briar was the name you’d heard whispered about the most, a brothel owner who loved to get omegas in their “employ” through the hunts. But there had been others, too.
“Slippery little thing, huh? Gettin’ all the way out here. Might be the last one for the night.”
“Remy only expected five or so. Heard they already got what they wanted.”
You curl into a ball, trying to make yourself as small as possible, to hopefully keep any more of your scent from leaking out and calling attention to yourself.
Remy . That was the other name you’d heard whispered with dread by the other omegas
“Then why the hell are we out here? Let’s just go.”
Yes, yes, yes, leave.
“What, and leave one so close? Out here to suffer? What are you, heartless? ”
One of them laughs, and your stomach drops. They’re going to look for you. They’re going to find you. Take you back to their boss? Keep you for themselves? Fuck. Fuck . You bite down on your bottom lip, the tang of copper spreading over your tongue as another wave crashes over you. You screw your eyes shut, focusing on being as unassuming as possible as some of the voices get closer.
The one closest to you groans, their friends laughing.
“Seems like you’re the only one who wants to keep looking.”
“Ah, you guys don’t get it. They smell so good. ”
“Yeah, yeah. Poor alpha,” a different one snickers.
Shit. Not just betas. An alpha too. They’d be able to find you easier.
“Oh, fuck off.”
“Fine, you want to look for them? We can spread out more. Shouldn’t be too hard with all of us.”
There’s a shuffling sound at the opening of your makeshift den. Your eyes snap open, stomach-dropping as you see the figure of a man crouching at the entrance to the tiny den. He’s backlit by the moon, making him hard to make out. Just lean body and well-muscled arms and an almost angelic halo of blond hair.
And his scent, sharp and burning.
Fire and honey.
Alpha .
You cringe, curling in on yourself as tightly as possible.
“Fuck, you’ve gone and made a nest, huh?”
His voice is soft, almost friendly, teasing.
You don't care, letting out a low growl, snarling, flashing your teeth.
You know it’s a futile endeavor, trying to drive this alpha away from your nest. But you try regardless. You have nothing to lose, after all.
He gives a low whistle, holding his hands up and palms out in something of a placating gesture. "Whoa now, lil' omega, no need for all that."
“Wren?” One of the others call, and the man tilts his head towards his friend’s voice, but he never takes his eyes off you.
“I dunno,” the man crouching in front of you calls back, “the boss has their numbers, but-”
“Please,” you manage to get out, “please don’t.”
He hesitates, and you take your chance. You uncurl from your protective position, moving until you’re propped up on your elbows. His breath hitches as you let your knees drop, giving him an unobstructed view of your hole. “Don’t,” you say again, “d-don’t call them over. Please.”
He swallows thickly, breathing hard as he keeps staring at you. You spread your legs a little more, hoping that your scent is enough to fog his mind. You’d never been around an alpha during your heat, unless the strange caretaker who guarded the omegas year-round until the hunt counted.
You don’t think they counted. They seemed unaffected by the omegas in their care, in the way some of them would get heats so bad that they’d offer themselves up to the caretaker in hopes of some relief. The caretaker was never affected, but you heard stories, knew what an omega’s scent was supposed to do to an alpha. How it could send some into lust-induced rages, make them turn on their own packmates.
“Wren?”
The man jumps as his friend calls for him again, eyes still locked on you. “I-” his voice is strained, and he cuts himself off to clear his throat. “You guys go on back to the estate. I’ve got some business in town.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah…yeah. Don’t bother waiting. Night like this? Probably won’t get done ‘til sun up.”
He stays crouched like that, eyes trained on you as you both listen to the sounds of his friends leaving.
It’s not long before it’s just the two of you, and you can’t help a whimper as another jolt of sharp pain shoots through you.
That’s all it takes.
The alpha- Wren?- is on top of you, grinding his clothed erection against you as he mouths at your neck. You hadn’t thought this far ahead. You knew what you were doing, that you were basically offering yourself up in the hopes that you’d only have to deal with one person instead of many. You had just thought, hoped, that you’d be able to push him off once his friends were gone.
But you can’t.
You feel weak, heavy, hands balled into fists at your sides as he moves against you. Another effect of that chemical? Or because you’d exhausted yourself running? Did it matter?
Besides, you don’t really want to push him away anymore. His lips feel sinfully good on your neck, tongue flicking over your scent gland and quelling some of the ache inside you. Better than some, then, actually seeming to take into account your comfort instead of just pinning you down and mindlessly rutting into you. That had to mean something, right?
Right?
You whine as one of his hands drift down between your legs, a finger idly circling your hole before slowly pushing in with ease.
Your mind blanks as he adds another finger, slowly curling them inside you. This whole time you’ve been struggling, fighting against the worst of your heat. Now, you stop fighting.
He lets out a breathless laugh as you buck against him on instinct.
Your heart skips a beat as his mouth moves, teeth scraping over your scent gland as he speaks. "Eager little thing, aren't you?"
"Sh-shut up," you bite out, continuing to buck into his hand.
He pulls back from your neck, a spark of something in his eyes. "Feisty, too. I like that."
You're about to say how you don't care what he likes, only for your voice to catch in your throat as he presses against a spot inside you that leaves you tongue-tied, your words reduced to jumbled sounds.
He keeps petting that spot inside you, the den filled with an obscene squelching as more slick is coaxed out of you with every movement. Some tiny rational part of you wants him to stop. Even as you moved against him, continued to grind into his hand, it was starting to become too much. Too much friction, too much pleasure, too much of his heavy breathing and whispered praise.
Yet, also not enough.
Even as you cum, rocking on his fingers and nails digging into the palms of your hands, it’s not enough.
“ More, ” you barely recognize your own voice as you manage to surge forward, wrapping your arms around him and making him tumble backward.
Wren lets out another breathy, giddy laugh as you fumble with his clothes. His world is starting to narrow, starting to become nothing but you. Your scent, sweet and needy and calling to him. Your hands, burning as they pull his cock out and press his leaking tip to your hole. Your mouth as it drops open, letting out a long, pleasure-filled sigh as you sink down on his length. Fuck, you . Everything. The way you enveloped him. The way you squeezed around him. The way your slick dripped down onto him, onto his pelvis, and down his thighs.
This isn’t Wren’s first romp with an omega. Not even his first time trading favors with an omega during the hunt. It was accepted. Expected, even. He went out, hunted for Remy, and, in return, he could maybe have a taste of what the elites liked to keep for themselves. It was fine. Wren wasn’t looking for a mate, but for fun, and that kept the worst of his rut from ever triggering during a hunt. Omegas might smell delicious, might look pretty under him, but he didn’t want them. Not in the way the others did.
But this was different.
You were different.
You’re whining into Wren’s neck, nuzzling at his scent gland, pressing against it in a way that’s making him release more and more pheromones. You’re clawing at his chest, small omega claws digging into the fabric of his shirt and scraping over his nipples. You’re frantically humping his cock like it’s the last thing you’re going to do before you die .
And it’s making Wren’s head spin.
He rests his hands on your hips, reveling in the way your muscles flex under his hands as you continue moving against him.
The knot at the base of his cock is starting to swell, your whines and gasps getting louder as it grows inside you, stretching you in a new way. He should…pull out. He hasn’t knotted anyone before. Or, well, never an omega. Certainly never an omega during a hunt .
He doesn’t want to get stuck inside you, but the more he moves, grips your hips and tires to get you to slow down, the more desperate you become. And fuck if he didn’t want to feel you clenching down on his knot, milking him for all he’s worth.
But…he shouldn’t. Should make you stop. Should shove you off him and maybe cum across your chest or face or-
Wren chokes as you press your mouth to his neck, sucking on the skin over the scent gland. His fingers dig into your hips and blood wells up where his nails pierce skin.
He's fucked. He's so totally fucked. You're too good around him, knot firmly keeping him in place as you keep humping away. It's going to be a fucking nightmare for him to explain this to Remy, but-
You bite down.
It's not much, not the same as an alpha's bite. Your teeth are weaker, duller, but it still means something. Still marks Wren as your alpha. Still sends waves of heat coursing through his veins, a pleasure so intense that Wren's vision goes black as he finally reaches his end, shooting thick ropes of cum inside you.
You keep going. Even as you feel him twitching inside you, even as he goes limp under you, you keep grinding against the alpha under you. Even as your heat subsides somewhat as he paints your insides, saps that little bit of frenzied energy you’d been functioning off of, you keep moving. You’re practically laying on top of him at this point, chest to chest as your hips still weakly move.
A yelp of surprise rips from your throat as the alpha under you jerks forward, wrapping his arms around you. You can’t fight him as he presses you back into the tiny nest you created. Not that you want to, still trying to grind away on his knot as he looms over you.
There’s a strange light in his warm eyes as he stares down at you. The full start of his rut, maybe? Strange alpha, your strange alpha, only now going into rut.
“ Fuck , little omega,” he says with a laugh. His voice has dropped lower than the last time he spoke, you think. It sends a shiver down your spine, a small whine slipping from your throat. “Glad I told the pack I wouldn't be back ‘til mornin’. Gonna catch hell for this, though, showing up with your mating mark. You’ll make it worth it, right?”