Chapter Text
Jon sat at his desk, sighing after a successfully recorded statement.
After everything that had happened and was going to happen, it was no wonder that they were all in need of some stress relief. They didn’t go out much these days, save for the occasional rut that the alphas couldn’t control, and even then some of them preferred to lock themselves in one of the many study rooms that the institute has to offer. Jon always felt an odd sense of relief and superiority that he didn’t have to go through such trifles. As a beta he wasn’t subject to the whims of his secondary gender, be it the natural dominance needs of an alpha, or worse yet, the submissive desires of an omega.
Considering that the secondary gender of alpha was uncommon, there was a shocking number of them in his immediate department. Only 1 out of every 5 people were an alpha, yet Elias, Basira, Daisy, and somehow even gentle, pushover Martin were all alphas. Omegas were even more uncommon, making up about 1 in 15, and scientists were finding results that they were becoming more scarce due to the high stress that being an omega brings. If not properly taken care of their stress hormones would spike so high that they could have irreversible damage to their psyche, and if they weren’t put into intensive rehab at that point they often die of heart attacks or stroke.
Jon couldn’t say he blamed them for not complying with treatment. The treatment of omegas was a hot button issue for a reason. The lower needs omegas can often hold down low stress jobs, when they haven’t committed themselves to being barefoot in the kitchen with three pups and one more on the way. But the average needs omegas often can’t hold a job because they feel unhappy in positions outside of the home, and forget about high needs omegas. Jon scoffs at them walking down the street in with their collars leashed to an omega, sometimes scantily clad. Kneeling on pillows in restaurants while being fed by their alpha. They have no sense of agency. A slave to their needs and the whims of those around them. And yet they claim to be… so happy like that? An independent beta like himself couldn’t understand, and he had no need or interest to. He could stay on his high horse where he belonged, only bothered by the secondary gender when they needed a few extra days off for a rut.
There was only one omega he knew of that works nearby. Rosie, Elias’s assistant, was an omega. It made sense for her. It was easy secretarial work. Sit there, take phone calls, and look pretty. All things a low need omega like her could handle. Other than some shakiness and a timid nature, he could almost mistake her for a beta. A normal person. But he imagined she must be married, or at least have a regular alpha for her to be able to behave that well regulated.
Jon sighed to himself. So many questions and no answers for them. Tensions had been so high that Basira and Daisy had taken Martin to an omega respite center. Apparently scenting an omega was very beneficial for alphas. Some studies demonstrated a significant decrease in stress hormones and violent behaviors when an omega was regularly in proximity. Daisy had gone into a rut much too early as a result of all of this. Luckily, her and Basira have some sort of arrangement and she was able to get through, despite how quickly it came.
While ruts weren’t as detrimental as heats, they could have certain side effects that could be very unpleasant if an alpha wasn’t able to have some outlet. Basira came out a little worse for wear, heavy bite marks and bruises all over her, but she didn’t seem to mind. Even seemed to wear the bruises proudly. Not that there was anything wrong with that, of course. Alpha romances between each other were uncommon, but hardly a matter of talk these days. Omega on omega however, THAT was unheard of.
“Jon? We’re going out to get something to eat. Would you… like to come with?” Martin asked, creaking the door open. Jon looked at him wearily.
First Jane Prentiss, now “not-Sasha”. He was always on edge. Distrustful of everyone. Especially Martin. He was hiding something. He just didn’t know what. He weighed his options. On one hand, he didn’t want to get too chummy with him. He didn’t want to leave himself open. But on the other, this could be an opportunity to regain trust between them all. And maybe get some answers. Gertrude was murdered, and anyone could be a culprit. His only leads were Jurgan, who went missing during his smoke break, Gertrude, who is dead, and Elias who is being deliberately distant.
“I don’t think-“
“And before you say ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea’, we aren’t staying out. We’re going out together and we’re coming back and eating here. Safety in numbers and all that.” Jon considered this before shaking his head.
“No. But thank you, Martin.” Martin furrowed his eyebrows, huffing in frustration.
“You know, it might be GOOD for you to get out. Leave this stuffy place for a while and breathe some real air!” He threw his hands up in the air, clearly annoyed. For some reason, Jon bristled at this. Normally he was more calm in the face of the alpha’s frustrations, but this time he had the oddest urge to bare his fangs.
He barely had time for a rebuttal before Martin was approaching him, grabbing his shoulders. Martin was about to say something insightful, or meaningful, about how he cares about Jon and wants him to trust him again. But before he could Jon was pushing him away and this time, he did bare his fangs. Martin was taken aback. Jon and him had gotten into their squabbles, sure, but baring teeth? That was something far out of the realm of normal for Jon. He didn’t think he’d ever even seen the pointed canines before. The way they glistened in the dim light of his desk lamp. Martin bit back the urge to flash his much longer ones. It wouldn’t help anything to open that can of worms. Martin never was one for physical alternations. He backed away with his hands raised, before throwing them down in defeat.
“Alright Jon. I’ll bring something back for you.” And with that he was gone. The door creaking loudly behind him. The second he was gone Jon was splashed with a hot wash of shame. How embarrassing! How could he behave in such an uncivilized way? Never in his life had he bared his fangs. All of this had to be getting to him. He had been more agitated than usual, but this? This was a new low.
The heat from his display hadn’t left him even moments later. Even after he rationalized it all to himself that it was alright to have a slip up every once in a while. It still lingered. If anything, it seemed to spread. It wasn’t bad, but being uncomfortable like this got old quickly, and he didn’t hesitate to go for the Tylenol that was in one of his spare drawers. A minute went on, then two, then ten, then a half out and still no relief from this warmth spreading through his bones.
It was around this time he started to become aware of how very alone he felt. It was an anxious feeling. A ball sitting in his chest letting him know that something is wrong with being alone. Jon had never had a problem being alone. So why now? He tried to tell himself it was completely reasonable to be a little nervous about being alone. Hell, most people would say he’d be wrong for not feeling at least a little nervous, given all that’s happened. He distracted himself from these thoughts and feelings. He had to apologize to Martin. No matter what odd distrust is going on between them, he couldn’t be outwardly hostile like that.
He heard walking and muted speaking in the halls past the archive door. They must be back, and whatever they brought smelled… different? It was good. Definitely good, but it was like something he’d never smelled before. He didn’t have time to contemplate it for long, because the door opened. It wasn’t Martin like he expected though, it was Basira. She gave him a long look, something processing in her head.
“Are you alright? You seem, off…” she asked, taking a step toward him. She placed a brown paper bag on his desk, a patch of grease on the bottom, giving the feeling that it might rip and scatter the contents. He swallowed, that smell sitting right in his nose, reaching deep into his sinuses. His mouth watered. Maybe he was hungrier than he realized. He hadn’t been eating much these days.
“Yes, Basira. I just think I might be coming down with something.” She eyed him. As if trying to figure out some kind of puzzle but the pieces were all wrong.
“Yeah, well. I heard you went a bit feral earlier. That’s not like you. Not sure what that was about-“
“Basira, I don’t-“
“Listen, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. Take care of yourself. We’ll be around if you calm down.” Something about her tone was setting him off. She wasn’t doing anything, but it took all he could to not shout back that he was calm! But instead he clenched his fists and nodded, diverting his eyes to the floor.
“I will.”
She left and again he got that odd nagging that he was alone and that it wasn’t right. Even the appealing smell from the food was gone, leaving him with no desire to eat. He had decided he had to do something about this irritation scratching at his brain. There were always statements to be read, things to organize and be done. He began sifting through a box of old files, some had water damage and were unreadable. The irrational parts of his brain said that it was done on purpose somehow. He had successfully torn apart three massive boxes of Manila folders when a knock rang out through the room. He looked up as the door opened and Martin peeked through. For some reason his mind went blank as soon as they made eye contact.
“Yes Martin?” The smell was back. The same but different. A little stronger, a little deeper. His mouth watered again. It was so odd, Martin didn’t have any food with him so maybe it was a new cologne everyone had been using? Had he missed an email about how using a perfume could ward off monsters or something?
“I just wanted to check on you. Basira said you weren’t feeling well.” Martin said approaching. No Martin wasn’t coming to Jon. Jon was only an arms length away before he was able to shake himself out of whatever trance he was put in. Martin was visibly uncomfortable, concerned about getting snarled at again, but stayed in place. He didn’t want to upset the smaller man. Jon’s nostrils flared at the increased scent. It was definitely coming from Martin, he was sure of it.
“Jon…?” Martin pressed, hopeful of breaking the man out of whatever trance this was. It appeared to work. At least for the moment, Jon had backed away a few steps, clearing his throat and straightening his (admittedly wrinkled) shirt. Martin relaxed a little, letting out a deep sigh. But when he breathed back in there was a definitively sweet smell. He sniffed again, tilting his chin up a bit without thinking. Jon broke the silence.
“Martin, I apologize for earlier. It was a very… undignified act. I’ve been on edge recently with all that has happened. Anyway, rest assured, it will not happen again.” Martin snapped out of his scenting haze to nod and give a small smile.
“It’s alright. We all go a little feral sometimes.” He joked lightly. Martin began speaking about how oddly quiet it had been on the roads and then…
Jon was hard.
He felt his whole body stiffen and he nearly tripped trying to secure his lower half from Martin’s gaze. He had only hoped that it came across as a desire to get more comfortable for the conversation. He crossed his legs, feeling the blush dust across his cheeks and ears. He prayed to whatever god may exist that Martin wouldn’t notice. Jon hardly ever gets hard spontaneously. Normally it’s at his beck and call whenever he wants to blow off some steam. So why now of all times?
Martin had noticed the odd stumbling dance Jon had done, thought that maybe… maybe he saw something. Be he rid himself of the thought quickly. He knew Jon would never think of him like that. It must’ve just been some odd bunching of his trousers. Jon tilted his pelvis back, eliciting an excellent friction against his boxer briefs. He clenched his teeth. Martin needed to go.
“Martin, I’m very busy. In the middle of something, I’m sure you can see. So if you’d please.” Martin seemed a bit taken aback by the abrupt shift, but he couldn’t say it was unlike Jon to do something like this.
“Ah right, well then, I’ll be off. I’m staying here tonight. Basira, Daisy and Melanie are doing some girl thing, so Tim and I are going to hang out. You’re welcome to join us.” Jon nodded, pretending to be very interested in the documents on his desk. Martin left and Jon breathed a sigh of relief before growling in frustration. What is going on! He was always the pinnacle of control and now he’s growling and getting hard like some kind of dog. He had to get this under control, and soon.
First things first, getting rid of his erection. He locked the door to the archive, settling himself at his desk. He sat in his leather rolling chair, unzipping his slacks and pulling himself out. It wasn’t much. Respectable for a beta but nothing special. About 5.5 inches long, not particularly thick, with one or two veins webbing down to the tip. He was already leaking precum, evident by the wet stain on his briefs. He took himself in hand without preamble. He planned to do this quick and efficiently as he always had, but he found himself unable to finish. He would bring himself right to the edge, dangling there until his arm was exhausted from the jerking motion and he felt like he was rubbing salt in a wound.
He threw his hands down in exasperation. He had been going at it for nearly 30 minutes and he wasn’t getting anywhere with what he was doing. The heat had come back ten fold too, so much so he was certain he must’ve had a fever, he was so hard it ached, and god he didn’t think he’d ever produced so much precum in his life. His ass was wet with it. An idea popped into his head at that realization. An idea he quickly shook away.
That was a one way street for him. It always had been. As a beta there was no reason to have anything going up there, no matter how insistent his cock was that it was a great idea. He zipped himself up, with no small amount of effort and resolved himself to will power through this. A good long sleep would help. Maybe some water later. He went to an adjacent room that used to be used for storage, but had long since been renovated into a makeshift room for whoever was around. These days he was its only occupant.
He snuggled into bed, taking a deep breath at being wrapped up in the familiar thin blanket and hard mattress. It wasn’t the most comfortable spot in the world, but it had never bothered him before. But of course, today was different. He tossed and turned, feeling a burning anger under his skin that something wasn’t right. The archive was locked, he was safe in his bed so why did he feel so restless?
He flipped the pillow, rearranged the blanket, even threw in a few shirts he had, as well as the one he was wearing, in an attempt to make it more comfortable but it wasn’t working. His cock hurt from where it pressed against his zipper, his body felt so hot he though his skin was boiling, and all of it was enveloped in a massive sense of something being so, so, so wrong. He couldn’t stay like this. He tried finding release again, but he couldn’t. The only time he even got close was when he let his finger touch the rim of his wet opening. And it was short lived as he pulled away from it so quickly you’d think it cut him.
He stood up and threw the door open, resulting in a loud bang going across the archive as it collided with the wall. He needed water. Water might help his fever. Might cool him down a little. Then he could think. Yes, then he’d be able to think. It was normal to be foggy minded when your fever was spiking into the thousands.
He hoped nobody would see him like this. His pants did little to hide the situation, and the wet spot had long since saturated through his underwear, longing to make an appearance. His shirtless self wasn’t appealing for him to reveal either, but he was so warm he couldn’t be bothered with that. They would understand.
He made it to the kitchenette that had been nearly renovated into a full kitchen with all the appliances they’d added over time. His hands were shaking now, so much so he dropped and shattered the cup that he had aspirations of filling with water. He cursed, planning to get less breakable cups when whatever this sickness was had ended. He instead drank from the faucet, taking deep gulps. He splashed his face with the water, enjoying the brief respite of the chill. He turned the water off, hands gripped on the sink as he took big deep breaths. He helplessly rubbed his cock against the edge of the counter, nearly letting out a cry at how desperate he felt.
Click clack
Jon turned, spinning so fast he was nearly dizzy, back pressed against the ledge. He let out a low rumble in his throat, something he didn’t think he was capable of until right at this moment. It was dark and even though his pupils were blown he couldn’t make out the figure. It was male, tall, and it oozed a scent so strong it made his knees week. He took a shaky breath through his mouth, trying to keep some control. A Wrong move on his part. The scent coated his tongue, making it feel numb in his mouth. The figure took a step forward, then another, and another, until Elias Bouchard stood in the dim light radiating from the analog clock on the wall.