Chapter Text
Everyone was at their wits end with Eddie.
Corroded Coffin had seen some small success, enough that the band had been signed to record a second album. It should have been happy times for everyone involved. Champagne toasts and comradery all around.
That wasn’t how it had worked out. And, deep down, Eddie knew it was his fault. Even if he wasn’t willing to admit it.
He was just so pissed all the time. He was pissed getting coffee, let alone trying to make music. Every missed note, skipped beat, or slipped lyric was an invitation for him to bite someone’s head off. The anger was always simmering under his skin, making the hair on his arms stand on end, ready to be unleashed at the smallest fuck up.
It had all come to a head at their last session.
In the middle of what he finally deemed a good, worthy take, the drummer had fumbled one of his sticks, sending it flying and screeching the song to a discordant halt.
Eddie had wheeled around on him and let loose. “I’m going to find that fucking stick and shove it so deep up your ass you’ll be able to play the set out your fucking mouth! I could make an album faster playing all the parts my fucking self! Are y’all really this USELESS?” He turned around and kicked the mic stand over, threw his guitar over his shoulder by the strap and raked his hands through his hair.
Never had a recording booth been so silent.
“Don’t talk to him like that, man.” Gareth said after a moment, setting his bass in the stand and walking towards Eddie, hands out like he was a wild horse. “Just chill out.”
“I’ll talk to him however I want if he keeps screwing up like that.” Eddie bristled, pacing up to Gareth and crowding his space, posturing over him. He more than half wanted the other man to escalate things, give him an excuse to make this even worse. “And you’re no fucking better.”
Gareth dropped his shoulders and looked around at the other members, visibly decided now was as good a time as any. Even seeing through red, Eddie could put the pieces together - those bastards! They had been discussing him behind his back. He clenched his fists until his nails bit in, his rings imprinted on the inside of his palms. Whipped his head between them like a cornered animal, seeing guilt and embarrassment on every face. What right did they have?
“Dude, you have to get it together-”
“I-”
“No, you need to listen to me. We’re not gonna put up with this shit any more.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eddie growled.
“Exactly what it sounds like. This isn’t fucking Whiplash. You’re being a dickhead and we’re not just gonna sit here and take it.” The smaller alpha looked nervous, shoulders hunched up to his ears, but he wasn’t backing down.
“What are you going to do about it, then?” Eddie could feel himself putting his foot in his mouth, saying things he couldn’t take back, but it felt far away. Out of his control.
“We didn’t want to have to do this-” He looked around the room, was met with encouraging nods “but, I guess… we’re on strike.” He tried to shove some resolve into his last words, lifted his chin towards Eddie.
“Strike?” Eddie laughed, but it sounded weak. This wasn’t good. This really wasn’t good.
“We’re not playing until you figure this whole thing” he gestured vaguely at Eddie “out.”
“C’mon, you can’t be serious. We have a deadline!” The studio was not going to be happy about this.
“Then you better work your shit out. And fast.”
Eddie didn’t have anything to say back to that.
The band had drifted out one by one, not saying a word to Eddie. He did hear someone in the hallway mutter “-needs to get laid.”
In the silence, the sound tech had sidled up to him and slipped him a scrap of paper. In what was obviously the man’s best handwriting, there was a name and number on the sheet.
“It’s a clinic,” the guy muttered. He looked more than a little uncomfortable to be so close to Eddie, like he was a potentially rabid dog, but his voice was kind enough. “Helped a guy I know with some, um… issues? He was having.” He retreated back to the safety of the booth before Eddie could snap at him, too. Closed the door behind him firmly.
Against his better judgement, Eddie googled the place when he got home. Found a website for Scentsational Therapy, Co. It looked professional, not seedy. A nice homepage in sage and white, promoting services for alphas with quote unquote “emotional problems.” Shit, that wasn’t him? Was it?
Eddie tapped out of the site and tried to shrug the whole thing off. No fucking way he was going to therapy. The band would get over it, realize the money would all be worth a little tough love if they could get the album together on time.
But his attitude wasn’t improving. In fact, it was getting worse. Even sweet Chrissy, who worked the logistical side and usually wasn’t exposed to his perfectionism, had walked away from their last interaction crying.
That had broken his heart, was the final straw. Was how he found himself sitting in a tidy little office, in a chair that was just a bit too soft.
Across from him was another, matching chair, next to a small table. The chairs were anchored together by the cozy rag rug underneath. In the corner by the window was a desk with a spinny chair. Behind that, on the wall, was a bulletin board filled with notes and cards in different inks and handwritings.
Eddie had been waiting long enough that he was startled when the door swung open and a man swept in, coiffed hair first, mug in one hand and notebook clutched to his chest by his forearm.
“Edward, right?” He dropped his things on the side table, coffee sloshing, and then stepped forward and extended his hand for a shake. “I’m Steve.”
Oh fuck.
He was gorgeous.
Eddie had mentally prepared for someone… not his type. Someone older, or a woman - weren’t therapists more likely to be women or had he made that up?
But Steve was beautiful. Was absolutely golden, from his hair to his freckle-dusted skin. Puppy-dog eyes and a sweet little pout of a mouth. Shorter than Eddie, finer-built, too. That would be the Omega in him. If Eddie stood, he would tower over him. He’d be easy to handle, to lift up, to corner, to -
Eddie shook his head a little to clear it, hoping Steve didn’t notice. Be normal. Be so normal.
Steve was wearing a soft yellow sweater that Eddie longed to feel. It was just a bit too long in the arms, made him look like a duckling. Slim brown slacks and dirty white high tops with beads in the laces. Just looking at him, Eddie felt his simmering attitude, his resentment at being in this situation in the first place, melt away.
The only thing ruining the pretty picture was the thick black leather collar around Steve’s neck. Wide enough to hide most of the skin there. And his glands. Eddie didn’t miss that little detail.
Steve shuffled a little where he was standing, waiting for Eddie to reciprocate the greeting. “I’m sorry I was late, notes for my last session took a little longer than I was expecting.” He smiled patiently.
Shit, Eddie needed to do something, say anything. He “N-no. It’s totally fine. And it’s Eddie.” He grasped the extended hand, unable to stop himself from lingering at Steve’s softness, the way his hand completely hid the other man’s.
He was sure he had held on for way too long, but Steve didn’t comment when he was released. He just sank down into the chair across from Eddie and crossed one leg over the other.
“Thank you for your patience, Eddie. I’m just going to go over how things work here, see if you have any questions, and then we’ll get into what brings you in. That sound okay?” He opened his notebook on his propped-up knee and uncapped a pen.
“That’s fine. I mean, it sounds good.” Get a grip, Munson.
“Great.” Steve rolled into what was likely a practiced spiel. “As you know, we’re a scent therapy clinic. Like the rest of our staff, I’m a trained and licensed therapist, and also an omega. Our services are sought primarily by alphas who need some sort of emotional regulation - either they’re angry, distressed, depressed. More rarely, we also see some omegas for the same types of things, but that’s obviously not why you’re here.”
Eddie’s alpha preened at being recognized. Not like that wasn’t in the paperwork he filled out. Down, boy.
Steve was still speaking. “To help our clients, we do a combination of scent and talk therapy. These rooms are designed to be ventilated while still holding scent well. We sit, we talk, you scent me. Sometimes it takes a few sessions, but generally alphas respond positively and see a high recovery rate for whatever issues they may be struggling with. Does that make sense? Do you have any questions for me?”
“How… how do I…” Eddie started and trailed off. His head was spinning with visions of Steve so close, of rubbing his wrists over the smaller man’s arms, his cheeks. Shoving his nose in the hollow behind Steve’s ear and breathing deep.
“Scent me? Like I said, the room is designed for it. You should start to notice my scent pretty soon, actually. I’m technically allowed to do things the ‘traditional’ way,” he made little quotes in the air with his fingers, “if a client needs it, but I’ve never had to thus far for other alphas.”
Eddie tried not to be disappointed. At least not visibly. It was a little easier when he thought of Steve being scented by another alpha. Then he was just jealous. Following that train of thought…
“And isn’t it dangerous for you? Alone in a little room getting scented by some fucked up alpha?” Now that was getting too personal, but Eddie couldn’t help himself. Could just imagine someone manhandling Steve, pulling at his soft sweater, mussing his hair.
Steve laughed, throwing his head back and showing another small sliver of skin above his collar. Eddie tucked it away like a secret.
“First of all, I don’t think of my clients as fucked up. I wouldn’t want you to see it that way. They’re just having a hard time and they need some support. Like we all do sometimes. Second, it’s our policy here to not treat alphas like they’re out of control monsters or something. Just like omegas aren’t just warm bodies to be dominated. We’re all people and we assume every client can remain respectful.”
Instead of favoring that with a response, Eddie just lifted an eyebrow.
“Okay, okay. Third - I wear this little thing you may or may not have noticed.” He gestured at the collar.
“I thought that came with your outfit,” Eddie deadpanned.
“They don’t even let us pick the color!” Steve lamented. “But it is best practice. No little accidents, you know.” He shrugged, like the possibility wasn’t a big deal to him. Tapped the big silver lock on the front of the collar with a sky blue-painted fingernail.
Eddie wondered if Steve could really be that naive. A mating bite would be a bit more than a little accident, to say the least. An alpha would have to subdue Steve somehow, maybe press him to the floor. Get a hand fisted in that pretty hair, stretch his neck out all long and then claim him, make him theirs - fuck, Eddie wasn’t sure if he was angry or horny.
“And fourth and finally, I have this.” Steve lifted his left wrist. Dangling from a highlighter yellow wristlet was a white fob with a single button. “If I have an issue with a client, I can call security at any time. They’re right down the hall. But truly, I’ve never had to use it. I keep things professional and everyone I’ve seen has been really great about following suit.” He crossed something out in his notebook, then tucked the pen behind his ear.
“Okay, step one - done. If you don’t have any other questions, we’ll move on.” When Eddie didn’t interject, Steve locked eyes with him. “Are you getting any of my scent yet?”
Eddie almost blushed at the intimacy of the question, how frankly Steve asked it. His wires were getting crossed - that was a question reserved for close friends, for partners, or for mates. Being asked by a complete stranger in some office building was like an out of body experience.
But the thing was - he could smell Steve. And it was good.
Steve smelled like summer, smelled as warm and golden as he looked. Like lilies blooming somewhere hot, dripping with vanilla. Like green grass with the midday sun burning the dew off it. Like every vacation day when he was a kid and time-off was still real, all rolled into one.
He swallowed hard. “Yeah, I um, I can. I mean, I am.” Smooth.
“That’s great.” Steve smiled encouragingly. “It means we’re all ready to get to the heart of things.”
Eddie immediately crossed his arms, slid down in his seat a little.
If it was possible, Steve smiled even more, gentle and so so beautiful. “I knew you were going to be a skeptic from the minute you asked about my safety. I take it you’ve never seen a therapist before?”
“Never needed to,” Eddie said.
“But something has changed?” Steve probed gently, leaning towards Eddie and resting his chin in his hand.
“I didn’t have a choice,” Eddie could hear the whine in his voice, how undignified he sounded. It must have been that fucking scent, making him lightheaded. “My friends said I had to do something or…”
“Something about what?” Eddie knew the session was only an hour, but Steve was talking to him like they had all the time in the world.
Fine, then. “I’ve been a little. Frustrated, lately.”
The omega tilted his head like a curious bird. “And you don’t think I can help with that?”
He was just too cute. It was wearing down Eddie’s will.
Eddie breathed out and answered him honestly. “I really don’t know. This all seems a little ‘woo woo’ to me. The,” he waved his hands around his head, “the scent and the talking. I just. Don’t know what it’s supposed to do for me.”
Steve didn’t falter, didn’t move a muscle. “Will you try it?”
“What?”
“For one session, will you give me a chance. Pretend this could possibly work, take it seriously, give it your best try. Just for an hour. For me?”
Eddie almost turned around and looked for a camera. He was caught, he knew, Steve knew, he must know. To tack those two little words on, play him like a guitar.
Because the thing was, whether Eddie was sure about scent therapy or not, he knew he would do anything Steve asked.
Play stupid. Be on your best behavior. Get through the hour. Get out of here. “Okay. Sure.” He forced himself to uncross his arms, sit up, even tried to lean in a little like he was meeting Steve in the middle.
Steve literally clapped his hands together. “Amazing!” His smile was less controlled now, a megawatt grin that had Eddie smiling back against his will.
At the same instant, a stronger wave of Steve’s warm, spicy scent hit Eddie in the face like a frying pan. Happy omega, pleased omega, his alpha boasted, keep doing that, keep doing whatever makes omega like us.
Shut up! Shut up shut up! You cannot do this right now. He needed to slap himself, he needed to open the window and let some of Steve’s scent out, get some fresh air. Anything to clear his head, keep his alpha asleep for the rest of the session. Keep him under control.
He glanced at the door. He could just leave! Nothing was stopping him. He was an adult, it wasn’t like he’d been court-ordered to be here.
But where did that leave him with the band? And… Steve had been so excited, so pleasedomegasobeautifulso-
He realized Steve was still talking to him.
“- more about this ‘frustrated’ feeling you’re describing?”
Eddie cleared his throat, tried to focus. He could fucking taste Steve’s scent on his tongue.“Sure, yeah. It’s just um. I’m just, I get annoyed really easily. Get kind of short, mean with people. Impatient. Angry, sometimes.”
He was already sharing more than he normally would have. But that was what Steve had asked for, right? And it was hard to lie to the omega, gazing up at Eddie with his frank, open stare and long long lashes.
“Is anything particularly stressful going on in your life right now?” Steve asked.
“Well, we’re recording a new album. So the tension is a bit high, yeah. Everything needs to be perfect.” And, he didn’t add, everyone else kept fucking it up. Making stupid-ass mistakes. Being sloppy.
Steve hummed like this was interesting, reached for his mug and sipped his coffee. “Do you have an omega in your life?”
If Eddie was drinking something, he would have spit it out. “Do I-”
Have you, his alpha crooned.
No, no, we do not. Don’t think like that.
Steve must have heard something in his voice. “I don’t necessarily mean a partner, a mate, whatever. A packmate? Friend? Parent?”
“Why?” And why do you sound so defensive, Edward.
“Because - as I’m sure you know - having a relationship, any kind of relationship, with an omega helps an alpha regulate their hormones. Keeps their mood more stable.”
“Isn’t that why people come to you? Because they don’t have their own omega to scent?” He was huffing at Steve now, snapping like some kind of knothead.
“So, you do see how I could be helpful.” Steve’s scent flowered again, rose over Eddie like he had sunk into a hot bath. Relaxed him instantly, in spite of the fact he had fallen right into Steve’s trap.
Omega so smart, smart little mouth, know what I could do with-
Nonono. Cut that shit out.
“Touche.” Eddie laughed despite himself. “So, how does this work?”
“You tell me what’s going on with you. Really going on. And you let my scent do its job - calming you down.”
Damn, he was a bossy little thing. But he was looking at Eddie so seriously, brooking no argument from the alpha before him. And his scent was. God, there weren’t even words.
“Fine. Where do I start?”
“When did you start to notice your attitude changing?” Steve pulled the pen from behind his ear and poised it to write down Eddie’s answer.
Eddie just gave in and gave him what he wanted. He told Steve about Wayne, how when he’d lived with him in the trailer he’d been fine. The older omega had kept him stable, even as a wildly hormonal teenage alpha. But when the band had picked up and he’d been out on his own, he’d drifted. He’d dated a bit, an omega every once in a while. Having them in his life scratched the itch for a time, but nothing had ever worked out long-term. And when there wasn’t an omega around, well. He butted heads with everyone. Pushed people away without having to try. Was difficult to work with, harder to like. Was afraid that the anger was his baseline, his real personality, not the fun, funny person he could be when he was at his best.
As he spoke, it turned out Steve was right. It did feel good to say it, to sit here and breathe him in and tell the truth. Eddie felt calm, calmer than he remembered feeling since he was seventeen, half-sunk into the couch with Wayne next to him, a western on the tv.
He was almost floating, lofted on Steve’s scent and his patient silence, his attentive listening face. Just letting the words flow out of him, not having to try or search for what came next.
It broke his reverie when Steve squeeked out an “oh!”
Eddie keyed back in on the omega. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but Steve looked a little - flushed? His sweet, soft cheeks were tinged pink, his eyes a little hazy.
“You okay?” Eddie asked, reached out a hand to touch Steve’s leg and then thought better of it, dropping it back to the arm of his chair.
“Yeah, m’fine. Just… your scent got a bit strong there.” Steve’s voice was weird, just a little too high.
Without thinking, Eddie raised his hands to the glands at the sides of his neck, tried to press down, push the scent back like he had any control over it. “I’m so sorry! I’ve been told it can be intense. I wasn’t thinking, didn’t try to -”
He had been told that before. Wayne always used to joke that he stunk up the whole trailer. And past partners had gone dizzy and silly when his scent unfurled around them.
“No, no,” Steve assured, shaking his head quickly. “It’s good. Means you’re comfortable. I just wasn’t quite as ready as I thought I was.” He sounded like he couldn’t get a deep breath.
His assurances didn’t sit quite right with Eddie. Steve was squirming where he sat, had dropped his pen to the floor and given up all pretense of taking notes to fist his hands in the sleeves of his sweater. His left sneaker scuffed back and forth on the carpet.
Steve bit his lip but Eddie could still hear the keen he tried to swallow. And then his scent deepened. Became lusher, like a hothouse flower blooming, petals all dewy. Turned the small room lush as a rainforest. Wet in a way that Eddie knew usually meant only one thing.
Did he just? Eddie’s eyes flashed to the crotch of Steve’s pants. Did he just fucking slick?
Eddie’s jaw went slack and he tried not to pant. Tried to take a breath without inhaling even more of that maddening scent. Fuck, he couldn’t think straight. Was starting to get hard in his jeans, despite his clenched fists and very best effort to do otherwise.
Omega slicked for us, so good, so sweet, his alpha purred.
Get a grip, Munson. Find a grip and fucking get it. Whatever was happening, Steve was not his omega. Steve was a professional who had only tried to help him, who deserved to have boundaries, not to be hounded by an alpha who couldn’t control himself. And he was clearly struggling.
Steve was doe eyed, embarrassed but also confused. “I’m so sorry, I don’t usually, I’ve never-” he stuttered. Pushed his hair out of his face with a graceless hand, tried weakly to smile. On top of his feverish hue, his forehead was now beaded with sweat.
Just for us. Never for another alpha. Eddie kept his lips pressed closed but still felt his fangs pop, his mouth water. He dug his fingernails into his thighs. Felt like he’d been plunged into a dunk tank when Steve slicked again, filled the room with his scent all honey-thick.
Steve moaned and pulled his knees up to his chest, started rocking back and forth. His pretty scent went sour, screamed omega in distress, in pain.
“Sweetheart,” No, no, cut that out, “Are you okay?” No shit, he’s not okay.
Alpha will make it better.
Steve didn’t answer, kept his face buried in his knees. Eddie was pretty sure he heard a sniffle.
“Steve?” No answer. Fuck. He was going to hell. “Omega. Can you look at me?”
There was no command in it, he kept his voice soft, half-pleading with Steve. The omega still obeyed almost instantly, revealing his tear-streaked face to Eddie.
“Steve, baby, what’s wrong?” Almost everything in him was dying to reach out and soothe Steve, pet the little omega and comfort him. But some resilient brain cell refused to let go of his leash, had a good idea what would happen next. Even the pet names were pushing it. He justified them by telling himself that omegas responded well to softness, positive reinforcement, in distressing situations. That was why he was doing it, not because Steve was gnawing straight on his heartstrings.
The omega’s answer was a long, drawn out moan. “Hurtsssss.” The clever, composed man he had been getting to know was gone, leaving a soft, half-verbal thing that looked at Eddie like he held the world in his hands.
“What hurts, Steve?” Eddie asked. It was a hail mary, a desperate plea for another explanation. Because Eddie was pretty sure he knew what was wrong, even if Steve didn’t.
His alpha took the wheel, dragged a deep inhale through his nose. Heat, he concluded, not without pride. Not without interest, either.
This is bad. This is very very bad.
This is good. This is the best, his alpha countered.
His scent had put Steve into a heat. A heat that he absolutely, under no circumstances, could be involved with. Steve was too far gone to communicate, let alone consent.
Slicked for us, his alpha argued. Wants us.
No. Not doing it.
“Steve, hey Steve - can you hear me?” No response.
“Omega?” Again, this at least got Steve to turn his big, teary eyes on Eddie. He whined loud and long, ending on a pout that broke Eddie’s heart. He was somehow even prettier than before, hair a mess, freckles standing out against his blush, mouth slack and plush.
Eddie had to get them out of this room. He could press that button of Steve’s, but that would require getting close to him, touching him. He couldn’t risk it, was pretty sure what would happen if he so much as brushed against Steve’s skin. Also didn’t particularly want a beta or alpha security guard busting in to kick his ass. Didn’t know what his alpha would do if it seemed like he was in a fight for Steve.
“Sweetheart,” there he went with that shit again. “You’re heating, baby. I need to go get someone.” There had to be another omega in this office who could take over, who knew how to get Steve in touch with an alpha who wasn’t a complete stranger. Eddie tried to move on from that thought before it sunk in: another alpha helping Steve through his heat.
There was no sign from Steve, no signal that anything was getting through to him. He just sat there shivering, fisted hand pressed to his belly.
Fine. “Omega. Tell me what I just said.” This time it was a command, growled out in Eddie’s lower register.
Steve snapped to attention, or what passed for it in a distressed omega. “Heating. Go get someone.” He still looked out of it, but his omega was apparently eager to please anyway.
He obeys so pretty, his alpha purred.
This was a dangerous game, coming close to the edge of something Eddie wouldn’t be able to take back. But he judged the risk and deemed it necessary to play with fire one more time.
“So good.” But that wasn’t strictly necessary was it? “I need you to listen to one other thing, okay, baby?”
Steve nodded loosely, head lolling on his neck. His face flashed with winces every few seconds. Eddie tried to believe him.
“I’m gonna stand up in a second. You need to be very, very still for me.”
This was a concession to his alpha, who was starting to rattle the bars of his cage very hard, indeed. He knew if Steve moved in either direction - away from or towards Eddie - he would lose the control he had tried so valiantly (okay, maybe not that valiantly) to maintain.
“Repeat me.” Another command.
“Stay still.” Steve parrotted faithfully. His brow creased and his face folded as another round of cramps struck.
Eddie’s heart ached for the omega. “Okay, honey, I’m gonna get up now.”
Slowly, so slowly, he unfolded himself from his chair. Thank god, they weren’t seated close enough that this left him fully towering over Steve. But it was a near thing. The omega peered up at him through his lashes, made a little question mark of a noise, tensed up and got his sneakers planted more solidly on the floor.
“Steve. Do not-” he didn’t even finish the command before the omega made a dash for it. Not for the door, but deeper into the little office. There was nowhere for him to go, but he obviously wasn’t thinking clearly. His omega had taken over.
Eddie had longer arms, longer legs, was on him in a second. Fisted one hand in the back of Steve’s sweater and reeled him in until his back was pressed to Eddie’s chest.
“What did I say to you?” He heard himself asking, but it sounded like he was so far away and maybe underwater, too.
Oh, shit.
That was the last thing he remembered thinking.