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With a soft curse, I leave Potato to his meal and head back downstairs. Better relieve Bee, let her return to her loving pack, and clean up my station, scrub those counters until they gleam.
Then head back upstairs and bathe the cat.
Back to normal.
Even if it doesn’t make me happy.
Two hours later, the café is spotless and locked for the night, the last customer having left right after Bee. I have wiped down all the tables the chairs, the bar of course, and the work counter, cleaned the coffee machine, dried all the cups and glasses and put them away, and mopped the floors.
My body aches, in a more or less pleasant way, from all the cleaning and mopping, and the anxiety ruling my mind has gone down a notch.
It’s like a dragon curled up inside my head. When it’s restless, I’m restless, too. It wants everything to gleam like freshly-minted gold, and that’s what I strive for. Then, when that is done, sometimes it curls up once more and we can both rest.
A bit like Potato, actually, only difference being that Potato is the one making the mess and I have to go after him to clean up. That restlessness, though. That insane energy for good or bad, or both, and crashing on the couch or the carpet afterward…
That’s how it is for me, too. And only if I manage to switch off my brain as perfectly as Potato does. Not a given. My nights… aren’t good. They aren’t peaceful. They never were, but lately, they’re worse, a damn weird mixture of nightmares and sexual fantasies—starring you-know-who. A certain pack and a certain girl.
I know, right?
My mind is my own true enemy. Kumbaya, brothers. Yeah.
But as I roll out of sleep once more, the third time in the night, a raging hard-on burning in my pajama pants, I know sleep won’t happen anymore tonight.
Not with this rocket in my pants, anyway. I’ve been hard for ages, images of Brinlee dancing, sitting in my lap, her arms around my neck, her lips parted and lashes lowered, her cleavage, her warmth, her scent…
Damn. I shove my hand into my pants and pull my cock out. It’s hot, hard as a rock, and my ass is slick and clenching. I really can’t afford to go into heat right now. I grit my teeth as I close my fist around my cock. It’s so sensitive I shiver. Every inch of my skin feels oversensitive, itchy and hot, but my hard-on is impressive. Two drags of my fist down its length and I’m gasping, hovering on the edge of my release.
Hunched over the edge of my bed, I grip my hard cock, staring into nothing, Brinlee’s face flashing in my mind, her round tits over the corset, her wild blond hair. I feel Roman’s grip on my arm, see Kyrian and Archer towering behind him.
And I lose the battle.
Was it ever a battle?
It doesn’t matter. I surrender with a groan, my cock jerking in my fist, my cum spilling over my fingers, hot and sticky. Pleasure rolls through me, sharp release unclenching in my gut.
But I’m still hard, still aching. I hiss as I drag my hand up and down my cock. Thank God Potato hasn’t wandered into my room to see what the hell I’m doing. But no matter how I work my cock, I can’t come again. I need more, more stimulation.
After a moment’s hesitation, I open the drawer of my nightstand and pull out a dildo. I’ve bought a couple, but have rarely used any. I’ve experimented with them once or twice, but never really needed them.
Tonight, though, I feel like I need it.
Heat spreads over my neck and into my cheeks as I lift it. Dammit, I feel like a teenager all over again, us omegas whispering in each other’s ears about heats and knots and penetration. It felt heady, then, when we’d gotten our examination and our designation letter was stamped in our ID, knowing that eventually we’d find a pack.
And get fucked. That was the reason for all the whispering and snickering. It was exciting.
It still is, only now I’m scared I might go into heat and not have a safe place, not have the people I need around me.
Stop thinking, Sawyer. Jack off till you drop, then sleep.
Do I need lube? But when I touch the dildo to my ass, behind my balls, I’m so slick it slips over my skin. Fuck, I’m so wet. Never been so wet in my life.
Don’t think!
Fine. Fuck. I grip my cock in one hand, slide the dildo with the other until the rounded head is pressing between my butt cheeks, against my opening.
Yeah, I need it… Damn, it feels good… I push it inside and a hiss escapes me. Yeah. Good. Fuck, this is what I needed…
Release rips through me with a violence I didn’t expect from my second orgasm of the night, tearing a cry from my throat as my cock jerks, and I spill all over my hand and my legs.
