Twelve Days of Heat: Day Seven
Reese wakes up in the depth of the night, shadows creeping under the crack of the door, through the slightest gap between it and the wall, moonlight from the windows outside falling just short of the darkness.
The clock on the nightstand reads 1:59, the numbers glowing into the shadows.
He heaves a breath, then rolls over to face Gabriel.
The alpha is dead asleep, his breathing steady and even. His eyelids twitch a little; his mouth is just slightly open. Reese studies him for a moment.
He’s not really in the mood to watch, though, so he straddles the alpha, grinds down on him. They’re both buck naked, and Reese can feel what he wants—Gabriel might be asleep, but his prick is ready to rise.
He watches as the younger man slowly comes to, his brow furrowing, his eyelids flickering. His hands catch Reese’s hips, and he looks up at him, then murmurs, “Hey,” and Reese digs his nails into Gabriel’s back, nips at his clavicles. He laughs.
“What’s funny?” Gabriel asks. Reese licks sweat from the corner of his lip; he’s burning up, even though the sheets are long-gone. It’s too warm.
He giggles some more, then licks a long line down the center of Gabriel’s chest, dipping his tongue into his navel, then sliding down, down …
Gabriel’s breath hitches. “Pieces,” he says.
Reese kisses his tip, then swallows him down, one smooth, perfect motion—hell yeah, maybe he doesn’t suck at blowjobs after all—and Gabriel tenses, then tangles a hand in his hair, holds him down. Not that he needs to; Reese is reveling in his new-found skill (or talent, whichever it is), bobs his head with enthusiasm.
Gabriel twists his hands in a little tighter. “Fuck,” he groans, “Pieces, I’m gonna—”
Reese pops off him, wipes his mouth with the back of his arm. He’s on Gabriel in a second—
No condom. Well, fuck it—he’s already here, Gabriel’s pressing into him, and well—Reese knows he’s clean. Gabby might be another story, but then, he’s such a prude, he kinda doubts it. Guy told him he didn’t even party in London and he was at the fucking Olympics. He should have been partying and banging chicks all over the city.
Reese is kinda glad he didn’t, though; some part of him burns with the idea of Gabriel fucking around with someone else.
Gabriel grabs at his hips to steady him, fingers curling over his hipbones, pressing into the indents on either side of bone, almost painful. Reese slams himself down over and over again, and fuck, he’s wet again, and Gabriel fucks up into him, and Reese groans with it—
Time bleeds away, and when the sky’s a little gray, when there’s sunshine creeping across the floor, Reese buckles at last, groans and nearly topples off Gabriel.
Gabriel rolls them over without losing contact, picks up right where Reese left off, fucking into him, long, deep thrusts, and Reese cries out, wantonly, writhes underneath him, arcs up and comes again, stares blankly at the headboard behind him, upside-down now, and tries to register something other than how fucking fantastic he feels.
Gabriel dips down low, bites at his neck, and his pulse flutters against Gabriel’s hot mouth, the heat amplifying it and the amplification exciting him, which speeds the steady throb again, so he groans, the sound punched out of him.
“Reese,” he pants, “Pieces, baby—”
Reese can hardly see, even when he flicks his gaze toward Gabriel. The alpha rakes a hand through his hair. “Pieces,” he murmurs, “Pieces.”
“Yeah,” he pants, “Gabby, what?”
Gabriel hesitates, and Reese bucks his hips just slightly, trying to impress on the younger man the urgency of his need.
He’s about to complain when Gabriel grabs his hand, drags it down and forces him to squeeze around the pulsing knot that’s formed at the base of his cock. Reese has little to no control over himself; he squeezes too lightly at first, unsure, and then he knows what that is, even on an instinctual level, and he tightens his grip.
“You want that?” Gabriel asks, breathlessly. “You want my knot in you, Pieces?”
Reese cries out, then gives him another squeeze, growls, “Yes! Please, Gabby, please—knot me up, put your knot in me—”
Gabriel pushes in, even deeper than before, and Reese grits his teeth around the stretch. There’s a bit of a pop, and then Gabriel’s in him, all the way in, his knot pressing into him in all directions, and Reese shudders with the very thought. Gabriel tries to pull back a bit, and there’s a tug, almost painful, but lovely, dancing right along the line of pleasurable.
Gabriel bites at Reese, grabs at his hands, pins them back to the mattress, their fingers entwined. He doesn’t move; he stares down at Reese, his eyes wide, pupils blown, and Reese wants to scream—he has to do something to release the mounting pressure. He trembles with it, this strange sensation of knowing—feeling, almost tasting—how good they could be, how great they’d be as mates. It’s instinctual knowledge, the entire elemental nature of the universe aligning exactly right in the way they’re twined together, and that they could make it more permanent—
Reese lets his head loll to the side, exposes his neck to Gabriel, inviting him—
The younger man moves instead, slams into motion, and Reese sits up, eyes wide, mouth open just a touch; then he collapses back, and Gabriel fucks him, hard and harder. The headboard’s slamming into the wall, and he’s rocking Reese up the mattress. Reese arcs the other way, head dropping back, his back coming up off the mattress, and he fists the sheets as he comes apart again, overwhelmed with it. They … could be—
“Oh fuck,” he rasps, and his voice is just wrecked, so wrecked—
Gabriel thrusts in a couple more times, then shoves in deep as he can and finishes, and Reese whimpers with it—a sudden heat, a sudden wetness that’s foreign to his own.
Gabriel’s hands land on either side of his head, and the alpha leans over him, panting open-mouthed. He catches Reese’s eye. “Did you—”
Reese just lets his eyes slip shut, nods briefly.
Gabriel mouths at his neck, tiny nips, a couple of licks, and Reese shivers, desire already pooling low in his belly again, his pulse tripping a little faster at the thought that Gabriel might bite him, might mate him.
They both felt it, how fucking amazing they were together.
Reese’s eyes pop open. “Can we not talk about this while you have your knot in my ass?” he breathes, and then he tries to sit up, so Gabriel rolls over onto his back. Reese straddles him again.
“Whatever—whatever you need,” he chokes out as Reese starts grinding down on his oversensitive dick.
“Uh-huh,” Reese manages.
Gabriel grits his teeth and clutches at him, almost like it’s painful. His gaze is focused, though, and his eyes are alight with desire, with something a little like concern.
“Please,” Reese pants. He hunches forward, his hands landing on the bedspread, on either side of Gabriel’s hips. His hips stutter, even as he tries to find a rhythm.
Gabriel rolls them over again, and Reese cries out in pain as they slip, Gabriel’s knot pulling at him. “Better?” the brunet grinds out as he grinds down into Reese, slowly, moving in circles instead of just driving in.
It’s nice, a new kind of pressure, hitting previously undiscovered nerve endings, so Reese groans and lets his head loll side to side, but says nothing more. Gabriel grits his teeth, fucks him a little faster.
“Ah-haa,” Reese breathes, turns his head again, lifts his hips.
Gabriel keeps fucking him, until the swelling subsides and then he slowly slides out, leaving Reese panting on the mattress, his legs still wide, covered in come. He can feel jizz and slick dribbling out of his hole, across his thighs.
He must look absolutely obscene.
Gabriel leans in and licks his hole, swipes his tongue across him. Reese trembles. Gabriel braces his hands on his thighs, holds him open wide and rims him some more, thrusts his tongue deep into him, licks at his slick inner walls. Reese tenses, groans, then pants, “Gabby, Gabby, ‘m gonna—”
He clutches at Gabriel’s hair, his ears, so Gabriel stills, and Reese rocks himself to completion, his hips rolling as he fucks himself on Gabriel’s tongue.
He shudders apart finally, crying out low and pained, and Gabriel swallows, goes back for more. Reese cries out sharply at that, tries to twist away from him.
His nerves are raw.
Gabriel comes up licking his lips, and Reese closes his legs, rolls onto his left side. Gabriel runs a hand over his ass, fingers his crack, his gaze hooded, guarded.
“Oh God,” Reese groans, and his voice is absolutely wrecked, completely gone. He’s so hoarse, and Gabriel plunges a finger into him.
It’s six by the time Reese settles again. He’s exhausted, sore, but aching still. He clutches at the covers, whimpering and writhing, as Gabriel makes ready to go to the pool. Reese doesn’t know how he’s thinking about swimming, honestly. He should be just as sore, just as tired, but then, maybe Gabriel’s even a little crazier than he is.
He’s coherent enough to wave Gabriel off when he asks if he’ll be okay, so he’s not gone just yet.
He’s edging on it, though. Time slips into a stream that passes him by so swiftly he scarcely recognizes it. He has no concept of it—he might spend eternity staring at the ceiling, but it feels like a flash. He’s strung on sensation, the ache, the heat monopolizing his mind, slowly devouring all his higher order thinking. There’s nothing except the immediate need coursing through him. Sheets, the bright white light of the room in the morning sun, the sinking of the mattress beneath his body—that’s all there is. There is no pool. There is no Gabriel. Anything, everything else he’s ever thought of, ever been preoccupied with, slips away.
It’s terrifying, and he wishes he had the capacity to be scared of it. He’s not even going to remember this, he knows; it’s trance-like, almost meditative.
Fever rolls over him like a series of breaking waves, each buffeting him closer and closer to some precipice, threatening to drag him under and sweep him out to sea. He struggles against it, but consciousness seems further and further away. He rocks in the doldrums of heat, finds rhythm in his body, his heartbeat syncopated with the thrum of his need. He twists and turns around it, his nerve endings firing to a percussive beat, throbbing as he tumbles between crystalline lucidity and fever dream. The bed becomes the ocean, the sheets cool water against his burning skin, and he tastes salt on the air, on his skin, knows it’s sweat but dreams it’s the sea anyway.
He’s not sure if Gabriel’s real or not when he comes back; he hovers over him, a hazy shadow, his voice a distant murmur and all his syllables slurred into some foreign tongue—it sounds like English, but sounds like Spanish and Gabriel doesn’t even speak Spanish.
But he’s waiting for a response, so Reese pants and lifts his hips by way of greeting. He turns his head to the side, gnaws on his poor, bloodied lip, keens long and loud.
“Okay, fuck, you’re bad,” Gabriel says, brushes Reese’s matted hair up off his forehead.
Reese lets him between his legs, no complaints, and Gabriel’s fingers slide into him, and Reese gasps, twists around sudden pain and shock at the invasion. He wasn’t expecting that.
But it’s tight, so tight, like there’s barely any space there, and it throbs, aches, now in a painful way. He groans and turns his head side to side, rocking his hips furiously. He needs it, fuck he needs it, but …
It hurts. He groans again, almost a sob, and he lifts his hips again, grits his teeth.
“I’m gonna take your temperature,” Gabriel says, pulls his finger back.
“No,” Reese rasps, “please, no, Gabby, I—I—need, need it, I can’t—”
“It’ll just be a minute,” Gabriel says, and Reese whines loudly, curls up in a ball.
Gabriel darts into the bathroom. He returns a moment later brandishing a thermometer.
“Please,” Reese whimpers, open his eyes and stares at Gabriel. “Please.”
“We just gotta get your temperature first—”
Reese grinds his teeth together. Gabriel forces him to open his mouth, shoves the end of the thermometer in. “Hold still,” he directs.
Reese fidgets, screws his eyes shut again.
The thermometer beeps and Gabriel takes it, then grimaces at the result.
Reese twists and turns, crying out. He knows he’s too warm, no matter what the device says. He also knows he’s desperate. He rolls onto his belly, lifts his hips. “Get in me,” he snaps, glancing over his shoulder. He knows he’s pathetic, desperate, humping the mattress like he has no idea what he’s doing with his body—just that he needs to seek relief.
“You’re swollen,” Gabriel tells him. “I dunno if I can, not without hurting you—”
“It hurts anyway!” Reese sobs. “I can’t—I don’t—” He drops his head against the pillows.
Gabriel places a hand between his shoulder blades, then rubs his back a bit. “Shhh,” he says, “you’re okay, you’re okay.”
“Goddammit, Gabriel, fuck me!” Reese all but screams, then drops his head again, sobbing helplessly. “It hurts—it hurts, oh my God.”
The more he says it, the more it hurts; the more he notices Gabriel there, the more he needs. The sound of his voice, the touch of his hand, the scent of flowers on the air—it’s driving him mad.
Gabriel sighs, like this is some kind of chore, and turns Reese onto his back, spreads his legs wide, slides his hand low, then lower, fingers him a bit. He’s slick, but he doesn’t want to open; he’s too swollen for it, and he cries out.
“Are you sure?” Gabriel asks, working in a second finger, even as Reese whimpers.
“Anything,” Reese groans, “anything, make it—stop, please, I can’t take it.”
Gabriel pulls his fingers back. Reese gives him a strangled sob, hisses, “Put it in, Gabby, give it to me, please, please.”
“But you said—”
“Make it stop,” Reese hollers, “please—fuck, please, Gabriel, I can’t!”
“Okay,” Gabriel says, “okay, okay, calm down—”
He lines himself up, presses against Reese. Reese hisses, wraps his legs around him and grinds down, and fuck, it’s tight and slow-going, and Reese mouths ‘ow’ over and over again as he works himself down, but he claws at Gabriel, choking on half-sobs, growls, “C’mon, c’mon—fuck me, Gabby, please, please—harder—”
He drops his head against Gabriel’s chest, but he keeps his hips moving; he does all the work to fuck himself open on Gabriel’s cock, and Gabriel clutches at him a little harder, maybe a little desperate, as he lets him take what he needs, sobbing and whining, breathlessly whispering filthy things—
“Please!” he screams, digs his nails in so deep there’s blood, and Gabriel puts him down, presses him into the mattress, fucks into him.
Reese claws at him, squeezes him in tighter, rocking himself down to meet every upward thrust, crying out as he drives Gabriel in deeper, and deeper, and deeper still—
It’s hardly pleasurable, but he’s compelled—he needs to satisfy that ache, and maybe if he can just get enough—
Gabriel shoves in, too far, too deep, too soon, and Reese swears there must be blood, swears he must be ripping open. He screams—a horrifying, blood-curdling sound—and Gabriel tries to rear back. Reese screams again, because fuck, he’s locked around Gabriel’s knot, and it’s forcing him open wider and wider, and when he pulls back, it feels like something tearing, and Reese knows what tearing a muscle feels like.
Gabriel pushes forward, because back isn’t an option—
Reese tries to tell him to stop, to tell him what he needs, and he shakes his head side to side, but Gabriel just looks kind of lost, kind of panicked, and Reese wishes he knew more than it fucking hurts but he needs Gabriel in him deeper still. The ache is right there, so close, almost touching, and if Gabriel just went a little further, maybe he could get some relief—
The alpha strokes Reese’s hair, brushes it up off his forehead. Reese whines and whimpers, bites his lip, and finally groans, “It’s not enough.”
Reese chokes another couple of sobs out. “I—I,” he pants, and he doesn’t know what else to say, what else to do. “I need more,” he wails after a moment, claws at Gabriel some more, “I need—it’s—so close, Gabby, but I—”
“Sh, you’re okay, you’re gonna be okay.”
He shushes Reese, over and over, cups his face, kisses him, licks tears off his lips, murmurs, “It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re fine, I’m right here,” even as Reese goes on crying, wishing he believed him.
He’s never felt like this before, so desperate, so out of control. He’s terrified, but he can’t rein himself in.
He quiets at last, groans when Gabriel slips loose and slides out of him. Gabriel kisses him, murmurs, “Shhh, Pieces—‘m gonna take your temperature again.”
Reese heaves a sigh, shuts his eyes. He grimaces, presses his thighs together. Yes, it hurt for Gabriel to be in him, but it also hurts now that he’s out—and Reese isn’t sure which pain is more tolerable.
He wants to cry, wants to curl up and sleep until this all over. Instead, he heaves another shuddering breath, rocks his hips in search of relief as Gabriel administers the thermometer again.
Gabriel grimaces, then sighs. “Okay,” he says, “I don’t wanna take you to the hospital, so …”
He opens up the nightstand, pulls out a pill bottle. He dumps out some tablets, then forces them into Reese’s mouth. “We’re gonna take a bath too,” he says.
Reese isn’t sure how that’s gonna help. He’s pretty sure a bath isn’t going to take away the fluttering ache of his insides, the desperate need to get fucked that seems to be the only thing driving him forward at the moment.
Gabriel leaves, then returns, several times, and Reese listens to the clunk of ice spilling into the bathtub and he wonders why in the fuck Gabriel thinks he needs an ice bath, that’s something they do after training.
Back and forth and back and forth, and Reese thinks Gabriel could be back-and-forthing, making repetitive motion in a better sort of way, so he grabs Gabriel and forces him to the bed, clambers on top of him, rides him, because that’s how they’re gonna solve this, that’s how he’s gonna get relief.
Except it isn’t. Except he doesn’t get any relief at all, and he wants to scream, but he tumbles off of Gabriel instead, lays there on the bed panting and clutching at the sheets, dizzyingly wondering who the fuck he pissed off to deserve this.
Then Gabriel runs to and fro again, fetching more ice, and then Reese is needy again, and finally, finally, they crawl into the tub of ice-cold water, Reese hissing the entire way.
He starts shaking almost instantly, because it’s fucking freezing against his too-cold skin. The chill bites at him, right down to his bones, and he’s pretty sure he’ll never get warm again after this, even though there’s still heat burning up through his insides.
He’s about to say something snide to Gabriel when there’s knocking at the door. Gabriel stares stupidly at him, then says, “Shit. The team.”
Reese’s voice is hoarse, his throat raw, like he spent hours screaming (okay, so maybe he did), but he says, “The team?”
Gabriel blinks. “Yeah” he says, “Gord shuffled flights ‘cause there’s a storm at home or something, they don’t think they can get in. So Caleb asked if we wanted to go out for dinner—”
Reese stares at him for a moment more, then says, “’m in fucking heat, Gabby.”
“I know,” Gabriel says, “but it’s just dinner, and—”
Reese can’t help that he’s crying. Honestly, how fucking stupid is Gabriel? He’s in heat, he’s in pain. He fucking reeks, he’s a wreck, he needs Gabriel in the worst way—he shifts uncomfortably in the bath. Gabriel is supposed to be taking care of him, not inviting other people over, and fuck, if the team sees him like this, if they find out.
He hiccups. “’m in heat, Gabby,” he repeats, “’m in heat, an’ I need you, and—”
Gabriel claps a hand over his mouth. “Sh, sh, sh,” he says. “You’ll be just fine, Pieces. Okay? Let’s get you out of the bath, dried off.” He stands, extends a hand to Reese, who takes it reluctantly. He’s shaking still.
Gabriel catches him up in a towel, sends him toward the bed. “Okay?” he says, tugging on shorts and a tee. “Just text me if you get bad, I’ll come right away. Try to get some sleep—I’ll bring you something to eat in a bit, okay?”
Reese doesn’t want to sleep, doesn’t want to eat. He wants Gabriel to stay with him, he wants his teammates to go away. But he nods, mumbles, “Okay.”
Gabriel closes the bedroom door, and Reese settles down in the sheets, biting his lip. The heat is building already. The bath did nothing. He closes his eyes.
He can’t believe Gabriel’s so … stupid. Can’t he see that Reese needs him? And Reese isn’t sure how long he can stay quiet, so their teammates are all gonna find out—Reese is terrified, they’ll know he’s omega. But they’ll also know he’s in Gabriel’s suite, in Gabriel’s bed, and with the state he’s in, there can only be one reason why …
The walls of the suite are paper thin. He can hear them talking, and knows that if he makes so much as a peep, he’ll be found out.
“Jeez man,” Caleb says, his voice only slightly muffled, “took ya long enough.”
Gabriel grunts in response.
“Flossy,” he says, “it reeks in here, and like …”
“I bet Pieces doesn’t appreciate it,” Mel huffs.
Gabriel replies, “Pieces can’t smell anything, he has a cold.”
“Well, I can sure as fuck smell something,” Caleb huffs.
“Where is Pieces anyway?” Mel asks.
“He’s not coming,” Gabriel offers, “he’s still sick—”
“Brody’ll be along in a minute,” Caleb says.
“We decided we didn’t really want to go out,” Mel says.
The balcony door squeals open. “I’ll order pizza,” Gabriel says, and Reese wants to scream at him—no, take them out, get them out of the suite.
Cool air slides under the door, the breeze wafting in from outside. It caresses Reese and he shivers, tugs the blankets tighter around his sweat-slick body.
“Cool,” Mel says.
They banter on endlessly. There’s knocking eventually, a man speaking broken English, asking them about their order. Reese hears other voices too—Brody, Kat, Corey.
The TV begins to buzz; there’s music and maybe the news, maybe sports commentary. Talk in the room turns to flights, then races, then exams. There’s gossip and trade secrets, rumors and plenty of trash-talking.
The sun sets; darkness creeps around the room. Reese tries, but he can’t hold back much longer. The heat is getting worse again.
Caleb groans. “Should we order something else up?” he asks.
“Sure,” Mel says, “it’s all going on the tab to Flossy’s sponsor anyway.”
“Ah-ha,” Brody says brightly and there’s a crack—maybe a bottle from the mini-bar opening. “I knew we kept him around for a reason.”
“I gotta go check on Pieces,” Gabriel says, “make sure he didn’t OD on cough syrup or something.”
Fuck, yes. He needs that. Now.
“If Pieces had a drug addiction, that would be it.” Brody thinks he’s so fucking smart.
Gabriel shuts the door quietly. “Pieces,” he says.
“Gabby,” Reese whispers.
He makes his way to the bed, plonks down beside Reese. “How you doing?” he asks, runs his fingers through Reese’s damp hair.
Reese chokes on a sob, closes his eyes. It’s such a stupid question. “Need you so bad.”
Gabby sighs. “Pieces—you were supposed to text if it got bad–”
Reese fucks up into his hand when he takes hold of his cock. He gasps when Gabriel squeezes tighter, keeps rocking into his ministrations.
“But not,” he gasps after a moment, then grabs Gabby’s wrist and guides him down. “Here, Gabby, please—”
“I gotta go back out,” he protests. “ Everyone’s still here—they’re gonna order up more food.”
“Please,” Reese repeats. He doesn’t even care their teammates are in the other room. He wants Gabriel to fuck him, hard, make him scream and gasp and groan, let them all hear …
“Please, Gabriel, I’m begging—I can’t. It hurts so much, and I gotta—”
“Can you wait a little longer?” Gabriel asks, circling Reese’s entrance—still swollen, maybe worse now, definitely fluttering with anticipation as Gabriel rings him. “I’ll get them to go, fifteen minutes, max—”
“No,” Reese rasps, “no, Gabby, please.”
“Pieces,” he says, “I gotta go back.”
Reese clutches at him. “Don’t leave,” he whimpers, “not like this, Gabby—”
Gabriel pats his thigh. “In a bit, babe—just hold it a bit longer, okay?”
He beats a hasty retreat, and Reese collapses against the mattress. He can’t. Fuck, he can’t wait any longer.
Mel’s voice is fairly clear, judgmental and angry, as she snarls, “Is that Pieces?”
“What is Pieces?” That’s Caleb. He sounds like he’s near the balcony door, maybe.
“That … smell,” she huffs. “The reek.”
“What—hey,” Gabriel snaps a second later.
“Oranges and sunshine,” Mel huffs, “Florida—it’s Pieces, isn’t it?”
“What are you–”
Oh God. Mel is scenting, she smells him. Reese stares up at the ceiling.
She sniffs again, then growls, “He also smells like a needy little bitch—like a bitch that needs a good, thorough fucking—”
“Mel.” Caleb’s voice is laced with shock, disbelief.
“Don’t you smell it?!” she snaps. “It’s Reese and he smells like a bitch in heat—you fuckin’ him, Gabby?”
“Don’t call me that,” Gabriel mutters.
“Answer the question,” she snaps, “are you fucking Pieces?”
“What if I am?” Gabriel barks back.
“Jesus,” Caleb breathes from somewhere in the background.
“What’s going on?” Kat asks.
“What’s it to you?” Gabriel snarls, and Reese swallows down a groan, ‘cause now he’s picturing Gabriel all mad, riled up, his teeth bared, his eyes blazing, and yes, yes. “You got some designs on him, huh, Mel? You been plannin’ to fuck him?”
She growls at him.
“He asked me to, he asked me to help him—”
“You ain’t gotta fuck him to help,” she spits back, her voice like acid.
“Mel, Gabby,” Caleb pleads, but his voice is far away.
“He asked,” Gabriel reiterates, “he asked me, he didn’t ask you.”
“You better be treating him right, you goddamn jackass, if I find out you hurt him, if you did anything he didn’t ask for—”
“Who are you, his alpha? Huh? I didn’t see you around—”
They’re fighting. Over him. Oh fuck. That is …
So fucking hot, Reese thinks, but it’s also stupid, because they’re teammates and Reese is just a dumb omega. He’s flattered, but they shouldn’t fight. Not over him, not over something so stupid.
There’s a thump, a smack, like flesh hitting flesh. Reese winces. Okay, that’s bad. He grabs up the sheet, wraps himself in it as best he can, stumbles across the room.
Holy crap, he hurts. His ass is aching, his legs screaming, his dick chafing—just. Everything. And his balance is off, so he literally stumbles, crashes into the wall, fumbles for the door handle.
“You fucking bitch—”
“You do anything to Pieces, you do anything he doesn’t ask for, hurt him in anyway—”
“Gabby.” Reese flings open the door, then collapses against the doorjamb, unable to support himself. Shit. He hasn’t been up in more than twenty-four hours now, and …
He needs to get flat, to lie back down.
They pause, glancing over their shoulders at him. “Gabby,” he repeats, his voice so wrecked, and Gabriel releases Mel.
“Jesus Christ,” Brody breathes, and Kat has dropped the can of Coke she was holding. It splatters across the carpet, fizzing as it sinks into the plush flooring, staining.
“Pieces,” Gabriel admonishes, “you shouldn’t be up, you should be in bed, stay right where it’s safe—”
Reese gives him this keening little cry, and clutches at him, whimpers, “Gabby, it hurts, where’d you go, I need you—”
Which is totally not what he meant to say; he was gonna give his teammates shit for fighting over him, but one look at Gabriel has shoved all rational thought out of his head. Gabriel is so fucking hot, so mad, so worked up and Reese wants him, presses his thighs together and tries not to cry because he wants him that bad.
He feels sick.
Mel charges at them, and Gabriel shoves Reese back into the bedroom, snarling at the girl as she strides up beside him, booming, “Pieces! Is Flossy taking care of you?”
Reese clings to Gabriel; he’s slowly sinking down to the floor, because his legs are jelly and standing requires too much effort. He’s shaking. “Yes,” he breathes, and Gabriel tosses a nasty look at Mel, this triumphant snide look, the look of an alpha that’s just proved his dominion over an omega, and Reese whimpers because. Fuck. Yes.
Then he’s on his knees, looks up at Gabriel, and he groans, pants, “Taking—good care of me, please, Gabby, I—”
“Sh,” Gabriel says, tries shuffling him a little further into the room. Reese just sprawls out on his back, groaning long and loud. Moving takes too much effort and also, can Gabriel just do him already? He’s been waiting and now he’s looking so—so—
Alpha. It’s the only word Reese has to describe it, and it’s making him wild, the excitement of being possessed by Gabriel, who is passionate and angry, adoring and domineering, Gabriel who wants him, Gabriel who will fight for him, who is fighting with Mel to have him.
Oh God, does he want him. Some small, rational part of him knows this is terrible—he’s on full display for his teammates, but he can’t even bring himself to care. Let them see, let them smell, let them hear what a needy little bitch he is, let them know that he’s Gabby’s needy little whore.
Mel is standing right beside Gabriel, peering into the bedroom. She pulls a face—it’s messy, there’s only one bed, and it reeks. Gabriel bares his teeth at her.
“Pieces,” she says, “you don’t look so good—Gabby, are you sure he’s okay? He seems really flushed—”
Gabriel grinds his teeth together. She lays her palm against Reese’s forehead. “Holy shit,” she says, and then she’s between Reese’s knees.
“Hey!” Gabriel barks, and Reese just whimpers, and Mel comes up, saying, “Holy shit, Gabby, holy shit—have you got anything for him, this is bad, this real bad.”
Reese kind of wouldn’t mind if she put her hand back where it was, her touch so near to …
Jesus fuck, this is surreal. He’s just beyond rational thought. He stares at the ceiling, disbelief inching through him.
Gabriel gives Mel a helpless, guilty sort of look, probably because he knew Reese was bad.
Her eyes are warm and bright with concern. “Gabby,” she says, “he can’t be comfortable, it can’t feel any good like that—he’s completely swollen shut—”
Gabriel’s pink with embarrassment. “Yeah,” he murmurs, “I was—trying, like, I took his temperature, gave him some ibuprofen, we took an ice bath—”
Mel shakes her head. “Go to the store,” she orders, “get him something medicated for this, you can’t—”
And Gabriel growls at her, and Reese almost loses it at the sound—low, possessive, defensive, and Gabriel wants him, wants him all to himself, and Reese wants it, wants all of what Gabriel wants to give him, wants to be possessed completely and entirely, pants with the very idea.
He lolls his head to the side, exposes his neck. Nobody notices, but he does it. If Gabriel decides to mate him, he’s not going to stop him.
Fuck. Fuck. He needs to get a hold of himself. That’s a terrible idea.
But it feels so good as he rolls it around in his fevered mind.
Mel pauses, frowns deeply at him. “Gabriel,” she admonishes, “Gabriel, you can’t—not while he’s like this, you’ll hurt him—”
“I’m not going to!” he snaps. “I don’t want to leave! I don’t want to leave him here alone with you and Caleb and—”
“Maybe Mel should go,” Caleb says. “She’s seen this before, she’s in nursing. She’ll know what to get.”
“Fine,” she says.
“I’ll go with you,” Kat says, pitching aside a towel she was using to try to clean up some spilled pop.
Gabriel glares. “All of you!” he barks. “Get the fuck out!”
Reese whimpers—yes, bossy Gabriel is his new favorite Gabriel, he thinks, so fucking hot, unbelievably, undeniably hot— and Gabriel turns to him. “Hey, sh—”
The door bangs shut. Reese stares at him, holds his gaze, squirms at the lust and desire reflecting there. Yes, yes, he wants that, all of it—
“Gabby,” he breathes, and Gabriel sinks down to his knees, kisses him good and hard.
They’ll be a while yet.