Chapter Text
Erwin’s absolutely wrecked. The day at his current construction site was a disaster. Heavy rain made many tasks impossible, the crane almost crashed into the adjoining building, Mike almost got run over by a bulldozer and, to top it all off, Erwin’s bosses kept giving him shit about the state of everything. But mostly about the construction deadline, which surely will not be met.
It’s Christmas Eve, for fuck’s sake. His crew should be at home, with their families, their friends, their pets, whatever— not on top of another unfinished skyscraper, covered in dirt and grime and other shit, while everyone else gets ready for a festive meal and two days of blissful rest by the fireplace with some mulled wine, listening to overly romantic christmas songs and all that cosy shit. Ah, but not him, not them.
Erwin’s fucking fuming.
He’s angry at his bosses, at the omegas standing above them, that top-shot company for whom they are building this fucking monstrosity, that stuck-up client who has made it clear they want the top crew—Erwin’s crew—to work through the fucking holidays to get as much work done as possible. But fucking how when their much needed resources are stuck in Hizuru due to a raging storm and some minor bureaucratic bullshit the alpha isn’t smart enough to understand? They’ve reached a point where they can’t go on properly. And all the small shit they did today, which felt like some sort of pretence, just moving things from A to B to maintain the facade of “working”, can wait until after the fucking holidays.
That’s why Erwin did finally send his men home in the early afternoon, earning more scolding and threats from the omegan higher-ups. But that’s fine. He’s used to it. Besides, Erwin knows his crew, consisting of the strongest alphas in Mitras, is irreplaceable and that his men will not lose their jobs. He can live with being fired. As long as Mike and the others can continue and keep their much-needed salaries, Erwin will be contented. And so far, it’s just been threats for him. Maybe a little pay cut here and there, a suspension once or twice, but he’s never actually been fired yet. And who cares anyways? It’s a shit job with shit conditions, so fuck it.
He leaves his shitty little office located in that shitty trailer on site in the early evening, finishing his tiring paperwork and all the tiring calls with important people overseas with a sigh. Though his higher-ups sorted the bureaucratic issues, their supplies still remain stuck in the main port of Hizurur because who can argue with the force of nature? Erwin scoffs. If omegas were really as smart as they are made out to be, they should know that, instead of making Erwin try to solve this. Is he a magician? Should he perform some sort of anti-rain dance? Should he convince the captain to steer the ship into certain death because of some freaking building?
He’s in a sour mood when he enters the makeshift washrooms in another trailer—only to find out there is no water coming out of the showers. “Fuck!” Erwin screams, banging his fist against the pipes in frustration. Only to then find out that his after-work clothes are ruined beyond repair because of that fucking little leak in the roof of the shared trailer he is looking at right now, that not only wet his clothes, but has stained them with sticky shit from the roof even Erwin cannot identify immediately.
It could not get any worse, he thinks, as he’s standing outside in his heavy-duty cargo pants and high-visibility jacket, its gaudy yellow tarnished by all the shit that has flown into Erwin’s direction on this hellish workday and way before that. He hopes the heavy rain will wash away some of the shit on his clothes and face and hair.
It does not.
He looks like an absolute bellend when he enters the unbonded alpha section of the subway with his wet hair plastered to his big skull, his humongous eyebrows smeared with some sort of brown oil, black streaks of dirt on his cheeks resembling war paint, his jacket, pants and heavy-duty boots covered in specks of cement, sand, soil and paint.
The other alphas, all dressed in their best attires, well-groomed and put together, stare at him in disbelief, snorting, shaking their heads. They’re disgusted and shocked. Because this is not the way alphas are supposed to be dressed, are supposed to present themselves outside. In public. Where, at any point, an omega can come across them for… an inspection.
Erwin wishes he wouldn’t give a fuck about the way he looks, about the way he’s defying societal standards right now with his dirty outwear. He wishes he wouldn’t give a fuck about omegas, that he wouldn’t give a fuck about being spotted by an omega, let alone chosen as a fucktoy.
A mate.
Oh, but Erwin cannot disregard his alpha nature and with it, his alpha needs, his alpha urges and his place in this world; and all that he wants is to be picked out by a sweet and tender, a brave and powerful, an attractive and breath-taking omega that chooses him for his stature, Erwin’s scent, his looks and, most of all, the size of his knot. The heart of the inspection.
Ah, but today even if an omega chose to wander the alpha carriage to scout, all Erwin would receive would be a gaze of disdain, a look of disgust; maybe a shard of pity. Because the way Erwin’s clothes are defiled, the way he smells—of sweat, cigarettes, cement, and something he’d himself describe as a wet, filthy dog rolling in the mud, laced with a hint of shit-throwing ape—because of the way his face is covered in those dirty specks robbing him of all ounces of his usual crude alpha beauty, he’d be worthless in any omega’s eyes. Especially because, next to all of the reasons above, his broad and heavy work pants do not allow him to present the girth, the width, the intimidating size of his cock and, more importantly, his knot—the most prominent criterion for any omega in search of an alpha to spend the night with.
Erwin tries to focus on some gum stuck to the floor to keep himself from registering all the incoming sneers from the other alphas. To keep himself from staring at their tight legwear, allowing for a full view of their stirring cocks and expanding knots pressing against the straining piece of fabric under the watchful gaze of an omega standing above them as they spread their legs for them to present their alpha assets. As society expects it.
It’s just a thirty minute ride, Erwin reminds himself, closing his eyes now to fully escape his surroundings, thinking about the christmas meal at his father’s place tomorrow evening which he has been looking for since the start of December. He wishes he’d have the money to take a cab, but the fares on holidays are too much for his limited budget. You will be home in no time, he adds in his thoughts, as the calm voice over the speakers announces the next station, leaving just fifteen more to go to Erwin’s final destination, his little, run-down house in Shiganshina. The southern part of town without skyscrapers and other flashy buildings, high-end restaurants and loud clubs, an area where most alphas live. His little place of peace.
But as of now, nothing is peaceful.
The sliding doors open. Not for the first time during this shit ride. But it’s the first time Erwin really notices that, the first time everybody around him notices; for it’s an omega who enters. And without even laying eyes upon the alluring creature, something inside of Erwin jolts awake.
His eyes open, Erwin’s nostrils flare as he takes a deep inhale and ingests the omega’s fragrance, which makes his mouth water in the strangest of ways. Confusion, excitement and raw arousal spike in his core, as his mind is trying to understand and take apart the individual elements that make up this unusual, but oh-so delightful, natural perfume of the man, who is causing a sudden commotion in the subway compartment, as all the alphas straighten up and part their thighs, putting their crotch on display for him.
The dark-haired man is dressed in a custom-tailored dark blue suit that makes him stand out. His ebony hair is styled in a perfectly-trimmed undercut, the middle-long bangs parted sideways, its well-kempt ends touching his razor-sharp cheekbones which are the colour of ivory. He looks young and mature at the same time, his symmetrical face twisted into a slightly annoyed frown, head tilted to the side as he walks down the centre aisle, letting his eyes wander across all the crotches presented to him from the rows of single seats on each side of the carriage. He doesn’t seem impressed with anybody, the frown on his angelic face growing deeper, fed with the annoyance about the alphas which are not to his taste. Then, his eyes suddenly flick up and meet Erwin’s transfixed gaze. And once again something powerful jolts through Erwin’s body. A sort of electric spark. Goosebumps roll all over his skin, all the little hairs standing in attention. For the omega looking at him is gorgeous . Handsome. Ethereal. Intimidating.
Erwin averts his gaze as fast as possible. He feels ashamed. For staring at the omega so unabashedly. For the huge bubble of sheer, primal want that expands inside of his belly. For his current appearance. He’s disappointed because of that too. Doesn’t even bother to spread his legs when he registers the omega coming closer.
Erwin’s eyes remain glued to the floor, to his massive work boots covered in construction site shit. Because he doesn’t want to stare again. Because he doesn’t stand a chance anyways. And that chance to be chosen by the omega with jet-black hair and a too-die-for figure—athletic, firm and alluring—that chance is all Erwin can think about, all he desires. Because this man, this omega, is Erwin’s ideal type. His wet dream come true. And as the creature steps closer, the omega’s scent increases and makes Erwin feel woozy. And finally, as the man comes to a stop right in front of him, Erwin is able to determine the components of this intoxication concoction.
Fresh peppermint.
The darkest chocolate ever made.
Amber.
Erwin can also make out a trace of whiskey. It’s an unusual omega fragrance, devoid of anything flowery and too overly sweet. And yet it is sweet. In its own peculiar way. It makes Erwin’s mouth water like warm apple pie. His knees buckle, and something swirls in the depth of his abdomen. Like a shark turning around as it catches a whiff of fresh blood.
Erwin swallows thickly, but it doesn’t give him any comfort: a new lump forms in his throat instantly, accompanying the realisation that the omega remains standing in front of him. Erwin can practically feel the man’s eyes piercing his skin now. But before he gathers the courage to raise his head and reciprocate the omega’s gaze courteously, the omega slams Erwin back into his seat when he kicks his foot into Erwin’s chest with such hard force that it knocks the air out of the blond alpha’s lungs.
Erwin’s head snaps up automatically, in utter surprise, in utter shock, too; even though it is well within the man’s right to take action like that, Erwin, in his 39 years of life, has never experienced an omega actually getting physical with an alpha. Not like that.
Involuntarily, Erwin’s eyes lock with the omega’s, who is still pressing his extremely polished and evidently expensive Oxford shoe into the alpha’s chest, as he’s holding casually onto one of the subway grab straps above his head to keep his balance, looming over Erwin, staring him down. The man’s lips then turn into a condescending, yet absolutely attractive smirk.
“Is that bird shit on your clothes?” the omega taunts him, letting his eyes roam over Erwin’s torso and lap demonstratively. “You look disgusting.” The omega pulls his leg back and the pressure on Erwin’s chest lessens. The mental pressure remains.
Erwin clears his throat. He knows he must answer. It’s etiquette, a must, for an alpha to answer an omega when talked to.
“No, sir,” he thus complies. Ah, but that twisted part of his personality, and the toll of today’s failures that feeds that twisted personality, which doesn’t agree with all of the bars that make up his societal alpha bird cage, make him act out of line. Not for the first time. “But it ain't bird shit, sir, but vanilla ice cream and some chocolate fudge. Why don’t you lick it? I bet it tastes nice.”
The slap he receives from the omega as a response is hard. Hard enough to snap his face to the side. Hard enough to make his cheek burn. Hard enough to send a loud smacking sound through the whole compartment, causing a wave of gasps to flow through the train, all alpha eyes glued to the scenery.
Erwin’s heart thrums in his chest. Anger flows through his veins. But there is also a dark kind of satisfaction that spreads through them. He smirks, his gaze resettling on the omega, who wipes his delicate but oh-so strong hand that has come so violently into contact with the grime on Erwin’s face with a silken handkerchief. There’s a look of unmasked and mocking aversion on his face.
“Disgusting,” he comments flatly, as if Erwin was an insect which the man had just accidentally stepped on and squashed underneath the sole of his black, untarnished, perfect shoes. Then, the omega looks him in the eyes again, and a shiver runs down Erwin’s back. He knows the man could call for the vice squad, that he could file a complaint against Erwin, that Erwin could get a fine, could be thrown off the subway, just for his sarcastic remark—and the offending state of his clothes. After all, omegas hold all the power in this world, and he is just a mere servant to them. There used to be a time when things were different. But that is ancient history. And now, Erwin and all his alpha peers have to suffer for the sins of their alpha predecessors.
Despite the danger of being punished, Erwin is unable to shut his mouth. It’s just one of those days. Where he just can’t stop himself from getting into trouble.
“Are you feeling better now, little thing?” he teases, ignoring the forbidden sexual thoughts rising from his alpha depths as he scans the omega’s lacking height once again and he imagines fucking this delectable, compact body hard against the wall, with his mouth pressed against this tantalising creature’s secondary scent glads, situated where the neck and shoulder meet, inhaling the man’s exhilarating and unique omega perfume while he fucks the living daylights out of him and spills his seed deep inside of his tight, petite ass without using any type of protection, painting his walls and womb with his thick, vicious, alpha seed. And… oh.
He should have not gone down that road.
Because his cock is starting to stir in his pants, and Erwin, involuntarily, releases a small portion of pheromones that instantly engulf the omega like a thin veil. A faux pas that causes another small wave of appalled and incredulous gasps to echo through the compartment.
This is not how an alpha is allowed to behave. This is not what an alpha should be fantasising about.
“Do you need me to call security?” one of the nearby alphas asks the omega, but is cut off with a sharp and blunt “shut the fuck up” by the attractive man in question, whose nostrils are flaring and who is staring down at Erwin with an expression the blond cannot quite decipher. There is definitely disdain and surprise. But also… a weird kind of amusement?
The omega’s thin lips pull into a very faint smirk. And Erwin knows that he has to shut the fuck up too, that the omega has the upper hand now, and that he will have to put up with whatever the dark-haired beauty will throw in his way, if he doesn’t want to end up in deep shit today. And he doesn’t. Doesn’t want another entry in his record. Erwin just wants to go home. Ideally, with the black-haired omega, even though he rubs him the wrong way, and who is slowly bending down to him, until the man’s perfect face is right in front of Erwin’s, and the man’s alluring scent is making Erwin feel a bit dizzy as it enters his nose directly and makes his skin prickle.
“Strip,” the omega orders, his deep voice a seductive and yet taunting melody.
It takes a few seconds until Erwin’s brain catches up with reality and translates the man’s words for him.
“E-Excuse me, wh-what?”
“I said: strip,” the omega reiterates, slightly irritated. “What is there not to understand? Are you dumb?” He’s back to his full height now, once again holding on to one of the straps dangling from the ceiling, right hand stuffed into the pocket of his elegant pants. Erwin blinks. Still not fully understanding what the hell is going on right now, asking himself if the omega is serious and- “I cannot take a look at your cock and your fucking knot when you’re wearing those wide crap pants, can I?”
Oh.
Oh.
Erwin cannot deny that wicked part of him rejoicing at the prospect of the omega being interested. But his more reasonable part calms him down immediately. Erwin might not be the brightest light on the christmas tree, but he isn’t completely stupid and naive either. Erwin knows that this isn’t really about an inspection, about choosing a mate. He knows the omega isn’t interested in him in that way. That he just wants to put Erwin in his place. Which is way below the omega’s. That he wants to chastise him after Erwin’s rude responses. For the state of him, out in public. And Erwin has to suck it up. All of it. No matter how uncomfortable and embarrassed this makes him feel. But he needs to get home.
What a shitty day.
What a shitty omega.
He sighs, inwardly, alert now not to anger the man on a power trip any further. He’s succumbing to his self-woven fate. But as he’s starting to get up to follow the man’s instructions, the omega kicks him again; shoving the sole of his elegant shoe repeatedly against Erwin’s sternum, pushing him back in his seat with it, once more knocking the air out of the alpha’s lungs with astounding force.
“You can do it like that, honey,” the black-haired man teases him, a cocky look on his beautiful face, imitating Erwin’s teasing tone from before.
Bastard, Erwin thinks, but doesn’t voice it. Again, he knows what is going on. It’s just part of the omega’s power play. For if Erwin stood up, he’d tower over the man, who would probably barely reach his broad shoulders. But the omega wants to look down on Erwin. It’s a statement. It’s the move of an asshole. But what can Erwin do about that? Other than follow suit. And he does.
Twisting uncomfortably in his seat when he fidgets with the buttons, to then undo the fly, lifting his hips up so that he can pull the thick and heavy, wet and dirty fabric down his legs, in front of everybody, in front of the omega, who is still, literally, looking down at him. Erwin can practically feel the man’s gaze roaming across his naked, thick and long and hairy legs, all flesh and muscle because of his physical job, because of all the hours spent in the gym too, just like any other regular alpha does; striving to stay fit and juicy to catch the attention of an omega. Because as much Erwin despises being at the bottom of the food chain, and as much as this gets him into trouble with omegas, he cannot deny his devotion to them, his fascination with omegas, his love for them—and the deep desire to be used by them and, finally, claimed.
Being bonded to a beautiful omega is all that Erwin wants, in the end. And he does respect omegas. He worships them. He gives them his all. But this one? This attracting, fucking bastard? He’s the type of omega that brings out all the ugly in Erwin. And being humiliated by this creature right here, right now, in this cocky way, is making Erwin’s blood simmer. But what can he do about it?
Another crass shiver slithers down Erwin’s spine when he realises that the omega’s eyes have reached their final destination and are now glued to his crotch, studying the outlines of Erwin’s growing cock pressing against the thin fabric of his briefs. The omega’s slight pheromones still tickle his nose, activating his alpha nature. And now, the omega can also study the outline of Erwin’s subsequently growing knot.
“Huh,” the man tuts, unimpressed. It’s a jab at Erwin’s alpha pride. Of which the omega takes another piece by voicing a following order which Erwin cannot believe he’s hearing. “Take off your underwear too. I wanna take a better look. I can’t see shit like this.”
Erwin blinks. Adrenaline surges in his veins. His heartbeat increases. “You’re… You’re shitting me, right?” he mumbles, unable to contain a shard of his rage. Of his shock.
The omega doesn’t answer, turns towards the other passenger who has spoken to him before instead and says: “You know what? I might actually take you up on that offer of alerting security, after all…”
Erwin’s blood freezes immediately, and he spurs into action right after. “No, no. It’s fine, I’ll do it,” he mutters in defeat, choosing degradation over possibly serious, official consequences, his fingers already hooked under the waistband of his tight, black briefs. He exchanges one more look with the omega, who grins at him smugly, waiting for Erwin to continue. Vicious snake, he curses in his mind. Then, Erwin lifts his hips up again, and slides down his boxer briefs to his knees, his face heating up due to the utter humiliation of exposing himself in front of all these other alphas on a fucking subway on Christmas Eve.
Another small cloud of pheromones and that intoxicating omega smell waft over to Erwin, hardening his exposed cock and knot further. And just when Erwin thought it could not get any worse, it does.
The man’s leg moves again, and before Erwin can register what is happening, it’s already too late and he’s looking down at the elegant black shoe between his knees, sliding his boxers down to his ankles.
“Spread your legs more, mutt,” the omega commands, sending the most unpleasant shiver down Erwin’s back. The alpha grits his teeth but complies, his eyes repeatedly glued to the floor. For he doesn’t want to see the looks the other alphas are giving him right now. Erwin’s mortified, like he has never been before. He cannot shake off the staggering shame that starts consuming him as he fulfils what the omega asks of him. “More,” is all the black-haired man says to that, and Erwin follows suit. “I said more,” the omega chastises sternly, and Erwin complies again; until he has reached his personal maximum.
His legs hurt and his knees are now almost touching the legs of the other alphas sitting to his left and right, who are now discreetly trying to shuffle away from him, away from this obscene display of Erwin’s lower nakedness, of his obscenely wide-spread legs, uncomfortable from the second-hand embarrassment Erwin cannot even blame them for.
No one says a thing. The compartment is absolutely still, except for the low rumbling of the train pushing through the tunnels of Mitras, and Erwin’s heavily thumping heart, enhancing his nightmarish mortification with every pump of blood as the omega practically sprays him now with his pheromones and infiltrates his being with his seductive scent. And there’s nothing Erwin can do about that. That, and the increasing arousal taking over his body due to the omega’s deeds. He’s the worst Erwin has ever met.
The man’s dark chuckle breaks the silence. “Fucking whore,” the man taunts him. “Look at you. Is that precum dribbling down your cock? Man, this is embarrassing.” The omega snickers. “You’re fully hard while you’re surrounded by other alphas on public transportation on Christmas Eve, dressed so fucking inappropriately, too. You should be fucking ashamed of yourself. Are you ashamed of yourself?”
Erwin grits his teeth and has a hard time holding himself back from lashing out. He’s devastatingly humiliated. But there’s something else that has slowly been trickling down into the concoction, spiking the contents of the inner barrel. It’s Erwin’s contempt. His anger at these kind of bigheaded, arrogant, conceited omegas, who enjoy playing with and torturing alphas like him. Because of their high status and wealth and whatnot; because of Erwin’s low standing and inferiority. He truly loves omegas, he respects them, he desires to serve them, or at least a part of him does—but not when they act like that . Even if this specimen is the most beautiful, the most alluring, the most attractive pretty little thing Erwin has ever laid eyes on. But it’s only natural; for poisonous things to look the most beautiful.
“I asked you a question,” the pernicious being growls, “are you ashamed, alpha?”
The man’s dark, taunting tone causes more gooseflesh to erupt all over Erwin’s skin; his cock throbs. For everyone to see. He wants to grab the dark-haired man and pound him into submission, turn him into a brainless, drooling, whimpering puddle of goo, right here, in front of a cheering horde of horny alphas; just like his kind did in ancient times and which would most certainly get him killed today. So instead, he pushes through the mortification and behaves, for he is not a caveman. At least a part of him isn’t.
“Yes,” Erwin thus whispers. Only to be pushed down even further by the cocky omega.
“What?” the man inquires in a mocking fashion, feigning having misheard Erwin’s reply. “What was that? Speak up, I can’t fucking hear you.”
Erwin clears his throat again, his cock still hard and throbbing and leaking as he’s sprayed by another wave of pheromones that will, if this continues for much longer, send him into a delirium, because there’s only so much his daily medicine can suppress. “Yes,” he repeats, louder. “I’m ashamed.”
“Good,” the omega acknowledges. It’s the same kind of voice one would use to praise a dog in training. Erwin grits his teeth. “Now put your pants back on and cover your fucking dick, you disgusting piece of shit.”
Erwin grinds his teeth harder, even though he is glad he can finally cover his pubic area again. He feels blissful relief when his pants are back on. But the flame of anger flickers wildly inside of him.
When he raises his gaze after having properly fastened his dirty cargo pants, ignoring the fact that the omega’s shoe has soiled his underwear when he pushed the briefs down, he cannot hold himself back from g laring at the omega, who has just humiliated him like no one has ever humiliated Erwin before. There’s a triumphant look on the other man’s face, when their eyes meet, and his lips pull into an arrogant smirk. One that makes him look dangerous. Attractive.
I hate this, Erwin thinks. I absolutely hate this.
What Erwin hates even more is that, next to more of that blissful relief, a spark of disappointment flares through in stomach, when the cocky omega shoots him another presumptuous glance before turning his head and proceeding to walk down the aisle to check out the remaining alphas, who willingly and respectfully spread their legs for him and look straight down to the floor in submission and reverence when the man inspects their crotches.
Yeah, Erwin thinks, I absolutely hate this.
He decides to get off the train at the next station to board the next one, to escape those who witnessed his demise and public humiliation. To escape the fresh memory too. And the possibility of this omega returning and humiliating him even more for his own entertainment.
“Next stop: Maria Palace,” the calm voice announces over the speaker when the omega has reached the end of the compartment, without having chosen an alpha. Fuck this cocky midget, Erwin thinks, as the train starts to slow down upon drawing closer to the station.
The blond alpha grabs his bag from underneath his seat—and that’s when those shiny, black Oxfords that will give him nightmares for days to come re-enter his vision. And when Erwin straightens up and pushes his back into the seat, returning into a seating position, the black-haired bastard is smirking at him. Even before Erwin can curse inwardly, something dreadful and very unexpected happens next: Despite the dirt and grime on Erwin’s work clothes, that should have been left behind at the shitty trailer and not worn in public, and which the man has mocked Erwin for, the omega slides into his lap.
Erwin is frozen. All of his limbs have gone still. The train stops at Maria Palace. The sliding doors whirr open. But Erwin doesn’t move. Nobody moves. There are no gasps, no murmurs, no anything. The whole compartment has gone quiet. There is not a single sound. Except for the automatic doors sliding shut again and the train starting to move on the underground tracks. Except for the pounding of Erwin’s heart—and the rustle of thick fabric when the short omega slides his arm around Erwin’s broad shoulders and truly leans into him, making Erwin breathe in the almost stinging scent of freshly cut peppermint, flabbergasted.
“You need a bath.” The omega’s breath ghosts over Erwin’s cheek, chasing a shiver down his spine. He still doesn’t dare to move a single muscle, doesn’t dare to even look at the man. “You’ll take one once we’re home,” the man adds, running his soft and warm fingertips over Erwin’s nape—over his primary scent gland. At that, a huge cloud of arousal surges through Erwin’s body. More when the omega releases another small dose of his own pheromones and adds, “You are coming home with me, aren’t you?”
This statement, not more than a low seductive rumble which makes Erwin tremble inside, finalises the omega’s choice begun by sliding onto the blond alpha’s lap.
Erwin could deny the request. He is not obligated to follow the omega’s choosing. He’s not forced to go home with the man by law. But there has never been a case for an alpha to say no to an omega, who chose them. Even though it is legal, it is generally frowned upon, generally not accepted for an alpha to turn down an omega, since it is an honour to be chosen, even if only for the night. Only when asked to bond for life, alphas do have an actual say, can either accept or deny. But the man isn’t asking for that.
Erwin’s brain is fuming. His heart rate is at an all-time high. He’s starting to sweat again. Something wicked stirs in his guts. Something hideous.
A huge part of him would be delighted to be the first alpha to refuse an omega; ah, the look on this cocky bastard’s face would be priceless, if he did that, wouldn’t it? In front of this huge audience at that. But the truth, which Erwin comes to terms with rather quickly, is that he not only wishes to not get himself further into trouble on this train ride, but that he also doesn’t want to say no. Because he’s physically attracted to the man, to his scent, to the feel of his fingertips on his naked skin and the omega’s firm ass on his lap. And because after being ridiculed by this pretentious prick like that, Erwin, or that ugly part of him, perceives the invitation to the omega’s bed—if it isn’t a crude joke—as a means of revenge.
Because that dark part of him, that demeaned part of him, that grisly part of him, bubbling in the deepest depths of Erwin’s being, which this omega is feeding non-stop, is determined to fuck all of the omega’s arrogance and haughtiness out of him, reducing him to a pathetic, submissive, whimpering, drooling mess, pleading for his knot and another climax on his huge cock while Erwin holds him down on the bed with his whole weight and leaves bruises all over his porcelain skin.
It would all be another breach of alpha conduct. A huge one. It would probably be a crime. Because alphas are not supposed to treat omegas like that. Not anymore. They’re supposed to be gentle and forthcoming, following instruction and lead. They’re supposed to be careful and soft. But Erwin wants to damage and wreck this petite body and claw at the soul inside, no matter the consequences. The beast inside him—irritated, agitated, exasperated and chased out of its hiding spot—has already decided, sunken its teeth into his bones, unwilling to let go.
“Yes,” he thus answers the omega, “I’ll come with you.”
“Good,” the omega once again acknowledges.
Next thing Erwin knows, the man orders someone to pick them up from the next station. And when they exit the subway together, all eyes are on Erwin again; but this time, there are no looks of pity or ridicule or revulsion. This time, the other alphas look at him with pure envy.
Oh, but if they only knew.