The Omega Awakened: A M/M Omegaverse Erotic Short Fiction (Omegan Tales Book 1) Read online

  When the door to his heat room creaked open, his thoughts halted. He tilted his head to see who was visiting and wasn’t surprised to find the young nurse poking her head in. She looked around briefly and then her eyes settled on him properly.

  “Good evening, Micah,” she greeted him softly. Her voice was the equivalent of rose petals, very soft and almost alluring. Then again, everything was alluring to Micah at the moment and so he didn’t think too much of it.

  For the most part, unmated omegas were isolated during their heat to prevent any mishaps or unfortunate mistakes. They had two choices - they could go home and rub one out in the comfort of their own belongings, or they could borrow one of the university’s heat rooms (or “hot boxes” as the students so fondly called them). The rooms were outfitted with the important things; a bed, a drawer full of toys, a small fridge with water and snacks in it, a television, and a small bathroom. It was the equivalent of a jail cell for a sex addict. Nothing about the rooms felt soothing or relaxing, but Micah supposed they didn’t need to feel that way. Once the fever hit again, he wouldn’t care how sterile or foreign the room felt if he could shove himself full of cock to shut his mind up for a minute.

  Micah still hated them. God, he hated them. They were impersonal and they made him feel like nothing more than a nuisance. Another member of society who couldn’t avoid his hormones. He would be made an example of one day. The world would surely turn him into a statistic, and that statistic would be added to a book in an all-alpha class that Micah couldn’t attend, and he’d be none the wiser.

  “I think this fever’s gonna kill me…” Micah responded eventually, voice cracking around his words. He was thirsty and perhaps for the first time in hours, that was a more literal than figurative statement. “Why is it hurting so bad this time? Fuck.”

  The nurse hummed and walked to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and a small bag of grapes so that she could carry them to him. She was a sweet woman. She’d introduced herself by a name that Micah couldn’t recall now. Come tomorrow, a different young woman would be checking on him, and so he didn’t ask for a reminder.

  “I’ve heard that triggered heats are always worse than natural heats,” the nurse told him. She crouched bedside him and reached out to touch his arm tenderly. “Don’t worry. It’ll pass all the same. Once we figure out why it’s happening ahead of schedule, we can give you something for the symptoms.”

  Micah turned back to the ceiling, trying not to voice his frustration. The nurse didn’t deserve to deal with the attitude. She was just doing her best to relax him. Usually, Micah wasn’t so emotional, but very little (if anything) had been regular about this heat and so it stood to reason that even his mental state was unpredictable and difficult to manage.

  Micah didn’t want to be pitied, but the nurse made a soft sound, nose nudging at his forearm as if she could smell the budding distress. Only when Micah calmed down a bit did she stop.

  “That’s a nice nest you made over there,” she said conversationally.

  “What?”

  “Your nest,” the nurse repeated. She sounded amused. “How’d you find the extra blankets?”

  Oh. His nest.

  The blankets weren’t extra. They were the ones from the bed. In a fit, Micah had shredded the stupid things the second he’d been locked in the room, and when the blankets had been reduced to nothing more than slips of fabric, the primitive part of his brain had convinced him to rearrange them into something usable. Like a nest. And then since the one blanket hadn’t been enough to make a reasonable looking nest, he’d gone and shredded both pillows, too, which he’s surprised the nurse hadn’t mentioned. Micah hadn’t even wanted to make the stupid nest, he’d just done it because his instincts had been unmanageable and pushy.

  Honestly, It had been years since he’d last made one.

  “You know, I went to school to study nesting behavior, specifically in male omegas. A female will make a nest no matter if she has a mate or not, but a male omega makes nests exclusively when he thinks he’s found a mate. It’s kind of like a pitch, showing what you can bring to the table if they should choose you. Interesting, huh?”

  “Not really,” Micah said shortly. God, his head was hurting. He went up on his elbows and grabbed the water bottle, cracking it open so that he could drink from it.

  “No? Well, I thought it was.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Do you have a mate, Micah?”

  Hah. She must’ve been talking about Jackson. That guy. That tall, handsome man who, admittedly, had spent an entire semester hiding from him. The smooth talker, deep rumbling force of an alpha that Micah had acknowledged for all of twenty seconds before his omega submitted. That Jackson.

  Micah choked on his mouthful of water and the nurse gasped. She stood up quickly, encouraging him onto his side so that she could slap his back and clear his lungs. Just the thought of Jackson’s name popping up in response to an offhand comment about mates made him want to choke on all the oxygen in the room, but water would have to work. It was nonsensical that his brain was still holding onto this idea of them being destined.

  The nurse was still smacking Micah’s back wildly when a timid knock on the door interrupted them.

  “Just a minute!” The nurse yelled.

  The door creaked open anyway and there was a brief, awkward silence. Only qualified nurses were meant to join the hot boxes. As unexpected as a second nurse was, this seemed to be a pressing enough issue for him to join their room. When he spoke, his voice was severe.“Mel, I need to talk to you for a second.”

  There was the terribly obnoxious sound of someone chattering over the speakerphone out in the hallway. Perhaps someone had gotten a hold of the office staff and was giving them an earful? If Micah could hear it from here, then it was something fairly serious, but the sound of it was magnetizing. The open anger and frustration, the authority in the voice. God, just the cadence of the voice made him wanna squeeze his legs together and get onto his stomach. No, actually, he wanted someone to put him on his stomach, strong hands on his waist to hold him in that position while they pounded him from behind. Fuck. That’s exactly what he wanted.

  With a soft whimper, Micah rolled over and blocked his ears.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming,” the nurse said. She sounded harried. She put a quick hand on Micah’s shoulders and said,“Take it easy, dear. When I come back I’ll see if I we can get something for the aches, at least.”

  Mel got up to leave. She snuck outside with the male nurse and closed the door behind herself. There was a beep, a hiss, and then the click of a lock. After that, the room went silent again.

  Eventually, Micah uncurled himself, but only when the itch was too strong to ignore and it was crawling along his insides like a leak in his infrastructure. He quickly shoved his grapes into his mouth and finished his water, and then he tossed both in the garbage can behind his bed.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Micah groaned. It was hitting, though this time it seemed to be more of a tsunami than a simple wave. It washed over him quickly and it was so suffocating that he had to heave inward, dragging a lungful of oxygen into his body. He could have choked from how hot he was getting. Within minutes, his body felt like it was on fire. His heart was pumping greedily. Micah mindlessly got onto his hands and knees.

  The layout of the room was easy enough to navigate. There wasn’t anything available to him that he couldn’t figure out how to use while he was completely fucked up on his hormone cocktail. Void of energy and running on nothing but the desire to fill himself with an obscene amount of cock, Micah crawled, naked, out of bed towards the drawer full of toys. He was exhausted, down to the very bones of clarity, but he needed something in him. With every second that passed, he regressed, and after opening the drawer, Micah’s fingers ran over every form of silicone and jelly inside of it. He grabbed the biggest one he could feel; a flared dildo, one with a suction on the bottom of it. It would have to be enough for now.
r />   Micah’s omega encouraged him to crawl to the darkest corner of the room. Now that he’d made the decision to mate, only that alpha - Jackson - could see him bent over like this. And his instinct was playing chess with his logic, stealing bits of information that made every stupid thing he did even stupider. Why was he hiding as if he hadn’t presented himself to a classroom full of people just a few hours ago? There weren’t cameras in here either (that was illegal), and there were few ways to fully contain the noises that an omega in heat made when sitting themselves comfortably on top of a fake cock, so what was a dark corner going to accomplish? Micah blushed as he imagined the men and women outside listening in on him. Strangely, his omega was shying away from that and he had to follow his instincts. If his body wanted him swathed in the cold shadows of an even colder room, then he’d find himself on his knees in the darkest spot that this hot box had to offer.

  Sticking the dildo up on the wall was easy work. It suctioned nicely, wobbling and then bending over from the weight and the length. It was some hyper-realistic toy, veiny and pink. It was so big. Micah hummed happily as he gripped it in his hand and then went down in front of it, bringing it gently to his lips and then licking the tip curiously. It tasted like rubber - or not rubber, but some cheap mimicry of it, and Micah suckled the bulbous head for a second, trying to imagine it as something other than a fake cock. The give of it wasn’t right. It didn’t taste bitter or salty, and it wasn’t warm. After a second of getting no feedback, Micah’s brain turned off of it. He pulled back, leaving the head shiny, and then he turned himself around and scooted back, waiting to feel that same fake cock against his asscheeks as he pressed himself toward the wall.

  The thing was too heavy. He reached around himself to grab it so that he could hold it in the right position, and then he tucked his legs closer under himself. Getting it right, feeling the dildo push past his cheeks and run through the slick that was dripping out of his ass, felt a bit like like running a feather over an itch. It only made him feel more unsteady, and more desperate. He needed to be full, but he wanted it to be because someone liked him enough to mate him. This lonely shit didn’t feel good. The cock was never deep enough, it was never stretching him so wide that he couldn’t breathe, it was always… mediocre.

  As the dildo slipped into Micah’s swollen and lubricated hole, Micah’s brain still took the scraps. If he couldn’t have anything else, then this would help him survive. As he’d done for years and years, he would come out on the other side dehydrated and lonely, but he’d survive.

  Micah pushed back on it until he was fully seated. Until there was nothing left of it but the base attached to the wall. Then he took a deep breath and started to rock back and forth

  “Oh, fuck,” Micah panted, tilting his head back and letting himself sink onto the toy over and over again. The sickening squelch of the lube around the silicone was so loud. Slick was messy, dripping down his thighs and probably staining the concrete a dark color. As Micah fucked himself, his thighs working overtime, he kept one of his hands on the floor in front of him so that he would stay upright. His other hand traveled to his chest where his puffy, pink nipples were waiting for attention. He liked touching them, liked how hard the nubs felt under his palms and how each time he ran a hand over them, his body would twitch.

  Biting his lip, and humming, Micah began to rock more carefully, slowing his pace until he was just lethargically rolling his hips, cock deep-seated and comfortable. He looked over his shoulder in a haze, not surprised to see just a boring, blank wall there. It was so natural to look back, but his mate wasn’t there.

  Jackson wasn’t there.

  The omega in him was unreasonable. It couldn’t decipher why he was alone. Why there were no hands on his lower back, holding him steady as an real cock pushed more slick out of his ass. Why there was no deep and rumbling voice telling him how good he was taking it. Micah whimpered, eyes watering a bit as he faced forward again. His nest was in front of him just a few feet away, the emptiness of it another bitter reminder that Micah was unmated. Unwanted.

  But then Micah pressed just right, the dildo rubbing up against a good spot inside of him, and all of his anxieties dissolved in an instant, replaced by a deep, warm arousal. Micah moaned loudly, dropping his forehead to the ground and then pushing back hard.

  “Jackson,” Micah breathed. “Jackson, fuck me, god, I need you to fuck me.”

  He was babbling, always babbling, completely out of control of his mouth the second his fever dropped. Everything was fuzzy, his entire body was centralized around the need to come and be come on, and Micah pushed back too hard against the wall, mouth falling open when the dildo managed to go in a bit further, almost impossibly deep. What he wouldn’t have paid for the pressure to be an actual cock with a real person at the end of it.

  Micah let himself work, fucking back on the dildo and moaning with every drag of it against his insides. The filthy sounds of his wetness coating the length made him want to scream. It was too much and yet still not enough. It was enough. He needed more. It was enough. The neurotic, repetitive thought coaxed him to the edge of his orgasm and then back away from it.

  It was fucking delicious.

  And yet it wasn’t enough. How could he make it enough?

  “Shit! Fuck - please, no. I wanna come. I wanna come. Jackson, you’re so fucking good, so big. Wanna be shoved full of your cock. Please please please,” Micah begged. His lips were moving of their own accord, yanking up words that were meant for an alpha, not an empty room. The funny thing was, Micah felt no shame in saying them. One day, he was gonna get Jackson on his back, and he was gonna ride the man’s dick and look in his eyes and say, Give it to me. I deserve it. Maybe then, Jackson would be able to see how good of a mate he was.

  It only took another minute before Micah’s stomach was going tight, balls aching, thighs screaming for him to stop moving too fast, and he could feel that he was clinging to the edge of an orgasm that was gonna rock him. It was biting, his body too hot and too sweaty, and he sobbed, rocking back and forth wildly. In, out, in, out, he couldn’t stop if he wanted to. He fucked himself hard onto it until his fingers clenched against the floor, his body went taut, and his mouth opened in a silent scream. It was almost painful. He snapped like a rubber band and came, strip by strip, onto the boring, cement floor.

  “Oh god, oh god, oh god,” Micah moaned, entire body going tight as his cock twitched and leaked between his legs. As his ass milked a cock that would stay “hard enough” forever, but never give him anything more than pressure.

  Naturally his dick didn’t flag. There was no come down, he just fucked himself through one orgasm and started chasing the next. Like a sadistic game of tag, except the tagger never won, because he could never reach anyone in time. The heat maintained, and after another minute of rocking, Micah came again. Exhausting wasn’t a strong enough word. Micah couldn’t maintain the position, and so after he was done pulsing around the dildo, he pulled off of it angrily and yanked it from the wall only to roll over onto his back in a puddle of his own come. He spread his legs and reached between them, and then he shoved the dildo right back in. His hole fluttered around the rough entry, still spasming from the orgasm before. Micah didn’t pause, he didn’t wait. He gripped it firmly and began to fuck himself, his own cock still dribbling.

  There was the very brief and dizzying idea that this would be Micah’s life forever. That he’d never mate anyone who could help him through this experience, and month after month he’d find himself here on some filthy floor with a lifeless piece of plastic shoved inside of him. The thought was too much. His eyes started to sting. On top of a shit sandwich, turning into a hormonal little bitch that cried over everything was his least favorite part of all of this.

  Okay. If his omega wanted Jackson that badly, Micah could adapt. It was arguable that his brain worked just fine, but there was absolutely no problem with his imagination. He could see every detail of how good him and Jackson would look
together. How the alpha’s body would be heavy and wide between Micah’s legs. How he would look down at the omega with fearless devotion and praise him for being so good. He’d push into Micah’s pliant body, but it wouldn’t be easy. Even with the slick, Micah would gasp and buck his hips, and it might hurt for a second, but then Jackson would kiss him and fuck into him more carefully. After that, they’d move slowly, face to face with their noses close and their lips even closer. Jackson wouldn’t come until Micah was begging for the man’s release.

  Only when Micah was on the edge of another mindless orgasm, like he was now, would Jackson pull back completely and pound into him in an unforgiving pace. Micah would scream and reach between his legs, and if he’d been good up until then, Jackson would let him jerk his cock roughly until he was coming all over his fist.

  With his hand twitching on the silicone, Micah came a third time, back arched and breath punched out of his chest.

  The burning didn’t dull. The aching didn’t cease. Micah tilted his head against the cool ground and could feel the dripping of his own sweat. If he trained his ear, he could probably hear the beads hitting the concrete. After a heaving breath, Micah gently pulled the dildo from his ass. Any other time, he’d have been disgusted by the puddle of slick that leaked down the globes of his ass, but now he was too tired to care. He whined and rolled over, crawling slowly to his nest. He tossed the dildo aside along the way, trading it for a life-sized teddy bear that had been propped up against the wall. The thing barely fit into his disorganized pile of shredded blankets and pillows, but he forced it into the space, careful not to dislodge any of his hard work in the process. When he looked down at the teddy bear, it stared back through its plastic, beaded eyes.