"Turn right up here."

Luca glanced at Jackson to see how the alpha would handle being ordered around, but he wasn't getting a hostile reaction. The alpha simply followed his direction and turned onto the street that would take him to his apartment.

He really didn't like the idea of the alpha knowing where he lived, but the bastard refused to take him to a bus stop. He'd finally relented in telling the guy where he lived only because, if the alpha had really wanted to assault him, he would've done it while he was sleeping.

And fuck, he couldn't believe he'd fallen asleep at the guy's place and woken up in his fucking bedroom. It still made his skin crawl to think he'd slept in that bed. It was mostly knowing that he'd woken up, cuddled up in those blankets, inhaling his delicious earthy scent, with a raging hard-on that begged to be pleased. Worst of all, he knew his scent was pouring out of him like a fucking Glade plug-in.

He and Jackson both pretended he hadn't tried to scent mark his bed. Or that he woke up with a boner.

Yup. Never happened.

"This?" Jackson's tone didn't speak of disgust, much to Luca's surprise. He knew his apartment wasn't classy, or anything Jackson would be used to. The apartment was three stories of abandoned motel horror story with busted windows, blue tarps floating in the wind, and the stench of all manner of human filth. It was the kind of place that saw a lot of cops hanging around and drug dealers.

"Yeah, just drop me off in the parking lot."

"I rather walk you to your door."

"I am not your fucking prom date, asshole."

"And I am not leaving you alone in a parking lot when your heat is about to start," Jackson replied simply as he pulled into a parking spot. Luca rolled his eyes so hard, he was surprised they didn't get stuck in the back of his head. He kicked the door to Jackson's shiny fancy SUV and got out, pausing to glance over at a group of hooded teenagers clustered together near one of the rooms, eyeing the SUV like candy in a candy shop.

"Might wanna lock your doors," Luca muttered. Jackson wasn't going to argue with that. He hit his key fob twice so the SUV beeped as it locked and the kids scurried away, as if already being caught in the act of contemplation.

Luca shook his head and headed up the rickety steps. He spotted a package sitting outside his doorstep as he approached and he was fucking stunned nobody had ripped it off, so either the postman had just left seconds ago or the cops had shown up the night before, leaving everyone in the complex skittish of crime for about twenty-four hours.

Luca stooped and grabbed the package before Jackson could see the label, tucking it under his arm and turning to his apartment door.

"Oh, right," Jackson said, "Your keys--" He didn't finish as Luca opened the door up without issue. Jackson immediately frowned and looked at him. Luca arched a brow.

"Locks from the inside. But I have nothing worth stealing, so whatever," he answered, opening the door. Jackson frowned further, taking a step forward to follow him in, but Luca immediately spun around and blocked his path.

"You're just dropping me off, Mr. Knight in Shining Armor," Luca said dryly, making Jackson arch a brow,, "Nothing more, nothing less." Jackson studied him and appeared to realize Luca was not going to relent. He took a step back and straightened his jacket, inclining his head. He glanced down the way, then back at Luca, who eyed him suspiciously.

"Listen," Jackson said, making Luca frown as Jackson reached into his pocket and drew out a small card, "It feels wrong to be just... parting ways like this. I want you to take my card, in case you ever need anything. And I do mean anything." Luca took the business card. It was all fancy and laminated with his name printed across the front, plus the hospital and address as well as a phone number to reach him. Luca gave him a droll look.

"You mean, like your dick?" He asked. Jackson rolled his eyes.

"I was trying to be polite."

"Look, I don't need your pity or anything. You got me out of a bad situation. Thanks, I guess, but that's where this ends. Besides, can't afford a doctor. Have a nice life, Jackson Colt." Luca shut the door before Jackson could say anything more. He put his back to the door, holding his breath for a moment before his curiosity got the best of him and he turned to peer out the peephole.

The alpha stood there for a moment, blinked a couple times, like he couldn't believe the audacity of him, then sighed and shook his head before leaving. Though, he did pause once halfway down the stairs, seemed to sniff the air, close his eyes, then head back to his car. Luca couldn't stop watching until the alpha was pulling out of the parking lot and out onto the road.

Only then did Luca turn to his security system. Two chain locks and a deadbolt.

Once he was finished there, he turned and faced his apartment. It was really just a tiny shithole shoebox. A sorry excuse for a studio with a barely there hallway that led to a bathroom door and a closet, then beyond that was the bedroom slash living room slash dining room slash den slash whatever else other normal homes had. His mattress was a sad lump in the corner with an old ragged pillow stained with blood from biting his lip in his sleep, an old blanket he got from a church, some cardboard boxes he found in the garbage and used as a nightstand and dinner table. Oh, and his old box television on the floor.

Yeah. He was fucking rollin' in it.

With a tired sigh, he walked into his room and sat on the bed with the package in his lap. He swallowed thickly, looking down at it. He used his fingernails to peel and strip bits of packing tape until he could pry the box open to reveal the stash within.

The suppressants came in individual syringes with a couple of extra vials just in case. The sight of them was both a relief and a curse. Luca hated the suppressants. He hated the way they made him feel sluggish and empty. Depression was one of the side effects of these ones in particular because of their strength. Plus, he was taking pills to stop off his usual routine.

He sighed, lowering his head for a moment, feeling a weight return to his body. He really wasn't looking forward to wasting three or so days locked up in his apartment. He needed to be out looking for a job, but there was no fucking way he was going to get hired anywhere if he was in his heat. Just being an omega was limiting his options. Topping off his shitcake was his lack of higher education or actual experience with an employer to give him references.

A part of him wanted to run back to Killian, and he fucking loathed that helpless part of him. He knew for a fact that if he ran back to Killian, the bastard was going to going to fuck him. And not even make an offer to mate, but to basically use him, then toss him on his ass if not hire him back with less pay than before.

It'd be so much easier to go back to Killian, but he wasn't really an easygoing guy. He liked to do things the hard way, and this part of his life was no different.

Fuck, it was hot in his apartment.

He shoved the box by his bed and turned, standing on his mattress so he could get up and open the window, taking a deep breath of the fresh air outside. All he smelled was booze, cigarettes, and car fuel, but he didn't care. The air was still fresher than it had been when he was in the basement of that club.

He shivered a little, rubbing at his arms and averting his eyes as he rested his elbows on the windowsill.

To think, he'd almost been unable to return here. Unable to breath this air, to have his suppressants on hand. It was so surreal to suddenly be back in his home where he belonged. As if the entire ordeal had been nothing more than a nightmare. And yet, he still ached from where he'd been restrained. His stomach hurt from having stuffed his face after days of not being fed. He could still faintly smell the makeup they used to hide their abuse from the spectators.

It wasn't like they'd beaten him and raped him or anything. They could've. They totally fucking could have, but they hadn't. Even though he'd been mostly starved, they had done well to wash him and take care of him. They had given him vitamins supplements instead of real food, but honestly, it could've been so much worse. He hated that he was convincing himself it wasn't that bad, but honestly? At least he'd finally gotten a hot shower. At least he was taken care of for the first time in his life.

And he grimaced at that. He was so used to taking care of himself, because no one ever fucking had. Not his mother, not the nuns, even the old man had never taken care of him that way. Washing him and pampering him. He felt so fucking stupid for enjoying the attention, but goddamn, he'd never had that before.

His muscles aching, he backed away from the window and retreated to the small bathroom with the tiny shower/tub combo. He turned on the water, found a semi-lukewarm state and climbed in to stand under the spray, savoring the feel of the water washing everything away.

Well, almost everything.

For some fucking stupid reason, Jackson's scent still lingered. Not really on his skin, but on the clothing he'd borrowed from the guy. He told himself he should just burn the shit, but for some insane reason, he didn't like the idea of burning it, so he folded them up and left them on a cardboard box he used as his dresser. He changed into a pair of old faded black jeans and a black ribbed tank top before he tied his hair up out of his face in a half-ponytail. He went into the small kitchen and dug around in the drawers until he found an old cigarette box.

It'd been months since he quit, but after what he'd just been through? Fuck, maybe one box wasn't going to cut it.

He returned to the window and lit one up, placing the stale butt between his lips, and taking a slow drag that inflated his lungs with absolute shit. He blew out a slow steady stream of smoke, finding minimal relief in the nicotine.

His body still felt hot. His muscles still ached. His cock was hard for no reason.

His heat was starting. He could feel it in the way he moved, the way he felt like touching himself just to relieve an ache that went far beyond his muscles and bones. It was an ache that went way deep inside himself. One that begged to be sated while his brain screamed in outrage.

He sighed heavily, breathing out another breath of smoke before stepping back and closing his window, throwing the latch on it. No doubt his scent was wafting outside and attracting any nearby alphas. The last thing he needed was some asshole climbing in his window to plug his ass up.

He sat down on the bed, cigarette still between his lips. He took a syringe out of the box and gave it a look before he stood up and leaned against the nearest wall, bending over and undoing his jeans to drop them around his ankles. The air on his bare ass gave him a shudder and he bowed his head, glaring down in frustration at the way his cock was sticking straight up, oozing out onto the floor, because it didn't make the fucking bills like the rest of him did.

Even worse, the glands in his ass were secreting enough natural lubrication to spill down between his legs. Carrying with it, the deepest most intense version of his scent. It was even enough to make him dizzy as he stared at the thick ooze. He squeezed his eyes shut, bit down on the cigarette butt, and stabbed himself in the asscheek with the syringe. He cursed in pain, but pushed down on the plunger anyway before he took it out and threw it in the trash bag hanging on a cheap plastic hook on the wall.

He made an awkward hobble to the kitchen to wipe up the mess his body had created, then yanked his pants up. He took deep, even breathes, hoping the suppressants would kick in, and soon. Usually it took half an hour for them to start their magic.

Of course, there was a cherry on top to all of this.

He went to the cheap store bought suppressant pills he kept in a drawer in the kitchen. He popped a couple of the pills out of their foil trappings and swallowed them down with the rest of the Burnett's in his fridge before he picked up his cigarette to take another drag before he put it out in an old bottle of his meal replacement drinks that was sitting on the counter, stinking up the place even more.

He made his way slowly over to his mattress, his body aching the whole way. He was horny as fuck. Even though he'd just wiped the fluids from himself, he could feel his muscles clenching as his glands filled up and spilled out. He groaned in frustration, dropping down onto his knees on the bed and falling over on his side.

On the upside, he thought as he shimmied out of his jeans and tossed them aside, at least he was having his heat in the privacy of his own home. He wasn't in the hands of some rich fat shit who would rape him without a second thought.

And for some insane, stupid reason, he thought of Jackson.

No doubt that alpha had made quite a few omegas happy during their heats. Most omegas probably accepted him willingly. He was totally not Luca's type, nobody really was, but Luca wasn't blind either. The guy was a hot piece of ass, with some brains to boot. A doctor? A surgeon? An alpha? Son to one of the most influential people in Sterling? Yeah, he had everything an omega would want in a mate. Rich, smart, and drop dead gorgeous.

Luca grimaced. But he didn't do any of those. He didn't do matings.

Sure, but it didn't hurt to fantasize a little.

With that in mind, Luca sighed as he rolled onto his back, reaching between his legs to take his cock in his hand. He breathed out another long, sigh as he stroked himself. His body immediately came to life in response. His cock twitched in his hand and he felt more juice spill from inside him and onto the bed.

Before he realized what he was doing, he was snagging Jackson's pants off the cardboard box and shoving his face into the thick material. He inhaled that rich earthy scent, that rainy warm spring filling his senses. He moaned as his skin tingled with sensitivity, his cock kicking in his palm, dribbling pathetic tears of relief at the attention. He fisted his cock with one hand while he laid Jackson's pants across his face as he reached back with his other hand to spread himself open.

His fingers slid in so easily, it was like he'd been stuffed his whole life. He moaned, rocking his fingers from knuckles to tip inside himself, his hand working at the head of his cock while he inhaled Jackson's scent.

He was reaching that delirious state of euphoria. He could feel it in the way his toes curled, his whole body tensed and surged forward and back. He wanted to find a nice steady rock that drew him closer that peak. And with each gasp, each whimper and moan, he took Jackson's scent in all the way to the back of his throat and he parted his lips in a cry of relief as he hit relief.

And he rode it, holy fuck, did he ride that orgasm for everything it was worth. His cock kicked and bucked, spilling across his abdomen and down the sides. His ass clenched tight around his fingers, helplessly sucking at something that wasn't going to give it what it wanted. The thought of a cock inside him, the thought of Jackson's cock inside him, the idea that he could carry the alpha's babies inside him, sent him charging over another wave of pleasure and he cried out again, rolling over onto his stomach and thrusting his hips up so he could jack his cock.

And he hated every second of it; goddamn, he hated every brutal sexual moment of it. He hated feeling like this; desperate and hungry and lewd. He hated how much he wanted to have sex with an alpha he'd never met before in his life, how much he wanted to have fucking babies, as if he was even fucking father material, let alone mate material. He hated that tiny part of him that craved the normalcy of it all. He didn't want to conform to society's dictation.

He didn't want to be another faceless omega in the sea of omegas. He didn't want to be happy at the thought of cradling a child that he'd made in his arms. He didn't want to be happy with the idea of taking care of said baby. He didn't want to be happy coming home to someone who loved him and wanted to see him.

He wanted to be an individual. He wanted to be different. He wanted to be recognized for something other than his ability to make children, than to be an alpha's pair. Fuck, he didn't even like being recognized as albino, because fucking hell, the world saw him as only titles they gave him and nothing more.

He wanted to be... Luca.

His pleasure turned into something dangerous then, he noted as he continued to tug at his cock helplessly, milking it for all it was worth. His body tingled and burned with fever. He felt the heat all the way to the tips of his ears, down to his toes. His body was seizing up, trembling as he struggled to find that peak again, only every time he neared it, it felt like it was being yanked back again.

Crying out in frustration, he rolled back over onto his back. He pressed Jackson's pants against his nose, inhaled that scent, struggling to find the delirious pleasure he'd had before. Except it wasn't getting to that point. He wasn't reaching orgasm, and the pleasure was turning painful. He was no longer feeling warm and sexual, but starved and sick. His body was feverish, his pale skin flushing a deep red in patches over his skin. His cock was even darkening in color, filling up with no escape route. His glands spilled so much fluid out that his sheets were soaked and he felt like he was drowning in himself.

A second later, he was rolling over the side of his bed and vomiting. Everything he'd eaten the night before came pouring out in a wave of horrid bile. He choked and retched, taking his hands away from himself, throwing Jackson's pants aside. He panted and scrambled for the box of suppressants, searching for the guide that usually came with the things, only to find that they had failed to send him a guide. All he got was an ingredient list, which wasn't fucking helpful considering most of the words were obscenely huge and confusing and sciencey.

Plus, it was getting hard to focus. His vision was getting staticy, his skin becoming so hypersensitive that he actually felt tears streaming down his face every time he moved. It felt as if the sheets on his bed were trying to sandpaper his skin off. His cock felt like it was getting pinched and pulled, even when he wasn't touching it. There was an unbearable ache in his ass too that his fingers were no longer satisfying.

Whimpering, he dragged his blanket around himself. He lay there for a good moment before he moaned in despair and rolled over to the edge of his bed to dry heave. He batted around at nothing, unsure how to get help until his hand came across a soft laminated card on the floor near his jeans and sick.

Fuck.