When I retire, I’m going to play that trick, but right now, I’m not going to take the risk of confusing them in case my favorite gloves somehow contribute to my game. IthinkI can tell. I’m always conscious of the fact that I’m wearing different gloves when I switch them out for whatever reason, but that might be all mental. BecauseI know.
I get to my feet and turn the shower on. Releasing the removable shower head from its hook, I spray down my pads to get rid of the soap and grime I washed away. The oxy detergent also makes my pads gleaming white, so when I use it, I can see if I missed a spot.
When they’re suds free, I turn the shower off and shake the excess water from my equipment. With as many pieces in my hands as I can carry, I run through my house to the three-season porch to let them air dry, leaving a trail of droplets behind me.
It’s November in the frozen north, though it’s not frozen yet. Itiscold, but the sun is out today. While I won’t say it’s doing much to heat up this part of the world, it’s contributing a little. The temperature is above freezing, which means I can let my pads dry in the outside air for probably the last time this season.
On my way inside, I pull my phone out and send Shively a text.
Me
Send me a pic of your dick.
It’s less than fifteen seconds later when a spinning circle appears, telling me that there’s a media message attempting to load.
Omega
*pic*
I’m not sure what he’s doing, but he’s standing and his cock is jutting away from his body like a rod. When I tap it and zoom in a bit, I can see drops of soap suds. Maybe he’s washing dishes or something.
Me
Good omega
When I got home this morning, I changed his name in my phone. He texted me while I was in the gym and told me he had a video meeting in twenty minutes so if he didn’t respond to a text, that was why and he’d let me know when he was out of the meeting.
I’d been sitting right beside Felton when “Coach Shively Myers” flashed across my screen with a text notification, making my heart race. I quickly closed out of it and looked around—casually, of course—to make sure no one saw.
And that is why I changed his contact name. Now that I have something else to call him and we’re sending pics of cocks, not faces, I think we’re safe if someone sneaks a peek. I should have done it from the beginning, even if I hadn’t had a name to call him yet.
“Omega,” I murmur, smirking as I head for the kitchen.
I’ve always had a fascination with omegaverse. There needs to be more in the world. Wait, let me clarify. There needs to be moregoodomegaverse in the world. I hate the ones that make all omegas innocent, naïve, and weak. That’s fucking lame.
Equally, I hate the ones where all members of a pack, if it’s the kind of omegaverse with packs, are only romantically and physically involved with the omega. I’m going to be the first to say that all polyamorous relationships are different and live by their own rules. There isn’t a set of guidelines that they’re handed and need to follow.
But the way so many of these books are written with a single omega getting four or five or more alphas’ undivided attention? Yeah, I don’t think so. Italwaysfeels forced to me. It doesn’t feel believable, not when they have no other relationships outside the pack. Not when the entire pack lives under one roof. And especially not when an established pack has been waiting years for their omega.
Are you really going to tell me that a group of alphas is celibate foryearswhile they wait for their omega? Nah, that’s stupid and stupidly unrealistic. At least, in my head it is. I don’t read those books. They get a big DNF all over them.
Or they would if I owned physical copies.
All that to say, I love omegaverse. Some more than others, of course. But I’m fascinated with the underlying theme of the omega and their alpha/s. While I love group dynamics in books, I’m not about it in real life for myself. My omega ismine,and I’m not sharing that tight ass nor his plethora of orgasms.
A shiver races down my spine, knowing that Shively is naked and hard right now. Even though I just asked for a pic, I demand another. Shively complies, and I sigh, looking at it. So fucking sexy. Look at that cock.
I have a feeling I could sit here and continue to stare at his pictures all day, but that defeats the purpose of coming to my house and allowing him time to finish his chores. Besides, I need to replenish my soup and cornbread for the week.
I’m in the middle of chopping my squash when my phone rings. Curious. Why would Ren be calling me? My stomach flips, my mind immediately settling on something being wrong with Felton. I wipe my hand on the towel and hit the answer button, immediately putting him on speaker.
“Hey,” I greet.
“Hi,” Ren answers. “This a good time?”
“Yep. Chopping squash. What’s up.”
“The other day, we were talking about calling more attention to diversity within hockey. I reached out to a couple other… uh… not-white players and ran it by them, and I think I have a handful on board.”
