Except it wasn’t. Dylan liked when August sat on him, his big butt pushing him down into the mattress and making it hard to get enough air into his lungs, his pretty cock leaking a steady stream of pre-come all over his face. It was fun.
It wasn’t even a real addiction, Dylan fumed. Addictions were a disease that could be managed. This was more like having kidney disease and needing to get dialysis every week – except instead of getting hooked up to a machine to have his blood cleaned, Dylan needed to get fucked full of come.
Remembering how empty and desperate he’d felt – how the hollow feeling inside of him had seemed to grow and grow until he’d felt like he was going to go crazy – terrified him.
Having sex with August and Ryker wasn’t scary – he’d enjoyed every single encounter he’d had with the two alphas – but depending on them not to feel that horrible yearning empty feeling, that terrified him.
Thinking about it – about how August and Ryker could use his dependency like a weapon if they ever got into a fight – had his pulse ratcheting into overdrive and his stomach feeling like he was going to throw up.
They wouldn’t do that, Dylan told himself. Even if they were fighting, August and Ryker weren’t the kind of people who’d resort to torturing him just because they were mad.
Calming down, Dylan pushed the cover down and stared up at the ceiling. He traced the contours of the stain from the water damage after the leak in the apartment above his, wondering absently if it had gotten bigger or if it was just his imagination.
He decided to send a notice to the building manager, just in case.
Crawling out from beneath his comforter, anxiety simmering in his stomach like milk in a hot pan threatening to boil over, Dylan grabbed his laptop and propped himself up against the wall. He typed out a quick email, taking a picture of the ceiling and uploading it as an attachment, and sent it off.
He was about to close his laptop and burrow back under his covers when he decided he might as well try to do a little research. Anxiety creeping in his stomach, he opened his browser and typed in the wordomega. He hit search, holding his breath as the results loaded.
The whole first page of results was for the watchmaker brand. Since Dylan was not in the market for a new watch, he went back to the search box and added the wordwerewolf.
This time the results were slightly more relevant, though not by much. Dylan scanned the articles and websites listed on the first two pages of search results, but there was nothing that looked like it talked about human omegas. All the information was about the hierarchy of natural wolves and how that hierarchy compared to the ones found in werewolf packs, comparing the two and pointing out that werewolves didn’t organize their packs the same way real wolves did.
Amending his search to include the wordsspermandaddictiondid nothing but bring up links to werewolf porn. Dylan hit the back button and decided to dig deeper into the results from his previous search.
He clicked on a video from a man who’d befriended a wolf pack of the non-werewolf kind, mostly because the wolves in the thumbnail were adorable. His opinion on the wolves’ adorableness changed when he saw the video. It was all about the omega of the pack, and how the other wolves picked on him during the mating season.
That sent Dylan down a research spiral on wolves and their pack dynamics, and the information he found did nothing to comfort him. In wolf packs omegas were the most subordinate member of the pack, and some of the videos he saw showed some truly alarming behavior.
That werewolves had given the title of omega to the humans who became addicted to them was not a good sign.
Closing the lid on his laptop, Dylan pushed his computer away and huddled back under his covers. He burrowed his face into his pillow, closing his eyes and flashing back to the day before when he’d accepted Ryker’s offer to suck August’s cock in exchange for drinking their piss.
He hadn’t even considered saying no.
The memory terrified him. He’dneededAugust’s cock, so much so that he would have let Ryker demean and humiliate him however he liked if it only meant he got to taste August’s cock. Anything would have been worth it to feel August’s rock-hard length sliding over his tongue.
He would have done anything they asked.
Lifting his knees up to his chest and hugging himself tight, Dylan couldn’t help but think about all the things August and Ryker might inadvertently pressure him into trying.
He remembered Ryker smacking his ass with the riding crop, dragging the leather flap over his skin and nudging at his balls, August’s warning that Ryker was into cock and ball torture ringing in his ears. It had felt so soft, the leather cool against his sac, but he’d known instinctually how much even a gentle tap would hurt.
There was no way Dylan could handle getting his balls whipped, and yet he knew without a doubt that if Ryker had come to him yesterday morning before his mishap in the shower, promising to fuck him if he got to spank his balls, he would have said yes.
In a heartbeat.
Dylan was startled out of his worries by a sharp knock on his door. He froze, pushing the covers down over his face and staring at the door with his breath caught in his chest.
What if it was August or Ryker? Dylan wasn’t ready to face either of them. He stayed still, waiting for them to go away.
“Dylan, are you in there?” Annie called from the other side of the door, sounding worried. “Are you feeling okay?”
Dylan slumped back, relieved that he wouldn’t have to face August and Ryker. He got out of bed and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and opened the door.
“Hi, what’s up?” he said, brushing his hand through his hair.
Annie glared at him.
