Alpha Harris shifted slightly, just enough to scoot the chair back, giving me space to move between his legs.
“I had a feeling that you’d kneel again.” His hand found purchase on top of my head. It was light enough to remind me of my place, but also gentle in a way that I wasn’t used to.
I wanted to say things, wanted to lean into his touch. Instead, I breathed deep and kept myself as still as possible.
Kneeling was the go-to response for anything. It showed the Alpha, or even the Beta, that Omegas were beneath them. That they had the power to do whatever they wished of us.
“Have you eaten yet?”
“No, Sir.” Why would I eat without permission? I knew better than that, even if my stomach ached in hunger. Sneaking water was easy, food not so much.
“A new rule,” his fingers scraped against my scalp, enough to remind me of my place. “You are to eat three meals a day. If you make me something, make enough for you, too.”
“Yes, Sir.” I wanted to mutter the words, my chest feeling tight with unease. I felt as though I had already failed, and the day hadn’t even started.
I made a mental note to try harder, to be better. I’d show this man just how great I could be of service to him.
Lost in thought, I jerked when a piece of breakfast on a fork was pressed against my lips. On autopilot, I opened my mouth, allowing him to slip it against my tongue.
“I do enjoy feeding you,” he mused between bites. “But the next meal, I expect you to sit in a chair.”
I couldn’t reply, as he fed me another bite. I chewed slowly, letting the flavor settle across my tongue.
Either I’d become a better cook than I remembered, or I was just that hungry, because I couldn’t recall a simple ham and egg omelet ever tasting this good.
Perfectly seasoned. Warm. Familiar in a way that felt foreign.
I could’ve argued. Told him I’d make my own food, that he didn’t need to waste time on me. But I didn’t. Because being fed—without expectation—felt like something else entirely.
Something tender. Something I hadn’t known I was missing.
With each bite, a small piece of me settled.
The food was gone sooner than I wanted, but it left me fuller than I’d felt in a long time, especially after the first meal of the day.
I let myself lean gently against Alpha Harris’s leg, the motion instinctive, uncalculated. His hand returned to my hair, fingertips grazing my scalp in slow, absent circles.
It wasn’t possessive. Just a steady rhythm.
If I’d been capable of purring, that would’ve been the moment. Instead, I stayed still, letting the warmth settle where it could.
Not joy. Not safety. But something close enough to pretend.
My eyes slid closed, soaking up the touch that for once, didn’t hurt. It was so out of the ordinary, I could only bask in its pleasure for however long it existed.
After a few silent minutes, Alpha Harris scooted his chair back, stood, then helped me to stand. My knees ached, but it was ignorable.
Once, I’ve knelt for nearly a whole six hours in different poses without a single break. Just orders of different positions until I got each one just perfect.
Before I could reach for the empty plate, Alpha Harris had already taken it from me.
“Finish your water,” he said, calm but firm. “Then meet me in the living room.”
I nodded and drank the rest in one go, the coolness settling in my chest like a weight I didn’t mind carrying.
The house was quiet as I moved, each step measured. In the living room, I lowered myself to my knees beside the couch, the motion automatic, familiar. I didn’t speak. Just waited. Sometimes silence said more than words ever could.
“Have you heard of the term cockwarming?” His voice was smooth and low, yet I still jerked.
