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He assesses me over his shoulder. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” I squeeze his hip.

“Good. I need you to knot me.”

Omegas in heat are needy, but they aren’t inherently selfish. Niall just cares a little more about himself than he cares about me. I know that. I was okay with that. But I’m not okay with that if I’m forfeiting Tyler.

Niall squirms, rearranging himself until my fingers slide into the groove of his crack. He smells delicious, like lilies and spring, and I focus on that as I massage his hole with his slick. I’m trying to get into it, but I feel detached from my body, preoccupied with worry while I force myself to prep him for another round.

The thing about being in a relationship is that taking care of your omega’s heat falls to you. I can’t call in sick. I have to satisfy him. I can’t just toss a toy at him and call it a day.

With a yawn, I straddle his legs and kiss between his shoulder blades. Then I slide a finger inside him.

“Mm.” He looks over his shoulder with heavy lids. “More.”

“Okay.” I add another finger.

“More,” he whines, too loud, loud enough to wake Tyler.

I hush him. “I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.” Hopefully that sounded sexy instead of annoyed. I’m not sure. I add a third finger before I even scissor him open.

Niall hisses, then whimpers.

“Sorry.” I need to get my shit together before I hurt him.

“No. I like it,” he says on a long moan. “I love when you’re rough with me.”

I don’t, and he knows that. He’s had more than one rant about how he wishes I were more dominant. Like other alphas, he usually adds. I get it, but that’s not how I operate. It’s never been like that for me. My dominance mixes pleasure and praise. Not pain.

His scent is so strong, I can taste it in the air. But it’s too sweet, sickeningly so, like I just took a sip of coffee with too much creamer. My morning wood softens.

Shit. I fuck my fingers into him with no finesse or rhythm, buying myself time to give my cock a pep talk. When that doesn’t work, I try something I’ll regret later. I think about Tyler.

I’ve fantasized about him on and off over the years, but I try not to because I always feel ashamed and paranoid after I get off, like somehow he can tell. In those fantasies, I’m usually topping him.

My dick finally takes interest, so I run with the fantasy as I slowly sink into Niall, pretending he’s Tyler. It’s so fucked up, I know, but I can’t turn it off. I imagine how he’d feel inside, what it would be like to hold his firm, strong body, nothing like the petite omegas society tells us we’re supposed to fuck.

It takes only a few minutes for me to finish, and while Niall dozes with my knot inside him, my fantasy keeps rolling, and it’s Tyler I’m holding.

Once my knot softens, I dart out to the kitchen to restock on food and drinks. Tyler’s door opens. His hair’s all mussed, brown eyes troubled. His ocean scent is stronger, stormy almost, and I breathe him in like oxygen as he joins me in the kitchen.

He fills a glass with water. “You okay?”

His voice is rough with sleep. I’m the only one who gets to hear it. That sound belongs to me.

“Alden?”

I clear my throat. “Yeah, thanks.”

He takes a long swig of his water, gaze unwavering on me as he drinks, like it’s me he wants to taste, like he knows I just got off to him.

I track the bob of his Adam’s apple. “I can’t stop thinking about what you said.”

He sets the empty cup on the counter and waits. He looks at me, looks at me for so long, it’s like he’s removing each piece of my clothing and exposing me.

“I don’t want you to move out.”

“I don’t want to either,” he says.