gronch

anonymous asked:

so uh...you doing prompts? #6 the handcuffed in a cabin one or forced proximity? yeah, yeah, all that. I am not a trash possum...lol

So this is nothing at all like the prompt but I asked the trash possum that did not send me this if it was ok they said yes lol.


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The infuriating scent of one particular omega was following Nigel around.

He smelled it every damn morning in the gas station where he bought his cigarettes, even sometimes late at night when no one in their right fucking mind should be coming out especially an unmated omega.

Also in the park where he watched the stars nearly every evening after getting off from the bar, forcing himself not to wander the entire park for the fourth time trying to find the source.

The worst of it was that he was almost certain the smell was coming from someone who lived in his building, but he’d never smelled this omega before and when he asked got cagey looks from most of the other tenants.

“Fuck, it’s not like I’m going to maul him. Just please tell me who…”

Mrs. Gronch poked him in the chest for the fourth time that week, stepping up into his space, “You leave him alone! He’s a good boy!”

So Nigel was resigned to smelling his elusive omega and jerking off to memories of the scent more often than he even went out to fuck a real omega. His hormones were in a fucking frenzy, he once found the scent particularly strong at the supermarket aisle near the macaroni and cheese, grabbing boxes and sniffing them like an animal till the manager told him to leave.

He ate macaroni for a fucking week straight till his senses were right again.

This went on for nearly fourteen weeks before the omega made his appearance, but before that he stopped being anywhere at all.

Nigel went through a withdrawal the likes of which he’d never known, scouring a fourteen block radius and going to the omega’s favorite places ripping apart bushes in the park after he found an old bottle that still smelled fairly of his omega and taking it home to sleep beside.

Oh he was fairly certain now that the omega was his.

The research he’d done about this proved that, natural scent and true mates. Nigel was the proud half of a true mated pair, which was cause for celebration according to Darko who ignored the gaunt look of his cheeks and the shaking.

He went a week without his omega’s scent until one morning he woke to a shirt hanging off the back of his doorknob.

Nigel whimpered and held the shirt to his face all damn day, tearing up at the scent and moaning as he clutched.

He didn’t realize there was something in the shirt pocket until it fell on the floor a little after midnight, a piece of a paper with a phone number.

Nigel grabbed his cell off the bedside table quickly, his hands shaking as he dialed and waited for an answer.

“It’s very late.”

He inhaled, closing his eyes before letting out a breath. “Darling, I don’t give a fuck what time it is.”

A pause.

“Mrs. Gronch says you’re upsetting to look at and she thinks you’re a bad alpha.”

Nigel sneers, “That fucking…”

“You swear a lot.”

He bites his tongue, the idea that some goddamn old woman would even be able to ruin this for him making him tense.

“My father doesn’t want me to meet you, but I told him that we’re true mates so he’s kind of impressed that you’ve held out for so long.”

Nigel relaxes, chuckling. “Is he? Your alpha.”

“My father isn’t an alpha, he’s a beta. I work from home, so I’ve never met many alphas who weren’t strangers, but I’ve seen you.”

Nigel can feel his body relaxing at the sound of his omega’s voice, the approval mixed in with a natural soothing tone making him sleepy. “Darling, I’m fading.”

The omega pauses. “Soothing?”

“Yes.”

Another pause. “I’d like to see that. What does it feel like?”

Nigel can barely keep his eyes open as he mumbles, “Falling into a warm bath, listening to my favorite song in all the goddamn world.”

“My name is Adam,” the omega sighs, “Adam Raki.”

“Nigel,” he can barely get out before he falls.

When Nigel wakes up he feels better than he has in weeks, hurrying to the door and down the stairs to stare at the names beside the buzzers.

Raki is written in neat block letters for 312, and he rushes up two extra flights from his own place to knock on his omega’s door. The minute it’s opened and he sees Adam Raki for the first time, smells him close, and hears, “Nigel,” he does the strangest damn thing.

He faints, falls right over into a heap, and minutes later he’s woken by Adam scenting his neck. They’re in a bed, Adam’s bed, and he can feel his cock full and rock hard as Adam writhes against him.

“Darling…”

Adam lifts his head, his pupils blown, mouth wet, and Nigel groans when he smells slick in the air.

“Alpha.”

Old man Raki comes home three hours later to his son pink cheeked and fully sated, Nigel grinding against his bare ass to spill and forcing himself not to give the mating bite to someone he’s only just met.

He’s barely able to stop himself from biting before he comes, howling as Adam pulls him into a kiss and the door closes with a slam just as Nigel shakes as he spills against Adam’s hole.

For almost a year Michael Raki won’t even let him back into their apartment, but who the fuck cares?

Adam prefers his place before long anyway.