UchiSays: I love you patient people so much. I'm terribly sorry about neglecting you so long. Honestly, it wasn't until November that I realized how much time had passed, at which point I was neck deep in NaNoWriMo and put all other projects on hold. Then, when I was finally able to start writing, I found difficulty putting my ideas down. I'm still not wholly satisfied with this chapter, but if I didn't get it update today, I wouldn't be able to for at least another week.
I promised "sexy times" in this chapter, and I kinda kept that promise. What I should have said was "solo sexy times" and even that went kinda askew. I can make no promises as to when this will be updated again, all I can do is beg your patience. Please be patient.
Also, much love to my dearest Lessie who spent her morning cleaning this up while I slept like a baby.
Chapter Ten: Need
"Thank you," Spencer said, stepping to the side and letting the officer carrying the two cases of bottled water he'd bought pass him and enter the apartment. "Just set it over there, please." He made a vague gesture towards a corner of the living that wasn't currently overrun with books.
They'd been called on the Jewell case suddenly and Spencer had been in the middle of researching some things, meaning he'd had multiple books open and spread around him on the floor. Too many to put away before heading to the office, so the books had remained where they were. There really wasn't anywhere in the living room for the officer to set the cases of water, not that it mattered; as soon as the officer left, Spencer would move the water to his bedroom along with the supply of granola bars in the bags hanging from him arms.
Bottled water and granola bars: standard Heat food. During his Heat, he wouldn't be able to focus on anything other than his body's demands for sexual relief, so cooking himself meals were out of the question. It was actually a great achievement to pull himself out of the Heat haze enough to stay hydrated and force down the granola bars. Eating and drinking would quite literally be the last thing on his mind, but going through Heat was physically demanding and he would need the nutrients.
That was another downside to going through Heat alone. If he had an alpha with him, the Alpha would take on the task of keeping him fed and hydrated so as not to do his body damage. Spencer's body was already accustomed to missing meals anyway, though, because of his tendency to throw himself into a task and forget that his body needed more than sugar and caffeine to function.
There was actually a lot of downsides to going through Heat alone, and no upsides at all. Well, there was an upside to being an FBI agent going through Heat alone. That being the security detail offered to him. To keep wayward Alphas who happened to catch a whiff of mateless Omega Heat pheromones away from him, two Beta officers were stationed outside his apartment. One of the officers was the one currently dropping the two cases of bottled water on the floor at the head of the hallway.
"Thank you," Spencer said again.
The officer nodded his head. "No problem. If you need anything else, my partner and I will be right downstairs."
Spencer gave a small smile, the only thing he could think to do other than saying 'thank you' again. The officer stepped out of the apartment and Spencer watched him head down the stairs, before closing and locking the door. There were five locks on his door, which seemed paranoid but was a necessary precaution for being mateless in Heat. He raised his wrist and glanced at his watch.
His Stage 1 Heat had already made a reappearance while he'd been in the office trying to finish as much paperwork as he could before his week away. Because he'd used suppressants already, the Stage 1 had hit him without any of the subtlety as before. He'd drank nearly a gallon of water between leaving the office and getting home. His body knew it would be losing a lot of fluids soon, so it was trying to stock up.
If Spencer was right about the timing, he would be moving into the next, actual Heat, stage of his heat within the next hour. He could already feel the fever building beneath his skin and the fog settling at the corners of his mind.
He forced himself to take a deep breath and went through his usual pre-Heat routine. He checked all the windows to make sure they were secured with the blinds closed. He lifted the cases of water and placed them on one of his hard-bottomed dining chairs. He pushed the chair down the hall into his bedroom where he left it next to his bed, moving the water from the seat to the floor. All small or sharp objects were removed from reach of the bed. His supply of granola bars were removed from their boxes and lined up on one of the bedside tables. There was one more thing he needed to prepare in the bedroom, but it could wait.
He journeyed back the living room and focused on cleaning up his scattered books instead. He gathered as many of them into his arms as he could fit and started putting them in their proper places on his already overfilled bookcases.
It hit him all at once, like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of him. The books in his arms fell to the floor, followed shortly by Spencer himself as he dropped to his knees with a strangled moan. A shiver passed through his whole body, leaving a familiar heat in it's wake. There was usually more build up. Like the rising action leading to the climax in a story plot diagram. Usually he'd get a persistent erection, first, and the overwhelming urge to touch himself; an urge he would have to deny because what offered him relief during the first hours of heat wouldn't be enough later and he would have to find new ways to get the needed release.
It was because of the suppressants, even just the little bit he had taken, that his body skipped the build up. It was like a thunderstorm with no cloudy precursor. Just the sudden onset of a heat so intense it left him breathless.
Energy thrummed beneath his skin like something electric and dangerous. His fingers clawed at the carpet as he forced himself to breathe deeply and focused. He needed to get to his bedroom. He needed to get the box from his closet while he still had something resembling clarity of mind to do so.
Getting to his feet was a chore. His legs felt like overcooked noodles. His clothes felt itchy and uncomfortable against his clammy skin. He tripped over his own feet trying to get to the wall to lean on for support. His cock was hard in his pants, straining so much against his zipper he could feel the metal teeth through his underwear. It was a struggle not to reach down and adjust it, but he knew if he touched himself now, he was likely to lose his mind later.
The wall supported his stumbled trip to the bedroom, but he had to lean heavily against the door to regain his bearings once he got there. He'd miscalculated somewhere. He'd forgotten how quickly his Heat set on after the use of suppressants for even such a short time. The fever was coming on quickly and his whole body was crying out with the need to mate-the need for an alpha to come and touch him, to fill him.
He felt so empty, so alone, so out of place in his own skin. He needed to be touched, needed to be filled, needed to be fucked. He wasn't going to survive without it. He needed it so badly, he thought he would cry.
Another deep, somewhat shaky, breath later, he pushed himself off the door and crossed the room as quickly as his shaking legs allowed.
Truth be told, Spencer was embarrassed by his Heat. He was ashamed of his body's desires. It was one thing to be aroused or horny, everyone had those base urges, but it was another thing entirely to need with every fiber of his being to be fucked, to be used. To have his body and his mind turn against him. To become incapable of the most basic human function and care only about having something up his ass. Even though he could never fully recall what he did while in a complete Heat Haze, he desires he had during these early hours gave him enough insight to know the things he did while not in full control of his mental functions were quite shameful.
That was why he kept the box hidden in the closet: away from anywhere he could stumble across it in day-to-day life. Out of sight; out of mind. But now he needed it. His body was pleading for it. His gut was in knots. His heart was pounding. His mind was screaming. He was so hot and so hard and he needed relief.
Spencer made a mess of the closet, knocking items off the shelf and clothes off the hangers, in his scramble to get the box. If he didn't get it now, he wouldn't have the presence of mind to get it later and would end up hurting himself when he became truly desperate. Things were fuzzy and hot right now, but he hadn't gone truly into a Heat Haze yet and things weren't nearly as bad as they would get.
Finally, he had the box grasped firmly in hand. He carried it across the room and set it down on the bed. He ignored it's presence as he set about ridding himself of all his clothes, pulling of his sweater vest in one jerky movement and slowly undoing each of his buttons until his shirt slid off his shoulders and fell to the floor. Removing his pants took a bit more care and effort. He needed to avoid stimulating his aroused penis as much as possible. Even the little pressure on his crotch from unfastening the button was enough to pull a whimper from pursed lips.
Usually he would have waited longer to remove his pants. The longer he restrained himself in the early hours of his Heat, the less difficulty he would have later. But the suppressants had thrown everything off. He'd been in full Heat for less than an hour, but he was feeling things with an intensity that usually came four or five hours in. He was hoping that acting now as if it really had been hours since the Heat had started, he would be able to get through the first Haze no worse for wear.
His cock was so hard that it forced down his zipper the moment his button pulled free and stood there tenting the cotton of his boxer shorts, a damp circle of the fabric attesting to just how much precome was already leaking from him.
Statistically, most Omegas had smaller penises than Betas and Alphas. Their bodies weren't designed to impregnate others, in fact they had a very hard time doing so. Omegas produced the same amount of sperm as the average Alpha or Beta, but not all that sperm was viable. During sexual intercourse, sperm cells traveled from the testicles to the Omega's pseudo-uterus to act as egg cells. Omegas were simultaneously as fertile as a Beta male with low sperm count and a female during ovulation. Because they were not meant to be doing the impregnating, Omega males had no use for a large penis. Not to say there weren't any outliers from these statistics.
Careful not to actually touch his erection, Spencer slid his pants and boxer shorts down his pale thighs and let them pool at his ankles. Spencer's penis was about average length for an Omega at about four inches fully erect and about two inches in girth. It was a nice penis, if Spencer did say so himself. It was smooth and uncut. His pale skin was flushed a pleasant pink, the round glans peeping through the slowly retracting foreskin a darker red color. A clear bead of precome pooled at the tip. It seemed to radiate heat.
Once completely naked, Spencer settled himself in the center of the bed. The cool sheets felt amazing against his bare skin. His heart was pounding in his chest as he finally allowed himself to touch. He slowly thumbed back the foreskin of his cock, fully revealing the moist glans to the chilled hair. A little thrill of pleasure shot through him and his breath caught in his chest. Pinching his foreskin between just two fingers, he slid it back up and over his penis head. An involuntary noise of pleasure slipped from his throat.
Making himself resist the desire to wrap his hand full around his cock and tug at it until he reached orgasm was almost too much. He forced himself to concentrate on and be content with the contact he was allowing himself. Just gentle, almost teasing, touches on the head of his penis. Sliding the foreskin up and down, biting back groans at the stimulation of his frenulum.
He kept the movements slow and steady, constantly adjusting the amount of pressure he applied. He could almost get himself off with this, just by playing the foreskin on his engorged cock. Almost. But not quite. Spencer lowered his other hand to his testicles. He cupped the heavy sacks and rolled them in his palm. The sensation wrangled and extra loud cry from him.
He continued playing with his balls, ignoring the twitching and hungry hole just on the other side of his taint, and slid his fingers down the entire length of his shaft. His lower lips was pulled between his teeth as his tried to hold back the noises building in chest. His hips bucked off the bed, seeking more contact without his expressed consent.
God, he needed to more. He really needed to do more. But the more he held out now, the better control he would have later. But he could feel it there. The Haze looming over him, dark and inevitable. It was pulling him in. He could barely remember why he was denying his body what it so desperately needed. There was a gnawing ache within, telling him just what he needed. Begging for it.
Spencer released his hold on himself and reached for his box instead. The lid came off easily and what he needed first was right on top. "The Lube Shooter" was a discreet purchase he'd made in a small shop in Las Vegas years ago. It was a very handy object to have during solo heats. The plastic applicator was reusable, though the applicator tips were meant for single uses and he had to regularly purchase more. He kept the tube already filled with a silicone based lubricant and wrapped in plastic. The plastic was discarded without a thought.
Resituating himself on the bed, Spencer laid flat on his back and bent his knees. He spread his thighs as far as he could and bypassed his straining prick to gently probe at the crinkled flesh of his anal sphincter. It opened to his exploring finger easily, but Spencer only pressed in to his first knuckle before pulling his finger free. The rubber tipped head of the Lube Shooter applicator took the place of his finger. The tube was five inches long and not much wider than his finger. It slid in without difficulty and Spencer pressed down on the plunger quickly.
It was always weird squirting lubricant inside of him with the lube injector. It always felt so sudden, one moment he was empty and the next a viscous fluid was spilling out it ass. It was quicker and more efficient that trying to apply lube with his finger (and a lot less messy) which made it great for use during his Heats. He pulled the now empty tube out of his anus and discarded it over the side of the bed.
Laying back, Spencer once more prodded his hole with a questing finger. The whole length of the digit slid inside the lubricated orifice and he gently moved it around until he felt it had been stretched enough. The single finger soon joined by another and he greeted the intrusion with a pleased moan. Slowly, he thrusted his fingers, each drag and pull of his muscles were rewarded with another moan. Spencer wrapped his hand fully around his dick and gave a sharp tug.
The Haze hit him all at once. One second he was gently exploring his body, the next moment he was clearly aware of found him on his knees with one of the dildos from his box hanging half out his ass as he doused his bedclothes in semen. He did not recall the transition from one state to the next, he was not sure how much time had passed or of what, in any specific terms, had transpired during that time.
Breathless and boneless, he collapsed against the bed and stared unseeingly at the ceiling. His cock was still hard despite the sticky mess now covering his hands and bed. He could feel the energy thrumming beneath his skin. His whole body ached, not from the strain of the deeds he'd just committed, but because they weren't enough. Fucking himself with a dildo and jerking off wasn't what he needed. He needed and a real person, a lover, an Alpha.
Tears spilled unbidden down his cheeks. This was torture. Why was he doing this to himself? Why was he alone? What was so wrong with him that no alpha would come to him in his time of need? Even he could smell strong enticing scent of his pheromones permeating every bit of air in the room. He smelled strong and fertile, so why was no one coming to breed him?
A keening cry built in his chest and Spencer had to bite down on his pillow to keep is silent. He had to remember that he didn't want an Alpha. The Haze made him forget the important things, but he was slowly falling away. He did not want an Alpha, despite what his instincts said. He had no desire to be bred. There was nothing wrong with him other than the fact that he was stronger than his nature. He was strong enough to do this on his own.
Head slightly more clear than what it had just been, Spencer started to set himself to rights. Priorities: hydration and nutrition. He had no idea how many times he'd climaxed while in the depths of the Haze, he needed to rehydrate himself and get something in his stomach so he could keep up his strength.
With a low whimper, he pulled the dildo from his bum and rolled over onto his back. He needed to act fast, because there was no telling when the next Haze would hit. He pushed himself to an upright position and reached, first, for one of the granolas bars on his bedside table. After he'd ripped open the wrapper and bit off a large chunk, Spencer forced himself to bend over the side of the bed and grab a bottle of water from one of the cases. He gulped it down as if it was the first drink he'd had in days.
In his next moment of awareness, Spencer was no longer on his bed. He was straddling the chair he'd brought to the room earlier. One of his larger dildos was suction cupped to the wooden bottom of the seat, and Spencer was gripping the back of the chair as he impaled himself over and over on the realistically textured length.
Something was different about this awareness. It wasn't true awareness, it was more of an out of body experience. His Heat still had complete hold on his body. He could still feel the Haze thick around his mind; it didn't seem as if it would retreat anytime soon. Something had coaxed this awareness out of him even though he still deep within a Haze. His body was out of his control, but his mind was alert. He didn't understand… until he all of a sudden did.
Alpha, his inner omega whispered. There was an alpha very near to him. Part of him knew that this was a cause for concern, but his rational thought was not ruling his mind. The omega in him was crying with joy at the thought of an alpha coming to him, even as he continued to rock his body on the dildo inside on him, gripping tightly at the wooded back of the chair as the latex phallus rubbed against his prostate. His cock rubbed uncomfortably against the polished wood of the chair and if he was still deep in his Haze, he wouldn't have cared, but this strange awareness he was feeling now prompted Spencer to take himself in hand and relieve the pressure and discomfort.
He'd only managed a few strokes before his body stilled completely. He couldn't hold in the keen that built in his chest this time. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he cried out. The alpha was gone. He'd come so close and had turned away. Had left him despite how obvious his need was. Surely the alpha had smelt the pheromones he was releasing. Did he find his displeasing? Was Spencer so undesirable? This was the second alpha to move away from him when their instincts should have been bringing them closer.
Spencer sobbed, his body aching but his heart hurting even more. He released his hold on the back of the chair and slumped down in the seat, ignoring the fact that the action had pressed the synthetic penis into him all the way to the base. He could still feel his Heat under this skin, but the Haze was retreating. It wouldn't stay away long, he knew. It was only retreating because he'd suffered something of a shock to his system. Once he calmed down, it would be back. Back and demanding more.
But, what was the point? What use had he of breeding cycles if no alpha desired to breed him?
"You're not thinking clearly," Spencer whispered to himself. But he was, wasn't he? No alpha wanted him. Quite clearly he could remember Derek moving away the moment the caught scent of Spencer's need. The only alpha he'd ever wanted had rejected him. And now this unknown alpha that had been outside his apartment had rejected him, too.
"You don't want some unknown alpha," Spencer told himself. Which was true. He wanted Derek. But, as mentioned, Derek had already rejected him. "Then why would he claim you? If he doesn't want you, why claim you?" To protect him, of course. Derek's claim was a friendly one of protection. He had no desire for Spencer. Soon he was going to find an omega that he did want, and Spencer would be left alone.
But that wasn't right. That wasn't true. Derek would never leave him. What had he said when JJ asked about claims and bonds. "I claimed the one I want. I'm waiting for him to be ready for the bond."
Derek was waiting for him. That was all that mattered.
His Heat went back into the unpredictable cycles of Hazes and plateaus. He mostly remembered to eat and drink water. The ache he was feeling from his loneliness could be felt down to his bones, but he did his best to satisfy his body's urges. Finally, he came out of a Haze and could feel his Heat drifting away with it.
He collapsed against the bed and fell into the first real sleep he'd had in days.