Real by Amy Bellows
Buddy
H is quiet while he drives, but it’s not a calm quiet like this morning. His fingers are clutching the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are white.
I think that phone call was more than an invitation to see Candlewick. Was it related to me, or is there something else going on at the sanctuary? I wish I knew.
I reach out tentatively and put my hand on his knee, the way he does sometimes for me. He jerks his head in my direction, surprised.
“Sorry,” I mutter, withdrawing. I don’t know what I was thinking. He doesn’t want comfort from me. He doesn’t even know me.
He grasps my hand and brings it back to his knee. I glance up at his pretty eyes. There’s no annoyance or anger there, just kindness. It makes me want to melt into him and rest my head on his shoulder.
I wonder what it felt like for those omegas who got to be with him during their heats. I’m sure he took good care of them. He probably comforted them and said sweet things to them while they writhed in agony. Or maybe they didn’t feel agony at all because he filled them so well.
Why do I keep on thinking about things like that?
“How far away is the jail?” I ask, glancing at the clock. It’s only half past three. It’s winter, and the sunset will come pretty early, but I still can’t blame my fixation with H on my longing. It shouldn’t start for at least two more hours.
“About forty minutes,” H says.
That’s cutting it close. What if my heat starts on the way home? Then H would find out how bad I smell. He might even end up trapped inside the car with my stench.
“Maybe we shouldn’t go.” After all, if H is just going to give Candlewick my message, he could do that over the phone, right?
“We need to. Is everything okay? Do you need to go to the bathroom or…” he trails off. “Your heat starts at sunset. What time is sunset tonight?”
“About two hours.”
He swears under his breath. “Maybe we can stop at a motel or something. We can find someplace in town to buy a knotting dildo too. I’m sorry. I should have thought of that earlier. I’ll make my visit with Candlewick quick, okay?”
Candlewick’s talked about knotting dildos before. He even asked if I wanted one, but I don’t.
“That’s okay. I don’t need a dildo. Just a closet or a small space,” I say.
“Are you sure? Is there some other toy you’d find more satisfying?”
I shake my head. “Sex toys aren’t satisfying. They’re just silicone and plastic.”
Silicone and plastic are worthless.
H turns his focus toward the road. “Okay, but for what it’s worth, I think plastic can feel good sometimes.”
I glance at him quickly just to make sure he isn’t joking around. His expression is serious. Does that mean H likes plastic sex toys? I can’t ask him that, can I? It would be too personal.
Besides, just because he likes a fleshlight doesn’t mean he’d want something like me. I’m worse than a sex toy. I smell bad, and I’m shaped all wrong. Dorian made that very clear.
But what about my mouth or my hands? People have sex with those, don’t they?
I need to stop thinking about this. H would never have sex with me.
“What kind of plastic feels good?” I ask, even though I shouldn’t.
I only have a few hours before I have to go back to Dorian.
H opens his mouth, then shuts it again. “I just meant… I’m sorry.”
Right. He probably doesn’t use sex toys. Like all alphas, I’m sure H prefers real sex over messing around with a hunk of plastic.
A wave of loneliness washes over me. If all the lawyers are right and I was created by some warlock for Dorian, that means I’m nothing but a discarded sex doll. Somebody’s fuckup. A walking mistake.
I hug my knees to my chest and close my eyes. Dorian was right. I belong in a dark closet where no one has to look at me.
“Buddy, it’s okay if you don’t want a dildo. Heats are very personal. What can I do to make your heat easier for you tonight?”
I shake my head. For some reason, I feel very emotional right now. H is just talking about plastic and offering to help me. Why do I feel so sad?
While H drives, I notice his scent keeps getting stronger. It gets to the point where I feel overwhelmed by it.
In the back of my mind, I know what this means. I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about sex, and I don’t have a sensitive nose. Not until I’m about to go into heat.
I don’t know how long I have. I rarely start my heat early. The only exception is when I can hear Dorian having sex. Maybe being with H triggered something inside me.
If I can stop thinking about sex, maybe I can stave it off until we get to the jail. If I can make myself come a few times, I might be finished by the time H is done visiting Candlewick. I can use some of the extra clothes in the back to cover myself up and air out the car as much as possible before H returns.
Or I could tell him I’m about to go into heat early. He might take me to a motel like he promised. Or he might guess what made my heat start early. What would he do if he knew how much I wanted him? And what will I do if I know he’s just outside the motel room? The first months with Dorian, I shamelessly begged him to fuck me despite the names he called me in response. Will I be able to control myself around H?
Probably not.
It’s better if he’s visiting Candlewick during my heat. Or maybe I just think that because I’m getting close to my heat and my logic is fuzzy. I can’t be sure.
All I know is that I’m too scared to tell H what’s going on.