The tension in the room was suffocating. Alex stood frozen, his mind struggling to process what Damien had just said. Damien wanted to move in? Today? The sheer audacity of the statement left Alex dumbfounded, and his brain couldn't keep up with the whirlwind of emotions that followed. It was a strange feeling—one of disbelief mixed with an undeniable sense of dread.
Alex's family reacted in much the same way. His father, a man of few words and even fewer expressions, had turned a color somewhere between pale and furious. His mother, on the other hand, hadn't even attempted to hide her displeasure, her tight-lipped expression the perfect reflection of her disapproval. Still, as the seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity, they had no choice but to agree. What could they do? Damien was stubborn, and once he had set his mind to something, there was no talking him out of it.
Despite the overwhelming sense of discomfort, they tried to push the situation aside for the moment. The coffee and desserts arrived, a distracting attempt to bring some semblance of normalcy back to the table. But as soon as Alex took a sip of the coffee, the warmth and bitterness hit him in waves. His stomach churned violently, and his throat tightened.
Before he could even process the feeling, the contents of his stomach surged upward. His vision blurred, and the room seemed to tilt. He barely managed to swallow a gasp before his body lurched forward, and he had to fight to hold back the wave of nausea threatening to spill over.
"I'm—sorry—I need to excuse myself," Alex managed to stammer, his voice hoarse and weak. His father, too focused on the conversation to register his discomfort, gave a distracted nod of approval.
Without waiting for another word, Alex bolted from the table. His hand instinctively pressed against his mouth to keep the inevitable at bay.
His heart pounded in his chest as he hurried down the hall, feet barely hitting the floor, breath coming in ragged gasps. As he reached his door, he nearly collapsed. He fumbled with the knob, the urgency of the moment making his fingers feel like they were made of stone. Finally, the door opened. He stumbled inside, and without a second thought, he dropped to his knees before the toilet.
The vomiting came in waves, relentless and unforgiving. His stomach twisted as it emptied its contents, and his chest felt tight with every dry heave. Tears blurred his vision, but he couldn't stop. It was as if his body had taken control, forcing him to purge everything he'd consumed—and more.
After what felt like an eternity, Alex finally pulled himself together. He stood, barely able to keep his balance, and staggered to the sink. His reflection in the mirror seemed distant, as if he wasn't even looking at himself, but at a ghost. He quickly washed his face and brushed his teeth, trying to rid himself of the foul taste lingering in his mouth.
But just as he thought he might regain his composure, the world around him began to spin. He swayed on his feet, the walls closing in, and before he could stop it, everything went black.
Time lost meaning. He had no sense of how long he lay on the cold bathroom floor, unconscious, drifting in and out of a hazy half-awareness. It was only when a loud, insistent knocking on his bedroom door echoed through his foggy mind that he began to stir.
"Alex, open the door. Stop ignoring me!" Damien's voice was sharp, carrying a weight of authority that made Alex's blood boil.
With great effort, Alex pushed himself up from the floor, his body heavy and uncooperative. He staggered toward the door, his hands shaking as he fumbled to unlock it.
He steadied himself, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
"What do you want?" His voice came out colder than he intended, the harshness in his tone a reflection of his internal turmoil.
Damien didn't respond right away. Instead, he just stood there, eyes scanning Alex with an intensity that felt almost too much to bear. Alex couldn't help but feel exposed under that gaze, as though Damien were looking into the very depths of him.
"You…you look very pale," Damien finally said, his voice tinged with something Alex couldn't quite place. He reached out, as if to touch Alex's face, but Alex instinctively recoiled.
He slapped Damien's hand away, his frustration flaring up like a wildfire. "What's it to you?" Alex snapped, his voice venomous. "Are you afraid your fuck buddy won't be available for you to drill into like some animal?"
Damien's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed into slits. But Alex didn't care. The words had been harsh, yes, but they were the truth. And if Damien didn't like it, well, that was his problem.
"Come to my office tomorrow morning," Damien said, his tone now cold and commanding.
Alex's eyebrows shot up, his irritation mounting. "Why? You in the mood for a quickie early in the morning?" He scoffed, his bitterness dripping from every syllable.
Damien didn't flinch. His gaze hardened, and his voice dropped to a low, dangerous level. "Just be ready. I'll send a car to pick you up at seven in the morning."
Alex raised an eyebrow, amusement mixing with his disdain. "Wow, that early? Sure you don't want a head start? I can give you a handjob or a blowjob right now. Should I get on my knees for you?" The words came out like a challenge despite the pain writhing in his stomach.
Damien glared at him, his face a mask of anger. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, his footsteps heavy with the weight of his fury.
"Fucking bastard," Alex muttered under his breath, watching Damien leave. He couldn't help the surge of resentment that coursed through him. "Guess I'd still have to fuck you even on my deathbed," he muttered darkly
*************************************************************************************
The morning air was crisp as Alex sat in the back of the car, his eyes barely open, fighting the wave of exhaustion creeping over him. He didn't speak as the car veered off the usual route toward Damien's office and took a sharp turn toward an unfamiliar hotel.
When the driver handed Alex the keycard, Alex didn't even glance up, just took it from his hand with a brief, silent nod. At least Damien had chosen a hotel that wasn't connected to his family's business this time. It didn't mean anything in particular, but it was a small detail.
The car pulled to a stop, and Alex stepped out, the air stinging his lungs as he made his way inside. Without a word, he made for the suite. He didn't bother knocking, nor was he surprised to find it empty. He knew Damien would be here soon enough.
He sank into the plush sofa, his limbs feeling like lead. His body ached, but it wasn't just physical pain—there was a deeper fatigue, something he couldn't shake off.
Ten minutes later, Damien walked in, a cold expression on his face. Alex didn't greet him, didn't even look up as he stood, his fingers already undoing the buckle of his belt.
"I'd prefer if you didn't take the sweater off this time," Alex said, his voice surprisingly calm."And be quicker about it. I want to go home and sleep," he muttered, tugging at his pants.
"Stop. What are you doing?" Damien's tone shifted, no longer cold but confused and… annoyed?
Alex stared at him, his lips curling into a smirk. "Why? Didn't you call me here to fuck me?"
"No." Damien sighed heavily, rubbing his temple. "That's not why I brought you here."
Alex paused, his fingers still around the waistband of his pants. "Then why the hell are we here, Damien?"
Damien's gaze hardened, but his words were laced with frustration. "I called you here because you need to see a doctor."
"A doctor's appointment?" Alex's voice was laced with disbelief. "Are you serious right now? You drag me out here for a doctor's appointment?"
Damien stepped closer, his eyes scanning Alex, who couldn't help but feel the weight of his gaze. "You don't look too good. You've been off for days. Something's wrong, and I'm not letting you ignore it any longer."
Alex sneered. "No need, Damien. My hole is perfectly fine. You can still bend me over, if that's what you're after… though, wait." He glanced around, his smirk widening. "No desk in here. Guess you'll have to get creative. After all, you did design such an intricate plan of revenge."
Damien's face darkened, but there was a subtle crack in his composure. "Alex," he said, his voice dropping to a more serious, almost pleading tone. "Please, just do as I say. Let's go to the clinic."
Alex shook his head, dismissing him. "I'm not going. If you didn't call me here for our little arrangement, then I'm leaving."
Without a second glance, Alex made for the door, but Damien's hand shot out and grabbed his arm with surprising force.
Alex winced, his body betraying him. The pain hit him sharper than expected, and he realized, with a sinking feeling, how low his pain tolerance had become these past few days. It was like the pain was a constant companion now.
Damien immediately released him. Without another word, he moved quickly, scooping Alex into his arms before Alex could protest.
"Hey!" Alex's voice was weak, but it was a protest, nonetheless. He pushed against Damien's chest, though it lacked the usual force behind it. "Let me down, damn it."
Damien didn't respond. He just walked toward the elevator, ignoring Alex's weak protests, though the grip on his body remained firm. By the time they reached the elevator, Alex had stopped struggling, his exhaustion weighing him down. His head swam in dizziness, and he could feel the walls of his resolve crumbling, one by one.
The truth was, Alex didn't want to go to the doctor because he feared that Damien would finally find out what Alex truly was. An omega. But Alex would have to come up with a way to stop the doctor from revealing it to Damien.
Alex had intended to visit a smaller, private clinic for a check-up. The bite on his neck was still bleeding, and his overall physical condition was deteriorating, showing no signs of improving. He couldn't risk going to any of the larger hospitals—they all had his records on file, and as a registered beta, he couldn't afford to raise suspicion. He hoped a smaller clinic would be less likely to make a fuss about his condition or the secondary gender suppressants he'd been taking, which, technically speaking, were illegal.
Alex stayed silent as they reached the car. His eyes were closed, and the discomfort he felt deep within his chest wasn't just physical. It was Damien. It was always Damien. He could feel the sting of his presence, but he couldn't face it—not now. Not with everything at risk.
Alex couldn't bring himself to look at him, even as the car's engine hummed steadily beneath them. Damien was the reason he had ended up like this, wasn't he? If Damien hadn't pushed him, hadn't used him, none of this would have happened.