And for the first time since this whole ordeal began, I'm not afraid.
Nick
I'm in way over my head.
I know the basics of omega heat. The biology, the progression, the mechanics. But nothing has prepared me for the reality of Micah in the nest he's made from my clothes, nearly naked and flushed with fever, looking at me with a mixture of desperation and want that makes my mouth go dry.
I've helped female omegas through heat before, but this is different. This is Micah. My best friend, the person I care about more than anyone else. And despite all my experience, I feel like I'm about to fumble this completely.
"Touch me," he whispers again when I don't immediately move. "I need you to touch me."
I hesitate, not from reluctance but from a sudden, overwhelming need to make sure I don't screw this up.
Micah reaches for me, his fingers trembling as they close around my wrist. He tugs gently on my wrist, guiding me fully into the nest he's created. I settle beside him, hyperaware ofevery point where our bodies touch. He's radiating heat, his skin flushed and damp with sweat. Up close, his scent is even more potent—sweet and rich and distinctly omega, but with that underlying note that's purely Micah. It fills my lungs, makes my head swim, makes my body respond in ways I can't control.
"You're still wearing too many clothes," Micah murmurs, his fingers plucking at the hem of my t-shirt.
I laugh, the sound strained. "Yeah, I guess I am."
With hands that aren't quite steady, I pull my shirt over my head and toss it aside. Micah's eyes darken as he takes in my bare chest, his pupils dilating further. He reaches out, hesitant, then places his palm flat against my sternum.
"Your heart's racing," he says softly.
"Yeah." There's no point denying it. "This is...new territory for me."
Micah's expression falters. "We don't have to—"
"That's not what I meant," I interrupt, covering his hand with mine. "I meant I've never wanted anyone the way I want you right now. Male, female, doesn't matter—this is different. And it's confusing as hell, but it feels..."
"Right?" Micah supplies, hope flickering in his eyes.
"Inevitable," I say, and the word surprises me with its truth.
Micah's face lights up, and the sight does warmth spreads through my chest. I lean forward, driven by an instinct I don't fully understand, and press my forehead against his. It's an alpha gesture—scenting, claiming—and it feels as natural as breathing.
"I've got you," I murmur, the words more promise than reassurance. "Whatever you need."
Micah shivers, his body arching slightly toward mine. "I need you to touch me," he says again, his voice breaking.
This time, I don't hesitate. I slide my hand along his side, feeling the heat of his skin, the slight tremor in his muscles.He's always been lean, but there's strength there too—the wiry build of someone who spends his days on his feet, caring for others. My fingers trace the curve of his ribs, the dip of his waist, learning the topography of his body in a way I've never allowed myself to consider before.
Micah makes a small, desperate sound as my hand skims over his hip. "More," he whispers. "Nick, please."
The need in his voice triggers every alpha instinct I have. I growl low in my throat, a sound I've rarely made before, and pull him closer. Our chests press together, skin to skin, and the contact sends electricity racing through my veins.
"Tell me what feels good," I say against his ear. "Show me how to help you."
In answer, Micah guides my hand lower, past the waistband of his soaked briefs. The moment my fingers make contact with him, he gasps, his body jerking like he's been shocked.
"Fuck," I breathe, stunned by the heat of him, the slick evidence of his need. This is different from being with female omegas—similar in some ways, wildly different in others—but my body doesn't seem confused at all. My alpha instincts know exactly what to do, how to touch him, how to draw those desperate little sounds from his throat.
"Is this okay?" I ask as I explore him with careful fingers, mapping unfamiliar territory.
"God, yes," Micah groans, his hips pushing into my touch. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."
I have no intention of stopping. Not when every gasp and moan from Micah's lips feeds the hunger growing inside me. Not when his scent is getting sweeter, headier with each touch. Not when this feels like the most natural thing I've ever done.
I lose track of time as we learn each other's bodies. Everything narrows to the feel of Micah's skin under my hands, the taste of his mouth when I finally gather the courage to kiss him,the sound of his breathing growing more ragged as I bring him closer to the edge.