Perry
The girl at the door recognizes me. She stays silent, which is how things work here, but I see it in her eyes when she checks my membership card. It’s the same beta as before. She has a small moth tattoo on her inner wrist. I always mean to ask who did it because the lines are so clean.
She gives me my mask. It’s matte black and covers my whole face, just like always. I put it on in the hallway and look at myself in the dark glass of the inner door. Only my eyes show through the holes. That’s good.
The floor opens up ahead, and I walk in like it’s my favorite bar, because that’s what it feels like. The bass thumps in my chest, and the wall of pheromones hits me everywhere else. I pause to breathe it in before I start looking around. It’s been three months since my last heat, three months since I was here, but nothing has changed. The same blue and purple lights cut through the dark. The same low hum of bodies and want under the music.
I see him before I’ve even taken three steps inside.
He has the same broad shoulders and stands with his weight on one leg, like he’s in no rush. Tonight his mask is brown leather, and I can see the edge of his jaw under it. It’s a good jaw. I remember it.
The bass vibrates through the floor under my boots, and I cross the room slowly because I can. My heat started this morning, the slow kind that lets me function for hours before it really hits. I have time. I showered, ate, drove here with the windows down and music up, and I feel good. Really good. Tonight will be a good night.
I spot a beta I know working the bar. She has a shaved head and always looks bored. She’s been here every time I have. I hold up two fingers and she pours my usual without a word. Whiskey, neat, the kind that burns going down. I don’t really want the drink. I want the routine. Walking up, ordering, feeling like I belong here and not like I’m falling apart.
The floor is crowded tonight. I can smell at least six omegas, each at a different stage, their scents mixing together like colors on a wet canvas. Citrus, vanilla, and something sharp and green that must be the tall omega by the speakers. Each scent blends with the heavier notes of the alphas nearby. The air feels charged, like the energy before a thunderstorm.
A couple near an alcove is already going at it. The omega is on his hands and knees, the alpha behind him gripping his hips. Neither of them makes a sound, which somehow feels louder than the ones who are moaning. Nearby, an omega sits on a low platform between two alphas. He hasn’t chosen yet. He leans back, looking between them like he’s picking from a menu. I admire the act, even though I know he probably can’t think clearly. Some people are good at pretending it’s a choice, even when their body already knows what it wants.
The gallery is half full. Shapes behind the railing, watching. I used to think it was weird, the watching. Now I get it. There’ssomething about seeing someone completely taken apart that makes you feel like you’re witnessing something private, even though the whole point is that it’s not.
I spot a couple at the edge of the bar I haven’t seen before. They aren’t putting on a show. The alpha has his arm around the omega’s waist, and the omega leans into him. They just stand there, watching the floor with an easy closeness that feels more like a date than a heat night. Both wear masks, but their body language says they’re bonded. You can always tell. A claimed omega looks relaxed, not searching the room because he’s already found what he wants. I wonder about their story. Maybe they met here.
I pick up my drink and head toward the man in the brown leather mask.
He notices me right away. I can tell by how he shifts his weight and squares his shoulders. We don’t know each other’s names—that’s how it works here—but our bodies remember each other.
“Hey,” I say. It feels silly since we don’t usually talk here, but I say it anyway because I’m in a good mood and I can already smell him. Warm and a little sweet, like cedar in the sun. It’s familiar. My body relaxes into it, like stepping into a hot shower after a long day.
He tilts his head. I can’t see his mouth behind the mask, but his eyes crinkle. He’s smiling.
He puts his hand on the small of my back and pulls me closer. He’s warm, and his scent is stronger from being here a while. I breathe him in and feel myself relax. Last time was good. He was gentle, paid attention to what I liked, and held me through the knot like he actually cared if I was comfortable. Not every alpha does that. Some just finish and leave you stuck together while they’re already somewhere else in their head.
He held me the whole time. He ran his thumb along my hip bone. When the knot was over, he brought me water before getting dressed himself.
So, I came back for him.
We stand together for a while, just breathing each other in. His fingers move up and down my spine through my shirt, and I let myself enjoy the warmth and simple connection. Behind us, someone moans loud enough to be heard over the music. I feel the man in the leather mask laugh quietly, his chest moving under my hand. I smile behind my mask. Someone out there is having a great time, and honestly, good for him.
“Good night?” I ask, tilting my chin up at him.
He looks down at me, runs his thumb lightly along my jaw, and nods.
This is what I like about him. He doesn’t rush me or try to move things along before I’m ready. He just stands with his hand on my back and lets the heat build naturally. Some alphas treat the floor like a race, but he takes his time.
He takes my drink and sets it on the ledge behind us. His other hand stays on my back, fingers spread wide, and he leans down to my neck. He doesn’t touch me, just breathes me in, the same way I’m breathing him in. My slick increases, warming, and I can feel my heat responding to how close he is. It’s a slow, steady build. Comfortable and controlled.
I rest my hand on his chest and feel his steady heartbeat. He’s not nervous, and neither am I. I’m half hard, which is normal—just the heat doing its thing when a good alpha is close. There’s no rush. We’ll get there.
An alpha walks behind me, close enough that I catch his scent—pine and something metallic, sharp and interested. I feel his attention like a hand at the back of my neck, so I lean harder into the man in the leather mask, making it clear I’m taken. Thesharp scent fades as he moves on, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“Missed you,” the man in the leather mask murmurs against my hair. His voice is low and calm. I don’t think he means it like a boyfriend would. He means it the way this place means everything—physically, chemically. He missed my scent, and I missed his, and we’re not pretending it’s more than that.
“Missed you too,” I say, and I mean it just like he does.
He traces a slow circle on my lower back with his thumb. My heat is building, but it’s the good kind—the kind that rolls in like waves you can swim through, not the kind that pulls you under. In another hour or two, I’ll be ready. We’ll find a spot, and he’ll take care of me. It’ll be easy. The kind of heat where I still feel human, not just an animal.
I close my eyes and breathe in his scent again.