Suppressant Slip

Victor slammed his laptop shut and glared across the desk at Marcus, the marketing asshole who somehow made every pitch meeting feel like a battlefield. 'Another week of hell, and your suppressants are barely holding,' Victor muttered, rubbing his neck where the fake scent blockers itched. Marcus smirked, leaning back with that cocky alpha-wannabe posture they both knew was a lie. 'Says the manager who nearly knotted his own tie in the last call. Bar. Now. Before we both combust.'

The dive bar near the airport reeked of cheap beer and bad decisions. Two shots in, their shared secret hung between them like static—omegas abusing suppressants to climb the corporate ladder. 'You think that jerk from finance suspects?' Marcus asked, voice low and sharp. Victor chuckled. 'Not if you keep acting like you own the room instead of leaking slick every time stress hits.' Their laughter died when Adrian slid onto the stool beside them, tall, broad, and smelling like trouble wrapped in pine. 'Two omegas trying to out-alpha each other? Cute. Buy you both a round?'

Witty barbs flew like foreplay. Adrian's grin was lazy. 'Suppressants making you both this uptight? I could fix that.' Marcus shot back, 'Big words from a guy who hasn't even bought the drinks yet.' Victor added, 'Or proven he can handle two at once.' Adrian's eyes darkened. 'Hotel's two blocks away. Let's see who taps out first.' The walk there crackled with tension, hands brushing, breaths quickening.

In the dim hotel room, clothes hit the floor fast. Adrian's cock was already hard, thick and insistent as he pulled Victor close for a bruising kiss while Marcus watched, smirking. 'Don't get cocky,' Marcus taunted, dropping to his knees to give Adrian a slick blowjob that had the alpha groaning. Victor wasn't idle, his fingers finding Marcus's ass, teasing until both omegas were panting and horny, pussies wet and dripping with need they usually buried.

Adrian flipped them onto the bed, claiming Victor first—thrusting deep into his dripping pussy while Marcus straddled Victor's face, grinding down with a sharp, 'Earn it, manager.' Sweating bodies tangled, the alpha's cock pounding relentlessly as witty moans mixed with commands: 'Harder, or are you all talk?' Marcus came first with a curse, cum spilling over Victor's chest, then Victor followed, clenching and shuddering. Adrian finished with a growl, filling them both as they collapsed in a heap of panting limbs.

The alpha slipped out before dawn, leaving breakfast and a paid bill, but the bite on Victor's neck throbbed with promise.