Chapter Text
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Glistening from a thousand shivers
Consumed by the wild inertia of bliss
— Splayed on your shadow
Pounded by your tongue —
- joyce mansour, i want to sleep with you elbow to elbow.
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Alpha [M-30] in searching of an Omega [F-preferably in her 20’s] to complete a rut cycle with. Please inquire for more information in the chat. Generous compensation. Discretion is required.
It’s 9:47 on a Wednesday night and Elain Archeron might be losing her mind.
She bites the inside of her cheek, re-reading the posting for a forth time now before shutting her well-loved laptop and pushing it away with a mortified huff.
Yeah, she’s definitely losing it.
There is no universe in which Elain would actually consider this—no matter how dire her circumstances were. Sweet, gentle, basically virginal Elain selling herself out for money? It was unimaginable, it was goddamn unspeakable but…
But, it was the only option she had left.
Forty-eight hours ago, Elain had enough money in her savings for rent and tuition and now she barely had enough to cover one. She was left with either being homeless or dropping out of her dream school.
Twenty-fours hours ago, Elain had recalled overhearing a conversation about a website where omegas could exchange sex for money. Twenty-four hours ago, Elain downright refused to entertain that idea at all with hopes that maybe, just maybe, her landlord would give her break.
Yet, here she was. Entertaining that very terrible idea with a very personal grudge for the old man who owned her building.
Elain flattens her lips and pulls her laptop back, deciding that it wouldn’t hurt to see what the alpha had to offer.
Her mouse hovers over the listing and it feels like she’s tettering over the edge of the proverbial cliff.
And—
And she clicks on the listing with a flinch like the skies might open up and strike her down where she sits. Of course, that’s just the Catholic guilt talking.
She reads through some more details before eyeing the chat option with hesitation and reminds herself that she’s not committing to anything. That she can back out anytime, that she’s just exploring her options.
Elain rolls her lips and with a soft “oh, to hell with it,” opens the chat.
+
Elain thought she was a beta.
She went eighteen years with the assumption despite the clear indicators that she was anything but.
She was smaller, slighter than other betas in school. Hips rounder, thighs and ass curvier. She had all the tells of being an omega but hadn’t presented as one yet. The small handful of omegas in her graduating class had already presented and gone through the motions of their first heats, so yeah, Elain thought that she was a beta.
Most people present their biological assignments around the ages sixteen to eighteen. Most people are connected to resources that will help them understand their new found status in society. Alphas and omegas will go to doctors that will walk them through the upcoming changes in their bodies and heat cycles. Most people adapt successfully, without any fuss—any worry.
But Elain Archeron grew up starving.
She grew up starving and in dire conditions which meant her body was too busy trying to survive on little intake to process her biological changes. Which meant that Elain had presented later than what was considered normal.
So at her age of twenty, she had her first appointment with a doctor who explained that “Yes, she is an omega, and yes, it is a scary change but nothing to fret over” then proceeded to dump a whole slew of information about heats and mating cycles and bodily fluids.
Elain left with an armful of pamphlets and various prescriptions and a knot in her throat from holding back tears.
Elain wanted to be a beta.
Her entire life she was trapped under circumstances that were out of her control: her mother’s illness, her father’s depression and subsequent decline in health that led to his death, the lack of security—of food, of warmth, of everything that a child would need to thrive. All of it, out of her control.
And now her anatomy was too.
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Tulip2003: Hi, I’m interested in…
Elain winces, fingers pausing over her keyboard as she searches for the right diction that would make this seem like a totally normal conservation instead of an glorified paid booty call.
I’m interested in helping you through your rut cycle but I feel like I have to be honest, I’m not very…
Elain clears her throat, cheeks hot as she struggles with the next sentence.
Very experienced with ruts or alphas in general. I just thought you should know if we decide to make arrangements.
God, she should just die right? Elain wishes a meteor or something would crash through her roof and spare her any further humiliation.
This had to be the worst idea in the history of ideas.
Elain wouldn’t be surprised if the alpha deleted the chat and blocked her and maybe had her banned from the website altogether.
But, her laptop pings and…
Colbalt1993: Good evening. I appreciate your interest. Your experience is a non-issue, but thank you for your honesty. I’m due to start my cycle in a week’s time, would you be able to remain at my house for the entirety of the cycle? I would ensure your comfort during your stay.
She heaves out a relieved sigh.
Professional. If not cold and maybe a little distant. No sign of deleting, blocking, or banning just yet.
Tulip2003: Yes, I think I can do that. Like I mentioned before, I’ve never done anything like this. How do I know that I’ll be safe?
Colbalt1993: This website verifies it’s users but I’ll send over a picture and some information to make you feel more comfortable. Like I said, I do require a certain level of privacy so please keep this to yourself.
Colbalt1993: In terms of compensation, I’ll send wire over the amount and it will hold until my cycle is over, then it will be released into your account. I will not be able to access it once it’s in holding.
Elain exhales, the lingering question of how much is stuck on her fingertips—too afraid to ask, too bashful to know.
And as if reading her mind:
Colbalt1993: I’m sure you’re curious about the amount. I was going to offer five thousand, but I’m willing to negotiate if necessary.
Her eyes widen, five thousand? Elain didn’t really know what to expect but five thousand wasn’t it. That amount would pay off her tuition and her rent for a couple of months. She wouldn’t have to sacrifice dinners or hustle through two part-time jobs with that money. She could actually save money, maybe even have some semblance of a social life.
It almost seemed impossible to deny herself of this opportunity. Morals be damned.
Tulip2003: I’ll also send over a picture and some information for you. Thank you for clearing that up for me and no need to negotiate, your price is very generous and one that I’m willing to accept if you are.
Tulip2003: One sec, I’ll send my stuff over.
Elain scrolled through her recent pictures, trying to find something decent. She really hasn’t gotten out much lately, being tied down with work and school, but she comes across a picture that Feyre took of her a couple months and deems it decent enough.
She quickly types out some little details about herself, telling him her name and birthday and about her schooling and bank information. Just boring things that don’t reveal too much.
Elain sends him the picture along with her info and bites her thumb, waiting for his reaction.
The stupid, persistent omega inside her wants to be pleasing for the alpha. She wants to be good enough for this internet stranger. She wants him to think she’s pretty.
Silly, silly, silly.
She sets her laptop aside, fully preparing to call the entire thing off but she gets a notification that he’d replied.
Colbalt1993: Hello Elain.
Colbalt1993: I’m sending my details over now.
Elain deflates a little. No comment, no compliment, nothing. The omega inside her wilts, feeling wholly inadequate. She wishes she would get a grip, it’s really not the end of the world if he’s not falling over himself to tell her how beautiful he thinks she is.
Cobalt1993: If you’re still interested, I’ll go ahead and wire over the money and send you further information regarding our arrangement.
That’s…a good sign right? He’s still interested which means he must find something about her good enough.
Elain clicks on the details her sent her. His name is Azriel, he works in cybersecurity, he lives alone and he was born on the twenty-first of November. He likes to read and goes to the gym regularly and takes his coffee black.
All in all, he doesn’t seem all that intimidating. In fact, he seems like a regular man with regular interests despite his hefty savings account.
Elain takes comfort in that. It makes this whole thing seem a little more manageable.
Then, she looks at the picture he sends her.
And, at 9:59 on a Wednesday night, Elain covers her face and screams into her hands in what could only be described as pure, biological delight.
+
Azriel was handsome.
No, wait, that word seemed too small—too plain and singular and not enough to describe what Azriel looked like.
He was dangerous. Yes, that seemed more fitting. Like a storm cloud on the horizon, a solar eclipse reaching totality, a black wolf contrasted in the white of winter—he was the type of beautiful that was startling.
A type of beauty that was both enticing and intimidating. A type of beauty that turned heads but was almost unapproachable. A type of beauty that mother’s warned their daughters about, that unnerved fathers.
And the omega in Elain purred at it, at the thought of being under such a man—no, not just a man, an alpha.
It was just a standard corporate headshot, but it belonged on glossy magazine covers—he belonged on glossy magazine covers and runways in Milan and museums in Paris.
Elain swallows hard, and this really is an awful idea. She should really get wise and drop the entire thing before she got in trouble.
Instead, she grabs her laptop and begins to type.
Tulip2003: Hi Azriel.
Tulip2003: Do you really take your coffee black, or is it just some macho-alpha rite of passage?
+
Azriel’s rut doesn’t start until next week, which gives Elain plenty of time to make preparations—physically, emotionally, spiritually.
She devotes time to properly researching ruts and what an alpha generally needs in that time.
The majority of it is copious amounts of sex and knotting. Which, is most terrifying to Elain (considering that she’s never been with an alpha, therefore, hasn’t taken a knot). Other aspects are, fortunately, less scary. Like how alphas tend to dote on their omegas during ruts and want them in close proximity at all times.
Elain picks up an extra shift at the café so she can buy unscented soaps and lotions, which, according to her research, alphas prefer so an omega’s scent isn’t masked by outside fragrances.
She watches youtube tutorials that guide her through stretches that will help her prepare her muscles for a long week of rutting.
Perhaps, most embarrassing of all, she books an appointment to get waxed. Elain is wasn’t sure where Azriel’s preferences lie in that area, and she wasn’t bold enough to ask him.
The more she prepares, the better she feels. Not confident, but in more control, which is enough for her.
Elain also takes to chatting regularly with Azriel in the late hours of the night. He isn’t exactly the most forthcoming but still, he indulges her silly, stupid questions. It makes him less of a stranger and that too, makes her feel better.
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Elain encounters a little bit of a drawback the following Tuesday, in which she breaks down and spills everything to the twins over a glass of cheap moscato.
Nuala and Cerridwen share looks of mutual disbelief.
“Five thousand?” Cerridwen drawing the words out slow like it would make it more believable.
Elain nods, face buried in her hands.
“Oh Lain,” Nuala coos, petting her head, “Why didn’t you say anything before?”
“Because, I didn’t want you guys to think I was some, some prostitute or something.” Elain confesses into her palms, “But it’s my last option.”
Nuala nods, all sympathy while Cerridwen pours a heavy handed glass for her.
“I went to financial aid, my landlord, my jobs and nothing, no one could do anything except tell me good luck.” Elain slumps back into her chair, bringing the wine with her
“You could’ve stayed with us.” Cerridwen tries, knowing that Elain would’ve never considered their shoebox apartment that they shared with two other girls an option. They were tight on space as it is and Elain knows this and she would never ask that of them.
She shakes her head, “I don’t want to a burden to you, besides, it can’t be that bad.”
Nuala hums, “Surely not, it’s only a couple of days right?”
Elain nods.
“And you’ve talked to him, seen him?”
“We’ve talked, he seems…well polite if not a touch impersonal. And…
“And…” Cerridwen pushes forward, brows lifting with anticipation.
“And he’s probably the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.” Elain admits, pressing her hands against her flushed cheeks.
Cerridwen whistles, mouth curving into a predator’s smile, “Amazing. Truly. Bravo Elain Archeron. He’s hot and has money? I swear only this shit happens to you.”
Nuala puffs out an exasperated chuckle at her twin’s antics, “Do you have a picture?”
“I do but,” Elain winces apologetically, “He kinda wants to keep things discreet.”
Nuala considers this before shrugging, “I guess that makes sense, but like, seriously Elain—are you okay with this, how do you really feel?”
She folds her hands in her lap, scraping her teeth against her bottom lip and, “I think I’m okay, I’m just really nervous. Like what do I say or do when I first see him on Thursday?”
“He’ll know what to do Elain. He’s an alpha in a rut, I imagine he’ll take the lead.” Nuala reaches for her hands and gives a reassuring squeeze, “Your omega instincts will kick in and after that it will all just be biology.”
+
The week comes and goes in a breakneck pace, Elain blames the passing of time on her anxiety about her arrangement with Azriel.
Elain wakes up early on Thursday, not that she had much luck sleeping anyway. She goes through the motions of getting ready with a nervous buzz thrumming under her skin. She takes an extra long shower, scrubbing and shaving until her skin is smooth and soft.
She lathers herself with an unscented lotion and fusses with her hair until she decides there is really no point in doing anything too fancy considering it will probably be ruined in a few hours anyway. Elain considers putting on some makeup but decides against that too, figuring she won’t be in the mood or mind space to wipe it off.
Elain stands in front of the mirror at the corner of her room, quietly assessing herself. She chose one of her favorite dresses to wear, hoping the frills and florals will lend her some confidence. Her hair is pulled back into a long plait down her back and her skin looks dewey and clean. She supposes that this will have to be good enough.
With a wobbly sigh, she turns from the mirror and pulls up the address that Azriel sent her last night before bed.
It doesn’t go unnoticed that he lives in the more luxurious district of the city, which makes sense considering that he’s paying her quite the hefty sum.
Elain takes in another breath to center herself before shouldering her weekender bag and heading to the bus stop.
+
Elain stepped off the bus with her stomach in knots and her breath tight in her chest, she eyes her watch before following her phone’s directions down the cobblestone sidewalk.
She texts the twins, letting them know that she is almost to Azriel’s house and if she doesn’t contact them in four hours to call her sisters first, then the police.
Elain passes an array of beautifully intricate townhomes before stopping in front of a particularly gorgeous brownstone with a large front door painted a deep, rich blue.
She glances down at her watch again, 11:49 am. They agreed on noon a couple days ago. Elain tilts her chin up, peering up at the house once more and wonders if she can really, actually do this.
“It will all just be biology.”
Nuala’s words echo through her, calming the wave of nerves that threatened to spill over and send her running in the opposite direction.
That’s right, it’s all just biology.
Azriel doesn’t need her to be perfect, he doesn’t need her to act a certain way—be a certain way. He just needs an omega, and, despite her reluctance to be one, that is who she is.
Elain gathers her courage with a deep inhale and rights her posture before taking the stone steps up to the front door. She rasps her knuckles against the wood, not allowing for any hesitation or second-guessing.
Her heartbeat thunders a loud, unrelenting beat in her ears as the door opens and Elain is welcomed by his scent curling around her.
It’s intoxicating—no, it’s mouthwatering. It’s rich cedar and a cool mist and so overwhelmingly alpha, alpha, alpha that it nearly brings her to her knees.
The omega inside her whimpers in a quiet submission and wetness pools between her thighs.
She lifts her head, her breath catching in her throat.
“Hello Elain.”
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