Work Text
(2006)
Tashi had always taken tennis seriously. Her path had been laid out for her ever since she could properly hold a racket. Tennis was something that was so intrinsically sewn into her life that she could never just simply cut the strings from it. When she was on the court, she was at the peaks of her life, relishing in the blood pumping through her veins and the sweat soaking into her shorts. This is where she was alive .
But.
But, she’s still human . She has her vices like anyone else. She was just better at hiding them than other people her age.
She hadn’t been expecting to see the ‘Fire and Ice’ duo that had been talks of the doubles tournaments at her party, crowding her space quite boldly .
Tashi can tell neither of them are serious tennis players. Actors on the court, playing the sport for a season or two before ultimately moving on to something else later in life. Business, probably. They could play some good fucking tennis, though. Even with cigarette lungs, which was shocking. The alpha usually hated the smell of cigarette smoke, yet in that moment, the smog felt like a warm blanket covering her in the chills of the night.
Her hues bounced between Art and Patrick as they both sat across from her, mirroring each other’s slouched open knees. If their chairs were any closer together then they’d be touching, ever so slightly. This was fun. Stringing the idea of either of them getting the chance of even sniffing her knot in front of them like a little treat lit something up inside of her like she was on the court again.
She doesn’t confirm or deny if she’ll come to their hotel room. That would ruin the fun of it all, give the two of them too much confidence in themselves, especially Patrick.
When she does, inevitably, make it to the two’s hotel room, after her knock, she can hear rustling and bustling happening behind the door. The smirk playing on her lips doesn’t leave as the door swung open either. Her tournaments are over. She had dominated and practically destroyed her competition with ease. She’ll allow herself this one slip.
It wasn’t supposed to be more than a night of indulgence.
— — —
(2009)Three bangs on Tashi’s dorm room door have her shooting up out of bed. She’s always been a light sleeper, but the jolt up was enough to shake the sleep off of her senses in an instant. Her eyes squinted towards her phone’s screen; it was a little after ten at night. Everyone knew that Tashi took her nightly routine seriously, especially with a tournament coming up in a few days. She needs what little rest she can fucking get, alright? As the banging continued, she stumbled to the source of the sound. Ready to cuss out whoever was disturbing her short rest, she yanked the door open to find— Art ?Tashi’s eyes ran over the blonde’s features. Blown out hues, reddened skin, damp hair, ragged breaths, shit —
Without thinking, she wrapped her hand around Art’s wrist, yanking him inside of her room before locking the door behind him. Pointedly ignoring the whine that was drawn from Art at the contact presumably, she sat him down on her bed. When she tried to take a step back from the other to give him some space, a mix between a growl and whine sounded through the quietness of her room. He must’ve taken her slight hesitation as a good sign since seconds after, he was sliding his arms just above her waist and shoving his head into her stomach.
“Did you go across campus while in preheat?” Tashi tried to control her tone, but she knew her expression must’ve given away her true feelings when Art gave a low groan in return in lieu of an actual answer. That had to be the dumbest thing the omega could’ve done. He could’ve gotten snatched up by fucking anyone. This may be Stanford, but there’s a reason why all of them have to click through those fucking ‘hey kids, maybe don’t rape omegas!’ modules during the beginning of each semester. It didn’t make it better that most of the building surrounding hers were alpha-only housing for athletes, God, what was he thinking?
“Please don’t be mad at me, I’m sorry,” Tashi could feel her cock give a twitch of interest in her shorts at the purely pathetic look adorning the omega’s features.
“Art—”“He was supposed to be there,” Art stated through a ragged breath, like every word was taking an extreme amount of effort to formulate and push out. “He said he’d come to my dorm to help me, but he didn’t show—I didn’t know who to go to, I’m sorry— I’ve never gone through a heat alone before.”Tashi tried to sort through the information that she just received as her senses were flooded with Art’s citrus-heavy scent practically leaking out of his worn scent patch. It’s not the first time Tashi’s seen Art flushed and whiny, ready to be fucked out of his mind, but it’s the first time alone .
Deep inside, somewhere where she won’t acknowledge, there’s a simmering mix of jealousy lingering like a fucking snake. Of course Art would only be here because the first choice became unreliable and unreachable. That if Patrick wouldn’t have gotten caught up in whatever shit he was in, Art wouldn’t have paid her a single lick of attention tonight, or for the rest of his heat. She probably wouldn’t have even known that Art would be coming off of a heat until that weekend where she would inevitably overhear the male alpha competitors talking vulgarly about what they heard through the thin walls or what they could smell from under the door slit. Perverts .
It’s different when it’s coming from Patrick though. Art is a constant in whatever-the-fuck they have going on, constantly in between them without presently being there. Patrick loved to talk about how he made Art fall apart on his knot, how Art practically clawed his back down when he tried to pull away even slightly— Tashi would never give Patrick the satisfaction of verbally confirming how that imagery haunted her thoughts as she fucks deeper into him with each thrust. The only time she can get Patrick to shut up is with a cock up his ass and even then, it only works sometimes. Tashi knew that their whole situation was weird. Usually, your boyfriend isn’t supposed to be cycle mates with anyone but you, but Patrick had waved off the questioning glance when she had brought it up.
‘Art’s heats are bad.’
‘No one can keep up with his needs.’
‘He won’t find anyone else.’
‘It doesn’t mean anything.’
That’s when Tashi called bullshit, but only in the comforts of her own mind. It’s not stepping out if Patrick’s reporting every dirty little thing that he did to Art on his mattress, is it?
Art hasn’t moved an inch from where he’s anchored himself against her, not even to relieve himself from his jeans. Breathing deeply through her nostrils, she peered down to meet Art’s fleeting eye contact. “What do you want from me, Art?” Tashi questioned, cutting through the tension.
Art fleets between bashfulness and confidence like a ping pong ball. His answers are questions that revolve around sussing out what he thinks you want to hear at the moment. If this was a normal conversation that wasn’t riddled with heat pheromones, she’s sure that Art would fumble at her words and scramble for an appropriate response. His brain must be practically mush at this point because without a second passing, Art leaned back ever so slightly to make direct eye contact with her through his lashes. “Take care of me, please .”Tashi isn’t a caretaker, nor a provider. She takes . It’s what she does best. It’s easy to fall back into her comfort zone with Patrick there, because he gives the comfort that Art so obviously needs, while she can bully his cunt with her cock. It seems to come so naturally to Patrick that she never felt the need to write down any notes on how to deal with Art in this kind of state. Quite frankly, even if she did, there would be no way that she could imitate something that she didn’t understand. You can’t just copy something that’s been honed and carefully crafted for damn near six years. But with Art staring at her with such desire to save him from the blazing heat of his own body, well, she could pretend for a couple of days.
The squelching coming from where they’re connecting is addicting in the same way that her racket slices through the air to cut a ball across the court. She can barely move with the way Art’s limbs are wrapped around her as if she would slip away if he loosened his grip.
The brunette ignored the pleas from the omega to actually breed him quite well if she had to toot her own horn. She only allowed herself to make that big of a mistake once. She had no excuse now. With Art in heat, there’s no way that popping her knot in his cunt wouldn’t take. Tashi knew that realistically, Art already knew that too, but this isn’t Art in his right mind right now. This is knot-drunk Art spitting out incoherent mutterings and moans, speaking absolute nonsense about putting a pup into him. It’s only his heat talking, surely. So, ass and pulling out it is. She ignores the wounded whines coming from above and the stupidly childish pouts thrown her way each time. She would not be the reason why Art had to go to another clinic.
During the quiet moments of Art’s heat, with him passed out against her stomach, her mind drifted to Patrick once again. She couldn’t deny that there was something bugging her about this whole thing. She had checked her phone when she could ; no messages or calls from him at all. But then her mind would drift left as images of Patrick over Art’s body assaulted her ‘out of nowhere’. She wondered if he gave into Art’s pleas to be knotted without a care in the world, filling him up without thinking of the consequences of said actions just to please the omega under him. Maybe that’s why the omega seemed genuinely crushed when the realization hit him that his cunt would actually be remaining knotless for the entirety of his heat. She would put money on it, actually, because of course Patrick’s spoiled Art rotten. One look from the omega and the alpha’s practically rolling over himself to give into his needs. It’s sickening. How they aren’t mated to each other already is beyond her.
Well. Maybe she could take a guess on why that is.
Tashi’s never had the pleasure of seeing Art in such a state of unashamed pleasure, moaning and whining loudly to assert to the whole dorm floor what they’re doing. Tashi should care, but at the moment she can’t bring herself to. Their little get-togethers only occur in Art’s dorm room to keep Tashi’s business her own, away from the prying eyes and ears of the other alphas in her dorm. More than that though, it allowed for her space to stay hers . Patrick would either get a hotel with his daddy’s credit card or room with Art, which was fine . When they were done with each other, when they were done with her , she could relax in her own scent, in her own cleanliness, in her own bed. Their arrangement worked and it worked well. Until now, at least.
She’s hyper-aware of the fact that she’s definitely going to have to sterilize her room. There’s no way that Art’s scent hasn’t permeated through every fiber of her sheets, her clothes through her open closet door, all of her things— he’s everywhere . It’s intoxicating and suffocating all the same. She can barely smell herself anymore, no matter how hard her body works to release her own pheromones to reclaim her space in her own bed. It’s fine though. When all of this is over, she’ll get new sheets and a new foam mattress cover. She’ll lock down the communal washroom and throw detergent around until it’s clean, until she’s clean and she can breathe . This is only for now. Soon enough she’ll be alone again, with only a racket by her side, how it should be. She can indulge a little bit more though .
Wet pants broke Tashi out of her thoughts as the omega in her arms started rustling against her. Their short break must be already over. Looking down into Art’s haze-filled hues, they were practically spilling over with desperation and pure desire once more. The momentary satiation is completely gone from before. Tashi met his spit-slicked lips roughly, pushing him backwards into the mattress as she got on top of him once more. With the way Art opened his body up so easily, so prettily for her, arching up into every harsh graze of her nails against his hip bones, ah; she can see why Patrick is in love with him.
— —
Art’s heat broke the night before the tournament. Through fleeting moments of lucidity, he had admitted that his heats are normally beasts to deal with, which made Tashi laugh because of course now he would tell her that. Though, she supposed all he could think about was knots a few days ago, so she can’t hold it against him too much. She tried to not make the omega feel bad about it though. It’s not like he can help the heats he has to go through. He must not have any money for heat suppressants or something. She can feel the after effects of dealing with Art’s heat though, from the pads of her feet to the very top of her cranium. She’s tired and her body aches . Her thighs burn with every step and are a faint red from when she had Art actually work for his orgasm for once. Throughout the ache though, she can’t deny the simmering satisfaction bubbling within her alpha at the scent of a purely satisfied omega in her presence because of her . It’s different from the knot measuring contests that she usually found herself in with Patrick. It’s scary .
It clouded her mind as she tried to work through her warm up routine the morning of her tournament. Shit, this is why she didn’t normally do this kind of thing. Tashi lived her life by rules ever since tennis decided that it was going to be her entire life. Ever since her knot could form, she had a strict rule about not having sex around tournaments. How could she glide across the court if her pelvis was aching or her upper thighs were burning? This rule was one that she had never broken before. Not until now, that is.
Patrick had said that he would be at her tournament, but with his little disappearing act, she doubted that he would show his face. Still, she found her eyes hovering over the crowd, waiting for his stupid little smirk to pop up in her line of sight. Nothing. Huh. The only empty seat in the stands seemed to be by Art, who looked like he was looking around for the missing alpha too. Tashi let out a huff of air through her nostrils as she shook her head. This was no way to go into a tournament, what the fuck was she doing? How could she get into the mind of her opponent if she couldn’t clear her own first? Whatever the fuck Patrick’s got going on doesn’t matter to her.
Focus. Focus. Focus!
The match was going as expected until it didn’t.
Tashi was fucking demolishing her nobody-opponent with ease until she wasn’t.
Tashi was laser focused on the tennis ball until her vision blurred and her body hit the ground.
Warmth spread through her knee like boiling water as her nerves started to scream at her. Everything’s blurring together, her senses tapping out as pain floods everything. She can’t fucking move.
Oh God, she can’t fucking move.
— —
Tashi didn’t even register that her fingers had once again started pushing against the angry raised skin surrounding her fresh stitches on her knee until a hand hovered over her
own to remove it. Tashi yanked her hand away with a huff and moved to turn her body away from the other in defiance. Defiance of what, she’s never sure nowadays. It’s not fair to the nurses who are just trying to do their job to get cursed at, to get yelled at; it’s not fair to her mother to take the brunt of her outbursts and the thrashings of her room as the inevitable becomes clear to her.
She’ll never play tennis again.
Her mom tried to placate her, tried to tell her that it was okay that she couldn’t play tennis. As if her fucking scholarship to Stanford didn’t hinge on her athletic abilities, as if her whole life trajectory didn’t hinge on her ability to hit a fucking ball across a net. She had one thing that she was good at, no, that she was a fucking beast at. There was no one that could be her peer , no one on her level that could give her a rush on the court. Nothing was okay, everything was completely fucked . It’s easy to point fingers, it’s easy to throw all of her tennis things in her childhood bedroom closet and pretend like it didn’t exist just to pull it all back out. It’s easy to grab a pair of scissors and chop off her butt-lengthed hair to her shoulders. It’s easy to blame Patrick for everything. This all happened because of his absence, because he didn’t show up. Because he showed up too late , throwing out apologies that were meaningless. The damage was already fucking done.
It’s in the quiet of the night when Tashi let the tears flow down her cheeks, not a sound to be made as she did. Ragged breaths forced their way from her throat as she tried to control herself and get her emotions under control. Crying about things wouldn’t change anything. Throwing a tantrum wouldn’t change anything.
She’ll never play tennis like she used to again, gliding across the court like fucking water. She’ll never be able to take part in such volleying that gets her heartbeat racing and her blood pumping throughout her system.
Tashi Duncan is a tennis prodigy, has been since she was eight years old and could hold a racket steady. Who is she without her passion? Without her fire?
Did she even want to find out?
No.
To let go of tennis would be an act of suicide, ripping out the veins connecting her heart to the rest of her body. She may not be able to be a tennis player herself, but— she can still be something in the tennis world. Her name won’t fade into the background. She just has to find her footing once more.
So, she pivots.
— — —
(2010)
It’s easy to convince Art to let Tashi coach him instead of the geezer he had on his team now. Really, she didn’t even have to lay it on too thickly before Art agreed that she would probably be his best bet at going pro and succeeding at it. Part of her is surprised, but the other part knew that she would be walking out of this Applebee’s as a tennis coach. Ever since Tashi met Art, he could never say no to her, not when it mattered . When it was clear that there was a right answer that would please her most. It was too easy to lean into that desire, to press into it until it bruised. She’d chalk it up to instincts when her mind would allow her to, with her being the predator and Art being her prey.
Maybe she blamed him too, a little bit. Maybe she cursed him for not being strong enough to endure his heat alone instead of dragging her down to take care of him. Maybe that’s why she liked to press into his wounds. Thoughts for a different day. So, with a smile rivaling a shark, she presses into the Patrick sized wound lingering on Art’s body. Easily pondering aloud about his whereabouts since her absence from their senior year. It hurts him to think of Patrick, she can tell by the way his eye contact breaks to the table instead, clamming up almost immediately.
There’s a few moments of silence that Tashi’s just about to fill until Art’s utterances fill the void instead.
“We, uh, haven’t played professionally together and, uh,” Art shrugged while messing with the paper from his straw, “—We don’t talk.”Now that caused Tashi to straighten up in her seat. To be in a timeline where Patrick and Art aren’t on speaking terms with each other when it seemed so obvious that they were damn near fated seemed wrong . Art’s answer is vague enough to have her mind churring up possibilities of what he could mean. We don’t talk could mean exactly that or we don’t talk could mean that they still have sex. Although, there would be no escaping Patrick if they were still at least sleeping together. Wherever Patrick is, his scent lingers behind him. Sandalwood and cigarette smoke soaked into whatever he touched, even skin . She could press for more, if she wanted to. Art would allow her to cut him open if she wanted to. The rush of control is mind numbing. It’s making her cock stir under her skirt. The conversation is good now, though. Still light enough to pull a joke here and there. She should keep it that way.
A chuckle forced its way out of Tashi’s lips, “I guess I really was a homewrecker, huh?” Her words stumble together a little towards the end. The word tastes funny on her tongue. Patrick and Art were never anything secure by any means. Technically, Art was the homewrecker in her and Patrick’s relationship if anything.
A surprising smile overtook the blonde’s features slowly as he settled further into his seat, head tilting back slightly. The column of his unmarked neck is on full display now. “You can’t wreck a home if you had a key to the front door.” Huh . A smirk overtook her features in a moment of surprise at the boldness of his words. Well played, Donaldson.
So, they become a professional duo.
Professional-adjacent is more like it. Normally, you don’t spend your ruts with your star player. Usually, the most a coach is supposed to do is keep up with their star player’s heat schedule to make sure no tournaments fall in line with it, not become their heat partner themselves.
And you sure as hell aren’t supposed to mate your star player either, but, well, Tashi was never supposed to be in this role anyways, now was she?
— — —
(2011)It’s when they’re in Atlanta for a tournament that things tilt.
Tashi’s never been one to mince her words when it comes to Art. She knew that there was some sick part of her mind that relished in the way that the omega would practically crumble under her scrutiny; fumbling to make things right, to make his alpha proud of him again. It’s what motivated him, it’s what made him cut across the court ruthlessly to gain her simple acts of validation such as a fleeting nod or a single clap. Anything to signal that he was her good boy once more. Her touch is his reward, religion, and punishment twisted in one. When he begged for it, she wondered if he knew which he was truly asking for. Not like it really mattered, in the end.
Their routine works. The domination that Tashi possesses over Art is only natural you know. They fall into their roles easily. Tashi takes, Art gives. Tashi directs, Art follows. Tashi demands, Art relinquishes. It’s their dynamic.
They are so far off of course now.
Tashi always made decisions for Art’s career based on extensive research and logic. She stayed glued on forums and athletic leadership boards to keep her information fresh. For the past two months, she had been researching omegan athletes in the professional circuit to see how they were handling their heats, pregnancies, periods, all that stuff. Personally, she never had to take off for her ruts since they were mild at best and quick too.Art’s heats, however, were ruthless, frequent,
and long . If they missed too many tournaments because of them, his name could fade into obscurity and they’d both lose. Many professional omegan tennis players had revealed that they either are on heat suppressants or birth control at the heights of their career so that they could solely focus on their game. It’s admirable. It only made sense for Art to follow in their footsteps and do the same thing. That way, Tashi could have him in back to back tournaments to keep him sharp and those wins would gain the attention of sponsors who would push them even higher on the tennis leaderboards. Once they have a few sponsors pouring into their campaign, they can really get a training regime going, a nutritionist and a trainer on call, the fucking works . Then, the fucking Open—God, her plan was full proof. Really, Art getting on heat suppressants or at least birth control was a small asterisk under her five year plan. After she had done her research, she paid the idea no mind.
That’s why when she idly explained said plan to the omega as he exited their en suite, she wasn’t expecting his face to twist up as if she had spit on his grandmother’s grave. Art’s scent steadily soured as he stood almost frozen in the doorway of the bathroom, her words hanging in the air between them. Still, though, she wasn’t expecting the hard no that came from the omega. It sent Tashi’s mind reeling at the sight of the blonde’s hues burning with such fire that reminded Tashi of herself . It twists something ugly in the pit of her stomach. It excited her. Yet, it was only for a fleeting moment as she brought herself back down to the reality of their situation here. It was only natural for Art to go on heat suppressants at least now at the beginning of his career so he could secure his name in the circuit. Then, they could plan to have a child, take a break after he has a few grand slams under his belt, etcetera. She hadn’t thought that through that much. “What’d you mean no ?” Tashi’s brow raised towards the other as she watched his expression harden uncharacteristically.
“I’m not going on heat suppressants or birth control. There’s no need to.” Art let out a huff, like a fucking child , before continuing, “We’re careful enough.” Yeah, no thanks to you by the way. That’s all by Tashi’s doing.
“Are you stupid? You don’t want to do heat suppressants? Fine. But not even birth control?” Tashi exasperated as she pushed herself to the edge of the bed, planting her feet against the floor. “Birth control would also help keep your heats, that are in fact hell by the way, underraps by a fucking landslide. This isn’t about children , Art, this is about being smart.”“I’m sorry my heats are so unbearable for you,” Art scoffed, folding his arms. He looked ridiculous with water dripping down the sides of his flushed cheeks, dripping from the tips of his curly hair.
Both of their scents, lavender and citrus, usually mixing in harmony now felt spicy to her nose, making it run. “Fuck off, you know that’s not what I meant. You can’t make a name for yourself in the professional circuit if you’re always missing tournaments because of your heats, Art. Before your heats usually hit, your cramps are so bad that you can barely walk on a fucking treadmill. Not to mention that your diet goes out the fucking window whenever you’re in heat as well. All of those things would be diminished to practically nothing if you at least went on birth control. You know, I did do my due diligence before even bringing this up to you. I didn’t just pull all of this out of my fucking ass.”“I said no Tashi and I mean that.” Oh for fucks sake! The one time Art decided to put his foot down, it’s about a career killing decision. Of course it is. Art is so close-minded, he can’t think of the bigger picture. Too emotional to see that she’s right about this.
Tashi couldn’t take the back and forth anymore. She tried to be nice about it, she really did, but really! She ran her hands through her hair before moving over to her suitcase in silence. She knew the other’s hues were glued onto her movements, good , but still stood back stubbornly. So fucking stubborn, almost like— nope . She practically ripped a random pair of sweatpants from her luggage to pull on and a hoodie to match. She probably looked a mess, but it’s nine at night, so no one important should be out right about now.
Tashi gave the other a cursory glance over her shoulder as she shoved her feet into her pristine white sneakers, “I hope you know you’re being really fucking dumb about this,” she stated, her tone back down to her baseline evenness that she knew ticked Art off even more. “Every omega in the pro leagues right now is either on heat suppressants out right or birth control to control their symptoms.”She didn’t wait for a response as she yanked their hotel door open and walked through it. Where she was going, she didn’t know. She didn’t care. She just needed to get out of there.
— —
On her way back to their hotel room is when she saw him .
The curly haired alpha that had still somehow wormed his way into her brain on quiet nights just to agitate her. There he was, leaning over the table, closer to where her fiance sat, her omega. Art looked both frightened and resigned, a signature look that only he could manage. Patrick, on the other hand, had that stupid little smirk on his features, seemingly relishing in the reaction that he was receiving from her fiance. The one that’s not pushing Patrick away from him, the one that’s not moving himself away from the alpha—“Tashi Duncan?” A young, squeaky voice took her attention as she whipped around to the source. Said source was a little girl and a man who seemed to be her father closing in on her.
“I’m so sorry,” he immediately stated, catching up to where the little girl had invaded her space. “She’s a big fan of yours.”“I am!” she confirmed, loudly . She has too much excitement for it to be night time right now. “I want to play tennis because of you.”“That’s—,” there’s a sudden coal sized lump in her throat as a picture of herself, eyes laser focused with a racket posed in front of her, is staring back at her. She hasn’t looked at any of her tennis pictures since the incident, since her surgery , since the end of her fucking career. It’s almost as if she’s staring at a complete stranger, so far removed from this part of her that it burns to be reminded of her. She’s not her anymore, though.
“Are you okay?” A tiny voice broke Tashi out of her trance. She let out a small exhale as she straightened herself out immediately.
She isn’t her anymore. She will never be her again. She’s made peace with it. She has.
“‘Course. You want an autograph, right?” Tashi gives one of her sponsor-approved smiles that makes the little girl jump in excitement, nodding her head rapidly. Tashi signed the picture with a corny, uplifting message to match before giving the picture back.
“Thank you—” the man started off, but he was quickly cut off by the little girl.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I’ll never forget this! I promise!” She exclaimed before pulling her dad in the other direction, away from Tashi.
Tashi focused on her breathing, slowly, in and out repeatedly as she turned her head back to where they had been.
Both of them were gone.
Art wasn’t in their hotel room when she got back either.
By the time she heard the hotel door gently swing open, she didn’t know how long it had been. Sleep evaded her as she stared blankly at the wall, fingers twisting and turning Art’s grandmother’s ring snug against her finger. Possibilities of what kept Art away had already filtered through her mind. The truth settled in as Art got into their shared bed, not reaching out to cuddle her like he normally did, especially after arguments. It used to humor her, how he would seek out physical contact in lieu of apologizing verbally just to make sure that they were still marginally okay . She supposed he didn’t need that validation tonight. That he had already gotten it elsewhere.
Her omega, the one that’s sporting her still healing mating bite, smelled like cheap hotel soap, sandalwood, and smoke.
She would laugh if she could.
— — —
(2012)“Set out.” A hit.“Cross.” Missed cone.
“Set out.” Missed cone.“Backhand.” A hit.
Tashi’s monotone voice rang out through the sea of grunts coming from across the court. To Art’s credit, for being two months post-pregnancy, his moves were still pretty sharp. Though, that’s to be expected. Dr. Karin gave them three months for a reason and Tashi used every hour of their borrowed time to train until Art’s legs gave out. Maybe it was just training sake, maybe it was a punishment. Tashi didn’t know how she wanted to categorize it. It depended on the day.
And Art just took it because they’ve returned back to their equilibrium. Art doing what she says without question, following her orders for scarce praise and touches of affirmation that he’s doing a good job, that they’re okay . Besides, he already got what he wanted, didn’t he? He’s still not on birth control and he got a fucking baby out of it. He should be over the fucking moon right about now.
So, Tashi pushed him. Hard . He can’t be the only one getting something out of their unspoken arrangement. If she’s going to pretend , turn the other cheek, well, she needs a fucking winner delivering results to her. If it bordered on the line of cruelty, no one said anything. Art never said anything, not like he would dare toe the line of their tipping over their uneasy normalcy. He allowed her to bully his body in its most fragile state and she relished in the power and control that she regained. It would never be enough to forget what he did, but winning his tournaments was a start.
Their training days were long and grueling under the heat of the sun and Art took every swing that she threw at him. Well, he took it until the week before his official break was supposed to start. One of his infamous cramps took them both by surprise during one of their training sessions, but this one was different. This one brought Art down to his knees almost immediately, his arms flying to his stomach. His whole body had been flushed red as he practically screamed out in anguish .
One ambulance ride later and they were being told that the baby was fine by Dr. Karin. Though, she had stated that, as she predicted before, the contortion of Art’s body constantly caused the baby to move unnaturally causing excruciating pain. Art had barely been paying attention to either of them, reduced to a blubbering mess of apologies and tears, though she’s pretty sure he wasn’t talking to either women in the room. When Dr. Karin left the hospital room, her instructions were clear cut and to the point.
No more training. No more tennis matches. No more nothing .
Now alone in the sterile room with her omega, he had finally reduced himself to soft sniffles that she could barely hear from her seat across the room. She knew that she should be in Art’s bubble right now, trying to calm him down and reassure him that everything should be fine. Offering warmth and comfort through her scent instead of wearing her industrial strength scent patches. All of the nervous energy travelled to her leg, bouncing it up and down as her mind tried to grapple with the reality of the situation.
Art was truly benched.
Everything that they had been working towards would be coming to a hard pause and there was nothing that she could do to stop it, to work around it, to somehow avoid it—What was she supposed to do with herself now?
The rest of the pregnancy went off without a hitch once Art put down his racket. Well, it went off without a hitch for him at least. For Tashi, it was quite interesting having to pretend like the baby growing inside of your omega was actually yours when in fact, it was not! It was actually quite interesting to stare your own mother in the eyes and lie straight to her face about Art’s sudden pregnancy and your own sudden change in wanting to have kids. Lying is easy now, it’s second nature to her at this point. Telling your mother that your omega was so angry with you that he slept with your ex-boyfriend and his ex-best friend without a fucking condom was simply too much information. So, she smiled in her face and expressed her happiness for her omega and their situation. No one else needed to be added to their bed. It was only a few more months of this before they could get back on the court. She could survive this. She’s survived worse.
As Art’s bump grew though, it was like his whole world brightened.
It was more often than not that Tashi would overhear Art talking to his stomach as if the baby would speak back to him. Saying such nonsensical things with a dopey look in his eyes. Part of her filled with some kind of warmth seeing Art in such a state of ease and happiness day in and day out, but that part was easily overridden once she came back to her senses. Once she remembered how he got pregnant, how he chose fucking Patrick of all people to cheat on her with, how he still hasn’t had the decency to tell her that the baby growing in his stomach isn’t fucking hers. Bitterness seeps through her veins like a virus, infecting every good fiber in her body. Or maybe it was envy. Rotten envy that consumed her every time she saw him indulge in playing house instead of mourning his lost ability to play tennis and further his—no, their career. She would’ve actually killed someone to have the option to play tennis again, but no. Yet, here he was, practically throwing away his golden years for what, a baby ?
Tashi didn’t let those thoughts stay for long though, usually shaking them from the forefront of her mind by busying herself with miscellaneous tasks instead. Things could be worse than this.
Art was still there with her. He hadn’t left ( yet ). He cuddles up to her every chance that she allows him to. His purrs are always so loud when she rubs her fingers over his healed, but still dark, mating bite. He allowed her to scent Lily as soon as she was born, flooding the room with lavender and citrus. He still practically wraps his long limbs around her body on most nights that she allows him to. His head practically lived in her lap while she watched countless tennis matches. He always made a show of complaining about wanting to watch something else, but never made any movement to change the channel or go to a different room. If he wanted to leave then he would be gone, right? Right. Sometimes, Art’s priorities got skewed, but she’d redirect him easily. He’s still here . He still seeks out her touch like living without it will kill him. He still wants her, still needs her.
It had to be enough. It had to be enough when Art would disappear again, only to come back and immediately make a B-line for the guest bathroom. She’d act like she wasn’t watching him through the security camera linked to her phone, walking through the door with a slight limp in his step. She’d act like she didn’t hear him come into their bedroom later, after he’s presumably showered and tried to clean Patrick’s cum off of his body. She’d act like she hadn’t been awake the entire time he was gone, that she didn’t know exactly where he was .
No matter how hard Art scrubbed, she could still smell him—
Loud, shrill cries flooded her senses like sirens, breaking her out of her thoughts of last year. Once Tashi turned to the source of the noise, she noticed that Art had already dropped his racket to quickly cross the court to where their babysitter, Nancy, stood with Lily in her arms. As soon as Art was in grasping reach, Lily was in his arms, being held close to his chest. She knew Art well enough to know that the fabric of his shirt separating Lily from skin to skin contact irked his nerves, but Art’s not bold enough to slip it off in front of company.“I tried to calm her down for her nap, but she wouldn’t drink from her bottle. She wouldn’t stop crying Mr. Donaldson, I’m very sorry for disrupting your practice,” Nancy’s words were slurring together as her nervous hues bounced from Art’s to her own.
“Oh, you’re fine,” Art responded passively, probably not even registering what the other was saying to him at the moment. Once in Art’s arms, it was like all the tension and anguish swirling around in Lily’s little body had melted out of it. She settled into the omega’s warmth with ease.
She’d have to find a more competent babysitter tonight.
“You’re dismissed,” Tashi decided out loud, ignoring the confused expression she’s receiving from her omega. “Your services won’t be needed anymore. Your last check will be mailed to you. Please leave.” She stated concisely before passing the both of them to head into the air conditioning. The burning sun is unforgiving on her skin.
She can barely hear Art’s placating, the apologies and the ‘I’ll talk to her’, but she’s sure that all three of them know that Nancy’ll need a new job. Well, at least she knows that Art knows that for sure since when he entered the house, his scent is twinged with annoyance that he’s failing to hide. He passed her without a word to go to Lily’s nursery, but he left the door open. An olive branch, a passive aggressive one at that. Right up Art’s alley. It almost made her scoff. She would not chase after him. She fiddled with her notes that she had taken that morning of Art’s performance, answered two sponsor related emails, and a text message from her mom before deciding that enough time had passed.
Tashi leaned against the dorm frame of Lily’s nursery and allowed herself to drink in the comforting pheromones wafting off of Art’s seated position. His top half was bare now with Lily bundled loosely in blankets held up to his nipple as she drank his milk. It was as if she hadn’t been screaming her little lungs out just moments ago. She was perfectly at peace against Art’s bare chest. It’s a cute picture.
“Are you going to tell me why you fired Nancy?” Art’s voice never raised above a whisper when Lily was around. His hues haven’t left the bundle of blankets once to meet her own.
“If she can’t handle a crying baby then she shouldn’t be a babysitter. We already agreed that you wouldn’t be breastfeeding for long anyways. Introducing a bottle this early is the only way to end these tantrums for good ,” Tashi explained easily as she took a step within the nursery. Now that caused Art’s eyes to flicker towards her direction, just for a moment, before they returned back to Lily.
“If there’s something wrong with Lily, I’d rather they come find us to handle it, then just let her cry,” Art’s brows furrowed slightly as he switched Lily to his other nipple. “I don’t want her to be treated like that.”“You’re going to spoil her,” Tashi refuted, albeit weakly. She knew her words were going in one ear and out the other. This was no good. No good at all.
The way Art had tunnel vision when it came to Lily would only further hurt his career. He had already missed so many opportunities to make a name for himself and he’s moving as if he has all the time in the world to do so. If they didn’t get serious , then they might as well just fucking give up already.
“I can still play while I’m breastfeeding,” With no scent patches to hide behind, Art’s scent soured greatly. It stung the inside of her nostrils.
“And what happens when you start leaking in the middle of a tournament, huh? Are you going to ask everyone to stop what they’re doing because you’re too fucking stubborn to get on birth control?”
“I’ll just use a pump before matches, so that won’t be a problem.”“If you’re going to be pumping anyways, then you might as well just cut breastfeeding completely so Lily will take to a bottle faster.” Enough of this. Tashi let out a harsh exhale through her nostrils before she invaded Art’s space, towering over his slumped form.
She made a conscious effort to regulate her own body enough to start up the production of calming pheromones to at least get Art to relax a little bit. She had no energy to fight. They had no time for fighting. Her hand curled loosely around the column of his neck, her fingers paying special attention to Art’s mating mark. The combination had the blonde’s shoulders sagging. She couldn’t bring him down too much; that would also derail their plans for today. Her thumb nail dug ever so slightly into the underside of his chin, tipping his head up to meet her gaze.
“I know you want to be good for Lily, but I’m thinking of what’s best for you and your career, baby.” She reserved pet names for these uses, when she really needs that extra push from Art. The simple pet name has the desired effect on the omega that she wants. He’s nodding his head in her grip, ever so slightly. “You’re a good mother, Art. Whether you breastfeed or not, okay?” It’s what he wants to hear. It’s what he needed to hear. Her pointer finger ran against his jawline slightly before finally releasing her grasp completely.
Tashi took a step back from the seated omega, pushing her hands into her pockets. “When you finish feeding Lily, we’ll work on your drop shots. My mother should be here by then to watch her while we finish training.”A small hum sounded off through the nursery. Good.
She knew all he needed was a little redirection.
— — —
(2021 - May)The universe is playing a joke on her at this point. The final leg of the challenger was supposed to happen six days ago but the weather decided to fuck them and the competition as a whole with its heavy hurricane-like winds and rain to match. Sometimes the weather would break, but it’s for no more than an hour at a time before lightning starts cracking through the sky once more. Maybe there’s some part of her that’s relieved that the tournament keeps getting pushed off, that she won’t have to make good on her ultimatum just yet .
Their team is still bustling around them, keeping Art as focused as he can be between his routines and the toilet. It’s almost embarrassing to see him try to play everyone like a fool, as if he isn’t fucking pregnant right now. Well, maybe he’s just trying to delude himself into thinking that he’s not pregnant. It’s not working, she can tell. He hovers by the nursery every now and then for split seconds at a time. It’s enough to show his hand. She should be angry. Angry that he stepped out again, angry that he chose Patrick again— because Art would never choose anyone else—, angry that once again Art chose to get pregnant at the most inopportune time possible just to spite her. He wasn’t even keeping up his part of the fucking deal, not in a way that mattered anyways.
What if he loses? To Patrick no less? Would Art even care? Or would he cut his losses, take Lily, and live happily ever after in Patrick’s fucking car of all things. It’s delusional. This whole situation is hilarious in the same way getting stabbed in the neck is. Tashi fucking Donaldson slipped and made a mistake. She had told Art’s scheduling manager to find a challenger that had just enough press to light a fire under Art’s ass once more. She didn’t fucking think to say ‘Hey, make sure that the alpha Art’s been consistently cheating on me with isn’t also playing that challenger as well,’; sue her. But, now, they’re in it. She’s said what she said and part of her still meant it. And the other part of her was still scared of what was to come if things went left, if Art couldn’t deliver results.
Tashi’s never been this close to showing her full hand before. Here, running to Patrick’s beat up car in the middle of a fucking wind storm. She had told the valet boys that he was just her uber ride. There’s a flash of something that flickers on Patrick’s features before it faded into his signature, arrogant little smirk instead.
She had gotten a hold of Art’s phone while he was taking one of his signature long showers. His password was easy to guess— his grandmother’s birthday— and his call history with Patrick is easy to spot out. It’s one of the only unsaved numbers that have calls that last at least five minutes. Art didn’t pick up the phone unless he knew who was calling, well, most times. She had made quick work of copying over that number to her own phone. Once she had gotten rid of the evidence that she snooped through the other’s phone, she tapped her phone against her unscarred knee as she worked up her nerve to actually do what she was about to do. Fuck it. Fuck it. Fuck it.
‘It’s Tashi. Come see me at 678 Lane Str.’
Maybe he wasn’t expecting her to actually show, that this was another one of her games that she admittedly liked to play with the alpha. God, she wished it was. She can’t stand his gaze any further.
As Tashi walked closer to Patrick, she side-stepped him to make a B-line to the passenger seat of his car. “Stop fucking looking at me like that and open the damn door already,” she hissed back at the other.
“Yes ma’am,” Patrick fucking saluted towards her before making his way over to the driver’s seat. There was a moment’s pause before a low click signalled that she could finally take her seat in his car.
It’s about as shitty as she expected it to be. He had to be living in his car for it to be this messy. Oh . Hm. Thoughts for another day. This wasn’t about Patrick and whatever the fuck he had going on. This was about Art. All of this was always about Art. At the end of the day, they were always about Art, whether Tashi consented to that or not. They drive far away enough from the hotel that being parked shouldn’t raise any questions, hopefully. She really didn’t want to have to explain why she was in a parked car with her husband’s competition right before said tournament was supposed to occur. The optics of this looked fucking terrible. Oh how low she’s stooped. The only thing that’s keeping her sane is the silent drumming of Patrick’s fingers against his steering wheel. Finally the alpha decided to keep his trap shut to give her a little peace.
Once they were in a random little parking lot, Tashi looked around as much as she could through the dewy windows. It looked deserted around here.
It definitely looked like they were fucking, Jesus Christ.
After shutting off his car, he looked over to her, expectantly, causing the alpha to roll her eyes.
“I didn’t come here to fuck you Patrick,” Tashi stated firmly, her hands folding across her chest.
“ Oh ,” Patrick let out through an exaggerated sigh. “You didn’t?”
“No, I didn’t. I came here to talk to you. Believe it or not, not everyone only comes near you for your knot.”“Could’ve fooled me,” Patrick snided under his breath. She wanted to snap at him, tell him to stop acting like a pussy and at least speak at full volume. But she couldn’t. Because she needed something from him. “You know what? I’ll bite. Talk away.”“You need to throw the challengers match Patrick.” Well. It’s out there now. She would applaud herself for keeping her tone steady and calm if she didn’t feel rocks collecting in the pit of her stomach.
Tashi can easily pick up on the smell of burnt wood and must rolling off of the other as her words hung in the air between them. Patrick’s never been that good at hiding his emotions either. Just between him and Art, he always came out on top because Art’s as easy to read as Lily’s favorite bedtime stories. A laugh almost startled her, it was more like a low rumble, coming deep from Patrick’s chest.
He’s smiling at her, baring all of his teeth, “What the hell are you talking about?”
Tashi squinted over towards the other alpha before huffing out, “You know exactly what I said. Don’t make me say it again, Patrick.”
Silence permeated the air between them. The only thing being heard is the whistling of the wind outside.
A scoff came from his side. “Fuck off.”
A resigned sigh forced its way through her lips before she could stop it, “Patrick—,” It’s too close to pleading for her comfort. She’s almost relieved that he cut her off.
“You are so full of shit Tash, I mean seriously. Wow, you know, I knew— well, I’m sure everyone knew, that your faith in Art is waning, practically next to nothing, but match fixing ?” He let out a snort, shaking his head at her. Scolding her. It’s making her blood boil. How dare he? “That’s a little much, even for you, isn’t it?”
Instead of lunging over at the other alpha and ringing her hands around his neck, she flexed those hands against her knees instead. “He needs this Patrick. He can’t lose.” Even with Art’s body screaming at him to stop at every turn, he’s still pushing through. Still taking her orders. She can see that fire coming back, even if it’s simmering under the other symptoms— it’s there.
“Oh, does he?” Sarcasm’s dripping off every word. “Poor six -grand-slam champion Art fucking Donaldson needs to win a bottom of the barrel challenger tournament? What about what I need, huh? You ever think about what winning against Art would do for me ?”Tashi gave a useless shrug before throwing over a side glance in his direction. She had idly thought about what this win could do for Patrick, probably not much, but it would get his name back in the press for sure. She’s sure that Patrick would milk the win for all that he could, milking the fact that he won against Art, that he won against a grand slam champion and proved that he did actually have a few years of good tennis left in his old bones. But at the end of the day, that didn’t matter to Tashi. Not really, anyway. This wasn’t about Patrick and what he needed for his shit career to have a chance at really thriving this time around. This was about making sure that Art didn’t come out of the challenger worse than how he started and he’s already at rock fucking bottom right now. He can’t even stomach a fucking protein shake for fucks sake. His normal stretch routine reduces his limbs to shakes that could rival an elderly person’s.
Finally biting the bullet, Tashi turned to directly make eye contact with the other alpha. They locked eyes for a few long moments before Patrick decided to break the silence. “No.”Of course this couldn’t be easy.
“You know he needs this, Patrick. Don’t you care about him?”
“You can’t pull that shit on me Tash. If Art ever found out that you fixed the match just to boost his confidence, he’d never forgive you and he’d definitely never forgive me. I can’t believe you’d do this to him, seriously,” Patrick’s scent burns the insides of her nostrils, but she can’t fold. She can’t stand Patrick, of all people, chastising her on how she’s treating her omega. As if he fucking understood anything going on right now from the curb of their marriage.
Fuck, she’s already at rock bottom with the both of them. There’s no coming back from anything that’s transpired tonight. Might as well show her hand, her entire hand.
Tashi locked eyes with Patrick once more, making sure to keep his gaze on her. Hail mary.
“Art’s pregnant.”She can see the dilation in Patrick’s pupils, even through the darkness of the car. A heavy breath forced its way through his flared nostrils as he leaned back away from her. She could tell that he was studying her hard , trying to see any crack that he could that would signal that she’s bluffing.
“Bullshit.” He said after a couple of moments. She can see his chest start to rise and fall at a more rapid pace than before.
“I think I would know the signs more than you would Patrick. I’m the one who deals with them head on, remember? Not just seeing the after effects on social media,” Tashi hissed towards the other. She could practically see the cogs turning in Patrick’s head, no doubt trying to calculate the months in his head to connect the dots that she’s already connected. Always two steps behind.
Keep hitting while he’s down. “Art’s in a fragile place right now, but I can see that he’s trying again. Actually trying, not just scrounging up the usual bullshit that he does to get himself barely over the line. You push him Patrick, just by signing your name and showing your face. But he can’t move like he normally can because he’s fucking pregnant. He thinks he can hide it long enough to finish out the final, but I know when he sees you, he’ll crumble. You know how Art gets when his emotions are high, especially on the court.”
It’s almost like they were both transported back to when they were seventeen and playing for her phone number. Such a trivial little throw-away line that seemingly changed the trajectory of all of their lives. It’s obvious that something had perspired after she left their hotel room. What, she never knew. Art never said. Patrick never told the full details of that night, just teasing her along. Whatever it was, it was enough to shake Art off of his game. He was sloppier than usual, missing easy shots that flustered him even more. Even with the writing on the wall, Art still gave a good fight until the very end. Flushed and heavily panting, Tashi only gave a cursory glance towards the omega who had lost before returning her attention to the flashy winner of the two, bowing towards her. Tch. Show off.
“Just do it for Art,” Tashi finished with a long drawn out sigh, “ Please. ”
“Fuck me,” Patrick huffed, breaking eye contact with her. His volume was low, but filled with such vitriol that seemed wrong coming from the other alpha. His hands are patting around the center console for something. She’s not sure until a cigarette and lighter come into her view because of course they do. You couldn’t separate Patrick from a pack of blues if it killed him, even if it meant that his stamina would increase and he wouldn’t burn out in the second set all the time.
She would never admit such a thing but the smoke filling the space settled her nerves ever so slightly. He still won’t make eye contact with her as he cranked up his shitty car, peeling out of the parking lot they had settled into.
Fine, then. This was a fail. A humiliating fail that she would never be able to live down.
“You’re really serious about this?” Patrick inquired, eyes not leaving the road.
The question left Tashi’s nostrils flaring in annoyance. Of course she was fucking serious about this. Why else would she be in this shitty car, probably sitting on old food, begging Patrick of all people to inadvertently save her fucking marriage if she wasn’t serious? “If I wasn’t serious, I wouldn’t have looked through Art’s phone to get your number and I sure as hell wouldn’t be in your piece of shit car right now.”“Fuck,” Another beat passes. His cigarette bobs with every word. “I’ll do it.”Everything in Tashi seized all at once, as if the words had been ice water poured all over her heated skin.
“What’s with the sudden change?” She can’t help but prod. It’s what she does best. Sticking her finger into the wounds of her little white boys until Art bends and Patrick bites.“Why does that matter to you? I said I’d fucking do it, so just be happy that I’m being a good little lap dog for once and shut up about it,” Patrick snipped towards her before tapping his cigarette on the overflowing ash tray in the center console.
“I just need to know you aren’t bullshitting me right now,” Tashi stated defensively, her arms folding against her chest once again. “No need to throw a damn tantrum.”A laugh startled Tashi out of her defensive posture, her hues darting over to the other alpha. She could practically taste the bitterness oozing off of him. “I think I have more than a few good reasons to throw a couple tantrums right about now, Tash.”“Yeah, well, me too.” Tashi shot back.
They’re both fucked essentially. Tethered to each other because Art is a greedy little thing that neither of them can let go of. Neither of them wanted to be in the situation that they’re in, she’s sure. Sometimes she wondered if Art knew how badly he fucked the both of them up with his actions. If he knew how tied up their lives would be as he banged on Tashi’s dorm room door that night. Even if he did, did he care? No. If he cared, he would’ve stopped. If he cared , he would’ve gotten an abortion and acted like his fluke of a mistake never happened. Like the first time. When the baby was hers . But with Patrick, oh Art could never get rid of his hellish spawn, no . If Art truly cared, he wouldn’t have doubled back— tripled back , probably.
“What is winning tomorrow even going to solve? You really think Art is gonna go for the US Open when he’s pregnant?” Tashi tapped her finger against the side of her arm, inhaling lightly.
“Don’t worry about what’s going on in my home,” She responded instead of actually putting any thought to his question. The only way that she had a chance of getting Art to the US Open was to tie him being able to keep this one to his performance abilities. It’s shitty, it’s so shitty, but this whole situation is shitty . It’s one that they shouldn’t even be in, but what can she do? Art turned out to be a bigger slut than she realized and she really enjoys being his coach all the same.
“ Oh , my bad!” Patrick’s hands let go of the wheel to raise them up momentarily, so dramatic . “Fuck me for wondering if any of this would even change anything. Maybe I just wanted to know if I was really fucking my career for a reason or not.”“Your career is already fucked, Patrick. It’s been fucked. It will always be fucked. The last time you won something meaningful is when you got my fucking number. Really, you should’ve hung up the racket years ago. It’s pathetic that you keep up this pitiful game. I would say you’re trying, but you're not. You’re almost as bad as Art. You could’ve honed in your skills and at least broken top fifty but you couldn’t even be bothered to fucking try ,” Tashi spit towards the other, her own scent finally spiking against her will. Of course it would be Patrick getting under her fucking skin without trying. “One more loss under your belt isn’t going to be groundbreaking. It’s going to be fucking predictable. Get your head out of your ass.”“You really are an asshole,” Patrick stated through a chuckle. It almost looked a bit scary coming from such a stone-face.
“Yeah, well, everyone’s an asshole on the tennis court. You aren’t there to make friends.”“You aren’t there to find mates either, but look at where you ended up.”“ You lost him Patrick,” she conceded easily. It’s only natural that Art once again becomes the nucleus of their conversation. A cloak to hide their own bullshit in because Art would always allow himself to be their shit holder. “It’s not my fault that you were too much of a pussy to put your bite on him.”“I didn’t know I was working on borrowed time, my bad.”“You weren’t. That’s what’s fucked about all of this, honestly. Art probably would’ve waited for you until you were both decrepit and could barely mate anymore if it meant that you two would be together.”
“Tashi, stop—”“But you fucked it,” Tashi continued as if she hadn’t heard the other’s plea . “When he needed you most, you were just gone without a trace. Hell, when I needed you, you were too fucking late. You wouldn’t even tell us why you hadn’t shown for Art’s heat or my match. Not that I really care anymore about your reasonings. Knowing wouldn’t do anything to change where we are now. Because when you left, you stayed gone. So, no, you don’t get to ask questions about my omega or my home. You haven’t earned the right to.”“You’ve made your fucking point, Tashi, Jesus Christ, I got it.”“Are you sure? ‘Cause I don’t want to have to go over this with you again,” she hissed towards the other.
Silence overtook the car as Tashi leaned back into her lumpy seat. Well, until they turned a sharp left at an intersection and the car was suddenly jerking to a stop causing a gasp to leave Tashi’s lips without her permission. She could barely gather her bearings before the sound of the gasping winds became loud and clear as Patrick yanked open his door to step out of the car, slamming it closed almost immediately without a word. What the fuck? Patrick started walking in the opposite direction of his car. Once she realized that he was seriously walking away, with the keys mind you, Tashi yanked her own car door open to follow the dumb alpha. As soon as she shut her own door, the sound of it locking caused her to huff in frustration.
“Patrick!” She yelled while quickly catching up to where he was. “What the fuck are you doing? It’s fucking storming!”No response. He’s really going to make her chase him? Seriously?
As soon as she got close enough to the other alpha, she gripped at the other’s wrist, yanking him around to face her. “What is your issue?”Patrick’s staring at her with a strange expression on his features, one that she can’t name but she’s seen before. His pulse is practically throbbing. All of the answers that she’s been avidly avoiding are staring right back at her, unguarded and unavoidable. Patrick’s wrist twists in her grasp, but he made no real effort to remove himself from her touch.
Before she can stop to think about her next move on this chest board they’re on, the words come tumbling out without her consent. “She has your cheekbones.”
Patrick’s eyes slowly closed and stayed closed for a few long moments as his chest started to rise and fall one more. The silence was deafening even through the loud winds surrounding them. When his hues opened once more, Patrick’s gaze had softened.
“I know.” Resigned in truth, the acknowledgement is enough. Patrick’s an open book in front of her now, what feels like years of hurt pouring through his widened hues. “But ah, don’t worry, Art would never even think about leaving you,” he shrugged effortlessly, as if they were speaking about the fucking weather and not their fucked relationship. If you could even call it that .
She’s not sure what is pulling her to be so honest right now, untactfully honest that is. She’s revealing too much that can never be taken back, peeling back too many layers that have grown fuzzy and rotten from years of being hidden in the darkness. “That’s easy for you to say Patrick.”“Oh you think?” The smirk playing on the other alpha’s lips would’ve fooled an untrained eye, but Patrick’s hues never lie. They’re both digging into places that have remained buried for over a decade , for peace of mind, for avoidance sake, for their own mental health— for Art’s . “Remind me, whose mating bite is he wearing?”Tashi can’t help the scoff that falls from her lips, a chuckle filled to the brim with bitterness following right after. To anyone else she probably looked insane. “Whose the alpha of his fucking kids, Patrick? Which one do you think he cares more about, huh?” She boldly holds his gaze, waiting for some sort of fight, an argument that she’s wrong, but neither comes. Neither came because she knows the answer already and so does he. Whether he wants to say it out loud or not.
He didn’t have to.
Patrick drove her back to her hotel. They rode in complete and utter silence.
Too much had been said already anyways.