"Come on! I know ya gonna like it!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

"Aw, come on!"

"I would if you would stop dragging me behind you like I'm some kind of chick, Tucker."

"Bow chicka bow-"

"Don't. Just… don't." Grif groaned and slumped down on a chair at the bar. The music was slightly louder than normal, but not blaring loud that you wouldn't understand a word.

They were at the Omegan Bar after a hard day's work. Working at a road making company in the middle of the fucking Texan desert, every day was hard day's work. At least Grif earned good money. Making sure, Kai and he had a roof over their heads, a full refrigerator and Kai would be able to, at least, finish high school unlike Grif. He had left college in the second year because their mother abandoned them, making him responsible for Kai. Including finding a work.

Ordering a beer from an older man, Tucker called him North so he was the owner of the bar, Grif decided to kill the beer and go home afterwards. He just wanted to crash on the sofa, maybe having a shower before doing so. A lanky figure with flaming red hair put down the beer in front of Grif, then Tuckers coke with vodka.

Somehow, Grifs eyes got averted to the young man like a magnet. He had flashing green eyes, flaming red hair (making his eyes flashing even more) and more freckles than space on his face. At least it looked like that for Grif. Before he could say something, the figure was gone, going to serve the ordered drinks to one of the tables in the back of the club, behind the dance floor, Grifs glances trailing with him.

Simmons didn't really know why this all happened. Okay, that wasn't true, he knew, but his brain stubbornly refused to accept this fact. To tell it from the beginning, he would have to go sixty years back in time. He hadn't even been born then. A massive solar storm hit the earth almost exactly sixty years ago. The magnetic field underwent a polarity change, leaving the earth open and vulnerable.

Luckily, nothing bigger happened. Some transformers got destroyed and that was it. At least the scientist thought so. Some years later, when the next generation, born after the storm, was old enough, things suddenly got strange. First, the scientists didn't have an explanation for the strange behavior. When they finally had, people first thought they were joking.

Due to the solar storm, the genetic code for pack hierarchies and mating got activated! Meaning: The kids born after the solar storm got divided into two classes of the pack. Alphas and Omegas.

Omegas could get impregnated and Alphas were able to impregnate. The external sex didn't matter in this fact. Strangely enough, it was now possible that a female Alpha could impregnate a bitch male (common word for Omega males).

The sexualities like Hetero, Homo, Pan, Bi, etc. lost a lot of their initial weight for the fate of a person. Earlier, homosexual partners couldn't have a baby unless adopting one or having a host mother. Now, it was actually physically possible to conceive a child. After the first mal pregnancies, the medicine adapted pretty fast to assist and help the bitch males during pregnancy and giving birth to the kid (What meant an abdominal cut).

Since this happened, the world changed rudimentary, causing the people to go back to more archaic structures. In some cultures, Omegas had gotten fair game, or at least have a lower status than Alphas.

Anyway. All this information influenced Simmons life since birth. When he was about sixteen, he had his coming-out more accidentally as his dad found some magazines in his room. Magazines for girls. With men in it. He was sure about that ever since. Girls didn't interest him the slightest. His mom died years ago, he couldn't expect help from her anyway. She had been a fucking apple-polisher. Fucking devote behavior of Omegas. His dad, well, he hated him from this day on. Saying that at least he could get a bitch male and have some kids. Great.

During the next years, it got worse.

His dad hated him more every day, and Simmons began to struggle with himself. He always had low self-esteem and confidence, his father not really making it better.

Just the day he had finished high school and was about to start at the college, he suddenly got high fever. When his dad came home in the evening, he made Simmons get up, pack his stuff and leave his house. The fever and the stink (as his dad called it) were typical for an Omega. He didn't want a fucking fagott omega-son at home.

He even went that far and called the College, making sure his son wouldn't attempt the school. Because he wouldn't pay for such a monstrosity of son.

That was the day when he traveled from Northern Minnesota southwards. Until he stranded here in Blood Gulch. Nobody wanted an Omega working for them. Because it would only cause the Alphas go crazy. Even more when they were in a heat.

Luckily, Simmons had though on taking the suppressor with him. Without it, he wouldn't have arrived at Blood Gulch in one piece. However. As he arrived there, he strolled lost through the places until he saw the 'help wanted' sign in the window of this club. The sign made very clear that the help must be an Omega. It was like a lucky pull.

That was the day when he met North and this guy turned out to be his live saver. He gave him a job here, helped him finding a college in the close proximity to continue the studies he wanted to and even organized a little apartment for him.

Two years passed since Simmons stranded here and became a waiter and college student in astrophysics.

Putting down a bottle of beer in front of a tan skinned young man (around his age) and a coke-vodka in front of his dark skinned companion, he soon left to bring the drinks North mixed to the other side of the small dance floor to a group of four Alphas. He didn't like them. They were loud and treated the Omegas as if they were fair game.

Just as he put down the drinks, one of the Alphas grabbed his arm forcefully, pulling him down to make him sit on his lap, slurring. "Come on babe, why don't you sit with me. Maybe we could have some fun together later, what do you think?"

"Let go of me!" Simmons desperately tried to struggle free from his grip, but the guy was too strong. His friends laughed dirtily, Simmons already dreading of what could happen when he couldn't break free.

"Aw come on, don't be so shy babe."

"Hey fucktard, you heard the guy. Let him go." Suddenly another voice cut in, making the guy loosen his grip. Simmons fell on the ground due to the sudden overweight to one side.

The aggressive Alpha growled. "Get lost! I didn't smell any mark on him, so I'm free to take what I want."

"Omegas are no all-you-can-eat-buffet you asshole. They have rights too!" shocked, Simmons observed how the tan man he saw from before stood in between him and the aggressive guy.

Before any of them could say something else, they got caught by a guy and a girl, both beginning to drag them out. "Hey wait!" Simmons scrambled on his feet, running over to York, who held the tanned man in the orange shirt in headlock.

The man Simmons addressed as York stopped, looking at him questioningly. The man he held was struggling to break free, swearing like a trooper. "You know the rules, Simmons."

"Yeah, but he didn't harass me! In fact, he saved me from the other jackass and his friends. Let him go, he didn't anything wrong."

"You sure? I don't want to get problems with North." Replied the security, measuring the waiter attentively.

Simmons nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah I'm sure. I'll explain it to North. Please let him go and get the other three guys out of here."

Reluctantly, York let go of the guy who immediately began to rub his sore shoulder, still cursing.

"Okay, Simmons. If you tell me, I'll give a chance. However, if he ever again starts a ruckus he's out. You know the rules."

"Yes I do, but I bail for him."

This seemed to persuade the Freelancer security, nodding his head before turning to walk out.

Before he definitely left, he turned around again and waving Simmons over. "And you better go home. Now. Got me?"

Simmons first looked puzzled at the security until realization hit him like a fucking train. Oh fucking shit! It was a week too early! It wasn't possible that 'it' would already start!

Stumbling out a half-assed excuse, the redhead disappeared behind the bar and in one of the back rooms. He knew that North would be there, doing some boss-thing. He didn't really care.

Stumbling in the room, North lift his head, immediately saying. "Home. Now."

Simmons nodded, gathering his stuff. Luckily, he had his ointment always with him. Shortly leaving for the bathroom to apply it (to get home unharmed) he came back just as North was about to leave for the front desk. "North, I'd like to tell you that before you learn it from Yorks reports. There was an incident because of me. I really didn't know that it's already starting, okay? It's a week too early." the last words were slightly snappy as North narrowed his eyes dangerously.

"Anyway." Simmons dragged a hand through his hair, already feeling the skin heating up from the fever. "York and South interjected before something could happen. I bailed for one of them. A tan skinned man in an orange shirt. He didn't do anything except of protecting me. So please, don't throw him out okay?"

"Is he…?" asked North, leaving the question open.

"No!" exclaimed Simmons loudly, his face now hot not only because of the fever. "He just saved me, okay? I don't have a… you know. I better go now." Mumbled Simmons, leaving the bar with a mumbled "good-bye" and a wave.

Mounting the bicycle, he hauled ass to get home and lock himself up.

Ten minutes later, he arrived at the apartment block he was living. The salary he got from North was more than enough to pay the rent for this little apartment, to have enough food and to pay the college. Entering the room, he kicked his shoes carelessly in the corner his shoes were standing. Normally he would care about the cleanliness in here, but just now, he didn't give a fuck about it.

He threw the clothes into the washing basket in the bathroom and detached his left artificial leg. This was also a 'gift' from his dad. He once drove home from a party, slightly drunk and driving way too fast. Well, things happened and he crashed against a car as he lost control over the vehicle. He had nothing but bruises, Simmons (who was sitting behind his mom) lost his leg right under the knee and his mom died on the spot.

However. Leaning the silicone leg against the sideboard in his room, he put on his sleeping clothes and decided to try to study for school afterwards. He would have to skip the classes too for the next two weeks. Thinking of his empty refrigerator, he made a mental note that he should call up Sarge to bring over some stuff. Luckily, the owner of the grocery store made deliveries too to help the Omegas in the heat.

Sitting down at the desk in the living room, he shortly checked where he left his work the other day. He was in the middle of the preparations for the semester examinations and the writing of his first dissertation for the bachelor work. A subject he could easily deepen for his dissertation for the Master-degree.

Taking up a pen, he began to work through the subject he was working at. He was a good student. He knew almost everything. Still, there were slight details, which made him worry. What if questions came about the stuff he didn't know? He could fail and not get the degree! That would be fatal!

Simmons preferred to be prepared and rather know too much, than not giving his best and fail, knowing exactly he could have done better.

The next time Simmons lift his head out of the papers, he felt a massive headache thud behind his forehead and he felt like getting boiled alive. His head fully kicked in.

Groaning, he got up from the desk and hobbled over to the couch, slumping on it. Taking out his phone, he dialed the number of Red's grocery store.

After the second ringing, Sarge took the phone. "Reds grocery store. Wait a moment." Simmons heard shuffling and how Sarge made the checkout. Another shuffling indicated Simmons that he took up the phone again.

"Sorry for letting you wait." He always was completely out of character when at work. He still had a gruff and grumpy nature, but was much more polite than usually.

"Hey Sarge, it's me, Simmons. I need some stuff from you." The redhead shortly listed everything he needed. Sarge wrote down what Simmons told him.

"Okay son, I'll prepare the stuff, you can pick it up this afternoon."

"I'd prefer if you would bring it to me."

"Why, you have a bicycle to ride over to me."

"Yeah, sure, but it's not safe for me to go out now." Simmons head throbbed stronger, his fever making him slowly fuzzy.

There was a short silence, before he said. "Okay, I see. But I can bring the stuff earliest in four days. I'm completely full the next days."

"That's okay, I have enough food until then." Lie. Well, what are food deliveries for? "I'll await the delivery in four days."

"Damn right son. Keep your chin up."

"Thanks Sarge." Simmons hung up the phone and laid it on the coffee table. Laying down he already felt miserable. The fever was burning strong in him, his head throbbing and his whole body aching for relieve. Did he mention that he hated to be in a heat?

Heat always means high fever, hallucinations and pain to him. He would feel like getting boiled alive, having hallucinations of whatever his fucked and sex driven mind would throw at him. Like Alphas showing up out of nowhere and… well… yeah…

Anyway. Although he was hallucinating and in desperate need for an Alpha, he wouldn't go out or do something too exhausting. Additionally to the fever, his whole body hurt. He didn't want to move too much, except of the necessary.

Besides. He didn't just want any Alpha to fuck him just for his own release. First because he wasn't such a slut and secondly because this release would stop the fever only temporary. For about a day. So the effort of getting up and find an Alpha he found being pleasing to him, get him in his apartment was way too much effort in his actual state.

No, he would stay here and sit this out like the last years. Although it felt it was getting worse with every heat. Which was probably true. Simmons recalled once reading an article about young unmated Omegas in a heat. They would suffer high fever, exposed to high danger of long-term damages to his body or brain. Finding a mate and building up a strong bond with this person would lessen the heat and the risk of possible damages.

Simmons got the quilt from the footing of the couch because he felt cold. Huddling up in the blanket he tried to sleep a bit. Although he knew, he wouldn't be able to sleep because of this fucking heat. Simmons only hoped that no Alpha would show up here. Lucky him he had no Alpha friends except of the Freelancers, and they wouldn't visit him when he was in his heat.

If an Alpha would show up, Simmons honestly didn't know what he would do when his state would stay the same over these days.

The next thing the redhead noticed actively was a knocking sound at his door. "Come on son! Open the door!"

That was Sarge! Shit, did he lay in a delirium for more than three days!? Jumping from the couch, the first thing he did was sprawling. With a suppressed curse, Simmons got up again, hobbling over to the door.

Unlocking and opening it, he saw Sarge with a crate standing in front of the door. Opening the door completely, he let in the gruff owner of the grocery store.

"Here's your stuff." Announced Sarge superfluously. "But looking at you." Sarge mustered him from head to toe. "I better help you with that." Taking the crate he headed towards his door whilst Simmons closed the door again. Looking in the mirror beside the door, he knew what Sarge meant. His face was flushed, sweat rolling over his face, one leg detached (It hurt wearing it, okay?) breathing heavily, shaky and, despite everything said previously, a hungry look in his eyes. Ready to take whatever opportunity if he wasn't watching out.

Simmons shuffled back to the couch, knowing that Sarge knew his kitchen and knew where to stuff what. If there was something he would leave it on the counter, as long as it didn't need to be put in the refrigerator.

Simmons waited on the couch for Sarge, wallet in his hand and waiting to pay the stuff and the delivery. Sarge normally wouldn't accept if he insisted on paying the drive over here. And as usually, Simmons would give him an extra big tip to cover the driving-fees. Strangely enough, he seemed to be the only one. All others complain about the horrendous delivery-fees he takes.

As Sarge returned from the kitchen, he put the empty crate beside the door. He knew Simmons wasn't able to walk around when being in a heat. It wasn't the first time he helped him. Instead of walking to the couch, the older went over to the windows, opening them. "Time to air the place, son. It stinks in here."

"But- You can't smell the pheromones!" exclaimed Simmons, immediately on the edge of not knowing how he should react.

The other man chuckled lowly. "I'm not talking about this shit. But it stinks. And if I notice that it reeks, then it's about fucking time to air!"

"Right, sir." Muttered Simmons, looking down on his hands.

"So when you're like… that. You suffer from fever and hallucinations and shit, right?" asked Sarge, looking over to the overheated young redhead on the couch. Simmons nodded. "Yes, sir."

"And banging could help?" this time Simmons cringed. "Yes and no. Normal copulating helps to break the fever for about a day. Only a strong bond to a mate could lessen the effects and dangers."

"They're dangerous?"

"Imagine you get boiled from the inside out. Like in an oversized steamer. It could cause severe damages at your internal organs and brain. To lessen the fever you have only two possibilities: Fuck or death."

"Uh-hu." Sarge cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed about the subject. "And then why don't you search a… how do you call that? Mate?"

"I haven't found one until now." Replied Simmons simply, before adding. "Before you ask, no I won't go out and just fuck with any Alpha I meet. I rather stay home and sit it out."

"I see. So you're like, two weeks permanently horny, feverishly and hallucinating. I begin to prefer me being neither of it."

"Lucky you got born before the sun storm."

"Absolutely, son. But now, you should rest." Putting down a bottle of lemonade on the coffee table, Sarge turned around and went to close the windows.

He collected the fee from Simmons for the supplies, again getting in a smaller fight with the young man about the driving fees. As usually, Simmons would insist that he would take the money as tip. Thanking for the money and taking the crate, Sarge soon left again to now open his store. He does the deliveries during morning, lunch and evening, when he wasn't running the store.

Simmons now was alone again, starring at the bottle of lemonade on the coffee table. Right… drinking.

Drinking some sips, he put down the bottle and decided to have a bath. There was one thing he hated more than the fever and the hallucinations he had during the heat. It was this fucking wet and damp feeling between his legs. During this time, his body would intensify the self-lubrication, making sure that everything would work out. Simmons hated it, okay?

He always used to walk like really having a stick up his ass because he hated this feeling of dampness running down his inner tights.