Chapter 2

On day ten, Gregory was locked out of his own crime scene.

He received a call at home early in the morning. The Chief Superintendent had reassigned one of Dimmock's cases to his team to free the newly appointed DCI up to a triple murder. The Sergeant on guard was a new transfer from another state, and apparently he refused to believe an Omega could have made the rank of DI, even with the aid of his warrant card.

There were sniggers behind him, muffled but still loud enough for Gregory to hear. He understood the meaning behind these games perfectly, he had been subjected to them often enough. But it had been years and years ago. He thought he had won his colleagues' tolerance, if not a certain degree of respect in the last 20 years of his career. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to be the case.

Before things could have gone out of hand, it was Dimmock who put his foot down on this ridiculous drama. He had come out to see what the commotion was about. Gregory had never seen him so angry before – angry in a silent way. His glare was enough to silence his entire team. He lifted the police tape for Gregory so he could enter.

They quickly went through the necessary paperwork. Dimmock quietly apologised for his subordinates' inappropriate behaviours, before taking his leaving.

Then out of nowhere Sally showed up with the rest of his team. Gregory wasn't exactly tempted to ask where they were ten minutes ago. After all, he could hardly expect any of them to stand up for him. He knew by working with him, they had already put their own careers at risk.

The murder took place at the back alley of a seedy night club. The victim was a female in early 20s. Her body was dumped in the dumpster. Underneath the highly revealing corset, nearly every inch of skin was covered by bruises, burn marks, and shallow knife wounds. Gregory brushed strands of soft blond hair away from her face, revealing the bashed and swollen features. Despite the level of violence forced on the poor girl before her death, and her massed up make up, it was still very easy to see how beautiful she was – fragile, delicately beautiful, the sort that attracted violent criminals.

Anderson had already started on forensics. The initial examination had been able to determine the cause death as strangulation. They had been able to recover various bodily fluids from her and her clothes. Within a few hours Gregory was provided with the identity of the victim - Sarah Lawrence. Her finger print had a match in the database, as she had been detained previously for underage prostitution.

Despite the level of violence and brutality demonstrated, the case seemed to be quite straight forward. Within two days, his team had been able to determine that on the night of her death, she offered sexual service to one of her drug dealers, who had history of committing sexual and violent crimes. The drug dealer, Ken Brooks denied the allegation, insisted that he was only with Sarah until 9 pm that night, which was 6 hours away from her time of death. His so-called alibi could not be confirmed. Gregory knew they had the right guy. All they needed was for his DNA to match the ones they found in the crime scene to nail him down.

Gregory allowed himself a glass of wine when he got home that night. For the first time since Edward Blair's death he felt a sense of peace and contentment. He loved what he did for living – helping the weak and vulnerable, bringing closure and answers to victims and their families – it was good to know that he was still able to make a difference, even without Edward's support.

He didn't realise he had fallen sleep on his sofa, until he was woken up by the loud banging on his front door. Once he had it open, he was surprised to find a very much drunk Dimmock, who forced his way past him. However, he was not that shocked when the younger man slammed his body against the closed door, and crushed his lips on to his. He smelt of alcohol and arousal.

Dimmock sucked and bite on the hollow of his neck, hard enough to make Gregory wince; while his hands torn open his shirts.

It was plain and obvious what the younger man had wanted, Gregory thought. After all, he had shown him an act of kindness today at the crime scene, and now he wanted repayment.

Gregory was made to turn around, with his pants pulled around his ankles. Fingers were roughly pushed into him, opening him up. The calloused skin rubbed against the highly sensitive wall, Gregory could not help but moaned. His body instinctively started to relax, adjusted to the intrusion. His passage became wet and slick in no time, practically begging for more.

Dimmock groaned, and then he replaced his fingers with his cock. His thrusts were erratic and clumsy. Still, he was able to easily reduce Gregory to a begging mess.

Moments like this, Gregory was no longer a human being, but a sexual creature that was unable to resist any form of stimulation. To be filled like this, to be used for the pleasure of an alpha, to be reduced to nothing more than a sex toy, it had felt right, like he was being put in his rightful place. He felt no shame, no embarrassment. He only knew the need to please and satisfy, to have a cock inside of him. They only crept up to him afterwards.

Warm semen soon flooded his passage, and it was enough to bring Gregory off. Lust soon left his system, and his head cleared. He took in the scent of sex that hung heavily in the air, the wall that had stained with his own release, and the throaty laughter right behind his ear and winced.

He was expected to be called a whore, a slut who couldn't get enough. To be laughed at, mocked at, like what he had always been subjected to.

He had anticipated many things; many things expect for gentle touches that lingered on the skin, and the soft words of "I love you."