Brandon groaned as he felt the cold steel of the handcuffs press against his wrists. They made a sinister metallic ratcheting sound as they closed tight, trapping his hands behind his back. One sharp push from behind sent him stumbling to his knees. The tall man was in front of him in an instant, his rock-hard cock pushing insistently against Brandon’s lips. The Omega took it in, sucking and lapping eagerly, wanting so badly to please his master...

The relentlessly cheerful chirping of his phone alarm brought Brandon abruptly into the waking world. He fumbled at the screen to switch it off, then rubbed his eyes. What a delicious dream. Not that he would know anything about BDSM in real life, though. His last Alpha had been annoyingly vanilla, and unwilling to indulge in any of what he called Brandon’s “weird perverted fantasies.” No wonder their relationship hadn’t lasted.

Brandon’s phone beeped again, and a calendar alert flashed up on the screen: “Reminder: SodaCo Meeting In 2 Hours.”

Oh man, it was the big day. Hopping out of bed, Brandon strode into his bathroom, trying to calm the butterfly colony that had suddenly taken up residence in his tummy. A quick glance in the mirror revealed an impressive case of bedhead and... strangely flushed skin. Oh no, he thought. Not today. Please not today.

Brandon stuck the digital thermometer under his tongue, praying that his suspicions were wrong. But when the thermometer beeped and revealed a temperature of 99.7, he swore under his breath. Yup, the sexy dreams, the higher than normal temperature: no doubt about it, Brandon was going into heat.

Omegas became fertile on differing schedules. For some, it happened once a month like clockwork, but others were only in heat twice a year. Brandon was one of the irregular ones: he never knew when or where it was going to happen. Modern scientists still hadn’t quite figured out what triggered an Omega’s heat cycle; everything from diet and exercise level to the presence of an Alpha seemed to have an effect. But one thing was for sure: when a heat started, it couldn’t be stopped. Once the Omega realized what was happening, they would take leave from school or work for a week or so and just ride out the insane desire to breed that overtook all rational thought, either alone or with a partner.

But why did it have to start today, of all days?!

Brandon dropped the thermometer on his counter and turned to the shower, setting it to blast cold water. He shivered as the icy droplets rained down over his bare skin, but his cock remained stubbornly erect. The Omega ignored it, soaping himself up with a grim determination. 

The meeting today was probably the most important of his budding career. He, an Omega, had managed to get a job with Bespoke, the most prestigious design firm in the city. And not as just as an eye candy receptionist either, like so many Omegas. No, he was working on a new packaging design for the region’s foremost soda distributor, and he would be presenting his work to their executives today. If he called in to take a leave because of his heat, it could affect his whole career. It was no secret that some companies refused to hire Omegas at all for that reason.

He clenched his hands into fists, letting the icy water wash over him. No. He would tough it out for this one meeting. After all, it wasn’t like anybody had to know. The clients were a pair of Betas, so they were unlikely to be affected by his heat state. He would do the presentation, make a great impression, and then take his leave. He nodded, toweling himself off briskly, trying to ignore his persistent hard-on. Yeah, that would work. What could go wrong?

***

Brandon had just set his bag down and logged into his computer to double check his presentation when his coworker, Marissa, poked her head into his office.

“Heads up, Bran. Big boss is headed this way,” she said, her eyebrows knit in concern.

Brandon blinked, unsure if he’d heard her right. “Mr. Maxwell? I thought he was in the Caribbean trying to get that new account.” The CEO of Bespoke, out of the office more than he was in it, so his visits always caused quite a commotion among his staff. In addition to being the second wealthiest man in the country, he was smoking hot. And a talented designer. Basically, the man was terrifyingly intimidating.

Marissa shrugged. “He left word that he’ll be here in time for your presentation. No pressure or anything, right?”

Brandon covered his mouth with his hand. “Fuuuck,” he mumbled. This could ruin everything. Having your super-hot super-talented boss watch while you try to impress a client was always nerve wracking. To top it all off, Mr. Maxwell was an Alpha, which meant he would know by Brandon’s scent that the Omega was in heat when he got within 50 feet of him. Not to mention the mere presence of an Alpha would be incredibly... distracting in his heat-sensitive state. To put it mildly.

Marissa, apparently interpreting his distress as general nervousness, gave him an encouraging smile. “Don’t worry, your design is amazing. You got this!”

He managed a weak smile in return. “Yeah, thanks. I hope so.”

Brandon spent the last few minutes before the clients arrived getting his designs in order and rehearsing his speech. And trying to get his heart rate back under control. Maybe Mr. Maxwell’s limo would get stuck in traffic and he wouldn’t make it on time, Brandon thought hopefully. Or maybe aliens would abduct him on the way to the office? A guy could dream.

His desk phone buzzed. “Brandon, the SodaCo people are in the conference room.”

“Thanks, Mark. Is, um, Mr. Maxwell there too?”

“No sign of him,” answered the receptionist.

Maybe things were looking up! “I’ll be right there,” he responded. Gathering up his materials, Brandon squared his shoulders and headed down the hall.

***

“So as you can see, I decided to go for more of a streamlined, modern look for this brand, since you said you were interested in focusing on a younger audience,” Brandon said, flicking to the next slide in his presentation.

“Oh, I love it!” gushed Mindy, the advertising director of SodaCo. “What do you think, Sarah?”

The other woman nodded approvingly. “Nailed our concept. Very nice.”

Brandon fought the urge to grin like an idiot. They’d tasked him with redesigning the cans for several of the company’s most popular drinks, which had been a pretty intimidating assignment, but so far the two had loved everything he’d shown them. Mr. Maxwell had also not yet made an appearance, thank god. It looked like he may just pull it off after all.

He clicked to move on to the next slide. “With this one, I was going for a more baroque feel, with the elaborate background and the elegant text. A little girlier, since the brand is more female-focused.”

“Very nice, Brandon,” said a deep male voice from behind him. Brandon whipped around so fast he almost knocked his laptop over.

Mr. Maxwell stood framed in the doorway, in all his 6’5 Alpha glory. Being out in the tropics had given his skin a golden glow, setting off his dark blonde hair and green eyes to perfection. As usual, he was clad in an impeccably fitting suit that probably cost more than Brandon’s car.

“Please, don’t let me interrupt you,” he said, entering the room with the easy grace of a predator circling its prey. He greeted each of the women in turn with a European-style cheek kiss, leaving both of them blushing. “Ladies, so good to see you both. My bags got misplaced at the airport, so forgive my slight delay.” Mr. Maxwell seated himself at the head of the conference table, fixing the Omega with the full force of his gaze. “Go on, Brandon.”

The Omega had forgotten what he was saying. His heat sensitive nose picked up on the Alpha’s scent, and he could feel his cock twitch as the heady, spicy fragrance filled the small conference room. Mr. Maxwell was gazing at him evenly, his handsome face inscrutable. Brandon could feel his cheeks getting hot, and knew he must be bright red. He had to think of something, fast.

“I’m such an idiot, I totally forgot to offer you ladies a drink! Can I bring you something? Or you, Mr. Maxwell?”

“I’d love some coffee, if you have some ready,” said Mindy.

The other woman nodded her assent. “Coffee sounds fantastic.”

“Make that three,” said Mr. Maxwell, still watching Brandon like a lion watches a gazelle.

Brandon smiled, forcing himself to walk slowly to the door. “I will let you three catch up, and I’ll be back in just one moment.” Pushing open the glass conference room door, it took all his restraint to avoid bolting into the break room.

***

Once safely out of sight, he pressed his back to the wall, raking a hand through his tousled hair. This was bad. He could barely form a coherent sentence with Mr. Maxwell so close. Worse, he was sure that the man knew exactly what was up. He could have sworn he caught a predatory gleam in those green eyes. Mechanically, Brandon filled three coffee cups, piled cream and sugar onto a tray, and braced himself for round two.

The three executives were chatting amiably when he returned, carefully pushing the door open with his hip. “Here we go,” he chirped, trying to sound more confident than he felt. He moved toward Mindy, intending to serve her first, but he happened to glance up.

The Alpha was staring at him, and as Brandon gazed back, Mr. Maxwell gave him an unmistakeable, devilish wink.

Brandon was so flustered his hands began to shake, and the coffee cups slid precariously. Oh, shit. He overcorrected, but it was no good: three cups of warm coffee went careening over the edge of his tray and straight into Mindy’s lap.

She jumped to her feet with a shriek of surprise, coffee dripping down her legs. The cups crashed to the floor.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry!” Brandon snatched a pile of napkins from a side table and handed them to her, watching her dab ineffectually at her coffee-soaked skirt. “Are you hurt? Did it burn you?”

Mark, the receptionist, came running into the room, drawn by the sound of the crash. When he saw the scene, he went pale. “Oh Mindy! There’s a restroom right down the hall, you can get cleaned up a bit. And please, send us the bill for your dry cleaning, we insist.”

But miraculously, the woman was laughing. “It’s only a skirt. Calm down, gentlemen.” She turned to Brandon, giving him a warm smile. “I used to waitress in high school, and I did the exact thing to an old man once. So I guess this is karma coming back to get me after all these years.”

Brandon could have kissed her right then and there. But when he saw the look on Mr. Maxwell’s face, his sense of confidence shriveled up and died.

“Ladies, why don’t we continue this next week?” The Alpha got to his feet. “You can email us your preliminary feedback and any changes you’d like made, and we can go from there. And please do send us your dry cleaning bill.” He was all gallantry to the two women, seeing them off with a smile. As soon as the conference room door clicked shut behind them, he turned, looking down at Brandon. “My office. Now.”

***

The part of Brandon that wasn’t absolutely sure he was about to be fired was curious: he’d actually never seen the inside of Mr. Maxwell’s office. The man kept it locked when he wasn’t there, which was frequently. So it was with mixed intrigue and dread that he followed the Alpha down the hallway, unable to keep his eyes off the larger man’s ass. It was hypnotic, the way those powerful muscles moved under the perfect lines of his suit.

They reached the end of the hallway, and Mr. Maxwell punched in a few numbers into a silver keypad. The door beeped, and the Alpha opened it, gesturing for Brandon to enter.

The room was elegantly industrial. Bare brick walls held framed artwork (Brandon assumed they were originals), design show posters, and awards that the firm had won over the years. One wall was a massive bookshelf: Brandon recognized many of the classic design books nestled among hundreds of others. The room was dominated by an ancient-looking drafting table, well-scarred from use. Funny, he’d always pictured Mr. Maxwell behind some carved oak monstrosity, but this was clearly a desk meant for working. A corner of the room held a leather couch and pair of chairs clustered around a glass and chrome coffee table.

“Not what you expected?”

Brandon jumped, glancing over his shoulder at the Alpha. The taller man’s face held a small smile, and that was enough to make Brandon’s face get hot all over again. “No,” he admitted.

“Not many people get to come in here, Brandon. But then, not many people catch my eye in such a spectacular fashion, either.”

The Omega jumped as the door beeped again, with the unmistakable whirr and click of a deadbolt sliding into place. He bit his lower lip as Mr. Maxwell stepped up behind him, so close he could feel the heat radiating from the larger man’s body. “An employee who dumps coffee on one of our best clients? You could have cost us the account.” The Alpha’s voice was low and husky, almost a whisper. “Now, what am I going to do with you, Brandon?”

Brandon was frozen in place by Mr. Maxwell’s powerful presence. The Alpha’s scent enveloped him, and his cock stirred between his thighs. It was getting harder and harder to think, his heat intensifying with every second so close to this man. “Whatever you want, Mr. Maxwell,” he whispered.

The Alpha laughed, a distinct note of surprise in his tone. “Well, you are a dedicated employee, aren’t you? Especially to come in to the office when you’re in heat.” Brandon jumped as Mr. Maxwell’s large hands descended on his shoulders. He could feel the heat of the larger man’s breath against the side of his neck when he spoke. “We have rules about that, Brandon. Did you think I wouldn’t find out? That I wouldn’t notice how badly you need a good fucking?”

“I didn’t think you’d be here,” Brandon managed to get out, his breath coming faster now. “And I wanted... to make a good impression. With the client.” He swallowed as Mr. Maxwell’s hands tightened on his shoulders. Brandon’s cock was rock-hard, straining at the front of his jeans. He could feel himself getting wet, his body responding to the presence of a dominant male.

Mr. Maxwell scoffed. “Well, you certainly made an impression. You’re lucky she was such a kind Beta. But me? I’m not either of those things.” Brandon felt the Alpha’s strong hands close around his shoulders, spinning him around as if he weighted nothing. “And you could have lost me a lot of money, little Omega, so I think it’s only fair that I take it out of that hot body of yours.”

Before Brandon could even process what the Alpha had said, Mr. Maxwell leaned down, capturing Brandon’s lips in a brutal, possessive kiss. He gasped in shock as the larger man’s hands found the small of his back, closing the distance between their bodies with one sharp pull. Brandon was helpless in the Alpha’s arms, his lips parting instinctively for Mr. Maxwell’s tongue, swirling and teasing against his own.

He didn’t give a fuck that this was an ethical nightmare. All he cared about was the Alpha’s insistent kiss, the way he held Brandon against his large, muscle-hardened body, and the way his own body was responding. He was so hot, he felt feverish, every sensation heightened: the slight scratch of the Alpha’s stubble against his cheek, the overwhelmingly delicious scent, the hard bulge of the Alpha’s cock pressing against Brandon’s hip.

Mr. Maxwell broke the kiss, grazing his lips down the side of Brandon’s neck, nuzzling into that sensitive gap between his neck and shoulder. “Mm, you taste so sweet,” growled the Alpha. “But I need to teach you a lesson. Strip.”

Brandon looked up at the taller man, heat-dazed and still reeling from that intense make out session. “Sir?”

“You heard me, Brandon. Take off your clothes.” The Alpha stepped back, crossing his arms, a cruel light in his eyes.

Humiliated, but powerless to resist, Brandon slowly peeled off his t-shirt. His own body was petite and tight from yoga classes, but nothing compared to the musclebound god that was Mr. Maxwell. Brandon wiggled out of his jeans, hooking his thumbs over the waistband of his boxer briefs and letting them drop. The Alpha’s eyes roamed over Brandon’s body, taking him in, as if memorizing every detail. He lowered his gaze before the Alpha’s powerful scrutiny, embarrassed but flattered that such a gorgeous man was looking at him with such unabashed lust.

He couldn’t help but look up as the Alpha loosened his tie and began to unbutton his own shirt. Each time the fabric parted, it revealed another few inches of perfect six-pack. Brandon longed to run his tongue up the hollow between the Alpha’s abs. Mr. Maxwell shrugged out of the shirt and carefully draped it across the back of a chair. With three long strides, the Alpha crossed the room and pulled a thick design book off the shelf.

When he opened it, Brandon saw that it wasn’t a book at all: it was a box. And from it, Mr. Maxwell pulled out a sinister-looking black leather paddle. “Bend over, and put your hands on my desk,” he said, carefully replacing the book on the shelf.

His heart hammering in his chest, Brandon did as he was told. He was so nervous, his legs were shaking... but so turned on, slick was dripping down his thighs. He’d always secretly wanted this, someone who would discipline him, dominate him. He just never imagined in his wildest dreams that it would be his sexy Alpha boss.

“Now then, Brandon, I feel it’s time for a performance review. Let’s begin.” The Alpha held the paddle in front of Brandon’s lips. He could smell the heady scent of leather, and see a distinct capital M monogrammed near the handle. Instinctively, he brushed his lips across the leather. The Alpha smiled. “There’s a good boy. Now then.”

The first strike came so quickly it tore a gasp from his lips. There had been a soft swishing noise, then a sharp resounding smack, and his left ass cheek seared with pain. Brandon instinctively tried to pull away, but the look in the Alpha’s eyes made him meekly put his hands back in place.

“Good boy. Now, why am I punishing you?”

Brandon hesitated a second too long. The paddle swished again, and his right ass cheek stung. “I was clumsy!” he gasped. “I was clumsy, sir. I spilled coffee all over our client.”

“And why did you do that?” purred the Alpha.

Brandon flushed. “Because you winked at me, sir. It distracted me.”

“So you’re blaming me for your lack of self control?”

The paddle cracked down again, and Brandon cried out. “No, sir! It was my fault. I’m sorry, please...” It was delicious torture to be so exposed, the pain of each stroke contrasting so well with his intense desire, feeling exposed, being interrogated.

He heard the Alpha laugh softly from behind him. “And what distracted you so? Were you thinking dirty thoughts?”

Brandon nodded, but realized his mistake too late. The paddle smacked against the back of his thigh, searing the sensitive flesh. “Ah! Yes, I was, I’m sorry,” he gasped, knowing this one was for not answering verbally. He was sure his ass was bright red now, even warmer than the rest of his skin.

“And what were you thinking, Brandon?”

The Omega flushed bright red. No, he couldn’t say it out loud, he wouldn’t.

He gasped as he felt the pressure of Mr. Maxwell’s bare chest against his back, the Alpha’s powerful hand closing on the back of his neck, and the soft, commanding voice purring in his ear: “I asked you a question, Brandon. What were you thinking about?”

“You, sir. How... how bad I wanted you to fuck me, right there in the conference room.” He bit his lower lip, his eyes squeezing shut.

“Mm, go on,” murmured the Alpha.

“And how much I want you to come in me, to knot me, to get me...” he trailed off, unable to finish.

“Pregnant?”

Brandon had never been so humiliated in his life. The embarrassment was exquisite. “Yes,” he whispered.

“What a coincidence,” Mr. Maxwell purred. “I was just thinking how hot you would look carrying my pup. That fertile body of yours is just begging for a breeding. Is that what you need?”

The Omega could barely believe what he was hearing. All of his most secret fantasies were coming true. “Do it,” he begged, arching his back pleadingly. Brandon could hear a soft clatter as Mr. Maxwell dropped the paddle, then the unmistakeable sound of a zipper being pulled.

He groaned as he felt the tip of the Alpha’s thick cock pushing against his hole, obscenely slick and needy. With a grunt, the Alpha slid himself inside, filling Brandon inch by inch with his thick length. The Omega had to brace himself against the desk against the slow, merciless thrust as Mr. Maxwell sheathed himself deep inside Brandon’s hole.

“Fuuuck, you feel amazing,” growled the Alpha. “So tight and hot. I can’t wait to cum in this sweet ass.”

Brandon had never been with anyone so big; he could feel his body stretching to accommodate the Alpha’s cock, but the feeling was delicious, exactly what his heat-driven body had been craving. Nothing but an Alpha-sized dick could truly satisfy an Omega in heat, after all.

He felt the Alpha’s strong fingers close on his hips as he began to thrust into Brandon. He couldn’t stop the submissive whine of desire from bursting from his throat, but it only seemed to drive the Alpha to fuck him harder. Brandon could tell that the Alpha was in full rut, the animalistic point of no return, driven wild by the Omega’s fertile pheromones.

“Going to cum in you,” he growled. “Get ready for my knot.”

Without hesitating, the Alpha plunged into Brandon, forcing his knot, the inflated base of an Alpha cock, past Brandon’s muscular ring. “Yes, fuck!” Brandon cried, the sensation of being filled to the brim making him lose control. His orgasm ripped through him, his cock spurting into the air and spattering to the floor as the Alpha pounded into him, faster and faster. He was near-delirious with pleasure, desperate to be bred by this powerful man.

The Alpha’s fingers dug painfully into Brandon’s hips, and he heard the man snarl. To Brandon’s delight, he felt Mr. Maxwell’s massive cock pulse deep inside him, shooting load after load of hot cum into him, filling his fertile body. He braced himself against the desk as the two of them shuddered, overtaken by pleasure and locked together by the knot.

When Brandon came back to himself, he felt the Alpha carefully turning him over, still buried deep in Brandon’s ass. The Omega found himself being lifted, and he instinctively wrapped his thighs around the Alpha’s waist. Mr. Maxwell carried him over to the leather couch, and the two settled down on the sleek leather.

The Alpha flashed him a wicked smile. “After my knot goes down, tell Mark that you and I will be taking a heat leave for the rest of the week,” he murmured. “Oh, and you might want to tell him one more thing.”

“What’s that?” Brandon asked, nuzzling into the Alpha’s neck, fighting back sleep.

“Put in for Paternity leave, too.”