Milo
Milo would never admit it, but he was grateful when he was chosen for the run. Growing up, Milo was hyperaware that he met none of the omega stereotypes that were thrust upon his gender. Milo refused all of his omega classes, threw a tantrum when he was told to cook and clean. Instead, Milo liked to play in the mud, get into fistfights, and just be a kid.
When Milo turned 18, it had been the best damn day of his life. The omega thought that finally he could pack all his stuff into his shitty van and take off somewhere. Milo could be free from the expectations his parents had hauled on him as a child.
That was, until his father had threatened to send him to a psychiatric center for disturbed omegas. So Milo had numbly applied to be a secretary, an acceptable omega job, at his father's company. Three years later and Milo was still at that damn desk, with impossible dreams of leaving everything behind and driving off into the sunset.
So yeah, Milo was eager to take part in the run. To burn off three years of steam while running around the forest like a madman. Then Milo would find the safe zone and head home to his shitty office job with a hell of a story. The end.
This, Milo watched in horror as Wes writhed in agony, was not part of the plan.
Milo watched with a mix of trepidation and awe as Wes finally stopped seizing. The pale omega lay in the tall grass for a heartbeat before he rose slowly.
Milo felt his eyes grow impossibly wide as he spotted the tips of two feathery wings poking out above Wes's shoulders. Frozen, Milo watched as the other omega tested his new appendages, slowly ruffling his wings until he spread the snow-white feathers to their entire wingspan.
“What. The. Fuck,” Milo breathed. Wes stared helplessly into Milo’s eyes, looking two seconds away from a full-blown panic attack. Composing himself, Milo asked, "Is it cool if I you know... look at them? Check em over."
Wes, still looking dazed, nodded dumbly. Carefully, Milo ran his fingers down the length of one pale wing. When that didn't seem to cause Wes any pain, Milo slowly unfurled one large wing, tracing his finger to where the wing connected to shoulder blades.
As Milo lightly brushed his thumb against the innermost plumage of the wing, Wes shuddered violently. Hands up in surrender, Milo took a few healthy steps backward.
What the fuck? Why was his thumb oily?
"Sorry! That part was really... sensitive." Wes was beet red. Feeling sympathetic for the embarrassed omega, Milo quickly changed topics.
“This is fine, so you grew a pair of wings. The guard sort of warned us this would happen-”
“This is not fine!” Wes had genuine fear in his eyes now.
Milo inhaled deeply. “Listen,” Milo started, “we can freak the fuck out after we’ve made it to the safe zone.”
Wes gave the taller omega a petulant look before stomping off in the direction they came. Sighing in exasperation, Milo turned to follow the pouting omega and found himself staring into green, slitted eyes.
The man in front of Milo was a combination of terrifying and beautiful. As the silence grew between the two men, the green-eyed creature casually relaxed against a leaning coniferous.
Crossing his enormous arms across his broad, bare chest, the well-built man obviously had no qualms about being eye-fucked by the crass omega.
Trailing his eyes downward, Milo let his vision snag on a dark trail of hair disappearing past the man's cinched joggers. A dark tail swishing behind the enticing man interrupted Milo's inspection of the goods. The dark tail seemed to perk up and swish faster under Milo’s attention.
Oh fuck, of course, it's an Alpha. Milo you dumbass!
Milo felt like smacking himself but was distracted by the wild-looking man shrugging out of his laid-back position.
“Well then,” the Alpha smirked, “this was easier than I thought.” Then he lunged. One second, Milo was looking into the hungry eyes of the jaguar-like Alpha, and the next, Milo was 20 feet in the air clutching to Wes like a lifeline.
“whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck!” Milo repeated as Wes flapped his new wings for dear life.
“Turn,” Milo shrieked, “glide, please just stop going up!”
“I'm trying!” Wes hollered, attempting to shift his weight while gripping Milo under his armpits.
A shadow blotting out the moon caught Milo’s eye.
“Hey Wes,” Wes caught sight of the shadow approaching.
“Oh, fuck -” Whatever Wes was about to say was cut off as his wings suddenly buckled, and both omegas dropped back to land, painfully thudding against the grassy ground.
“Oh fuck,” Wes breathed shakily. Both omegas watched with growing trepidation as the airborne Alpha circled their location on the ground.
Feeling eyes on him, Milo whipped around to face the green-eyed Alpha, stalking towards him.
"Double fuck," Milo agreed.
With the feeling of the dark-haired Alpha breathing down his neck, Milo somehow sprinted faster, barely suppressing a smirk as he dodged another swipe from the cat-like Alpha’s clawed hand.
Wes nearly ripped Milo's arm out of its socket as he suddenly switched directions toward a deep burrow under a thick coniferous. The opening just wide enough for the two omegas. Getting the hint, Milo slid into the narrow tunnel behind Wes, just out of reach of the two Alphas.
"Well, now what?" Milo questioned the winged omega.
"Now," Wes shifted away from the narrow entrance, "we come up with a plan."
Milo let out a harsh bark of laughter, "Wes we're stuck, there is no fucking plan."
"We just have to wait for an opportunity and then we book it back to the safe zone." Wes pulled at his hair in frustration.
"Wes- What the fuck!" Milo was cut off as a rain of dirt fell into his eyes. The Alpha's had dug above them, tunneling towards the hiding omegas.
Milo was about to start cursing again but felt his mouth go dry at the devastated look on Wes's face. To Milo It was obvious that both omegas wouldn't be escaping the tenacious Alpha's... but maybe one of them could.
“Wes,” Milo turned his neck at an uncomfortable angle to talk to his fellow omega.
“Milo, it’s not the time we have to come up with a plan to-,”
“Wes, listen!” Milo interrupted, meeting Wes’ eye.
“I think it’s fair to say that Mittens is my Alpha and douche-on-wings is yours,” Wes nodded to Milo’s statement.
"What does that have-," Milo waved off Wes's question.
“Just listen,” Milo continued, a wild look in his eyes, “when I say go, you go-”
“What do you mean go?” Wes cut in.
“Fuck,” Milo swore as they were showered with more dirt. The sound of clawed hands ripping through packed dirt grew louder.
“There’s no time for questions.” Milo pushed himself onto his jean-clad knees. “When I say go, you fly like hell to the safe zone!”
Milo kept his gaze forward toward the exit of the tunnel. “On three.”
“Milo no! This is a bad idea, just listen-”
“One.”
“Milo, come on, you’ve lost it! There has to someway to-”
“Two.”
“Milo-”
“Three!”
With a surge of adrenaline, Milo flung himself out of the shallow burrow, taking the two Alphas off guard. As Milo lunged forward, he distantly registered a searing pain flooding his body, centering on his lower back. With a strange new sense of agility, Milo bodily tackled the winged Alpha, the momentum sending them tumbling into the thorny brush.
The sound of desperate wingbeats followed Wes as he took off into the night sky. The winged Alpha tried to buck off Milo and follow his omega, but Milo only dug his claws- wait claws? - deeper into the Alphas arms. Milo wildly tore at the Alpha's wings. The man howled in agony as Milo ripped at delicate cartilage.
Freeing an arm, the winged-Alpha switched their positions. Raining devastating punches in Milo's face and ribs, the Alpha relentlessly attacked Milo. Just as Milo felt another rib crack, a dark, furious shadow barreled into Wes's Alpha.
The two Alphas fought like animals, each trying to draw blood. Milo felt himself wince as the winged-Alpha sent a right hook into the green-eyed Alpha's jaw. In retaliation, the cat-like Alpha sent a fierce kick to the winged-douchebags knee. Milo heard the bone snap.
Dazedly, Milo left them to it. Milo was eternally grateful that the multiple head wounds left him feeling warm and fuzzy. Rolling onto his back, Milo watched the dark speck in the air that was Wes’ shadow grow smaller and smaller until it disappeared altogether. It felt like hours passed before the two Alphas stopped fighting. Slow, painful-sounding wingbeats trailed off into the dark sky.
Milo felt no fear when the other Alpha, his Alpha, entered his vision. Milo knew he definitely had a concussion because the Alpha crouching above him, streaked with blood and dirt, looked like the most beautiful creature Milo had ever seen. His Alpha crouched low, scooping up Milo’s broken body with a grip so gentle it took Milo’s breath away.
As he was cradled by his Alpha, Milo kissed his office job goodbye. No more stereotypes, no more omega classes, no more expectations. Milo was finally free. Trusting the fierce Alpha holding him, Milo let sleep pull him under.
Milo would finally get some answers... tomorrow.
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