When Killian was thirteen, presenting as an Alpha had been like developing an itch that would take years to scratch. He’d been an early bloomer, a surprise to everybody, including himself. Not that those dumb stereotypes about Alphas being aggressive and Omegas being mild-mannered were accurate, but…Killian had been really mild-mannered.

Killian’s dad had laughed when he found out. “At least you can do one thing right,” he’d said with that mean look in his eyes Killian was so familiar with.

There had been nothing but relief when Killian turned eighteen and he could put that condescending smirk in the rearview mirror. Killian’s sister, a year older and still living in the house only so Killian wouldn’t be alone with his dad, packed the car when it got dark, the two of them escaping like thieves in the night.

Killian wished he could say that moving out was just good, but it’d been too strange to be out from beneath his dad’s thumb for the experience to be only positive. It was as if his dad had left some imprint of himself on Killian—some slimy residue that still coated his insides.

Even years later, Killian found himself being quiet in his own home, shrinking down to take less space, to be a smaller target for any passing rage. He’d still lock the bathroom door when he lived alone, would startle in the middle of the night as if someone had rattled the knob to his bedroom door.

Once, an Omega he was casually seeing had called him ‘the weirdest Alpha he’d ever met’ and although Killian knew he’d meant that in a good way, the shame of it had stayed like a thorn inside him for a long time.

The funny thing was—Killian didn’t want to be a stereotypical Alpha. He shied away from leadership positions, from voicing his opinion at all. It didn’t help that he looked like a typical Alpha, what with his broad shoulders and big frame, even if he kept his blond hair floppy and soft, blue eyes warm despite their colour.

The first time he’d smelt an Omega in heat—Mark, a college study partner that had gone under suddenly—Killian had freaked out, scared he’d turn into the Alpha his dad was.

Entitled. Mean. Violent.

Instead, he’d walked Mark to his dorm, informed his RA, cleaned his room, taken a cold shower, and gone back to work.

Mark, it turned out, would be the first person Killian would help through his heat.

Mark had asked him shyly two months after the incident, saying that he knew Killian would be respectful, that he wouldn’t hurt Mark or bond with him without permission. Killian had been more horrified that those were real concerns Omegas had than flattered, but he’d found himself saying yes, swayed by some sense of obligation born from Mark’s flushed, embarrassed face.

The act itself had felt much less of an obligation—it’d felt so good to take care of someone like that, he’d worried he was being too Alpha about it.

Mark had laughed when Killian told him. “It’s fine to like it, you goof. It’s just not okay to feel entitled to it ’cause you like it.”

When Killian looked back on it, that was where it had all really started. Or maybe it was the first time an Omega paid him to spend their heat with them.

“Just sets the boundaries, you know? You’re providing a service, and I’m paying you for it. No funny business,” the Omega had said sternly.

That had resonated with Killian. If he got paid for it, no one would think he was doing it to bond, or hook up, or take advantage of Omegas. It’d be transactional. And, damn, Killian was good at getting an Omega through heat.

In retrospect, it should have stopped there. He should have stuck to getting paid for heat services, used his dumb business major for something.

Instead, he’d started picking up more clients. Omegas out of heat, first. Then Alphas because, why not? He was attracted to them, and there was a lot more business there.

And fuck, there were a lot of good things about sex work—most of the clients were fine. It was fun to meet new people, to be part of people’s unusual desires.

It was just…Killian didn’t really know what to do about the clients who made him feel like shit. Didn’t know how to say No, or Enough, or That’s not okay—it was a job. Nobody got to decide what they did and didn’t get to do while at work.

Killian just had to grit his teeth and get through it.