A dream of a future

Zack nuzzled the marks he'd left, his breath warm against Brandon's neck. The knot still pulsed between them, keeping them locked together, every tiny movement sending aftershocks through Brandon's over sensitized body. His muscles twitched involuntarily, drawing soft gasps that Zack caught with gentle kisses.

This wasn't performance. Wasn't calculated response. For these precious moments, Brandon was exactly where he belonged.

But belonging was a lie.

Brandon squeezed his eyes shut against the sting of tears, grateful Zack couldn't see his face in their current position. His body still sang with pleasure, even as guilt carved him hollow. He'd let Zack mark him, begged him to. Let him believe in something pure and untainted. Let him taste clean skin that had been marked by countless others.

"You're thinking too loud," Zack murmured, his fingers tracing idle patterns on Brandon's hip. "Stay here with me."

I can't. It's too much.

But Brandon just nodded, pressing back against Zack's chest, memorizing the steady thump of his heart. The fireflies still danced around them, their light catching on the tears Brandon couldn't quite hold back.

The moonlight caught Zack's face as he smiled down at Brandon, and for a moment, the memories hit like shrapnel:

Lex's office, fourteen and terrified. "I will make you so desirable..." A heavy hand gripped Brandon's hair, fingers tracing the white streak he'd been born with. "Alphas will be begging for you."

The memory of bitter pills forced down his throat. Lex's fingers pinching his nose, the burn of vodka chasing whatever cocktail of submission he'd concocted. Then came the needles, the powders, drugs that made him pliant, made him want. Made him the perfect, profitable little moth.

And they had. They'd begged. They'd paid. They'd marked.

His skin remembered other marks – bites from clients who'd paid extra to leave them, finger-shaped bruises that had bloomed and faded countless times, the permanent indent where a gold collar had rested too long against his throat.

The memories rose like bruises. Each gentle caress risked discovering the truth his carefully maintained Regent persona tried to hide.

Whore. Property. Merchandise.

The first extraction. Strapped down, skin on fire, while they collected his fear. His pain. His forced pleasure. The fireflies' gentle light blurred through his tears, becoming the harsh fluorescents of extraction rooms. For a moment, he was there again – desperate, drugged, begging for an Alpha who never came. Now he had one, holding him so tenderly, and the cruelty of it made his chest crack open.

"You're shaking," Zack murmured, pulling him closer. "Cold?"

Brandon shook his head, unable to explain that his trembling had nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with the war between want and worthlessness raging inside him. His body yearned to melt into Zack's warmth while his mind screamed to run.

Don't deserve this. Don't deserve him. Monster. Weapon. Poison.

Each sweet kiss Zack pressed to his shoulder felt like judgment. Each gentle caress like a sentence being handed down. How many Omegas had died at the Gala because of him? How many Alphas had gone feral from his extracted pain?

The mark throbbed, a reminder of what he'd allowed. His throat closed around the truth trying to claw its way out.

Tell him. Tell him everything.

But the words stuck like thorns in his mouth. Because telling meant losing. Meant watching that tender look in Zack's eyes turn to horror. Meant—

"Been thinking about something," Zack murmured, his breath warm against Brandon's neck. His hand settled on Brandon's stomach, the touch gentle but loaded with meaning. "Earlier today, watching you with the kids..."

Brandon's breath caught. Something in Zack's tone made his heart stutter beneath his ribs.

"Started imagining what our pups might look like." Zack's voice was soft, almost dreamy. His thumb stroked small circles on Brandon's skin. "If they'd have your eyes. That beautiful white streak in your hair."

Each word was a knife twisting deeper. Brandon squeezed his eyes shut, but couldn't stop the images Zack painted:

"We could raise them here by the lake. They'd grow up running through these woods, catching fireflies just like tonight." Zack pressed into his hair. "Pete would spoil them rotten. And Thor and Titus would have cousins to chase around."

Stop. Please stop.

"They'd learn to swim right off that dock. Have birthday parties in the backyard." Another gentle kiss. "Spencer's pup and ours would grow up together. One big pack family."

Brandon's throat closed around a sob. Such a beautiful dream – pure and clean and everything he could never have. His body, poisoned by years of drugs and extraction, probably couldn't even—and one had been taken—

"Your family," Zack said, his voice thick with emotion, "Think they'll want to be involved?" He paused. "Where are they even living now?" His thumb traced a line lower, towards Brandon's hip bone.

Brandon's throat closed up, his scent souring with panic. Lie. Lie now. His mind raced, grasping for details he'd overheard at Regent.

"Medina," he choked out. "Just outside downtown Seattle."

The lie is stale and flat. Like every other lie he'd told to protect this Alpha from the truth – that he was holding damaged goods. A broken thing. A weapon wrapped in pretty Regent manners.

Zack's fingers continued their gentle patterns on Brandon's skin. "That's a nice area. Your family must be—"

Brandon twisted in Zack's arms as best he could since they were still connected, pressing his face into the Alpha's shoulder. The Alpha's body shifted with exquisite care as his knot gradually receded, allowing them to separate with a tenderness that made Brandon's chest ache.

"Hey." Zack's hand came up to Brandon's face, thumb brushing away the wetness there. "What's wrong? Did I hurt—"

"No." Brandon shook his head quickly. Too quickly. "No, you were... you're..." Perfect. Everything. More than I deserve.

Zack's hands were impossibly gentle as he turned Brandon in his arms, cradling him against his chest as if he were something precious and breakable. His lips traced a reverent path - first against Brandon's temple where his pulse still fluttered wildly, then along the sharp line of his jaw, before settling on the mark that now decorated Brandon's neck.

"My perfect Omega," Zack murmured. "So sweet, so innocent."

Brandon buried his face in Zack's chest, letting the tears fall freely now. If you only knew.

"Shh," Zack soothed, misunderstanding Brandon's tears completely. His scent bloomed with pure Alpha satisfaction as he pulled Brandon closer. "I've overwhelmed you, haven't I?" His fingers tenderly stroked through Brandon's hair, thumb brushing away the wetness on his cheeks with reverent care.

"It's okay," Zack whispered, pressing his lips to Brandon's forehead. His scent radiated pride and possessive joy. "We have all the time in the world."

Brandon couldn't correct him, couldn't shatter this perfect illusion. Instead, he nodded against Zack's chest, letting the Alpha believe these were tears of happiness rather than the bitter ache of imminent loss.

Zack's lips pressed softly against his right cheek, then his left, collecting the salt of his tears. The gesture was so pure, so caring, that fresh tears threatened to spill. When Zack's lips touched the tip of his nose in a playful kiss, Brandon couldn't help the small laugh that bubbled up from his chest, breaking through the emotional tension.

His laughter faded as his hands reached up, fingers trembling as they traced the sharp line of Zack's jaw. His touch ghosted over the Alpha's features—the arch of his brows, the slope of his nose, the fullness of his lips. He needed to memorize every detail, to burn this moment into his memory forever.

Zack's eyes fluttered closed under Brandon's exploring touch. A soft smile played at the corners of his mouth as Brandon's fingers mapped the planes of his face, lingering on the slight dimple on his chin.

Brandon leaned in, replacing fingers with lips. He pressed feather-light kisses to Zack's closed eyelids, the bridge of his nose, the curve of his cheekbone. Each touch was reverent, desperate—a silent goodbye hidden in the guise of desire.

"Still wanting more?" Zack's hand caught Brandon's wandering fingers, bringing them to his lips. "You're going to be trouble, aren't you?"

The words, meant to be playful, pierced Brandon's heart. If only Zack knew just how much trouble Brandon really was.

But Brandon just smiled, memorizing the way Zack's eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed.

"My kind of trouble," Zack murmured, pulling Brandon closer despite his clear fatigue. His hand carded through Brandon's hair, gentle and possessive all at once. "We should head back."

Brandon closed his eyes, breathing in Zack's scent, then reluctantly pulled back. His fingers trembled as he pulled on his clothes, hyper-aware of the evidence of their coupling still damp between his thighs. His skin tingled where Zack had marked him, the bruise is a sweet ache that made his chest tight with longing.

"Ready?" The fireflies still danced around them.

Brandon nodded, not trusting his voice. No, his heart screamed. I'll never be ready to leave you.

They ambled back towards the main path, the distant sound of laughter a soft counterpoint to the thrumming connection between them. Brandon saw Thor and Titus immediately, their small forms darting between the taller figures.

"Zack! Zack!" Titus shrieked, abandoning his jar and sprinting towards them. Thor was right behind him, launching himself at Zack’s legs in a clumsy hug.

With practiced ease, Zack swung Thor onto his shoulders, the child's delighted squeal piercing the night air.

"Higher, Uncle Zack! I can catch more up here!" Thor stretched his arms toward the fireflies dancing above their heads.

Tears burned his eyes as he watched Zack spin in circles, Thor perched on his shoulders, both of them reaching for the glowing insects. The sight blurred and wavered through his tears.

Brandon even gave a short choking laugh at the sight. Zack’s laughter tangled with the shrieks of the twins, fireflies caught in their small hands and cupped against glowing cheeks. For one impossible moment, the world shimmered—soft light, safe arms, voices that carried no threat. He felt it all pressed against his skin: warmth, belonging, ache.

It was beautiful. Too much to hold.

He squeezed his eyes shut, the image burning. He couldn't watch, couldn't breathe this life not meant for him. Each second lingered made leaving harder, a tearing wound, not a clean break. He had to go.

Now.

He turned from the laughter and light, forcing his feet toward the house, toward Mike—toward the escape he didn't want.

Hot, silent tears blurred the path. The clearing's laughter faded, replaced by his frantic heartbeat. Home. Pack. Pups. Zack’s words echoed, twisting like knives. Gods, he wanted it—. But wanting didn't change what he was, what he'd done. The Omega Elixir. Zack's pain. His fault.

He wiped furiously at his eyes, trying to regain control, trying to shove the impossible dream back into its box.

His scent hit Brandon first—sharp and tinged with something acrid that made his nose wrinkle. He stepped out from the shadows, his lanky frame illuminated by the faint glow of the moon and a few stray fireflies. His focus fixed on Brandon.

Seth.