Chapter 1
It's supposed to be long flight.
It's supposed to be a nice long
cruising
flight with an expensive pair of headphones, Grey's latest short story downloaded to his phone, and minimal interaction.
Considering the conference Kyren's about to have to sit through, this flight either sounds like the calm before the boring storm or the long walk to the guillotine.
He's already entirely comfortable in his aisle seat, just minutes before take-off, when a pair of legs - tall, stupid long legs - stops immediately next to him.
He follows them until they meet a torso then a chest then further still to a nervous but expectant face.
He's talking, and Kyren pulls one headphone out.
"What?"
"I'm so sorry, I'm - I actually - the inside seat, that's my seat."
Kyren sighs, shifting his legs to the side and letting the tall dude struggle past him.
It's a mistake.
His lazy ass should've just stood up and moved because the moment this guy struggles past him, dick first - as if that would somehow be more comfortable than shimmying his ass inches past Kyren's face instead - Kyren can feel the hair raise up on the back of his neck.
The other guy freezes too, his face as much in the
oh shit
range as Kyren's.
Usually, Kyren's fine.
Usually, he picks up on soft scents here and there, subtle alpha pheromones that he easily ignores, like strong cologne in an open space, he's
usually
very good at pretending to not be affected.
Unfortunately, he's sitting eye-to-dick level with the best smelling man he's ever even crossed paths with, and now he's stuck next to him for the duration of this flight.
The guy blushes slightly -
cute
, Kyren thinks, annoyed by the concept of it - and tries to continue on but gets jerked back when his laptop bag gets stuck on the outside arm.
Kyren's hands shoot up to help him, unfortunately landing on his chest to help him stand upright which is... surprisingly a lot firmer than Kyren would've guessed.
He pulls back quickly, deciding uncatching the bag is a two-hand job.
Kyren wonders for a moment what else might be a
two-hand job
, and he makes a mental note to deck Marco right in the mouth for giving him the ability to construct that thought.
"Thank you..."
"Yeah," comes Kyren's eloquent response as the guy manages to spin and fall into his seat.
Poor guy is 75% leg and having trouble getting them to fit comfortably under the seat in front of him.
Daddy long legs.
Kyren glares at the screen of his phone and frowns, opening his groupchat with his officemates.
You're all fired when I get back
.
Marco is of course the first to respond, with a concerned
:0
Noe soon follows,
Quito says that's fine, thanks for nothing you old sack of shit
I DID NOT SAY THAT,
Quito defends with more than enough angry and crying emojis that Kyren's inclined to believe him.
ok I'm heading into the sky to never come back, pls don't burn the office down.
Marco responds with several kissy emojis, and they all wish him luck before he turns on airplane mode and nestles into the fabric of his hoodie, earbuds in and story up on his screen.
He hates how impossible it already is to focus with the smell of his seat neighbor.
He brings the fabric of his hood up and scrunches himself down impossibly small.
The plane begins taxiing the runway and his shoulders tense a little because for the next nine hours, that prickling sense on the back of his neck and the knots in his stomach are his reality.
It starts... fine.
The flight is fine.
Shaky at the start, Kyren found unfortunate comfort in the scent his seatmate put out and eventually uncurled the fist he'd made out of nerves.
He turns to glare at the guy all the same because the only reason the scent is remotely comforting is because Kyren wants to stick his whole dick in it, drink it, drown it it.
He can't even put his finger on it, like... warm.
And dirty.
Like Kyren's got a mouth full of -
oh
.
Coffee beans.
The real shit, the kind you get real dark and ground in a press, strong and potent and natural, and tasty even if it is bitter.
Kyren likes bitter.
He risks a glance over and the guy is reading a book, a real book, in his hands, and he's turning the pages with the dumbest long fingers Kyren's ever seen.
They're like art, perfectly manicured nails, no callouses to be seen, thin silver bracelet hanging delicately off his wrist.
He wants those things three deep inside him.
His eyes get wide and he faces forward immediately as he feels himself leak a little.
He ignores the way the guy next to him looks over in a mild panic himself.
Kyren tries to unbuckle his seatbelt and stand, but the flight attendant descends on him in the blink of an eye because the remain seated sign is still lit.
"No you don't understand, is there anywhere I can be moved?
Any open seat anywhere?"
"I'm sorry, sir, our flight today is full." Her eyes flicker to the other man then back to Kyren.
"Is there something you'd like to speak to me about privately?"
Kyren can tell from the hints of her smell that she's an omega as well, and he instantly feels bad that he's caused her to worry for him.
"No, no. Just having a mild... thing.
Panic.
Flying, y'know?" He lets himself be talked back into sitting in the small moist patch inside his underwear where his slick has managed to pool.
He turns to the guy, more than a little pissed.
"This is
your
fault."
"
Me
?
What did I do?"
"If you weren't pumping out pheromones like a frat boy on sorority row, this wouldn't be a problem."
"What's the - what's the problem exactly?" He looks like a deer in headlights, but Kyren refuses to be swayed.
"I just thought you smelled - uh, you smell like, good?
It's a little stronger than usual for me, but - I didn't think that was my fault."
"Whatever, just...
I smell you.
We get it.
You're a big, bad alpha and I'm a sweet, uwu omega.
Just... keep your smell on that side of the armrest."
"At no point since I sat down have I thought you were a sweet uwu anything, so let's get that straight." He grumbles before grabbing his book off his lap and turning toward the window.
Kyren frowns, refusing to let himself feel bad about making this stranger upset considering he's essentially fucking wet himself just in his presence.
Fucking biological imperative bullshit.
Sighing, Kyren adjusts the front of his jeans to alleviate the tightness of his cock slightly plumping up as he frowns deeper.
He tries real hard to ignore the way he catches the other guy lay his book down gently facedown in his lap.
Don't, he implores his mind.
Please don't follow the train of thought that involves wondering how thick his cock probably is.
Although, he's built like a stringbean, he's probably long... could probably get real deep...
Kyren shudders as another wave of slick trickles out of him and the guy next to him chokes a little.
"Will you quit?
I didn't even do anything this time," the guy whispers, begging him, clutching the book in desperation.
"Why the fuck do you smell like dirt?" It comes out a little less angry than Kyren was hoping.
"I don't know, why do
you
?"
"What the fuck are you talking about?
I do not."
And then guy does the worst possible thing he could do, pivoting toward Kyren quickly and leaning in so close Kyren can feel his breath against his neck as he inhales.
He stays there a beat too long, taking another breath, and Kyren is slipping.
"No, I definitely smell dirt.
Like that really bitter and heavy dark chocolate that's more bean than sugar."
"You're one to talk," Kyren struggles to say even as the guy leans back into his seat.
"I feel like I just ate a handful of coffee beans off the ground sitting next to you.
It's pretentious."
The guy huffs.
"Most people call it homey and comforting."
"Most people must be actively trying to fuck you." Oh.
He didn't mean to say that.
If he was trying not to think about actively riding this dude's dick before, it's an impossibility now that he's vocalized it.
"But you're not most people, right?"
Why is he smiling?
Kyren hates it.