Breeding Clinic (Heatverse)

Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

LIAM

“One pumpkin spice decaf latte with an extra pump of caramel syrup and whipped cream with a cinnamon sugar sprinkle,” I say. I hand Kat her tall white cup of coffee that’s more like a dessert.

Kat takes a long sip, then makes a sinfully throaty sound that makes all of us twitch. Then she sighs and smiles. “I know people think it’s basic, but there’s nothing better than the first pumpkin spice latte of the season. Even if it’s kind of hot for apple and pumpkin-picking today.”

Matthew pulls up the orchard’s website on his phone. “They have hayrides too. And a bakery.”

“And beer,” Gabriel adds, excited. “I want to try their pumpkin ale.”

I pull out onto the road and follow the GPS, my hand gravitating to Kat’s thigh. She’s so cute today. She’s wearing jeans and a loose plaid button up left open over a tight white shirt. Her hair is up in some sort of messy bun with lots of loose strands that frame her pretty face. She’s wearing glossy pink lip stuff that makes me want to kiss it off her. Muss her up.

“Ooh, look. They do haunted stuff in October,” Matthew says, showing the others the photos of the orchard’s transition from seasonal to spooky. “There’s even a real headless horseman. On an actual horse.”

“We should come back for it in a few weeks,” she says, twisting in her seat to see the pictures on his phone.

My hand slips to her inner thigh and I give her a squeeze, my eyes never leaving the road. “Is that safe?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” she asks. “I love haunted houses. So long as they don’t touch me. They don’t touch you, right?”

“They shouldn’t,” Matthew says.

“Your blood pressure’s been good, right?” Gabriel asks.

“Yeah. The doctor says everything is fine.” She takes another sip of her coffee, muttering the rest into her drink, “But if he calls this a geriatric pregnancy one more time…”

“I think it would be fine,” Gabriel says.

I still have my concerns. “Maybe we should call the doctor to make sure.”

“There’s less scary stuff for families,” Matthew adds. “The haunted house is an extra charge. There’s a spooky corn maze and a haunted graveyard. There’s also a photo booth where you can dress up like witches or vampires and get a sepia print so it looks old-timey.”

“Oh! Can we go? Pleaseeeeee,” Kat begs. “I haven’t done any of this stuff since I was a teenager.”

She covers my hand with hers, squeezing it, and I melt. It’s crazy how much I hate saying no to her. How she wraps me around her pinky finger. Makes me eager to please her. To see her lips curl in a smile or her eyes lose their focus with lust. There’s something about her presence that’s simply natural. Right. Like she’s been a part of us all along, but we didn’t know it. Like a limb that’s fallen asleep, but regains feeling a bit at a time before exploding back to your awareness. I fucking love this girl .

“Please?” Gabriel and Matthew echo in unison.

I cave. “Fine.” Their squeals of delight make me smile. “But nothing too scary.”

They spend the rest of the drive planning what they want to do today. Once we get closer, the traffic gets thicker. We fall into line and follow the parking attendant’s pointing, then park in the open dirt lot. It’s a short walk to the gate where I pay an astronomical fee for entrance which comes with a small paper bag for the apples. At least they don’t charge for the wagon I grab for our pumpkins and mums.

The orchard is crowded. Families, packs, and couples meander, some heading over to the orchards and others making use of their bakery, shop, and brewery.

“Apples first?” I ask.

“Apples,” Kat agrees. “The map says the Honeycrisps are over there. Oh, look. There’s a guide for which kinds are for baking and which are for eating. I’ve never heard of some of these varieties.”

“I could make a pie,” Matthew offers. “Or a crisp? Want to help me, Kat? You like baking.”

“Sure. That sounds like fun.” They debate which kind of baking apple would be best.

My mouth salivates from thinking about it. And the thought of Matthew and Kat huddled together in the kitchen in matching aprons with smudges of flour on both their faces makes me rock fucking hard. Makes me want to bend them over the counter and rut them.

I shift our empty apple sack to hide my hard on. There are families here. A small horde of children race each other toward the line for the tractor pulling the hay ride wagon behind it.

“Honeycrisp!” Gabriel points out, checking the tree’s colored ribbon against the map. They use a complicated sorting system of colors and stripes to mark each variety .

A lot of the trees in the front have been picked over. Discarded, mushy apples scatter the ground. A few apples dot the very tops of the short trees where nobody can reach. We head further back in the row until the pickings get less sparse.

“This one looks good.” Kat twists an apple off the tree and buffs it on her shirt. She takes a bite. “It’s good. Definitely a honeycrisp.”

“Are you illegally eating an apple we haven’t paid for yet?” I ask, equally surprised and amused. We’ve been a bad influence on her. It’s all the semi-public sex. She’s been deliciously corrupted by us.

“The baby was hungry,” she says, shrugging. Kat holds the apple out to me. “Want to try it?”

“I do want a taste.” I tug her closer and bend down, capturing her lips. Her lip gloss is strawberry flavored and her mouth tastes like sweet, juicy apples.

Underneath that, the warm autumn day has made her sweat. Her pheromones perfume the air. Sweet, dirty cookies. The sort covered in colorful sugar crystals. Her thick, fertile scent tempts me to drizzle her cookies in my icing. I grind against her, enjoying the way she squishes under my grabbing hands.

“There are families here,” Gabriel reminds us.

We separate and she swipes a thumb over my mouth with a giggle. She wipes off the smear of lip gloss that transferred from her mouth to mine. “Be good,” she warns.

“Oh, I can be very good,” I promise, my voice low. “Exceptional, really.”

“How many of this kind do you want?” Matthew asks.

“Three or four,” she answers, helping them pick out the best ones. “Let’s go find the baking apples next.”

We fill the bag until it’s nearly bursting at the seams. The tiny paper sack holds more apples than I thought it would. I’m glad we didn’t get the bushel. Once we have our apples and pumpkins and mums picked out, we take a break in their covered eating area.

Gabriel sips on his pumpkin ale while Matthew and I split the fried sampler. It’s bursting with fries, onion rings, loaded potato bites, and fried pickles, and I wash it all down with an ice cold cider. Kat gets cinnamon sugar crystals all over her face while she eats her apple cider donut.

When she sneaks a fried pickle, adding it to her next bite of donut, I can’t help but watch in amazement. Is this her first pregnancy craving? I hate that there’s so much of her life that we miss. That she’s not always with us. But whenever I gently bring up mattress shopping or offer to clear out a drawer for her, she gets cagey.

She’s not ready yet. Part of me worries she might never be. That she’s still not sure about us even though we’re nearly halfway through this pregnancy. I don’t mind taking things slow, but we are on a deadline. I want her to wear my mating bite and put our pack name on the birth certificate. More than that, I want her . We all do. Because she’s perfect for us. In the depths of my soul, I recognize her as mine.

I turn the plate so the pickles are closer to her and pretend not to watch as she demolishes them. I’m glad her appetite is back. I didn’t like it when she couldn’t eat much. It made my instincts to protect and provide crazy whenever she turned down food.

The hayride slowly rolls back through its loop. “Want to take a hayride?” I ask everyone.

Kat licks the sugar crystals from her fingers and my cock strains my jeans. “Sure,” she says, wiping her face clean with a napkin.

Gabriel finishes his beer and tosses out our trash, and we get in line. Nobody will bother our stuff where I parked it in the shade. A wagon full of people bundle out, and then we all climb up and get settled. Once the wagon’s full, the driver takes off.

We bump along, swaying from the dirt road full of rocks and pits. A gentle breeze cools the sweat on our skin. I put an arm around both her and Matthew, rubbing his back while I pull her closer into my side.

The farm is bigger than it looked from the gates. The visitor area is a fraction of their apple orchards. The other trees are cordoned off, a cherry picker left in between rows while farmhands take a break. On the other end of the you-pick visitor section, there’s the corn maze, a sunflower field, and a huge playground with a bounce house for kids.

“Look, they have something called apple cannons,” Matthew says, pointing.

“What’s an apple cannon?” Gabriel asks, craning his head to look.

A minute later, we have our answer. Compressed air makes a loud thunk as someone shoots an apple hundreds of feet away near the treeline. It explodes on impact, missing its target.

“I want to do that,” Matthew says.

“We’re doing that next,” Gabriel talks over them.

“Man, that’s so cool,” Kat agrees.

I let out a huff of laughter. Three against one. I’m outnumbered. “Fine.”

The man driving the tractor stops, letting people off. About half the wagonload departs, splitting off toward different activities. Others climb on, eager to be taken to the front of the orchard.

I follow my pack toward the apple cannons and pay the bored teenager for all four of their compressed air powered cannons. She gives each of us six bruised apples. Targets have been set up across the field. There’s an old car, a dilapidated school bus, bales of hay with a bullseye spray painted on them, and big steel barrels staggered about.

“Ready? Go!” the teenager yells.

I load an apple from my basket into the cannon, aim, and launch it. It misses my target, but hits the ground and explodes anyways. Matthew’s hits the school bus, bursting apart. Gabriel knocks a milk can off a hay bale and Kat’s apple shoots all the way toward the tree line where it disappears from view.

“Good shots,” I tell them both.

“Oops,” she says. “These things are hard to aim.”

Abandoning my cannon, I go to her section to help her. “The gun’s heavy. Let me help. What do you want to hit?”

“The school bus.”

I help her load and aim the heavy cannon, letting her do the fine adjustments while I keep it roughly aimed in the right direction. Her ass is pressed against my front. I don’t actually need to stand this close, but I’ll be damned if I don’t take advantage of the excuse to rub my pheromones all over her. My cock is at half mast. It hasn’t gone down since I saw her lick sugar off her thumb.

Once she’s satisfied with the angle, she pulls the trigger. The cannon thunks and her apple hits the bus, exploding into vaporized bits of apple.

“Yeah!” She does a fist pump that makes me grin. “Let’s try that big milk can next.”

Gabriel and Matthew finish before we do and join us to watch as Kat shoots apple after apple until they’re all gone.

“Why is that so satisfying?” she asks.

The sun is setting and the crowds have thinned by the time we finish. The families with young kids are mostly gone or leaving. Only a few couples and packs remain. My eyes travel across the field. I spot the corn maze and grin. “Want to do the maze? ”

“Hell yeah,” she agrees easily.

Gabriel and Matthew give me knowing looks. They’re remembering the last time we came to a fall-themed orchard. When they got on their knees and took turns sucking me off in a dead end.

I buy the map from another teenager and fold it up, putting it in my back pocket. We disappear inside, swallowed quickly by the tall green stalks. The maze is huge. There’s a small one by the kid area for the young ones. This is the big one they’ll fill with costumed actors next month.

Solar powered lamps flick on as the corn maze grows darker. Spookier. Now that the sun has set, it’s getting cooler. Kat still smells like dirty cookies that are begging to be covered in cream. We let her lead, following her navigation blindly. Solving the maze doesn’t matter. That’s not why we came in here.

“We’ve passed that scarecrow before,” she says, looking around. Kat leaves the scarecrow and comes up to me. “That’s three dead ends this way. Do you have the map?”

The maze is harder in the twilight. It’s also perfect for our needs. “I do. But we don’t need to hurry.” I palm her ass, squeezing it through her jeans. Fucking jeans. I wish she’d worn one of her cute sundresses. But it doesn’t matter. I can still pull them down and fuck her.

“We don’t?” she asks, stiffening for a second before melting against me.

“They don’t close till nine.” I thank my lucky stars for their brewery. Some people travel far to get here for their famous hard ciders and themed ales. I squeeze her other ass cheek through her pants, then switch to her front. She shifts her feet apart in the dirt and I push my hand between her legs. Trace the seam of her jeans .

Her hips tilt, rubbing her clothed pussy harder against my hand. “How much time do we have?” she asks.

I move to the button on her jeans and tug it open. Slide the zipper down. They’re stretchier than I thought, with triangles of expanding fabric by the side seam. I push them down her hips and wiggle her panties down with them.

“Enough for this.”

When I cup her pussy, she’s already slick for me. My finger slips between her labia, gliding through her wetness. She loves it. The thrill of us taking her in public. The risk of getting caught.

This omega’s gonna be the death of me. Or the reason I end up in jail. Her sweetness inspires me to do lewd things with her.

“You like that, kitten?” I ask, working a finger up inside her. She’s soaked. I add another finger, pumping until she squelches. Her pussy swells in my hand. Plump with arousal, her clit swollen and begging for petting.

“Yes,” she whispers.

A group of people chatter not too far from us. All that separates us is a few rows of corn. With all the twists and turns, we won’t see someone coming before they’re on us. I need to listen for them instead.

“Can you be a good girl and stay quiet, or do you need Gabriel to keep your mouth busy?”

Kat whimpers and rides my hand, gripping onto my shirt for stability. “I need him.”

I pull my hand free, ignoring her frustrated whimper. “Then get on your knees.”

She gets down on her knees so fast that all the blood rushes to my cock and my head spins. It’s a beautiful sight. My pregnant omega kneeling at my feet.

Gabriel kneels before her, his hands working on his belt. Kat helps him, pulls his cock free, then leans down and swallows his cock. I circle around behind her, kneeling in the dirt. Grab the rolled edge of her pants and twisted panties and work them down her thighs until her beautiful ass and pussy are exposed.

I wish the light wasn’t so dim. That the corn maze wasn’t so dark. The tall stalks of closely-sown corn make the shadows long. It’s eerie.

While I can still see, I dig my thumbs into her pussy and spread her wide. Watch her pink hole tighten when she clenches. Her asshole puckers. One day we’ll fill that hole. Has she ever had a cock up there before? Or do we get to take that cute little hole’s virginity?

Her wet pink pussy glistens. Beckoning me. Her pheromones are thicker here. Sweet arousal pumps into the air, filling my sinuses and making me lose all reason. Like a siren’s call, I’m desperate to answer. I can smell that she’s pregnant. That the baby’s mine. And it satisfies some deep, primal desire in me that I’ve never had the likes of before. This need I have for her isn’t as simple as desire. It’s a craving. And I’m addicted.

“Are you joining or keeping watch?” I ask Matthew.

“Watching, of course.”

My filthy voyeur. He’s always watching. Waiting. Patient. More patient than me. But no less depraved once his engine’s been revved. I can’t wait until the day she stokes his flame so all four of us can burn together.

The wet sucking sounds that her mouth makes has my cock dripping. I undo my belt buckle and jeans, and hook my thumbs in my boxers, shoving it all down. My dick springs free, thick and ready. It points toward her pussy, defying gravity, as if it already knows where to go.

I fist the base of it and line us up. Notch my dripping head between her slick lips. Sink into her wet heat. Her back arches, pushing herself down on my cock. Taking me deeper. Over these last few weeks, she’s learned how to move with me. How to take me. Her pussy’s well trained now.

I sink all the way into her and let out a low, satisfied rumble. Gabriel meets my eyes from across her other end and I share the moment with him. Thrusting into her. Watching the way she bounces on his cock. Seeing the effect it has on him. The way his eyes flutter shut and his hands smooth over her. Gathering up the stray bits of hair that have fallen out of her messy bun so he can watch her suck his cock.

Matthew watches, his attention split between the sight we make, sprawled out fucking on the ground like animals, and the corn maze. Watching for trespassers. Protecting our impromptu nest, like a good beta should.

A purr breaks free from the tight reins of my control and I swallow it with an inhale of air. I tug Kat’s hips back to meet my thrust, fucking into her harder. Pushing her to take more of Gabriel’s perfect cock.

God, she undoes me. Makes me borderline feral. I want to hunt her in the woods one day. After she’s had our baby. When she’s near her heat, her body begging me for another. Chase her by sound and scent. Find her. Wrestle her to the ground. Rip her clothes off and rut her into the dirt. Fill her pussy with cum. Put another baby in her.

That primal, savage instinct wants to keep her like this. Fertile. Her body round and supple. Breasts swollen with milk. I can’t wait till she starts lactating. Can’t wait to lick droplets of sweet milk from her nipples while Gabriel licks her pussy and Matthew fucks her ass.

Her pussy clenches around my cock as if it hears my thoughts and answers. Hungry. Needy. Desperate for alpha pheromones. For a pussy full of cum. I’m going to seed her deep, then tug her panties back up. Let our mess soak her panties and jeans, so she knows she’s ours with every squelching step Kat takes.

“Fuck,” Gabriel mutters softly, sucking in a breath. His grip in her hair tightens.

He has my sympathies. I know exactly what he’s feeling. Our omega’s good at sucking cock.

“Did we turn this way before?” a stranger asks.

“I don’t think so,” someone else answers. “Shine your light on the map again.”

Her pussy clenches tight on my cock. I fuck her faster, my balls slapping against her cunt. I don’t care who stumbles upon us right now. There’s no way in hell I’m stopping before I’ve drained my balls inside her.

The corn rustles and a footstep scrapes against a rock, sending it skittering. My heart flutters with fear. Anticipation. Arousal.

“That way’s all dead ends,” Matthew tells them.

“Oh, thanks,” the woman answers. “Babe, I want to go,” the woman complains. “This is boring. Get us out of here.”

“Let’s just walk through the rows of corn,” her boyfriend answers. “I want a beer before the beer tent closes.”

The corn rustles again. Our interlopers walk on, oblivious to our misdeeds. Her pussy flutters, squeezing my cock. Milking my balls. She comes, her moans a whimper around the cock in her mouth. Gabriel groans, low and throaty.

I can’t hold back anymore. Not with the filthy noises they make as they try to be quiet and fail.

My groin tightens and my knot swells. I pull her hips down and grind my cock inside her.

Kat pops off of Gabriel’s cock and twists to look over her shoulder. “Don’t knot me.”

It’s too late. I couldn’t stop it even if I wanted to. And I don’t. There’s nothing better in this world than an ass or pussy squeezing an alpha’s knot.

My cock pulses, jets of cum filling her tight channel. My knot swells, keeping all those pheromones locked in tight. Protecting her sweet, perfect pussy from any competitors. My breathing is hard and a soundless purr stutters in my chest. My teeth ache with the suppressed urge to bite her soft skin.

“Oops,” I say. My remorse is a lie. My instincts demand this. Her pussy full of my cum. Her belly round with my baby. Her neck scarred from my bite. I’ll settle for two out of three. For now.

“You have to pop it free,” she orders. “What if the orchard closes?”

“I’m not going to risk hurting you. Stop wiggling if you want my knot to go down.” I purr for her, trying to get her to settle.

Kat goes boneless, her cheek pressed to Gabriel’s thigh. “S’not fair,” she mumbles, her words slurred and slow.

The effect of an alpha’s purr on an omega is inescapable. A bygone biological effect from the days when alphas hunted for their bride from a rival tribe. Stole them away in the night. It’s hard for them to resist us when we purr. And I have a great purr, though I’ve never had to use it before. There’s something satisfying about giving into all these alpha urges I’ve suppressed all my civilized life.

“Shh.” I grind my knot against her tight entrance, enjoying the squeeze. Prolonging my pleasure. And I purr while Gabriel gathers her hair from her face. Strokes her fondly, his lap her pillow. My purr revs until she’s boneless while I rock against her, and reach around and find her clit.

Her pussy tightens around me. Squeezes. Quivers, tight and willing. “That’s so good, my sweet little kitten. You can take some more, can’t you? Just one more, then we’ll go. ”

I’m a greedy bastard. It’s her pussy’s fault, really. If she didn’t want me to get addicted, she shouldn’t have been so sweet.

Kat whimpers, trying to be quiet while I stroke her clit. She fails. Anyone left in the corn maze with us is getting an earful.

My balls ache and my groin tightens. I rub her faster, choking out a final orgasm from her. One last spurt of cum from me.

“How did Gabriel taste, kitten?” I ask her. I’m curious if she likes his flavor.

“Good. He tastes smoky like whiskey.”

Whiskey, hmm? Maybe that’s why I was drawn to him when we met at that soccer game.

We stay like that for a while, and I purr while my knot slowly shrinks. By the time it pops free, we only have twenty minutes to make it back to the front entrance of the orchard.

Gabriel and I help her stand and I fix her clothes while she leans against him, then me, sleepy and satisfied. It’s time to put our omega to bed. If only she had a proper nest at our place. Maybe then she wouldn’t want to leave.

My heart pinches with the worry of being a bad alpha. Of not giving her everything she needs. Deserves, really.

She yawns, and I scoop her into my arms. “Come on, kitten. It’s been a long day. Let’s put you to bed.”

“But Waffles needs dinner,” she protests, but she’s already burying her face in my neck. I can’t hear her faint omega purr, but I can feel it. It thrums from her throat and right into my heart.

“I’ll feed him,” Matthew offers.

“He needs to be cuddled and played with too,” she adds.

“I’ll play with him and pet him,” Matthew reassures her.

“See? It’s all taken care of,” I tell her. “We’ve got you. And Waffles. ”

Gabriel takes the map from my back pocket and uses his phone as a flashlight, directing us through the maze.

“You know, it might be easier if we all lived in one place,” I say, hesitant to bring this up again and ruin a perfect evening. But I’m not gonna stop trying to convince her of what I know is right. One day I’ll say the exact thing that makes her realize we’re her pack. That she’s ours. That all we need is a bite mark to make real what our instincts already know. “With Waffles. So he wouldn’t be alone so often.” It’s manipulative. I’m beyond caring at this point. I’d say anything to make this official.

All she says is a sleepy, “Hmm.”

I carry her all the way to the hayride pick-up area and we ride it to the front, grabbing our wagon of stuff that’s miraculously still there. We’re one of the last groups to leave. The parking lot is mostly empty.

Gabriel loads our stuff into the cargo box built into the back of the truck while I work on getting her in and safely buckled. She’s asleep instantly when we hit the road. We stop at her place for half an hour for Matthew to feed and play with Waffles as promised, then we steal her away to the bar.

The noise and crowd wakes her long enough for her to climb the stairs, use the bathroom, and collapse into bed. It was a long day for a pregnant woman.

We peel her out of her clothes and settle her in the middle of the bed, covering her in soft blankets. She has more energy now than she did, but she still gets tired early and needs a lot of sleep.

Gabriel and Matthew go through their nighttime routines. And I sit on the edge of the bed and contemplate how to convince a stubborn omega that we’re the right pack for her.