Mrs jello, I hope you are doing well and that life is treating you good. Just coming back to your inbox as a humble and simple fanfic reader pleading for your graceful mercy in these trying times (the wb qfs) to ask if you could so kindly bless us, your humble but loyal readers, with snippet of either Liege or Feint. My apologies if my request comes off as demanding Mrs Jello I am nothing but a simple fan of your work seeking escapism on your divine scriptures 😞😞
Dear, Anon! I actually go by "Ms." because I don't believe that getting married should merit a title change. Men don't change theirs, so why should women? Thank you so much for all the kind words and being such a supportive and loyal reader. It means the world to me.
Anyway!!! Here's a preview of Feint ch. 3:
"You're in heat," Jannik says in disbelief.
Carlos looks at him in terror. It's the fear Jannik's been chasing all match. But it's the wrong kind.
"I..." Carlos slumps down along the wooden panel of the lockers. "Yes. I need. I need help."
Jannik takes a step toward Carlos. He is soaked, head-to-toe-to -- Jannik gulps. Licks his lips.
Looks wildly around the locker room and eventually finds the emergency kit on the wall. A small red canvas bag imprinted with the white Alpha and Omega logos.
He grabs it. Gets on his knees next to Carlos and unzips the bag with shaky hands. Jannik breathes deeply, like a match point serve; it's best his hands are steady for this next part.
"Jannik," Carlos whispers.
Jannik turns to Carlos because he must. Carlos still looks afraid and Jannik can't have that.
He says, "I have the kit here. I will help you. It will be okay, Carlos. You will be okay. I am here."
He releases his own scent. Waves of rum and the same cinnamon Carlos is giving. This seems to ease Carlos, who closes his eyes.
Jannik searches the bag for what he needs.
Carlos' head tips forward into Jannik's neck. He takes a deep inhale.
"You smell so good, Jannik," he mumbles. One of his hands clutches the hem of Jannik's shirt.
Jannik drops the bag. Then, he puts a hand on Carlos' nape and pushes Carlos closer into his neck.
"Yes," he says. "You. You also. You smell."
He takes a deep breath of the top of Carlos' head. The hair tickles his nose. Carlos is the crispy fried dough in hot oil that he knows will taste of indulgence. Something that will burn his tongue and stick in his throat and leave him bloated and wanting.
"Amazing, Carlos," he says. "I want to..."
He gasps.
Carlos has stuck his tongue out and pressed it against Jannik's scent gland.
Jannik is hard. He's so hard and Carlos Alcaraz is an omega. Carlos Alcaraz is an omega in heat and he smells like the best thing Jannik has ever smelled and Jannik is going to --
"Jannik," Carlos whines. "Help me with the -- uh -- the injection?"
Jannik blinks.
Right.
He scrambles to grab the bag and looks through it. Scent patches. Condoms. Birth control pills. And most importantly:
Emergency suppressants in auto-injectors.
An orange one for rut.
A yellow one for heat.
He grabs the orange one first.