Obsidian Heat

Chapter Eight

Isme woke up before Jonah and showered, brushed his teeth, and took his time getting ready and dressing in a three-piece suit. In the kitchen he brewed coffee. He couldn't get last night out of his head. He paced in Jonah's kitchen as he listened to the coffee pot gurgle. His stomach was all in knots so he couldn't begin to think about eating anything.

He couldn't get the omega's smell out of his mind. The way he'd whimpered when he'd bit him. A sound of pure joy, odd from the gloomy omega. He'd done that. It had made him proud, for some reason. Dragging a hand through his hair, he leaned against the counter as the coffee finished dripping.

"Good morning." A dark, hulking presence, Jonah appeared behind him. Isme jumped, as he realized he'd been thinking about the omega's pleasure spots in that moment. If he had more than that one on his neck. Was that instinct, though, or did he really like the guy? That was the big question. Jonah grunted. "Stop thinking so loud."

"I made coffee," Isme squeaked, ignoring him.

"I see that." He came near him, brushing his arm, going to pour himself a cup. He scowled. "Is this whole scenting thing going to be a problem? You're not going to want more, are you?"

Isme sputtered. "No." He regained his composure with difficulty. "No, it was just a fluke, I guess. Alpha asserting himself."

Jonah shot a glare at him. "Eventually, alphas assert themselves into things like knotting."

"Not going to happen," huffed Isme. "Besides, you don't want that, remember?" He colored, as he remembered, last night, Jonah saying he did want that, with him. Could he really have meant it? Or was it just hormones, leaking through from the heat suppressants, making him say things he didn't mean? Isme's heart thumped. Mating bonds were entirely confusing.

"I may have... I may have said something I didn't really mean last night," he said quietly, as if he could read Isme's thoughts. "I... it was just the heat of the moment. I was surprised by how good scenting felt. It had never felt like that for me before."

"Oh." Isme frowned. "You're not into knotting, then."

"No," scowled Jonah. "I'm not."

"I see." Isme stalked past him and poured himself a cup of coffee. Jonah started making them bowls of cereal. "I'm not hungry, Jonah. I'm too anxious to eat."

Gargoyle appeared out of nowhere, screaming for food and winding around Jonah's stiff legs, and Isme picked her up, scratched her neck, and prepared her food. Protesting when Isme kissed her face, she pounced onto the ground and buried her nose in her food. Jonah scowled at the cat.

"You're eating," grunted Jonah, pouring milk over cornflakes and sliding the bowl over to him. "Just because I don't want you to knot me doesn't mean I want you to starve."

Isme choked over his spoonful of cornflakes. "Jonah." Then he wrinkled his nose. An odd smell was coming off in waves from the omega. He paused over his coffee. It smelled like... nutmeg? "Oh shit. Are you lying?"

"About what? Wanting to feed you or wanting you to knot me?" Jonah leaned back and crossed his arms, still with the glare.

Isme closed his eyes and inhaled. "You're lying about something." He opened an eye. "God, this whole thing is confusing. Do I even like you, or is it just hormones? Biology? What?"

Jonah breathed out sharply through chapped lips. "What's this now?"

Isme groaned. "Look, I don't play games. If I've caught feelings I'll tell you. I'm feeling something but I've only known you such a short time and I can't decide what's real and what's just... weird biology." He waved his hands in the air. "I'm not like you. I can't keep it all shut inside."