Make Me Moan Mr Therapist.-Chapter 56: Don’t tell me I’m on my heat period?!

"Thank you so much," Fred voiced out breathlessly as the two burly men from the club carefully dropped Damien onto a three-seater couch. The moment Damien’s body sank into the cushions, completely limp, the men straightened up and bowed their heads respectfully toward Fred before quietly walking out of the huge living room.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Fred hurried forward and locked it securely. Only then did he finally slow down and allow himself to properly take in his surroundings.

The living room was massive....far larger than Fred had imagined. Everything was painted pristine white, from the walls to the ceiling, giving the space a cold, almost sterile elegance. Expensive modern furniture filled the room, all sleek and stylish... yet every single piece was black.

"So this is his taste," Fred murmured under his breath. "Black and white. No warmth at all."

He turned slowly, scanning the space.

"Hello?" Fred called out, his voice echoing faintly through the vast room. "Anyone home?"

He paused, then added more loudly, "Is there a house help or something?"

Given how enormous the house was, it only made sense that Damien would have staff to help with chores.

But no one answered.

Only the hollow echo of Fred’s own voice greeted him in return.

"Have they all closed for the day?" Fred muttered, running a hand through his hair in mild frustration. "That must be it."

He glanced down at Damien again, who was sprawled awkwardly on the couch, completely unconscious.

He’s really doing well as a doctor though, Fred thought inwardly, a complicated expression crossing his face. He released a heavy sigh before moving closer.

Fred knelt down until he was at eye level with Damien. He leaned in slightly, their faces close enough that he could feel Damien’s warm breath brushing faintly against his skin.

"You really gave me a hard time tonight," Fred murmured under his breath. His clothes clung uncomfortably to his body, soaked with sweat and unfortunately remnants of Damien’s vomit from the car ride.

He grimaced.

"The omegas you despise so much..." Fred continued quietly, "one of them helped you tonight. I really wonder how you plan to pay for that."

Straightening slowly, Fred exhaled.

"You know what? I should clean up first." He shook his head. "I can’t even begin to think about the stress you put me through tonight like this."

He glanced at Damien one last time. "Maybe by tomorrow, you’ll come back to your senses and apologize properly."

With that thought, Fred rose to his full height.

"But first... where’s the bathroom?"

His gaze lifted instinctively and landed on a wide staircase leading upstairs. Several doors lined the upper floor, hinting at multiple rooms beyond.

"Since there’s a staircase, that means the rooms are upstairs," Fred murmured. "I’ll just use one of the bathrooms."

Without wasting any more time, he began climbing the stairs, leaving Damien alone in the silent living room below.

At the top of the stairs, Fred opened one of the doors and froze.

The room was magnificent.

A king-sized bed dominated the space, dressed in luxurious dark bedding. Expensive furniture filled every corner, polished and immaculate. The moment Fred flipped on the light switch, his mouth fell open in shock and utter disbelief.

"Woah..." he breathed out. "Is this the master bedroom?"

His eyes drifted to the walls, where framed pictures of Damien were tastefully hung.

"Of course it is," Fred muttered to himself. "Damien’s bedroom."

He stepped inside, but the strong odor coming from his suit assaulted his senses almost immediately.

"Fuck," Fred cursed under his breath. "I need to get the hell out of these clothes."

Without hesitation, he stripped out of his outfit, leaving himself utterly naked. He moved quickly toward the bathroom and stopped short.

The bathtub was already filled with warm water, beautifully decorated with rose petals floating across the surface. The air was thick with the soothing scent of lavender.

Fred blinked.

"His servants even prepared his bath?" he murmured. "Well... what did I expect?"

He sighed softly. "Sorry, Damien. I’ll have to bathe first."

With that, Fred carefully stepped into the tub. The moment the warm water enveloped his body, his tense muscles finally relaxed.

"Now this..." he murmured, sinking slightly into the water, "this feels good."

He washed himself thoroughly, scrubbing away sweat and the unpleasant remnants of vomit until his skin felt clean again. When he finally stepped out of the bath, steam clung to his body as he walked back into the bedroom.

Fred gathered his dirty clothes and placed them neatly into the washing machine before returning to the room. His gaze lingered briefly on Damien’s massive wardrobe.

After a moment’s hesitation, he opened it.

"Well... desperate times," Fred muttered.

He grabbed an oversized polo shirt and a pair of shorts, quickly pulling them on. The clothes were loose on him, carrying faint traces of Damien’s scent.

Fred exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Alright," he said softly to himself. "I’ll leave once I’m done."

He wouldn’t be angry with me anyway, Fred thought inwardly as he let out a heavy sigh. I’ll just return his outfit tomorrow. I’m only borrowing it.

With that rationalization, he turned and proceeded to walk out of the room only for a sharp, sudden headache to slam into him without warning.

"Fuck..." Fred muttered, his steps faltering. He brought a hand up to his forehead instinctively. "What the hell is going on with me?"

Am I stressed? he wondered, forcing himself to take another step forward. Yeah... I probably just need rest. That has to be it.

But just as he attempted to walk again, the realization hit him like a bolt of lightning.

Don’t tell me... I’m on my heat period?!

Fred screamed inwardly, horror spreading across his face. No. this isn’t the time. I’m on suppressants. I’ve been careful. Why the fuck would my heat show up suddenly?!

A powerful scent flooded the air crushed roses mixed with wild grape, thick and intoxicating. It poured out from Fred’s body without restraint.

Is my suppressant not even working? he thought desperately.

The headache intensified, throbbing violently, making his vision blur. Dizziness overwhelmed him, forcing Fred to press his palm against the wall to keep himself upright.

"I need to get the hell out of here," he whispered under his breath.

Using the wall for support, Fred staggered forward, each step heavier than the last. His body felt like it was burning from the inside out.

Damien is an alpha, his thoughts raced frantically. And he hates omegas. Even if he didn’t... I still need to leave. Right now.

He finally made it down the stairs. Relief almost flooded him.

But just as he passed the couch...

A strong hand grabbed his wrist.

Fred froze.

"And where do you think you’re going?"

The voice was rough, low, and laced with heavy panting.

Fred’s breath hitched.

Damien....who had been unconscious just moments ago was awake, even though he was still laying down on the couch. His shirt was gone, exposing a perfectly sculpted torso, hard abs rising and falling with each labored breath.

Fred swallowed hard.

"You’re awake?" he managed to say, his voice strained as sweat trickled down his spine. His vision wavered dangerously. "Good. That means you can take care of yourself now."

He tugged weakly at his wrist. "Let go of me. I need to leave."

Instead of releasing him, Damien’s grip tightened.

"What’s that smell?" Damien muttered, brows furrowing as sweat beaded down his temples. His head throbbed violently. "It’s... it’s not an omega scent, is it?"

The scent was sweet. Too sweet.

Damien hated that his body reacted before his mind did. He didn’t want to like it...didn’t want to acknowledge it but his instincts screamed otherwise.

"What are you talking about?" Fred asked sharply, panic flashing across his face as he tried again to free his wrist. It was useless. "Let go of me, Damien. I need to go home."

Instead of answering, Damien yanked Fred closer.

Fred stumbled forward, collapsing against Damien’s solid chest and the moment he did, his pheromones surged uncontrollably.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Fred gasped, struggling desperately. "Let me go, Damien!"

"You smell so good," Damien said hoarsely, his voice thick and serious. He inhaled deeply, the scent driving him nearly insane. "It’s coming from you."

Fred’s heart pounded violently in his chest.

"Are you..." Damien hesitated, then tightened his grip. "Are you an omega?"

Before Fred could respond, Damien grabbed his hand and pressed it against his hardened length.

Fred’s face contorted instantly in shock and horror.

"Fuck!" He tried to pull away, but Damien’s strength was overwhelming.

Fuck!!! Fred screamed inwardly. I knew it. My scent is driving him crazy!

I was so stupid...didn’t realize the suppressant was failing, didn’t notice how close I was to heat. I need to get out of here before I lose control too.

"I’m a beta," Fred snapped, forcing as much strength into his voice as he could muster. Even though it came out weak and shaky, there was still defiance there. "You’re drunk. You’re imagining things."

"Oh, really?" Damien raised an eyebrow.

Before Fred could say another word, Damien surged forward and pressed his lips against Fred’s.

Hard and possessive.

He had captured Fred’s full, plump lips in his mouth, stealing his breath in one brutal motion.

Fred’s eyes widened in pure shock.