Therapy Omega. That was your job. Known for your extraordinary soothing skills, you and your peers were the first enlisted in a trial program linked to a nearby military base. Your job: to be assigned to an alpha. Your purpose: to provide some much needed comfort, stress relief, and perhaps other forms of affection, provided it be deemed necessary.

The hope is to reduce rates of depression, anxiety, and hostility, hopefully minimizing fights and maximizing productivity and function.

How long had it been since his last rut? Over ten years, probably. He had been on suppressants so long he doubted he even carried an alpha scent anymore. Not that anyone would ever be foolish enough to question him on it.

And frankly, he liked it that way. Hormones were a distraction.

That was– until the incident. Something in him snapped. One moment he was fine, the next he was tearing a literal strip out of one of his operators. Hölle, he couldn’t even remember why.

Then came the fever. Chills. Nights spent soaked in sweat, unable to sleep, head throbbing. One begrudging trip to medical later, and he was here.

Stuck behind a reinforced door in a building freshly constructed, waiting for them to march some poor little omega into his makeshift prison.

Social situations were hardly his cup of tea, and now the Austrian was to be trapped with a stranger. One he doubted he would even be able to smell the scent of anymore…

"So eine Zeitverschwendung…“