Patrick Zweig is an omega, and he'll make sure everyone knows it.

Male omegas are rare as fuck, and Patrick will be damned if he doesn't take advantage of it. Free drinks at the bar? Yes, please. A free fuck? Anytime. He knows just how addictive his scent is; it's cloying, scarcity. It's kind of like a free ticket to life—minus all the bigotry and the groping, of course. But, there was nothing to be done about that.

Also, he is rich—not to toot his own horn or anything. So he could sue any handsy alpha to hell or back.

Just, he wishes you were more pushy. Or pushed at all, really. What was he doing wrong? He was hot; a hot commodity, at that. Yet, your endlessly alluring piece of alpha ass had just blown right fucking past him. Repeatedly so. 'Friends' his ass.

So, he was here, in your dorm room—making a mess of your bedsheets and whining your name like a fucking dog.

Was it kind of dangerous to make yourself vulnerable, to an alpha you didn't know particularly well, in the middle of your heat? Yeah, probably. Definitely. This was like, failing lesson one in Omega Safety, 101. It was a statistic in the making, if Patrick just thought for like, two more seconds. Tashi was probably going to kick his ass for this one, especially for not coming to her like he usually did. Fuck, though—this was his last resort. Patrick really fucking wanted you, like needed, to the point he's never felt before. If his 'tutoring' asks hadn't worked, or even that time he wore your hoodie, The scent of his heat was irresistible, surely. Any omega giving off waves like that would drive even the most virtuous alpha crazy.