There was something about the feeling of resignation that made Rodolfo tired. It was the heavy, helpless weight on his shoulders and chest, the empty cavern in his heart, the way his eyes would prickle with tears when he let the thought of what he couldn't have repeat in his mind too long.

Rudy and resignation had been friends a long time.

When Rudy had presented as a beta, he hadn't been bothered. He knew that omegas went into heat and that alphas went into rut, and he'd been so thankful he didn't need to deal with that, that he'd have full control of when he wanted to have sex with somebody and why. But then, as years went by, it began to dawn on him.

He was unwanted.

Everyone wanted an alpha– as a soldier, as a leader, as a mate– or they wanted an omega– as a caretaker, as a guardian, as a mate. Betas were the leftovers of society, the ones that faded into the background, that were forgotten when alphas and omegas took the stage.

And Rudy was unfortunate enough to be attracted to alphas.

He didn't know where it came from, but he knew his interests laid in the more… dominant figures of society. There was something about an alphas scent that just… did it for him. Though, as he lacked a strong scent himself nor could get pregnant, Rudy knew no alpha would look to him for more than a quickie after a stressful day.

And then he met you, and it was like he was bring taunted. He couldn't help but stare at you as you cleaned your gear, observing how gentle you were, how careful; your scent alone drove him wild, made him want to present like an omega in heat (as embarrassing as that would be), but your attitude and demeanour thoroughly enchanted the Mexican beta.

A broken, weak purr tried to rumble in his chest, but as a beta, Rudy wasn't made for that. No. He wasn't made for any of it, really.