Make Me Moan Mr Therapist.

Meanwhile, back at Fred’s house...

Damien and Fred lay tangled together on the king-sized bed, their bodies bare beneath the crumpled sheets. One of Damien’s arms was draped possessively around Fred’s waist, while Fred’s fingers rested loosely against Damien’s chest.

The faint morning sunlight slipped through a narrow opening in the curtains, casting a soft golden glow across their skin. The air smelled faintly of sweat, alcohol, and something far more intimate.

"Oh, fuck..." Fred murmured under his breath as he stirred.

A sharp ache ran through his body the moment he tried to move. Every muscle protested. It felt as though he had been beaten from head to toe.

Slowly, he forced his eyes open.

And then...

He almost collapsed back onto the bed from pure shock when he realized where he was.

In his bedroom with Damien laying beside him.

Fred shot upright immediately despite the weakness in his limbs. His legs trembled like jelly beneath him, and he had to grip the edge of the mattress to steady himself.

What the hell just happened? he screamed inwardly, dragging a hand through his hair.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to piece together how he ended up here.

And then...

The memories crashed into him.

Being fucked from the living room, on the ouch,on the kitchen counter, inside the bathroom, and then the bedroom.

Heat flooded his face.

They had moved through the entire house like two animals driven purely by desire.

Just thinking about it made him wince as soreness reminded him exactly how reckless the night had been.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fred cursed inwardly.

He scrambled out of bed and hurried out of the room, only to freeze in the doorway.

The living room was a disaster.

Cushions thrown everywhere. A broken glass on the floor. Clothes scattered across the couch and carpet. The aftermath of their wild night was written in every corner.

Without wasting a second, Fred quickly grabbed his trousers from the floor and pulled them on, wincing at the sensitivity in his body. He tugged his shirt over his head next, trying to compose himself.

Damien was extremely drunk last night. There’s no way he’ll remember anything, Fred reassured himself, though doubt lingered in his chest. I should just clean the living first.

"What’s wrong with you?"

The voice came from behind him.

Deep and familiar.

Fred’s entire body went rigid as terror shot down his spine.

It was Damien.

"Fuck..." Fred whispered under his breath.

"Why does the living room look like this?" Damien asked, stepping further into the space. His voice was thick with sleep. "Did thieves break in or something?"

He scanned the room with visible confusion.

Damn it! He’s going to find out I’m an omega! Fred screamed inwardly as he instinctively took a step back. His heart pounded violently against his ribs, as if threatening to burst out of his chest.

"Why are you just standing there?" Damien asked, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Don’t you want to explain what happened?"

Fred slowly turned around.

And immediately regretted it.

Damien was completely naked.

Standing there without a single ounce of shame.

The morning light outlined the sharp lines of his body, and Fred quickly averted his gaze, his throat suddenly dry.

"Why aren’t you saying anything?" Damien pressed again.

But before Fred could respond, Damien suddenly winced.

A sharp splitting headache seemed to strike him out of nowhere. He staggered slightly and grabbed onto the wall for support, his jaw tightening in discomfort.

"Damn..." he muttered.

His brows furrowed as fragments of memory began to surface.

Blurry.

Incomplete.

But there.

"Why am I naked in the first place?" Damien asked, confusion written all over his face. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly trying to think. "I remember drinking with you last night... but everything after that is a blur."

Fred’s stomach dropped.

This is it.

"The omega?" Damien suddenly asked, his voice laced with shock as realization flickered behind his eyes.

Fred blinked.

"Huh?" he managed weakly, raising a brow in forced confusion.

Did he remember?

Of course he remembered.

Did I seriously believe he wouldn’t? Fred thought frantically. If I had cleaned up the living room before he woke up, maybe he’d doubt himself. But this mess...

Fine, we were both drunk, but I still remember everything. So why wouldn’t he?

Fred bit down on his lower lip so hard he tasted blood.

Maybe this is good, he thought suddenly. Maybe this works in my favor.

If he knows I’m the omega,then he’ll hand over the antidote pill to me.

His thoughts raced wildly as he forced himself to remain calm on the outside.

But inside?

It was chaos.

Damien stepped closer to Fred while Fred instinctively moved backward.

Step by step.

Until his back hit the wall.

Before he could escape, Damien slammed both hands against the wall on either side of him, effectively trapping him in place.

Fred’s breath caught in his throat.

Damien leaned in slightly, his gaze intense and searching.

"I can recall his scent," Damien said slowly, his voice low and thoughtful. "He was here last night. I’m certain of it. And we... we had sex again."

His eyes darkened with frustration.

"Why won’t he show me his face?" Damien muttered, his gaze locking onto Fred’s as if searching for answers in them.

Now what is he even saying? Fred thought inwardly, swallowing hard. I’m literally standing right in front of you.

"Is it amusing to him?" Damien continued, irritation creeping into his voice. "Does he enjoy disappearing every time we sleep together?"

He clenched his jaw.

"The first night it happened, I was drunk too. I woke up, and he was gone before I could even open my eyes properly. Now it’s happened again." His frustration was evident now. "I can’t even recall his face. It’s blurry... like my mind refuses to cooperate."

He exhaled sharply.

"I just want to see him," Damien admitted, and for a split second, vulnerability flickered across his expression. "I know you didn’t see him either since you were drunk. But he only shows up when I’m not in my right senses. That’s unfair."

Fred blinked.

Fuck... he doesn’t know it was me.

He doesn’t remember the kiss either?

Fred’s mind raced.

Well... I should be grateful, right? Since he doesn’t remember, I don’t have to be his omega. I don’t care about everything he said last night about wanting to propose to an omega. All I care about is getting the antidote and leaving this drama behind.

Fred cleared his throat, forcing composure.

"Maybe he’s just not comfortable revealing himself yet," Fred suggested calmly. "Or maybe he’s already feeling some symptoms and came to check on you."

Damien frowned slightly.

"And maybe he knows about the antidote already," Fred continued, his tone growing more serious. "Which would explain why he came over. But instead of asking questions, you grabbed him and had sex with him again. I doubt he’d be pleased about that especially if he came here worried about dying."

Damien raised a brow.

"You’re speaking as if you know this omega very well," he remarked with a faint chuckle.

"There’s no way he knows about the antidote unless someone told him."

"Oh, there’s absolutely a way," Fred shot back, a hint of edge entering his voice. "If he can sneak into my house knowing you’re here, what makes you think he doesn’t know about the antidote?"

He folded his arms.

"You and I have discussed it more than once. Do you think he couldn’t have overheard us? What if he was already nearby, listening? Eavesdropping?"

Fred tilted his head slightly.

"I’m certain he has access to your place too and mine. That would explain why he appeared here."

Damien dragged a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Damn it," he muttered. "What am I supposed to do then?"

His jaw tightened.

"If he would just show his face, I’d hand over the antidote without hesitation. I don’t care about anything else. I just want to see him."

Fred’s eyes flickered.

"You should leave the antidote out for him," Fred suggested carefully. "Drop it somewhere in your house. If he truly wants it, he’ll come for it."

He met Damien’s gaze.

"If you really like him as much as you claim, then easing his mind is the right move. Let him know he won’t die. That way, maybe he’ll finally trust you enough to show himself."

Damien went quiet.

Then he nodded slowly.

"You’re right," he said with newfound determination. "If he already knows about it, then I should leave it for him."

Good. Now you’re finally thinking straight, Fred thought with a faint inward smirk.

"I’ll see his face eventually," Damien added, resolve settling in his features.

Suddenly, he leaned closer to Fred, his lips brushing near Fred’s ear as he lowered his voice to a whisper.

"We don’t know if he’s nearby," Damien murmured. "I don’t want him overhearing this."

Fred’s pulse quickened.

"But I’ve come up with something," Damien continued quietly. "An idea that will force him to reveal himself."

Fred stiffened.