Chapter Text
The towel is the fluffiest thing you've ever felt against your skin. Not even way back, before everything went to shits, did you have such nice things.
Looking in the mirror you can almost see your old self, scrubbed clean of the years running. If everything goes as planned, you'll never have to do it again.
You remove the last pair of clean underwear from your bag, but seeing them compared to the space you're in makes it clear that they don't make the cut. Lloyd won't know you're naked underneath his clothes anyway.
The pants are too long so you roll them up and tie the drawstring so they won't fall off. His t-shirt is soft and smells of detergent. The omega in you is disappointed that it doesn't smell like him but you push that aside.
Stepping out you look around but you have no idea where to go.
“Lloyd?” You call.
“Kitchen!” He answers.
You head in the direction of his voice and find him at a huge kitchen island.
“Hungry?” he asks and you nod as you slide onto a bar chair. He opens a drawer and pulls out a bunch of folders, then throws them on the counter.
“Pick whatever you want.”
At first, you're unsure of what it is, so you pick one up and examine it. It’s a takeaway menu for Indian food. Do you like that? You’ve eaten what you can find over the years but never paid much attention to what it was. And before that, you liked to cook and rarely ordered takeout. As you grab another menu, you try to figure out what to order, but the options are overwhelming.
Looking at Lloyd you tell him, “I don’t know, just decide for me.”
Shrugging he picks up a bright red one and makes a call. The person on the other end seems to know him. Lloyd laughs and says that he’s home for a while again. You store that piece of information away. Then he rattles off some things before he ends the call.
“It'll take about 20 minutes for the food to get here, should we put your things in the wash?”
“I already did,” you tell him heistily. You saw the machine in the bathroom and the thought of Lloyd handling your dirty clothes almost made you panic so you shoved them in and started it.
“Then how about a tour!” Lloyd exclaims and heads out of the kitchen before you can respond. Like a lost puppy you follow him.
There is a room with workout equipment and another smaller bathroom. Attached to the living room is a balcony overlooking the street below. Heights have never been your thing and it tingles unpleasantly in your feet as you stand at the railing made of glass.
The whole apartment is minimalistic and mostly white and gray. When you had an apartment it was full of colors. Guess it's just something you will have to get used to.
During the little tour, you observe Lloyd. The mustache makes him seem silly at first but you have a feeling he’s anything but. The whole apartment screams of a need for control over every single detail.
An itch starts in your fingers. What happens if you turn one of his decorations the wrong way? What if you nudge the painting until it's crooked? What if you tickle him?
You quickly shove all those silly thoughts away. This is a serious man and it's a serious place. And you don't know Lloyd. If you're lucky he might throw you out and if you're not lucky, well, no one would miss you. Not really.
The tour concludes in the bedroom, presenting you with a new problem: there’s a massive bed, but only one.
“I usually sleep on the left side, so I guess the right is yours,” Lloyd says, gesturing to the bed.
Cold sweat breaks out on your brow. You didn't think of this. Of course, he expects you to sleep in the same bed as him. You're his omega. He's bought you for a reason.
He's watching you expectantly. As if to gauge your reaction. You force yourself to nod but don't say anything.
The sound of the doorbell makes you jump and Lloyd heads out to get the food while you're stuck staring at the bed. It was a long time ago you slept in a real bed. But you have never shared a bed with an alpha.
“Come eat!” Lloyd calls. It unglues your feet from the floor and you hurry to the kitchen.
The sight of Lloyd opening the boxes of food and the steam rising from them makes your stomach rumble loudly. It’s clear that he’s bought more than just two meals with all the containers on the counter, so you try a bit of everything. You’re not sure if it’s the actual food, the fact that it’s warm and fresh, or the environment that makes it taste so great.
“Don't overeat,” Lloyd waves at you with his fork. You swallow the bite in your mouth and stare at him. He stares right back and pops a piece of fried chicken into his mouth.
“Afraid I'm gonna get fat?” you ask, voice dripping with acid.
Lloyd smiles, but it's not a nice, friendly kind of smile.
“No, sugar plum. But your stomach might recoil if you eat too much all at once.”
A pinprick of shame needles you. He is just trying to look out for you. A part of you wants to rebel, and stuff as much food as you can manage into your mouth, but you do see that he has a point. And you need to be nice to him, you remind yourself once again.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Better to eat smaller portions often.”
“Mhm,” you hum and take one last bite before putting down your fork.
“So tell me about yourself,” Lloyd says.
You shrug, “Not much to tell, honestly.”
“Why does an omega put themselves up for auction?”
“Why does an alpha feel the need to buy one?”
Once again, the two of you stare at each other across the kitchen island. This is a mistake, is all you can think. Being nice and docile is not your strong suit.
“I had my reasons, sugar plum.” he smiles. “Besides, you're hot.”
You stiffen at his words because they’re not what you expect, you certainly don't feel hot right now. For a second you consider telling him, but you don't want to dump it on him in case it works itself out anyway. Instead, you smile as politely as you can.
“I had my reasons as well. And thanks for the compliment.”
Once you’ve finished eating you help put away the food and notice that the fridge holds very little produce.
“Don't you eat anything but take-out?”
“I'm usually not home long enough, it's a waste of money to buy a bunch of ingredients,” he shrugs.
A life without home-cooked meals sounds like a miserable existence to you so you clear your throat and offer up information about yourself.
“I used to love cooking. Haven't done it in a while but I think I would like to try again.”
Lloyd closes the fridge.
“Sure, go nuts! I think the store is closed now but you can go tomorrow.”
Your body goes rigid and your pulse picks up. Quickly you fumble for a way out.
“I can't, I don't have any money.”
Lloyd raises his eyebrow.
“The sum I paid should be more than enough to fill a few bags at the store.”
Shit, you didn't think of that. You chew your lip.
“Why are you scared?”
Avoiding his gaze you look at the floor.
“I just don't like going to the store by myself.”
Because no matter how many times you switched stores, he always found you. You kept going further and further out of town, yet one day, you'd pull up, and there he was, waiting right outside the door. It's going to happen here too. But if you have an alpha with you maybe he won't bother you.
“Okay, I'll go with you tomorrow,” Lloyd shrugs.
“Thanks,” you murmur.
The sun is setting and by now you've usually found somewhere to hole up for the night. If you were lucky it would be somewhere safe. If you were not so lucky it would be somewhere exposed. Does this count as a safe place? You think so. The day is catching up on you and the exhaustion is starting to take a toll on your body. There is just the tiny little problem of the sleeping arrangements.
You want to say something. At the same time, you feel like you’ve done enough damage on your first night. So instead you stay up with Lloyd and watch some TV on the couch that looks as if it’s brand new. As it’s getting more difficult to keep your eyes open you have the brilliant idea of just falling asleep on the couch. Then you won’t have to sleep in the bed. Silently you curl up against a pillow and sleep is instant.
The next thing you know you're in the air. It takes a moment to orient yourself before you realize he's carrying you.
“Put me down,” you mumble, too tired to filter out your thoughts.
“I'm taking you to bed.”
“No, I'll sleep on the couch.” You wiggle in Lloyd's arms, trying to get out.
“Don't be silly,” he rebukes and puts you on the bed.
A distressed whine bubbles up in your throat.
Lloyd doesn't say anything, instead a rumble sounds next to you. It makes your muscles go slack, the omega in you recognizing the sound as comforting and safe. Sleep starts to take you again.
Fucker, is your last thought. He's purring you to sleep.