The Alpha's Submission - MM Omegaverse A/O Romance

It was seven on the dot when Ren’s phone rang, connecting over his car speakers. The voice that snapped through the car was terse, annoyed, agitated, and a few other adjectives that made Ren wince as soon as he hit the Accept tab on his dash screen.

“Where the fuck are you?”

Ren hadn’t even managed to say hello.

He sighed and glanced at the clock when it rolled over to the one. Impatient asshole was driving him crazy, but in Vic’s defense, he was officially late to the metaphorical ball.

“I’m driving, Victor. I can’t warp into town from Fort Worth.” Ren snipped it right back to the demanding Alpha on the other end of the line. “I hit traffic an hour ago, and it killed my window.”

Vic didn’t sound amused. “You know, I believe it was you who called me, Ren,” Ren sighed. “And demanded that I come to this shit show; that you’d be here with open arms to coddle me away from the masses. Instead, I’ve been signing autographs for thirty minutes. I haven’t even made it inside yet. Hell, these people found me while I was parking!”

Ren tried so hard not to laugh, but caved and burst out with bright humor. He was giggling wholeheartedly while Vic rattled on.

“You were supposed to be my shield maiden, fending off the hordes!” His voice playfully rose to a squeaking tenor that emphasised his distress to ridiculous levels of panic. “I’m drowning, Ren!”

Ren couldn’t. He hit his blinker for the small main road exit into the heart of Carlton, Texas, then glanced at the lit screen like he could see the man on the other side. “They missed you.” His lips curved fondly, and in truth, Ren missed him too.

All the time.

For the last ten years.

It was ridiculous because as far as it went, out of everyone from their high school era, Victor was the only one he still had contact with. They followed each other’s socials, video chatted at least once a week, and texted each other daily for as long as Ren could remember.

But all that was different than actually seeing someone.

They always seemed to miss each other when either of them came back home to Carlton to visit family. Vic traveled a lot for his job…a lot, almost the whole year. Ren was up to his eyes with his career in Fort Worth. He lived there, and Vic had moved to Arizona but may as well have lived on another planet for all the good it did them.

Still, somehow, they never missed a beat. It seemed neither of them was willing to forget that once upon a time, they had been and still were best friends against literally all the odds.

In fact, Vic was the only reason Ren had thrived so well in Carlton after moving there in tenth grade: the quarterback, the golden football god in high school. He should have been miles over Ren’s pay grade as the new implant from a somehow even smaller Texas town thirty miles out.

There had been no reason for Vic to notice him; Ren had not been a cheerleader or remotely adjacent to the team, but sure enough, the first day he had sat down in Chemistry, uncomfortable, awkward, and trying to hide from his new peers, Vic had taken the seat next to him, flashed that infamous grin, and said, “I love redheads”.

Ren had never looked back, and neither had Vic.

Now, in real time, Vic exhaled dramatically into the phone before chuckling and cooling his jets. “Where are you, sugar?”

Ren smirked. “I’m right on the main street, Vic. Calm down. I’m literally going to be there in three minutes.”

“Good.” He was quiet for a beat, and Ren flushed happily when that deep voice admitted, “I’m excited. It’s been almost three years since we saw each other.”

Ren touched his throat, eyes pricking over the far more genuine tone of sincerity embedded in that statement. His eyes flicked around at the ghost of memories on the busy main track of Carlton: the Whataburger, the donut shop, and the theater. Every spot felt hugely nostalgic, like a relic from a time when he and Vic and their friends had cruised back roads, getting high, going to parties and bonfires, movie nights…

Honestly, if it hadn’t been for their ten-year reunion, Ren was thinking that the three-year gap might have lasted even longer.

“I’m excited too.” He cleared his throat and perked up. “Where are you staying? I can get a room in the same hotel, and we’ll get breakfast in the morning.”

“Funny you should ask.” Vic sounded so pleased. Ren perked up. “I’m actually at the Motel 6.”

Ren burst out laughing when Vic chuckled on his end. Safe to say, Ren was tickled by the ridiculous selection for a man of Vic’s usually discerning tastes. “The Motel 6?” He couldn’t keep the incredulity from his tone.

“Yep.” He sounded unapologetic. “I figured no one would expect me there. Besides, when you told me you were staying in town for a week to visit family, I rearranged my schedule. I’m staying until next Friday.”

Ren pulsed in excitement, thrumming in his seat with a lurch of thrill over that slap of unexpected news. “Oh my God, Vic!” He was genuinely gushing. “Yes. That’s amazing. How did you swing that? I thought you had practice starting?”

“I told the coaches and the team manager I had a minor pull in my shoulder, and was taking the week to let it heal up, visit family, and I’d be back before it got too deep into training season.”

Ren was grinning like a fool when he flicked his blinker for the high school. It was so bizarre to see the massive sprawling tiered structure after so long that he was instantly assailed by endless memories. And, just like in high school, the lots were packed from staff parking to the entry, everything from country-bred beat Fords to sleek new rides and minivans cluttering the spots.

“That’s amazing. I’m so damn excited.” Ren’s head was on a swivel for parking. “Lord, help me, Vic, this is strange to see again. Where’d you park?”

In the distance, he could see the floodlights had been flipped on for Carlton Field, illuminating the scoreboard, which had been majorly updated over the last ten years. The bleachers looked brand new, but that was Western Texas for you: Football and God, and all the props therein.

Still, he wasn’t seeing Victor’s massive Ford F-250SD anywhere. It was hard to miss considering it was the only truck in West Texas with a custom opalescent maroon paint job.

There were still people arriving, but Ren cursed when he realized he was going to have to park in the student lot with the rest of the stragglers either way.

“I parked in the Senior side. Where the hell are you?”

“Shit. I’m going to have to travel. I’ll meet you inside.”

“You going to the back lot?”

“Yeah, all the parking is taken.”

Vic tsked at him. “If you had been here on time, we could have been side by side. Hurry up.” With that, the man ended the call before Ren could retort.

He was still grinning over it when he finally found a spot, ironically closer to the entry for the football field, parked, and hated to admit that he was actually nervous. All around him, streaming for the entry were people he felt he should have recognized and maybe did, but after a decade so much changed; who knew really who any of these people were?

He was anxious to get it over with but also excited to find out what had been going on in town.

Honestly, he didn’t make it this direction often, and when he came for holidays, vacation days, or long weekends, it was to see his parents, and they lived on the outskirts in ranching territory.

Occasionally he’d cruise into Carlton on his way in or out, usually to get a burger, or grab Shipley’s from the franchise there. Somehow, they seemed to make better donuts than any other Shipley’s he had found in Fort Worth, though that could have been the taste of memories too, so who knew?

He hurriedly flipped down his sun visor for the mirror to check that his eye makeup had held. His softly sage-colored eyes looked a little big, but the smoky shadow was perfect, set like a brick with so much setting spray, only God knew his shame of excess vanity that night.

He looked good though, and had wanted to kinda flex. He made good money nowadays, and had gone all out on an outfit that would really showcase his lovely Omega curves; he had trimmed his auburn hair from the previously straight sheet it had been into something neck-length, waved, and layered to give it more body and flirty bounce. It looked on point, almost fifties-kittenish, and paired with his sleek features and flirty makeup, he looked exactly like what he was.

A Texas O to the T.

Something he had embraced fully in his life, despite endless years in the past trying to escape it.

It had been a whole era, but regardless, he had done a lot of self-work, and no longer judged himself over his gender and the limitations therein.

To be fair, turning twenty-five and fully emerging into independence had helped him a lot. Life alone had taught him that he didn’t need anyone to stand on his own two feet, as soon as the powers that be allowed him freedom to stretch his wings.

That magic number for Omega legality had finally given him some clout. He was no longer ‘the underage player on the team’, and nothing had stopped him from bulling his way up the ladder in Fort Worth with all the tenacity of a man with a chip on his shoulder.

But that had been a few years ago. This was now.

Content, he shakily flipped the visor back up, gathered his long cross draw to shoulder, and slipped out with a belly tight with anxiety.

It was crazy, considering how far removed from this place and era he was, but suddenly, he was recalling those years where he had been in oversized sweaters, hiding his developing body, dousing himself in cheap body spray to kill the hormonal floodgates of puberty.

He still remembered being so embarrassed when Peter Contrel had taken a whiff of him on the way by right before a heat cycle, and exclaimed loudly and with gusto, “IT’S LIKE A STRAWBERRY FARM IN HERE!”

Stupid, but attached to that memory was Victor strolling by Peter and shoving the guy into his locker with a “oops, sorry, bro.” before slinging an arm around Ren when he caught up in the hall with a grin.

Ren smoothed the silk of his wrapped blouse tighter over his belly, making sure it was seamless to the high waist of his slacks, a sleek maroon fit pencil-legged design he loved any time of the day. His heart was fluttery; he had his invitation in his bag, and was about as ready for the past as he ever would be.

As soon as he stepped up onto the curb and actually looked up, he stopped dead when he spotted a large silhouette idling towards him, leggy, casually strolling like it was all the same kind of day in Texas as it ever was.

He was tall; he was built like a svelte-bodied cat, tan and good Christ, but the cheekbones on the man had only ever aged like a fine wine.

Victor Malone was, and always had been, a golden god in more than just title.

His thick blond mane of short, barbered tresses was brushed back in a casual sweep that looked effortlessly classy, full of body as if he’d never even considered balding once in all his life. His straight-backed confidence oozed from every single tight pore, and to this day, Vic had the best boy-next-door, wide open smile Ren had ever seen on any man.

He was so handsome it was the kind of face and build to make people around the country swoon on impact. Girls had always said he’d make a phenomenal actor, on par with the AJ Fords of the world, but to Ren, Vic was just Vic.

Elevated though. Lots of money went into that effortless swagger. From his white teeth to the physical therapy that kept him mobile and healthy, trainers to keep him chiseled like a god, Vic put up endless cash to make sure he was always in peak condition any second of any day of the year.

Tonight, his pale gray jeans looked poured on, expensive, and showcased thighs that proclaimed he was a man who didn’t skip leg days and calves you could chomp on. Under a simple white blazer, he had paired it with an equally simple black tee that even from where Ren stood looked soft, touchable, and probably two hundred bucks a pop.

It fit his deep chest like it was designed to elevate only Victor Malone’s pecs to their highest potential to ogle. The watch he had on was a nice pop of gold Rolex, glittering with diamonds, and because this was Texas, the man had come with one beautiful shiny Super Bowl ring on his middle finger.

Show off.

However, that didn’t stop Ren from gushing like an idiot as soon as he saw the handsome dip. He squeaked happily, hit a run on his flats with a little pulse on his toes, and did not miss the equally happy shine that lit up Vic’s face when he pulled his hands from his pockets to catch.

It had been three years, and yet, no time at all had passed when Ren bounded into the man, instantly scooped into the depth of Vic’s chest while he wrapped him up in a hug.

God, he smelled so good. Very expensive Chanel Bleu, and Ren would recognize it anywhere. He loved Chanel, and it was a scent he and Vic had always pined after, even when they were both teens. They’d find it in the mall, steal various scent testers before eventually the clerk realized they were never going to buy anything.

But, under all that, was Vic’s natural Alpha ooze, a robust and delicious caramel aroma. Always that, like a brulee or roasted brown sugar simmering in a pot.

Reconnection had never been so sweet, and a thought hit Ren and stuck, that he was never happier than when Victor was around him.

It was a fantastic way to kick off their reunion.