Page 40 of Toy No More

Kobe

Theobnoxioussoundofmy alarm pulls me out of a peaceful sleep. My entire body tenses up at the sight of the light coming through the curtains before I realize I can lay in today. I relax, stretching out with a sigh. Dull kind of ache pulses through my lower back. I wonder where it came from, still half asleep, until all the memories of last night come to me.

I smile to myself like an idiot and stare blankly at the ceiling. I might be a bit sore, but my insides feel all nice and fuzzy.

Fuck, how long has it been since I got railed this good? There’s no other way to call what happened last night. Must have been years ago with Sam. They preferred topping. From then on, it’s been just one unfulfilling relationship or fling after another. Not to mention I couldn’t really focus on that side of life properly, especially not after I started working for Mr. Wilson.

I blink slowly, recalling echoes and flashes of Apollo above me, so in control and in his element. I never would have expected it to suit him so much.

Alright, enough musing. Back to reality.

With a sigh, I sit up. Like Apollo said, what we did was just sharing a moment of pleasure and satisfaction, nothing more. Just some fun… I know how easily my stupid brain can make me care for people or overthink things, so I sharply separate the memory inside my head and put it into a box.

I get dressed and ready. Aside from my muscles being a tad out of it from the unusual positions, I’m light and tranquil. Like I’ve been walking around with a weight on my shoulders that I didn’t even know was there.

When I walk out, Marci’s in the living room. Still in her pink fluffy robe and hair all disheveled, she pauses in the motion of picking up one of Skyler’s socks he must have thrown down when changing.

“Morning,” I say with a smile.

“Hey,” she answers, voice a little drained. I can tell pretty well how she’s feeling by just looking at her. She’s out and about, so it’s not the worst, but she clearly isn’t a hundred percent. Noticing the washing basket ready by the bathroom door, I quickly hop in front of her, sweeping up the sock in a brisk motion.

“Go sit down. I’ll sort this out before going to work.” I regret doing that when a dull pain passes down my lower back, but I clench my teeth and grimace through it.

Marci smirks, studying me with suspicion while she slowly straightens up again. “Alright…” she mutters playfully. Her gaze follows me while I fetch the laundry. She knows it’s one thing I hate doing. “You seem in a good mood,” she notes as she comes after me to the bathroom, where I load up the clothes into the washing machine.

“Is that bad?”

“No, no.” She shrugs. “Soooo, did you have fun last night?”

When I realize that’s where she’s getting to, I roll my eyes. Marci chuckles at my response. I told her I was going out with someone, and she probably figured out the rest thanks to how damn long it took me to get ready and how nervous I was. “Yeah. I did.” My cheeks heat a little, like I’m some teenager talking to their mom or something.

“Ooooh, you gotbusybusy, didn’t you? I can see it all over your face,” she says teasingly, and just as I’m about to protest her gross overstepping of boundaries, Marci pokes me in the lower back, making me yelp. “Was it some strong, sexy alpha from work? Tell me!” She reacts with pretend outrage, but also leans in with a spark of interest in her eyes. Suddenly, she doesn’t seem tired at all.

“Ew! This is like my mom is trying to talk to me about my sex life,” I say with a disgruntled chuckle.

Marci opens her mouth in shock and slaps me over the shoulder. “Tch! I deserve at leastsomeinfo, I think! And you know damn well I’m not your mamma,boy,” she accentuates the word bitingly.

I snort, giving her a loving glance. She’s right. Marci isn’t my mother, not really. She is much more than that. And has always been ten times more of a woman than the one who actually gave birth to me. No matter how sick or busy. Even without being our flesh and blood, Marci has never faltered in being here for me and Skyler. She knows how grateful I am for her.

“Anyway,” she says while gently placing her palm against my arm, “I’m just glad you’re getting some pleasant distraction from work, is all I was trying to say,” she adds, moving away again.

I catch her by her hand before she can and squeeze it with a smile.

“I know. And it…wasn’t an alpha, but another omega,” I say, lowering my gaze. For some reason, I feel strangely vulnerable divulging that information.

Marci blinks in surprise. I see the gears in her head spinning. “Oh.”

Her reaction isn’t too shocking. Betas understand certain fundamental things about us venus—mainly that alphas pair up with omegas like two pieces of a puzzle clicking together. And it isn’t only betas who have this notion carved into their heads. After all, I’ve never been with another omega before this either, or even really entertained the idea.

But why? Just because it’s not considered “ideal” or “proper” or “popular”? I never thought to question that notion.

“Was it the mysterious young man who visited you not that long ago?” Marci moves over it quickly and continues digging for information with almost childish enthusiasm. When I flash her a ‘how the hell do you know that’ kind of grimace, she smirks. “Sweetheart, you never bring anyone here. In fact, when’s the last time someone came to visit you? It’s not that hard to put two and two together.”

She’s too smart for her own good.

“It’s nothing serious. Just some fun.”

“Mhm,” she mutters sarcastically and moves away in slow motion. “Too bad. You deserve something meaningful. Someone to love. Anyway, there are some clothes in the dryer that need folding. Since you already offered and all,” she adds with a cheeky smile. “I’m making tea and then lying down again. No rest for the wicked. Love ya!”

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