Page 35 of A Promise of Forever
"If only they would fuck me!" Astra pipes up from his nest on the floor, his tone carrying obvious frustration. "I have a perfectly good hole just waiting, but nooo, they're too busy with work."
Both Bryn and I look over at Astra sharply, and he lets out a shocked whine like he can't believe those words just came out of his mouth. I can see the exact moment he remembers they aren't just around Forrest anymore, that Sterling is present and probably not accustomed to such explicit discussion.
I glance at Sterling, concerned about how the Omega might react to Astra's crude language. Sterling is still curled up against Forrest's chest, but his entire face has turned bright red with a mixture of embarrassment and unmistakable need. His scent sweetens ever so slightly, responding to the sexual tension in the room despite his obvious discomfort with the conversation.
Forrest dips his head to catch whatever Sterling is whispering against his chest, too quiet for the rest of us to hear. Then he looks up at me and changes the subject.
"Next conversation. Who's in the ring first tonight?"
Sterling
It's been almost an hour of little snacks and laughter as I slowly become more comfortable around Astra. He's bold and bright and so goddamn happy in ways I've never experienced an Omega being. There's no fear in his eyes, no careful calculation of how to avoid punishment or displeasure. He just exists freely, taking up space and expressing opinions without worrying about consequences.
I want that. I want to be like him, confident and unafraid.
I moved into Astra's makeshift nest on the floor about twenty minutes ago, leaving the safety of Forrest's lap to test my abilityto exist separately. It felt like a big step, choosing to sit with another Omega rather than clinging to my Valla's protection. But Astra made it easy, patting the space beside him with an encouraging smile and immediately including me in whatever he was doing.
Now we're giggling over champagne that Astra insisted I try, the bubbles tickling my nose and making everything feel lighter and more fun than it should. He's showing me pictures on his phone of one of the fighters who apparently has a massive crush on Thea, though she pretends not to notice.
"Look at his face in this one," Astra snorts, zooming in on a photo where the fighter is staring at Thea with obvious longing while she's completely focused on her tablet. "He's been like this for months. It's adorable and pathetic at the same time."
I giggle, the champagne making me feel more relaxed than I would otherwise. "Does she know?"
"Of course she knows," Astra says with an eye roll. "Thea knows everything. She's just waiting to see if he'll actually grow a spine and ask her out properly instead of just mooning after her like a lost puppy."
The casual way Astra talks about romance and relationships fascinates me. Like it's normal and expected rather than dangerous and complicated. I find myself asking questions I've been too afraid to voice before.
"How can you be so forward with what you want?" My voice is softer than I intended, my face flushing with heat as I hide behind my glass. "You just say things and ask for things like it's nothing."
Astra's expression softens with understanding, like he recognizes exactly where I'm coming from. "It took a lot of time to get to this point. I didn't use to ask for anything. I'd just wait and hope someone would notice what I needed, or I'd try to earn things by being perfect and compliant." I can't imagineAstra ever being like that, but beneath that sunshine personality, I catch a hint of pain that must have come with his past. "But it soon became clear that if I asked, they'd give," Astra continues, gesturing toward where our mates are talking. "They'd make sure I got what I needed. And there was no consequence for asking. The worst they could say was no or not now, but there was never any pain that came with asking for what I wanted."
I process that information, trying to reconcile it with my own experiences, where asking for things always resulted in punishment or mockery before Forrest. The idea that I can or will be able to voice my needs without fear of retaliation feels foreign and slightly impossible.
"The best part?" Astra adds with a mischievous grin. "They love it when I tell them what I want. It turns them on, makes them feel needed and trusted. Being able to provide for me, to give me exactly what I'm asking for, that's like crack for them."
I blush at the explicit way he talks about his mates' reactions, but I can't help remembering the few times I've told Forrest what I needed. When I said red and he stopped immediately. When I asked him to kiss me and he looked at me like I'd given him a gift. When I used my words and he told me how proud he was of me.
Maybe Astra is right. Maybe the key really is telling Forrest what I want and what I need, rather than waiting for him to guess or trying to earn his attention through perfect behavior.
I glance back over at our mates, seeing Forrest through a different lens. He makes some comment, Bryn's hearty laugh rumbling through the space as Caelan throws them both the middle finger, his phone attached to his ear. Thea comes in with a book tucked under her arm a few moments later, settling into one of the chairs and immediately getting pulled into the conversation with the others.
Watching them all interact so easily makes me wonder about my place in this world. Am I supposed to integrate into these business discussions? Should I be trying to help somehow?
"You don't ever feel left out or like this is all too much?" I ask Astra, gesturing toward the others.
Astra looks genuinely confused by the question. "What do you mean? I get to do whatever I want. I could have stayed home tonight if I wanted to be alone or felt overwhelmed. But here, I get to spend more time with my mates while they work. It's the best of both worlds."
He shrugs like the answer is obvious, and maybe for him it is. But I'm still struggling to understand how to exist in Forrest's world without feeling like I'm either in the way or not contributing enough.
"I have a part-time job at one of the local galleries," Astra continues, apparently reading my need for more explanation. "I paint, and they display my work. It's not about the money since Caelan and Bryn provide everything I could possibly need. It's about having something that's mine, you know? Something I do because I enjoy it rather than because I have to."
The concept is so foreign to me that I struggle to process it. Work has always been about survival, about earning enough money to eat and have shelter. The idea of doing something just because I enjoy it seems like a luxury reserved for people who've never had to run for their lives.
"I have security that follows me around when I'm at the gallery," Astra admits with a slight grimace. "That took some getting used to. Having someone watching my every move felt suffocating at first. But they stay back, give me space, and I've learned to appreciate that my mates care enough to make sure I'm safe even when they can't be with me."
I try to imagine having security following me around, people whose entire job is just to make sure nothing bad happens to me. The thought is both comforting and terrifying.
"I don't think I want to do all that," I say honestly, not sure what "all that" even means, but knowing it feels like too much.
