Arthur hurriedly walked to the door and double-locked it, gripping the handle tightly as he tried to regulate his pheromone. But it felt like his effort was a waste when he turned around to see his omega had already pantless.
Yeah, pantless. Legs bare and open like a door beckoning him home.
If Eugene were like any other omega, that bean chair would need to see the laundry tomorrow. Thankfully, he wasn't easily dripping even while being aroused.
Thankfully for Arthur, because he might lose the little rationality he had if that winking hole was wet and dripping and leaking pheromone on his bean bag and rug--fuck!
Did he pack a suppressant? He was so caught up in facing his family that he didn't know left from right anymore this morning.
But it seemed like Eugene knew him too well, because the omega gestured toward the foot of the bed nonchalantly with his foot--spreading his legs even wider while he lounged like a perverted prince on the beanbag throne.
