Mark Me Yours

2- Side Effects

The manager herded Scott out of the break room and up to the office. The incident paperwork was over with fairly quickly, consisting of an account of what happened and a signature. He also gave Scott a small store gift card, "For all the trouble," as he worded it. Scott secretly wondered how much concern this guy truly felt for his employee.

"That's not necessary but- ah, thanks I guess? I really do recommend calling that guy's emergency contact. Heats aren't things to be taken lightly."

"Don't worry about him. I've had omegas working under me before. I'll make sure he gets home safe."

While Scott didn't quite believe the man there was little he could do, as he was effectively being pushed out of the tiny office space. The manager was then immediately called over to a register to satisfy a customer complaint.

Scott wondered if the guy would even go back to check on him. He didn't feel right leaving things like this. Maybe he just slip back there and check on him to ease his conscience. Then, he could buy his coffee and leave... Scott made his way back to the store's break room and peeked inside.

"Sir, you're not allowed to be back here," reprimanded a female employee, the room's only occupant.

"Oh, sorry. I was just looking for Rayan. Have you seen him recently?"

"Rayan? You know that guy? Here I thought he didn't have a life outside of work." She looked around briefly, "Well, his stuff's still here, so I guess he's here somewhere. If I see him I'll tell him he's got a visitor."

"No need, I'm sure I can find him."

"Suit yourself."

Okay, so the guy was still here, but wasn't in the break room. Maybe he went to the bathroom?

Should he check the bathroom? That just feels weird. This Rayan did just get a massive dose of hormones, maybe he couldn't get his erection to go down. If Scott found him like that it wouldn't help this awkward situation at all. But- what if he was suffering side effects from the medicine? Otoforin may be the most common emergency suppressant, but many users still had some kind of negative reaction to it.

Why was he so concerned about this guy? He didn't even know the him. He's not a patient at his clinic. He's out of danger for now, he should just get his coffee beans and leave. Was he affected by Rayan's pheromones after all?

It's not like Dr. Scott Kranston hasn't been around omegas in heat before. He induced heats medically all the time for work. That's why he was on such strong suppressants himself, for the safety of his patients. What if his body was becoming used to them and they weren't working as well? That's a troubling thought. What if he was releasing his own pheromones and was the one who caused the guy to go into heat?

No, Scott couldn't leave yet. He need to check on him. If there's even the tiniest chance this was his fault he wouldn't be able to forgive himself.

With that thought in mind, he pushed open the restroom door. The sound of gagging and splashing was unmistakable.

"Rayan? It's Dr. Kranston. Is that you in there? Did the medicine upset your stomach?" Scott moved to stand near the stall where a heavily worn pair of shoes were sticking out under the door.

"I'll be okay. This happens every time. Don't worry about me." His voice was harsh.

"If Otoforin irritates your stomach you could always try a different prescription. If you come by my clinic we could run a blood test to see which would work better-"

"Please leave-!"

"I just want to help."

Rayan vomited again. "I can handle this," he panted, "just- just leave me alone."

"Alright." Much as he hated it, if the other person doesn't want help there is nothing he can do, and Rayan was very clearly refusing assistance. "I'm going to leave my business card on the sink. If you change your mind, feel free to drop in. I'll work you in to my schedule."

Rayan said nothing. The sound of the door closing echoed through the restroom. Why was that guy so damn persistent? Don't alphas have better things to do besides harass omegas?

But normally, all the alphas he's met seemed to have a big "tough guy on campus" attitude, like they expected the world to bow at their feet. What was this doctor guy's deal?

He must really have nothing better to do. How aggravating! Still, it would have been worse had he not had that injection on him. They aren't exactly cheap either. Dammit, like hell he was going to take it as a freebie. He wasn't going to owe that guy anything. As soon as this heat was over he was going to march himself in to that clinic and insist on paying for it. If he was quick, he could probably get in and out without having to see that guy again.

That's as good a plan as it was going to get.

Now empty, his stomach was starting to settle. It sucked, it’s not like he could afford to waste any food. He thought to himself that might as well get moving, and the sooner he was home the better. He levered himself upright, the worse of his light-headedness gone. When he went to wash his hands and rinse his mouth, sure enough that doctor's card was waiting there on the sink. Rayan took it and put it in his pants pocket. If he could help it, he wasn't going to owe any alpha anything.

When he went to go clock out, the manager was waiting for him.

"I already clocked you out." The guys tone was dull, betraying his annoyance.

"Oh, thanks... Sorry..." Rayan bowed his head and set to collecting his things.

"How many times do I have to tell you omegas, if you even think your heat's coming I don't want you here? I swear you're more trouble than you're worth, what with how often you call out in the first place."

"Yessir, I'm sorry. It's my fault." He kept his head down and took the lecture. He didn't feel good. He just wanted to go home.

"I swear, if the government didn't give such great tax breaks to employers for hiring you people..." He sighed frustratedly, "Go on, get out of here. I expect you're unavailable for the next few days?"

"Ye... Yessir..." Rayan slipped out of the room and made his way through the busy store. His head hurt, his stomach was still a little queasy, and he found himself overcome with apathy.

The four blocks to his apartment complex seemed to take longer than usual. He felt jumpy, and even if his erection had gone down, his ass still felt slick. It didn't make for a comfortable walk, and he kicked himself for forgetting to clean up a little while he was still at work.

His apartment building was a somewhat expensive place, but not because it was spacious or upgraded. It was an omega only building and had a full time front desk with security. Non-tenants couldn't enter without permission. It was safe. It also took over half his monthly income.

His room was on the second floor, furthest from the elevator. The emergency stairwell was at the other end of the hall. Even with people above and below him having to share only one wall was nice. And his neighbor was quiet enough anyway. He input his access code and dropped his things by the door.

Finally home.

It was a small unit. The bathroom wasn't much bigger than a closet. No tub, just a small shower. And the closet was well, tiny. The kitchen took up one wall and had all of three cabinets, a small sink and two stove eyes. The farthest wall had a big window with a view of the street below. Some of the rooms on the higher floors had balconies, but they cost a hell of a lot more too. There was only one room, studio style, big enough for his twin mattress and dining set. Dining set was being generous though. It was a folding card table with chairs he had inherited from his grandparents. There was a small gash on the surface, but it worked. And it gave him somewhere to put the TV. The building also had a laundry mat in the basement. What more could a single omega want?

"Ah, my head hurts," he said to no one in particular. He was the only one here anyway. He had sent the heat absence notices to his managers on the way home. The only thing left to do was prep and ride it out.

He poured a glass of tap water and downed it. First rule: stay hydrated. Second: shower. Heats get messy and for some reason he always felt it wasn't as bad if he started out clean. He noticed he had a bruise where he received the Otoforin injection. Third rule: heat clothes. The equivalent of period panties since well, they may as well be. He had a few pairs of heat underwear, since they tended to get slimy fairly quickly. Finally, an absorbent mat for his bed, because again, heats were messy, doubly so since he was a guy. He could wear pads, it would cost about the same, but that would require tighter bottoms and well... he liked the room. He always washed his bedding afterward, but it helped prevent stains and he could always change it when it got too dirty.

He was wearing a white t-shirt and loose novelty boxers, both of them old and thread-worn, but easy to move in, and both offered easy access for when his urges became too much. His hair was still slightly damp, kept out of his face by a cotton headband. On the folding TV tray he used as a night stand he had a full glass of water, a sleeve of crackers, his phone, and the TV remote. He sat on the edge of the bed, the plastic of the mat crinkling under him, and turned on the television. Nothing to do now but binge Netflix and wait.