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Summary
Steve knew that sensation all too well, that sharp pain drilling into his guts, that need flowing like lava through his veins. Heat. It wasn't the first time, but each episode grew wilder, more personal, as if his own body were conspiring against him, screaming a name that echoed in each nerve: Eddie. His Alpha. The only solace for that bone-melting fever.
But the solace was... distracted. Not physically—Eddie was there, on the floor of the tiny trailer, so close that Steve could smell him over his own cloying, pungent scent: cinnamon, intense vanilla, and that sharp, desperate note escaping him like toxic vapor. He could smell him, but he couldn't have him. Because Eddie Munson, his Alpha with the electric gaze and raucous laugh, was immersed in another universe. A cosmos of paper and plastic.