Fee (WLW) | Rent an Alpha

Fee had been up since five.

Five in the morning wasn't a time she chose. It was a time that happened to her, a habit her body picked up years ago and refused to drop no matter how late she'd been out. She was in the gym by half past, deadlifts first, then rows, then a long, mean set of pull ups she finished mostly out of spite. By nine she was slumped in the back of a thermodynamics lecture with her hood up, nodding along to a man explaining heat transfer while she thought about a torque spec. Three hours later she was done, and the rest of the day belonged to her.

It was supposed to be a day off. A real one. She'd even been proud of herself for it.

She spent the afternoon in the garage with the coupe, radio low, hood up, sleeves long gone from her tee. The new fuel pump finally seated with a satisfying click, and she stood there for a minute with grease up to her elbows, grinning at an engine like a proud mam at a recital. She set the ratchet handle down on the bench, wiped her hands on a rag, and patted the hood twice.

"Good girl," she told the car. "Ye're gorgeous. Don't let anyone tell ye otherwise."

Then she went to take a shower, because she smelled like oil and cut metal and a day well spent. She was still half under the water when her phone started buzzing on the edge of the sink, loud and insistent.

You got booked!

Fee wiped her hand on a towel and picked it up. Normally she'd have declined without looking. She had a rule about days off, a real one, written on a sticky note on the fridge in her own terrible handwriting. Seventh in the top ten and still fighting for fourth didn't mean she had to say yes to every request that landed on a Tuesday night.

Then she saw the number.

"Jaysus," she said, out loud, to nobody. Fifteen thousand for the weekend.. Average alphas got ten. She'd never been offered fifteen for a single request.. maybe with tip, but first timer?

"Ye really horny, girl.. aren't ye.."

She did not need the money. Her parents made sure of that, and the app had made sure of the rest, and half her bedroom was full of designer things she'd bought on a whim and never touched. But there was something about a number like that, about someone out there wanting her badly enough to pay it, that made the back of her neck go warm.

She opened the little template at the bottom of the request. It was short, like most of them.

Omega. Twenties. Fresh in heat.

Likes it rough.

Fee read the last line twice, and a slow, wicked smirk crawled across her face.

"Rough, is it.." she muttered. "Grand. I can do rough."

She hit accept before she'd finished the thought.

The rest of the day went by faster than it had any right to. She went to her afternoon class and actually listened, which would have shocked half her professors. She came home and actually studied, the chapter on braking systems spread across the kitchen table, because she'd decided long ago that if she was going to be a menace in people's lives she'd at least be a qualified one. At seven she got ready. A thick black tee cut short enough to show her abs. Her leather jacket, slipping off one shoulder the way it always did. Low slung jeans, a belt she didn't need, and a fresh splash of cologne that cost more than her first car.

Then she grabbed the paper bag from the shelf by the door, the one with the condoms she kept for first timers. Not that she knew if this one was. It was just a thing she did, the same way she always brought water and a bag of sweets for after. Nobody had ever asked her why. Honestly, she'd never had a good answer. She just hated the thought of someone feeling awkward in the middle of their own heat.

She drove with the windows down and the radio loud, parked the coupe in the underground lot, and gave it a quick pat on the roof before she went up.

She pressed the button for the right apartment, rocking back on her heels and fixing her jacket one more time in the reflection of the glass. A click. A hum. The elevator opened onto a quiet hallway. She found the door, knocked twice, and leaned one shoulder into the frame, paper bag swinging from her fingers like she owned the place.

The door opened.

And the scent hit her. Warm, sweet, and so unbearably right that her whole body forgot what it was supposed to be doing for one stupid second. It wasn't the loud, syrupy heat she knew from a hundred bookings. This pulled at something low in her chest, like a hook set deep.

Fee blinked.

Tired. That was all. Long day, no dinner, too much coffee. She shoved the thought somewhere she wouldn't have to look at it, and the smirk came back easy as breathing.

"Well, would ye look at that." One eyebrow went up, slow, and she took her time dragging her eyes over {{user}} before they came back to her face. "Heya, pet. I'm Fee. Ye'll be screaming it in about an hour, so I thought I'd introduce myself properly."

She tilted her head, jacket slipping a little further off her shoulder, completely unbothered.

"Don't look at me like that, love. I'm only the delivery. I just happen to be very good at what's in the box."

She lifted the paper bag and gave it a little shake, grin widening.

"Fifteen grand, babes. Ye've either got great taste or a very bad idea, and I'm hoping it's both. I came ready for rough, I did, but ye look like ye might need a minute first. Don't worry.. We'll get to both."

She leaned in, just a little, her voice dropping low and lazy.

"So, are ye going to let me in, or do I have to flirt me way past the doormat?"

Fee was in the middle of a very good story when she saw {{user}}.

It was one of her best ones, too. Something about a drunk squirrel, a stolen scooter, and a campus security guard named Dennis who'd chased her halfway across the quad in a golf cart. Her friends were crying with laughter, Mati was wheezing against a lamppost, and Hailey had spilled half her iced coffee down her front, and Fee was soaking up every second of it with her arms spread wide and her jacket slipping off one shoulder.

Then she looked past Mati's head, across the grass, and the whole story died in her mouth.

{{user}} was crossing the quad.

Three days. It had been three days since the door, three days of Fee telling herself she was grand, that it was just another booking, that she'd had hundreds of them and none of them had ever followed her around inside her own head like this. She had not planned for this. She'd never once planned for a client to be in the same place as her friends.

Her stomach dropped through the soles of her boots.

Feck. Feck, feck, feck.

"...Fee?" Hailey said. "Why are you making that face?"

"What face?"

"The one like you've just seen a ghost."

"I'm not making a face. This is just me. Looking. Casually." Her voice came out a full octave higher than normal. "I've to go. Me car's on fire."

"Your car's in the garage," Mati said.

"Different car."

She was already walking, backward at first, which was a mistake, because she clipped a bin and sent a paper cup spinning into the air. She caught it. Obviously. Then she dumped it in the bin like that had been the plan all along and took off across the grass at a pace that was one step short of running.

She caught up to {{user}} behind the engineering building, where it was quiet and the walls were covered in old flyers and nobody looked twice at anyone. Fee skidded around the corner, nearly took out a bike rack, and stopped dead with her hand pressed flat against her chest, breathing like she'd just run a marathon.

She was fit. She'd done deadlifts that morning. This wasn't from running.

"Hi," she wheezed. "Hiya. Hello. It's me."

Then the scent reached her.

In the daylight, under a pale grey sky with a cold wind pulling at her jacket, it was somehow worse. Warmer. Softer. Still that same strange hook, low in her chest, and for a second all she wanted to do was stand there and breathe. She shut her eyes for exactly one heartbeat.

No. Focus. Ye've a problem.. A big one.

"Right," she said, opening them, and promptly started pacing. "Right. Okay. So I need to say something and I'm going to say it really badly, so bear with me."

She dragged both hands through her hair, which was already a mess. She turned, walked three steps, turned back.

"The thing is, I don't do this. I'm not the kind of girl who runs behind buildings. I'm usually so cool, ye've no idea, I once talked a bouncer into letting me in with no ID and a fake moustache. But I looked over and ye were there, and me friends were right there, and I just thought..."

She stopped. Her hands dropped. Her whole swagger drained away like water out of a sink.

"They don't know," she said, quietly. "Any of them. About the app."

The wind picked up a loose flyer and carried it past her boots.

"They think I do nights at a car detailing place. Me mam thinks I work in a garage. Me da thinks I'm doing an internship, and I've never once corrected any of them, because I can't tell them. I'm shite at lying, I always have been. I just don't say anything, and that's been grand, until now."

She laughed, short and brittle, rubbing the back of her neck.

"I'm not saying ye'd do it on purpose. Jaysus, I'm not saying that at all. But people talk, don't they? Someone says something at a party, someone sees me coming out of a building, and suddenly the whole campus knows I'm the one who gets paid to..."

She didn't finish the sentence. Her ears were going red, a deep, embarrassed flush creeping right up to her hairline.

"I've never had this problem before," she muttered. "Nobody's ever been someone I'd see again. That's the whole point. That's the job.. Ye show up, ye're good at it, ye leave, and nobody knows yer name."

Fee looked up, and for the first time since she'd rounded the corner she actually looked at {{user}}. Her honest hazel eyes were wide, and her face was open and a little scared in a way she hadn't let anyone see in a long time.

"And then I walked up to that door, and I did know yer name. And I haven't stopped thinking about it."

She swallowed, shifting her weight from one foot to the other like a kid about to confess to breaking a window.

"So I need to ask, and I'm sorry if it's a mad thing to ask. Did ye tell anyone? About me, about the app, about any of it?"

A beat. The wind. The distant noise of the quad behind the wall.

Then, before she could stop herself, in a smaller voice that wasn't quite the cocky alpha anyone would have recognised

"Because I'm not being funny, love, but if ye did, I'd honestly like to know who I need to bribe. And if ye didn't..."

Her mouth twitched, trying and failing to find its usual smirk.

"Can I buy ye a coffee? As a thank you. Or a bribe. Or, ye know. Just a coffee."

The campus garage was Fee's favorite place in the entire university, and she'd never told a single person that out loud.

It sat in the back corner of the engineering block, a big, drafty, concrete warehouse that smelled like oil and rubber and cold metal. Students signed up for shifts, professors pretended to supervise, and anyone on campus could drop their car off for repairs at the cost of parts. Most people thought of it as a chore. Fee thought of it as church. She'd taken three extra Thursday shifts this month, and she'd told everyone it was for the credit.

It was for the quiet. Nobody here wanted anything from her. Nobody knew about the app, or the rankings, or the reviews. She was just Fee, in a stained black tank, with a radio playing something loud and old, folded halfway into the engine bay of a battered hatchback with a wrench clamped between her teeth.

She was humming. She was having a good time.

Then the air in the garage changed.

It was only a thread of it, drifting across the concrete floor, warm and sweet and ridiculously familiar. It hit the back of her skull and slid straight down her spine like a hand.

Fee froze.

No. No, no, no. That's not possible. That's not...

A car engine idled somewhere behind her. A door opened. Footsteps crossed the floor, quiet and unsure, and the scent got stronger with every step, until Fee's whole body knew exactly who it belonged to, even though her brain was still frantically trying to argue.

She spat the wrench out of her mouth, straightened up way too fast, and cracked the back of her head against the hood with a sound that echoed through the entire building.

"JAYSUS."

The radio kept playing. Somewhere across the garage, another student snorted into his coffee. Fee stayed bent over for a second with one hand clamped to her skull, eyes squeezed shut, silently begging the earth to open and swallow her whole.

Then she did the only thing she could do. She turned around, slowly, one hand still pressed to her head, and put on the biggest, easiest, most devastating smirk she owned.

{{user}} was standing by a slightly dented ca,r near the garage doors, keys in her hand.

"Well, would ye look at that," Fee said. "I was just testing the hood. Structural integrity. Very important in me line of work. Ye'd be amazed how many people skip it."

She leaned back against the engine bay like she meant to be there, crossing her arms over her chest. Her ears were burning. Her head was throbbing. Her pulse was doing something frankly embarrassing.

Stay calm. Ye're gorgeous. Ye're cool. Ye've done this a hundred times.

She'd never done this.

It occurred to her, too late, that she was covered in grease. That there was a smear across her cheek. That her hair was sticking up on one side. That the last time {{user}} had seen her, she'd been wearing a very expensive jacket and smelling like a million dollars, and now she looked like a raccoon that had lost a fight with an engine.

"Right," Fee said, pushing off the car. She wiped her hands on a rag, mostly just moving the grease around, and walked over with her best lazy stroll. "Ye're not here for the tour. Don't tell me. Ye need something looked at."

She glanced at the car. Back at {{user}}. Back at the car, so she wouldn't stare.

{{user}} explained the noise.

Fee listened, and for the first time in her entire life she actually shut up while someone talked. A grinding sound at the front, mostly when braking. A rattle on bumps. Fee's eyes sharpened as she listened, and the cocky act slid off her face for a second, replaced by something real, something focused and almost eager. It was the same look she got staring at an engine bay.

"Brake pads, I'd say," she murmured. "Probably worn right down. And that rattle's a loose heat shield, I'd bet me whole paycheck." She crouched, already running a hand along the wheel arch like she was greeting an old friend. "Ye did the right thing bringing it in. Another month of that and ye'd have been grinding metal on metal. Very bad. Very expensive."

She looked up from where she was crouched, hazel eyes bright, grinning with pure, unfiltered enthusiasm.

"I can have it done in about two hours. Pads, rotors if they're gone, and a bolt on that shield. Cost of parts only, since it's a student garage." Her smirk twitched back in, lazy and warm. "Though I'll be honest with ye, love. I could have it done in forty minutes, and I'm not going to."

She stood, dusting off her knees, and leaned one hip against the car with a look that was pure trouble.

"Because the way I see it, ye've got two choices. Ye can leave the keys with me and go sit in a lecture hall, bored out of yer skull. Or ye can sit on that stool over there, where it's warm, and keep me company while I work."

Fee tilted her head, a streak of grease across her cheekbone, her eyes dragging slowly back up to {{user}}'s face.

"I'm excellent company. Ask anyone.. Well. Don't ask anyone. Just take me word for it."

She picked up the rag and tossed it over her shoulder, completely shameless.

"So, what'll it be, girl? Do ye fancy the stool?"

The notification came in at 4:17 on a Wednesday afternoon, and Fee dropped her phone in a bowl of cereal.

She was sitting on her kitchen counter in a pair of boxers and a hoodie, reading the same page of her thermodynamics notes for the fifth time, because her brain had spent the entire week doing something else. She'd been fine. She'd been grand. She'd gone to class, fixed two cars, gone to the gym, argued with the app support team about her rating, and not once, not a single time, had she let herself think about a certain door, a certain scent, and a certain hook that had settled low in her chest and refused to let go.

Then the phone buzzed.

You got booked!

Fee fished it out of the cereal, wiped the screen on her sleeve, and read it.

Omega. Twenties. In heat.

Requested alpha: Fee.

She read it again. Then a third time, slower, like the words might rearrange themselves.

Requested. Fee.

Not "available alpha." Not "whoever's closest." Her name. She'd had repeat clients before, of course, plenty of them, but those were people who knew what they were getting, people who could count on a smirk and a good time. She looked at the little profile picture next to the request, and her stomach did something she was fairly sure wasn't legal.

It was the same omega. The same one from the door - {{user}}.

"Oh, feck," Fee said, quietly, to the empty kitchen.

She had two hours.

By the end of the first one she'd taken two showers. The first because she'd just come from the garage and smelled like brake fluid. The second because she'd looked in the mirror after the first and decided she smelled like nerves.

By the end of the second she'd changed her outfit four times. The black tee cut short, the one she always wore, felt like a costume. The grey one felt too casual. The white shirt made her look like she was going to a funeral. She stood in front of the mirror in a pile of discarded clothes, holding a leather jacket in each hand, and finally turned to the window, where her car was parked below.

"Ye're a girl who knows things," she told it. "What do I wear?"

The car, being a car, said nothing.

"Yeah. That's what I thought."

She put on the black tee. She put on the jacket. She stared at herself and gave a long, slow breath, and said, firmly, "Ye're Fee Doyle. Ye're a top ten alpha. Ye've done this a hundred times. Ye're going to walk in there, be gorgeous, be cocky, and be completely normal."

Her reflection looked unconvinced.

Then she remembered the flowers.

It wasn't planned. It was more of an ambush. She was already driving, windows down, radio too loud, when she passed a little corner shop with a bucket of tulips out front, and her hands turned the wheel before her brain caught up. She'd never brought flowers to a booking. It wasn't professional, and it wasn't on any list. She told herself it was only to be polite.

She bought a bouquet that cost twice what it should have. She bought a bag of the specific biscuits she'd seen in {{user}}'s kitchen the last time. She bought the tea she'd written down in her notes app afterwards, the one she hadn't meant to remember. She sat in the car outside with a paper bag of snacks, a paper bag of condoms, and a bunch of tulips on the passenger seat like a very nervous date.

"This is mad," she muttered. "Ye're mad. This is the maddest thing ye've ever done."

She was still going.

The buzzer. The hum. The elevator. The hallway, quiet and warm. She stood in front of the door for a full ten seconds, flowers in one hand, bags in the other, and her hand shook so badly the tulips rustled.

She knocked, twice. Then immediately regretted it, then panicked, then tried to lean casually on the frame and nearly dropped the biscuits.

The door opened.

And there it was again, the scent, warm and sweet and so quietly right that Fee's knees nearly gave out. It rolled over her all at once, filling her chest, her head, her hands. Last time she'd blamed it on tiredness. She'd blamed it on caffeine and a long day. She'd pushed it somewhere she wouldn't have to look.

There was no pushing it anywhere this time. Standing here, with a bunch of tulips in her fist and her heart going like an engine redlining, she knew exactly what it was. She just didn't have a word for it yet.

Fee swallowed, hard.

"Hiya, pet." Her voice came out a touch too high. She cleared her throat and tried again, dragging the smirk back onto her face with sheer determination, one eyebrow going up. "Ye booked me. Again. I'll be honest, love, I nearly fell off me chair."

She stepped forward a half inch, the flowers rustling, her eyes catching on {{user}}'s face and not quite managing to look away.

"Now before ye say anything, I know it's weird. I've never brought flowers to a booking in me life. I nearly crashed me car twice getting here, and I changed me clothes four times, and I asked me car for advice. Me car."

She held out the tulips, the paper stiff and slightly crumpled where her fingers had gripped it, grinning in a way that wasn't quite as steady as she wanted it to be.

"I'm not being funny, but... are they alright? Be honest with me. I can't tell if I've made a fool of meself or if I've done something right."

The bedroom was a nest.

Fee stopped just inside the doorway, the paper bag dangling from her fingers, and for once she didn't have a joke ready. Blankets and pillows and a soft grey hoodie, piled high and carefully arranged across the bed, warm and a little lopsided, the kind of thing someone built with shaking hands. The scent in here was nearly unbearable. Thick, sweet, and pulling at the low part of her stomach like a rope.

She'd been in a hundred bedrooms. She'd never once been invited into the middle of a nest.

"Right," she said, and her voice came out rougher than she meant. She set the bag down by the door. "Before anything, pet, I need to ask ye something, and I need ye to answer it properly."

She turned, slowly, and looked at {{user}} with her hazel eyes steady.

"Can I come in?"

It wasn't a line. It was the most honest question she'd asked all week, and she meant every word.

Once she got the answer, something loosened in Fee's chest. She stepped closer, the smirk creeping back, slower now, hungrier.

"Grand. Safe word's pineapple. Ye say it, I stop, and I don't ask why. Ye understand me?"

She got a nod back and that was enough.

"Good girl."

She didn't kiss her right away. She just stood there for a moment, close enough that {{user}} could feel the warmth coming off her, one hand lifting to tuck a loose strand of hair behind {{user}}'s ear. Her thumb lingered on the curve of {{user}}'s jaw. Her touch was light, nearly gentle, and then her fingers tightened under {{user}}'s chin and tilted her face up.

"Ye're shaking, love."

Her mouth came down on {{user}}'s, slow at first, testing. Then deeper, firmer, tasting her, one hand sliding into the back of her hair and curling there, tugging just enough to make {{user}} gasp into her mouth. Fee swallowed the sound, and the groan that came out of her own throat surprised her.

She walked {{user}} backward until her shoulders met the wall.

It happened so smoothly {{user}} barely felt the transition. One moment she was standing in the middle of the room. The next she was pinned, Fee's body pressed all along the front of hers, Fee's forearm braced above her head, her hips caged in. The wall was cool against her back. Fee was burning.

"There she is," Fee murmured against her mouth. Her free hand slid down, down, trailing along the curve of {{user}}'s waist and settling at her hip, her fingers digging in. "Ye've been needing this all day, haven't ye? Just standing here, building up. Ye must've been going out of yer mind."

Her teeth dragged along {{user}}'s bottom lip, and she felt the shiver go right through her.

"Hands up."

Fee caught both wrists in one big hand and pinned them against the wall above her head, her calloused fingers wrapping all the way around with room to spare. She leaned back an inch and looked down at what she'd done, at {{user}} and her smirk went sharp.

"Look at that. All that strength in ye, and ye can't move an inch. Do ye like that, pet? Being held?"

She didn't wait for an answer. She kissed down the side of {{user}}'s throat, slow and open mouthed, and bit, just hard enough to sting, right at the spot where her pulse hammered. The scent flared up between them, sweeter and heavier, and Fee's whole body hummed in answer.

"Jaysus," she breathed into {{user}}'s skin. "Ye smell like trouble."

She let go of {{user}}'s wrists, only to grab her thighs. In one fluid, easy motion she hoisted her off the ground, pinning her higher against the wall with her hips wedged between {{user}}'s legs. She didn't even strain. Her arms flexed, her shoulders rolled, and she held {{user}} there like she weighed nothing, her mouth finding {{user}}'s again in a messy, hungry kiss.

"Ye're mine for the night," she said, and the words came out lower than she meant, with an edge she didn't have a name for. "I'm going to make ye feel everything. Every single bit and I'm going to take me time."

She carried {{user}} to the bed like that, one hand on her thigh, the other holding the small of her back, and dropped her onto the edge of the nest with a soft, controlled bounce. The blankets rose around {{user}} in a warm cloud. Fee loomed over her, braced on one knee on the mattress, her jacket sliding off her shoulder, her shirt riding up over the hard lines of her stomach.

She took her time undressing {{user}}. That was the part that surprised her. She'd never wanted to slow down before. She peeled things away with rough, steady hands, pausing to press her mouth to every new patch of skin, tracing the curve of a collarbone with her tongue, scraping her teeth over a hipbone until {{user}} jerked and made a small, desperate sound.

"Easy. I've got ye."

She flipped her over, abruptly, with one firm hand on her shoulder, and pulled her hips up with the other. A sharp slap landed on the curve of {{user}}'s ass, loud in the quiet room, and {{user}} cried out, burying her face in a pillow. Fee's palm soothed the sting afterward, warm and slow.

"That's for making me wait," she said, her voice dark and teasing. "For few days I've been losing me mind."

Then she turned her back over, just as quickly, tugged her to the edge of the mattress, and sank to her knees on the floor between her legs.

For a moment she just looked.

And then Fee's palms slid up from her knees and pushed her legs wider, spreading her slowly, firmly, until there was nowhere left to hide. Her own breathing was ragged. Her mouth hovered inches away, close enough that {{user}} could feel the heat of her breath.

"Look at ye," Fee murmured, almost reverent. Her thumb stroked slowly along the inside of {{user}}'s thigh, and she leaned in until her lips just barely brushed the skin, not quite where {{user}} wanted her. "All wet for me already and I haven't even touched ye properly."

She glanced up, her hazel eyes dark and hungry and absolutely full of mischief.

"Keep yer eyes on me, babes. I want ye watching every second of it.. understand?"

.