Chapter 90: The night sleep

"It would be bad if I let you sleep on a cramped couch when my bed is this big. I’m only pestering you so you’ll come to the bed where it’s comfortable. Come sleep with me, Evans." Reid claimed and I scoffed.

​"And risk getting jumped in my sleep? I wasn’t born yesterday, McCoy," I bit back, though my heart did a strange, uneasy flutter against my ribs.

​But McCoy remained completely serious. "I don’t have the strength to do anything, and I already came a lot tonight. Besides, you watched me jerk off, and I watched you... it was super fun. So it’s time to actually sleep." He paused for a beat, the silence stretching between the rooms, before he added a single, quiet word. "...Please."

​He had that exact same vulnerable tone he had used earlier in the living room—the one that made me entirely confident that beneath all his massive Alpha posturing, he was genuinely scared of being left alone with his injury and his thoughts.

​I stared up at the ceiling, letting out a long, defeated sigh. This guy... What the hell was I supposed to do with him?

"Fine then. Let’s see how it goes. But the moment you decide to become super horny and touch me, suck my nipples, or participate in any perverted teenage act, I’ll leave immediately," I warned him, my voice flat and dead serious as I stood up from the couch. I grabbed my keys from the coffee table, letting them jingle pointedly in my hand. "I have my car keys. It’s not hard for me to storm out and drive back home in the dead of the night, and you won’t be able to stop me because you have a busted leg."

​"I promise, Evans," Reid said without a shred of hesitation, his voice muffled slightly by the pillows.

He sounded completely defeated, the sharp-fanged predator entirely replaced by a needy, exhausted rookie. "But... you’ll at least let me hold you in my sleep, right? I just want to... feel you... so I feel like I’m not alone."

​I gulped, my fingers tightening around the cold metal of my keys.

​So, he was indeed scared.

​The raw vulnerability in his request caught me completely off guard. This wasn’t the arrogant first-round draft pick trying to secure a prize or blackmail his way into an Omega’s space; this was a terrified kid who had spent his entire life being told he was whatever they wanted him to be, never having anyone to actually... listen and be there.

The biological pull of his frozen pine pheromones shifted too, softening into a heavy, sorrowful plea that practically begged my inner Omega for comfort.

​I let out a long, slow breath, tossing my car keys back onto the coffee table with a resigned sigh.

​"Fine," I muttered, walking into the bedroom and pulling the heavy black duvet back. I climbed into the massive bed, keeping myself carefully on the opposite edge. "But keep your hands above the waist, McCoy. I mean it."

​Reid didn’t crack a joke. He didn’t even smirk. He just let out a ragged sigh of relief and shifted his massive frame closer, his good leg hooking over mine to anchor us together.

Slowly, carefully, his thick arm slid around my waist, pulling my back flush against his broad, solid chest. He buried his face into the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply, his hot breath fanning against my skin as he finally relaxed.

​"Thanks, Cap," he whispered, his voice incredibly thick with sleep.

​Within minutes, his breathing turned deep and even, his large body radiating a steady, comforting heat that completely enveloped me.

I lay there in the dark, my heart doing a quiet, steady rhythm against my ribs, realizing that for the first time since my secret had been found by Reid McCoy, the leash around my neck didn’t feel like a threat at all.

It just felt—I gripped his arm strongly wrapped around me—Grounding.

The morning light filtered into the bedroom with a soft, amber glow, warming the edges of the dark silk sheets.

As the room brightened, I felt the heavy arm slung across my waist subconsciously tighten, pulling me a fraction closer against the solid expanse of Reid’s chest.

​It had been a brutal night. Thanks to the remnants of his fever and the fluids he’d been pumping into his system, the idiot had woken up twice in the dead of night needing to use the bathroom.

Both times, I’d been yanked from a deep sleep, forcing my blurry eyes to snap to attention.

I had to remain hyper-alert, acting as a human crutch in the dark to ensure he didn’t stumble or accidentally put weight on that swollen ankle. By the time I’d guided him back to bed for the second time, my body felt entirely drained.

​So now that the morning was actually here, I just wanted to sleep in. The heavy rise and fall of Reid’s chest told me he felt exactly the same way.

​I lay there for a moment, listening to the quiet hum of the penthouse, wrapped in the thick, comforting scent of frozen pine that had completely settled over the bed.

I don’t know what came over me—maybe it was the sheer exhaustion, or maybe it was the lingering warmth of the biological tether between us—but I found myself craving a different kind of comfort.

​Reaching down, I grabbed his thick forearm, using just enough strength to loosen his iron grip so I could shift.

Slowly, carefully, I turned around within his embrace, rolling over to face him. The moment my front was flush against his, I buried my face directly into the broad, soft cotton of his t-shirt, resting my forehead against his chest.

​Reid didn’t even wake up. Instead, a low, entirely content rumble vibrated deep within his sternum.

As if on pure instinct, his chin dropped over the top of my head, his arm locking back around my waist to keep me securely against him. His massive frame radiated a steady, protective heat that shielded me from the rest of the world.

​There was no tension, no snarky remarks, and no high-stakes hockey politics between us.

For the next two hours, we just drifted, deeply and peacefully asleep in each other’s arms.