You try to dress nice. How do you dress nice for a sex club? You have no fucking idea. But you've got the greaser cool guy look down pretty good, and you think it works for you. You wear your tightest t-shirt. You spend like fifteen minutes in front of the bedroom mirror trying to decide which pair of jeans is the most flattering for your glutes. This is your chance.

In Which A Young Omega, In Defiance Of Both Stereotype And Politeness, Propositions An Alpha Of His Own Blood Caste, And Is Rewarded For His Daring; Contains Awkward Pre-Heat Negotiations, A Supportive And Extraordinarily Unconventional Clade, Heat Cycle Copulation, An Incidental Human Character With Attendant Barkbeast, The Brief Appearance Of A Tealblood Whose Flouting Of Convention Should Not Be Emulated, No Production Of Eggs Whatsoever, And A Hive Of Bees With No Actual Bearing On The Narrative's Outcome.