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October collection of drabbles and short stories

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Pick was looking at the sleeping omega. The boy was cute even in his unconscious state. He took him into the consulting room, treating his multiple injuries. The poor guy was bleeding from the stab wound on his abdomen, making Pick angry at whoever was able to do this to the small omega. He had to stitch it up, and thanks to god, the young werewolf wasn't conscious during it. 

After picking the boy up, moving him carefully to his bedroom, and tucking him under the covers, Pick could finally breathe. He was observing the tiny chest rising up and down in a steady rhythm, pushing aside the urge to place the small figure in his embrace. Pick stood up, leaving the sleeping omega alone. He sits in front of the television, letting the lakorn playing on in lull him to sleep. 

His ears twitched, hearing the quiet whimpers coming out of his bedroom. He sprung from the sofa and hurried to the bedroom. The omega was awake crying in pain, trying to crawl out of bed. Pick scowled as he stepped closer to the shorter man, realising alpha pheromones to calm him down. The omega looked at him. He was shaking, probably in fear mixed with the pain from his wounds. Pick grabbed the guy's shoulder, forcing him back to lie down, covering him with the blanket once again. 

"Don't move. You will rip the stitches. You are lucky, you survived the stabbing." Pick dared to spoke up, observing the trembling omega. 

"I won't hurt you." He assured him. They were looking at each other in silence until the loud growling from the omega's stomach rips them out of the staring contest. 

"You must be hungry. I will make you something. Stay here." Pick commanded before leaving for the kitchen. He had no idea what to cook, so he decided the simple porridge would be enough. It didn't take much time, and for the visibly malnourished guy, it would be easy to digest. 

He was back in the room in a blink of an eye finding the omega's doe eyes staring at him. He put the tray on the nightstand, sitting at the edge of the bed, careful not to startle the sick werewolf. 

"You need to eat. The wound on your abdomen bled a lot, and you need strength for it to heal." Pick spoke up, taking the bowl in his hand, filling the spoon with the hot meal, blowing at it a bit to cool it down before he placed it in front of the confused omega. 

"Eat." He didn't like he had to command the omega again, but he had no choice. He forced the spoon in the boy's plump mouth, making him swallow. 

"Will you tell me your name if I tell you my?" He tried to ask. The boy hesitated before nodding in agreement. 

"I am Pick." 

"Rome." The omega whispered, his eyes fixed on the empty spoon, waiting for another bite. 

"Rome. It's a nice name." Pick chuckled, feeding the omega again. He had a feeling he could get used to this.