Nursing the Alpha, page 1
NURSING THE ALPHA
GIANNI HOLMES
Nursing the Alpha © 2025 by Blooming Quill Publishing Ltd
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
Cover Design: Covers by Sophie
Illustrator: Prince Halem
Edited by: Tanja Ongkiehong
Proofread by: Abrianna Denae Proofs
CONTENTS
Content Warning
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Also By Gianni Holmes
About the Author
CONTENT WARNING
This story takes place in an omegaverse universe where cis male characters can become pregnant (mpreg). While it begins on a tender, sweet note, the narrative explores themes and practices that may be considered unsafe and/or nonconsensual.
Please read with care. If you have no triggers then you can skip the content warning and go in spoiler free. If any of the topics listed below could be triggering for you, I encourage you to prioritize your mental well-being and set the book aside.
As artists, we often push the boundaries of imagination that we don’t necessarily view the same way in the real world. We all have personal lines we prefer not to cross. The list below will help you to determine if this content crosses the boundary for you.
This book contains:
Omegaverse dynamics & mpreg
Lactation kink/ Chest feeding
Rough sex & physical restraints
Video recording of sexual act without consent
Nonconsensual chest feeding from an MC while drugged
Dubious consent (dubcon)
Non-consensual scenes (non-con)
Stalking
Snowballing
Somnophilia (sexual acts while one partner is asleep)
Heat sex & knotting
Primal play
1
FLYNN
Saint Agatha’s Maternity Wing, East Building – 4th Floor
I lowered the baby gently into the cot, careful not to tangle the IV line taped to her foot or knock off the little knitted cap sliding sideways on her head. Daisy. Just under four pounds. Born six weeks early and already tougher than me.
As I laid her down, she squirmed a little, then stilled, blinking up with eyes still too cloudy to focus. I smoothed a hand over her chest, featherlight, the way Nurse Melly had shown me. Pressure calmed them, she’d said. Not too much. Just enough to remind them they’re here.
She was. She was here. Breathing. Small and pink and fighting.
My chest ached, but not the full, hot pressure I’d woken with. Just a residual soreness, like throbbing muscles after a long walk. I pressed the heel of my hand under my left nipple. Still tender. But finally—finally—not leaking.
That was the last of it.
My last letdown. And it took chest-feeding four babies to make it stop. Four babies that weren’t mine but whom I had nourished all the same.
I stood there for a long moment, one hand resting against the side of the cot, watching Daisy’s fingers twitch. So small. I still felt the warmth of her mouth, the gentle pull of her latch. She’d fed well. Drank everything I had. I should’ve been sore, but instead, I felt…
Empty.
In a good way.
I took a breath.
Then another.
I smiled.
“Thanks for helping me say good-bye, sweetheart,” I whispered. “You did a good job.”
I stepped back. Checked the seal on the breast milk bag I’d already labeled, and tucked it into the cooler with the others. As I turned away, I felt a slight chill, the kind that comes when a chapter of your life closes. The room seemed brighter, quieter.
As if responding to my swaying emotions, Daisy made a small noise. A quiet whimper, followed by suckling sounds. She was dreaming, perhaps of another helping from her impromptu dinner.
The smile came back to my lips, wistful this time but sincere. A pang in my heart reminded me of the connection we had formed in such little time and how it could still stir feelings in me. But this too would pass, like all things have been doing lately.
Outside the room, I pulled off the disposable scrub they’d given me, noticing the difference already. Earlier, when I’d put it on, my chest had been sensitive and swollen, pressing up against the material. After the feeding, it was loose, soft, warm. I could almost pretend I was normal again.
The halls of the maternity wing were quieter than usual. Late afternoon lull. I passed by the nurse’s station and gave a little wave.
“Flynn!” Melly looked up from the chart she was updating. Her dark hair was braided over one shoulder today. “You heading out?”
“Yeah.” I tugged down the hem of my hoodie. “Last shift, remember?”
She pouted. “We’ll miss you around here. You’re a favorite.”
I laughed. “You say that to all the wet nurses.”
“Maybe.” She rounded the desk and pulled me into a warm hug. “But we mean it with you. I wish we could keep you forever, but it’s nearly been a year. You must be desperate to get back to your life.”
I hugged her back, one-armed. Careful not to press too close. She smelled like lavender hand lotion and too many hours in this place. Comforting. Familiar.
“Let’s get this milk to stop producing first.” I grimaced, pulling away from her.
“Just follow my instructions. It might be painful for a while, especially since you get full so quickly, but the more you express, the harder it is for your body to understand it needs to stop. If the pain gets too much, you can take some over-the-counter pain medication. And no more chest-feeding, yeah?”
She looked at me with cautious eyes, concern etching her eyebrows together. I nodded, assuring her I understood the rules, but some part of me already missed the warmth and intimacy that came with nursing. But like she said, I had a life to get back to. It had been almost two years since I’d gone on a date.
“I’ll be fine, Melly, and if it’s too difficult, I can take the suppressants the hospital gave me to stop the lactation.” Though I’d prefer to stop producing milk the natural way. I wasn’t too fond of the potential side effects of those pills.
“Good, you take care of yourself, darling. You’ve done so much good here, don’t forget that. And you remember who to call if you need anything, okay?” She gave my hand a firm squeeze, and I nodded once more, fighting back tears.
Leaving Saint Agatha’s felt final in a way that surprised me. A bittersweet ending to a year filled with small heartbreaks and triumphs. As I walked toward the exit and stepped into the afternoon sun, I took a deep breath of the crisp fall air. A signal of change.
So this was it. Time to go back to doing what? Being Flynn Peterson again? That felt as unfamiliar as putting on an old pair of shoes that no longer fit quite right. Sure, they were yours and you used to love them dearly at some point, but that was another lifetime ago.
Still, my chest felt empty, which was rare. My shirt was dry. And for the first time in a long time, I walked with a little bounce in my step.
2
FLYNN
The subway was packed.
Shoulder to shoulder, front to back. That kind of packed. I barely made it inside before the doors hissed shut behind me. The floor vibrated beneath my sneakers as the train lurched into motion. The lights buzzed overhead. Music leaked from earbuds nearby. Someone smelled strongly of egg salad and regret. Ugh, the scent of the subway.
I hooked a hand around the nearest metal pole and held on.
No seats. Not surprising at this time of day. I adjusted the strap on my bag, making sure it didn’t knock into anyone, and focused on keeping my balance.
I sucked in a breath.
Across the crush of passengers, an alpha leaned casually against the opposite pole, looking entirely too relaxed for rush hour. Sandy-brown hair, artfully tousled. Deep-set eyes, crooked smile. He wore a faded denim jacket, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing muscular forearms prominently veined. His jeans were dark and lived in. They clung to him in a flattering sort of way.
He caught me staring.
I started to look away, then didn’t. This was a new era. I was putting myself out there.
He smiled.
I smiled back.
It was the easy kind of interest. No pressure. No promises. Just something light sp
He shifted a little closer as the train jostled.
“Cold day,” he said, voice warm and friendly.
“Yeah.” I hugged the strap of my bag.
“Next time wear a sweater, although it’d hide that figure.” He gave me a look that hovered just shy of smolder. “What’s your name?”
I laughed under my breath. Did I even remember how to flirt? “Flynn.”
He nodded, like he already liked the sound of it. “I’m Aaron.”
Aaron held my gaze. There was nothing urgent in his voice. Just the casual, amused ease of someone who knew how to handle himself in any situation.
“Nice to meet you, Aaron.”
“The pleasure is mine.” His eyes twinkled. “You new around here?”
“Not really. I’ve lived in Sweetin for five years.”
“You take the subway often? It’s tragic we’ve never met before.”
I laughed softly. He was pouring on the charm a little too thick, but this was the first time I’d openly flirted with anyone in a long time. While carrying a baby during surrogacy, I’d never dated, and the one time I tried after handing over the baby to the parents, I’d leaked all over the table during dinner.
It didn’t go well.
“I take it often enough.”
“So what do you do for fun, Flynn? How about a night on the town?”
“I can be persuaded if it’s the right company.”
He leaned in with a devilish grin. “Personally, I think the wrong company is the best kind of fun.”
“Are you?” I bit my bottom lip. “The wrong company, I mean.”
“It depends. Why don’t you give me a chance and find out?”
A bump of the train jostled me, and I stumbled. My fingers slipped from the pole, and before I could catch myself, I fell.
Right into someone’s lap.
I froze. My whole body went rigid. I’d landed squarely across the thighs of an alpha. Not just any alpha. This one was huge. Broad-chested, thighs like tree trunks, mutton fists resting calmly on his spread knees. A black coat strained over his broad shoulders. He was the kind of alpha I always avoided.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” I blurted. Mortified, I scrambled off his lap.
He didn’t move. Didn’t say a word.
But I felt it.
A wave of warmth rolled off him, his scent thick and low and grounding. Cedar, smoke, and something faintly sweet. It hit me like a slap to the stomach. My body clenched.
My womb fluttered.
What the hell?
I stumbled back into the crowd, catching myself on the pole again. My face burned as I looked anywhere but at him. The man I’d been talking to—Aaron—was watching, amused.
“Train’s a beast today,” I muttered, trying to laugh it off. “Can’t believe that happened.”
He chuckled. “At least you had a soft landing. You okay?”
“Yeah. Just startled. My stop’s coming up, so at least I don’t have to bear the shame for long.”
Aaron tilted his head. “Then how about giving me your number? I’ll call you. We can grab a drink sometime.”
I hesitated, surprised, flattered. My lips parted to say sure.
Then his expression changed.
His nose wrinkled. His eyes dropped to my chest. His mouth curled, and not in a smile this time.
“Wait… are you lactating?”
I blinked. “What?”
“That’s…” He stepped back slightly, revulsion crawling across his features. “That’s disgusting.”
My stomach dropped.
I looked down.
Oh no. No, no, no.
For fuck’s sake.
Two pale circles were already blooming on the front of my hoodie. The fabric clung to my chest, warm and damp, giving off a faint sweetness. Embarrassment curled under my skin.
Already? I never produced so quickly after feeding.
Panic swelled up like a wave.
“I—I have to go,” I stammered, stepping past him as the train pulled into the next station.
The doors hissed open. I darted out, holding my book bag up to shield my chest, heart thudding, face burning.
Stupid, stupid body. Why now? Why not five minutes later?
I barely made it two steps before a hand touched my elbow.
I flinched and turned.
It was the man from the seat. The one I’d landed on. The huge alpha.
Up close, he was even more intimidating. Tall and thick-built, towering over me like a wall of calm. His dark hair was buzzed close on the sides, his eyes a deep, unreadable brown. A faint scar curved over the edge of his jaw, and he smelled like the woods at night.
He didn’t leer. Didn’t judge. Just… looked at me.
He shrugged off his coat and held it out.
“Here,” he said, voice low and smooth. “Accidents happen.”
I stared at him.
At the coat.
Back at him.
I reached for it with shaking fingers. “Th-thank you.”
He didn’t say anything else.
Just gave me one last glance and walked away.
I stood there on the platform, his coat wrapped awkwardly around me, my chest damp and aching, and for some reason…
I wanted to cry.
3
SETH
The train smelled like metal, too many bodies, and disappointment.
Again.
I’d been riding this damn line all week. Same time, same train car, hoping to see him again. The omega. The one who’d fallen into my lap like a fever dream and run off smelling like heartbreak and sweet cream.
But no luck.
Just stale air, bad coffee, and the endless rustle of city movement.
I leaned against the partition at the back of the car, arms folded, breathing through my mouth to avoid the worst of the stench. I should’ve given up by now. Told myself it was a one time thing. A mistake. A body brushing mine and nothing more.
Except it wasn’t nothing.
The moment he landed on me, warm, trembling, soft, I’d caught it. His scent. It had curled around me, hit me low and sharp, buried itself under my skin. That scent had haunted me. Sweet, like sugar steeped in cream. Rich and ripe. Not perfume. Not soap.
Milk.
Omega milk.
Not just any omega milk.
His.
With a honeyed sweetness I’d never gotten from other omegas. It seeped into my senses, noticeable despite the grunge and grind of the city swaddling us. In all my years as an alpha, never had I anchored myself so firmly to one scent.
The conductors knew me by now. A nod in respect, a cocked eyebrow as if questioning my sanity. Perhaps they were right to question it. After all, I was practically stalking a phantom, a tantalizing ghost whose presence seemed as fleeting as his scent.
Until I smelled him.
Not in the car.
Not even on the platform.
Before I saw him… I smelled him.
A soft breeze wafted in through the tunnel’s air pressure, and the scent hit me like a punch to the gut. I staggered slightly, clutching the edge of the seat beside me.
Thick. Sweet. Creamy.
Milk. Omega.
Him.
The omega with skin as fair as snow and lips the color of freshly picked strawberries. Eyes shaped like a soft tilt of almond, their color deep as emeralds.
He was here, somewhere. Close. The scent was strong. Almost cloying. Yet I couldn’t locate him visually. My heart pounded, drumming a frenzied rhythm in my ears.
My body reacted before I could think. My cock swelled fast and urgent against my jeans. I gritted my teeth, nostrils flaring as I sucked in more of it. The scent wasn’t just familiar. It was fresh. Strong. Ripe with something new underneath.
Arousal.
Or desperation.
No, not quite. But his body wanted something. And mine—
Mine wanted him.
I dug into my coat pocket and pulled out my inhaler. Not for asthma. Suppressant dose. Fast-acting. Discreet. The kind they gave alphas who didn’t trust themselves. Or alphas who had powerful ruts like mine, clawing under the surface. A primal force, barely held in check.
