Chapter Text
Before the ceremony starts the alphas file in behind the glass screen separating them from the tasting room and are instructed to take up their positions.
There are beta attendants calling out names and encouraging alphas to stand by the one-way glass in an organisational manner, positioning them in front of their own samples.
A nearby attendant glances at his clipboard and then encourages Derek to go and stand in the middle of the line, checking his records twice to ensure accuracy. Derek lets himself be pulled and stops once he’s in front of the sample.
He recognises it as his own immediately. Because through the glass he can see the way he sprayed messily into the glass, a drop of seed clinging to the rim of the cup that an attendant didn’t see fit to wipe away.
The samples are fresh, so fresh that it’s what all of the alphas were doing before they were filed into this room beforehand. Stroking themselves and spurting plentifully into the glass beakers, already anticipating the tasting.
He can’t help but glance down the rest of the table, where the samples from the other alphas all sit, waiting for their owners to take up position opposite them on the other side of the glass.
Derek’s embarrassed to realise that he’s the only one whose sample isn’t sitting perfectly at the base of the cup. That it looks more like he sprayed seed in a fit of adolescent stamina. A lack of alpha control.
He feels the heat climb on the skin of his neck and stops looking at them on the long table. Knowing there’s no point getting caught up in comparison now, when there’s nothing he can do about it.
Once the tasting begins, it’s all down to the omega anyway.
Ten minutes later and the alphas have been properly managed, each one standing before their sample, separated by the glass that they can look through but anyone on the opposite side, the room with all the samples, would only see a mirror.
It’s part of the tradition.
To ensure fairness in the tasting. To remove the ability of any outside influence. If the omega can’t see any of them, can’t hear any of them, can’t touch any of them- then of course they can only be influenced by taste and smell in that room.
That’s why the ceremony had been devised in the first place. Omegas were too rare now for any alpha to be able to resist going above and beyond to try to win their favour. To use their wealth or their power to encourage a bond. To snatch them from their bedrooms if they can’t.
That’s why born omegas are kept in places like this. Locked away and shielded by betas so no desperate alpha can take them against their will.
And then came the tasting ceremonies, as a natural addition to that change. To ensure a breedable omega can make an unbiased choice to select their breeder once they come of age and decide they want to mate.
Derek’s only been to one tasting ceremony and that was four years ago, when a omega female had come into her season. Of course he hadn’t been picked then, the omega had chosen a hulking alpha with a flat nose and dark eyes as her breeder and Derek had felt the desperation then. The unmistakeable hope amongst the alphas that they might be chosen themselves.
There’s no limit on the number of alphas who can submit themselves for the ceremony except that those who have already been chosen by an omega can’t submit themselves again. Derek knows that the ceremony can go on for days if necessary until the omega makes their choice, but he has no idea how many alphas have submitted themselves this time.
There are many of these omega facilities in existence, but since the ceremonies occur based off of breedability, they are sparse and in between whilst the alphas wait for omegas to come of age and into season.
Every child born is tested and if they’re found to be an omega they're moved to an omega facility where their parents can still remain in close contact and ensure their protection. But once determined, they are never allowed alone with an alpha unchaperoned until their own tasting ceremony.
Alphas are no longer to be trusted around a confirmed omega. Not even alpha parents.
So the unmated alphas in the area are forced to wait, until the next breedable omega comes into season and a new tasting ceremony is to begin.
Four years later and here Derek is, excited for the chance to potentially breed, desperate for the opportunity to be picked. Even though he knows many alphas grow into old age without ever having the opportunity to bury their knots into an omega. Like the rest, he’s still hopeful. Still optimistic that he might be chosen.
Omegas used to be born at the same rate of alphas and betas, but something changed in the last fifty years, be it war or famine, pollution or disease, and somehow, omega numbers and omega births have started to dwindle.
Scientists still can’t account for it. Can’t explain why omegas are dying out when alphas and betas continue to be born at normal rates. All they can do is create these facilities to protect the omegas from desperate alphas when their rareness only made them more coveted.
And keep up the breeding programs to try to salvage the omega population.
But it’s difficult. When omegas mostly only accept one mate in their lifetime. Though as a rule that isn’t truly set in stone. Derek has heard of omegas who have chosen more than one alpha in a tasting ceremony. Or if their alpha died and they wish to keep breeding they volunteered for a new ceremony again.
It’s possible to take on more than one mate but he knows that it’s rare.
Omegas have become precious, delicate and fitful creatures and there are so many environmental factors that can prevent their ability to conceive now.
The facilities are a last ditch effort to try and cater to the omegas needs over all else. To keep them from dying out completely. But it does nothing to curb the frustration in the alphas. Does nothing to quench their frustration. Their gnawing hunger.
Finally, the door opens in the other room, and Derek feels all of the other alphas straighten. The anticipating hanging thick in the air. He can already smell the hint of a knot, half unformed in an alpha’s pants two bodies down from him in the line and is tempted to remind him not to get ahead of himself.
He has to be chosen first.
Several attendants enter the room in white lab coats and it takes a second before the omega emerges behind them.
There’s a collective sigh at the sight of him. Even if the alphas aren’t chosen after the tasting, there’s a simple joy here in being the one to witness the omega. To watch the omega perform a tasting of their sample.
It’s why the glass is one way. So the alphas can watch. And not entirely lose their minds about never burying their knot in an omega. So they can at least delight in the view of an unmated one. Even if they might never touch them.
This omega has long lashes and sharp cheekbones, a plush looking mouth and a smattering of moles across his pale skin. Derek feels parts of him rouse at the sight and he isn’t the only one. The stink of alpha pheromones, of alpha desire is steadily filling up the room.
The omega is led to the end of the table with two attendants on either side of him and Derek is familiar enough with the process now to understand their purpose. One is already holding the spit bucket for the omega to dispose of the sample once they’re done with it. And the other holds the palate cleanser to prevent mixing or confusion between tastings.
The omega stops once he’s at the end of the table, seemingly ignoring the mirror, well aware of his audience when he reaches out and picks up the first glass before bringing it to his lips.
The alpha whose sample he’s tasting, let’s out a pleased murmur as the omega hold the sample in his mouth.
He’s acting differently than the previous taster Derek witnessed before. She was quick about each sample, barely seemed to take it into her mouth before she was spitting it out again. But this omega takes his time. Careful to savour the taste, the heft and the consistency.
Derek isn’t sure if it’s rumour or truth that omegas can detect a virile alpha from the sampling alone.
But the omegas are always taught to conceal their expressions during the entire tasting, lest they start a riot by choosing too obviously before the ceremony is fully completed. That has happened before. Derek knows that many alphas can’t handle not being chosen after foolishly, desperately yearning for it.
Although there are always consequences if they are too unruly. Too violent. An alpha can be permanently banned from ever submitting themselves for another tasting. So the facilities know the best methods for keeping visiting alphas well behaved.
But unlike the last taster Derek watched, this omega seems to pull a thoughtful expression before spitting out the sample and taking a quick swallow of the palate cleanser before moving on to the next alpha.
It isn’t that he’s savouring it. There’s no pleasure or disgust on his face. But it’s as if the omega takes the process as seriously as the alphas. As if he wants to give each sample his due consideration.
Derek appreciates that. For all the alphas that come here, that put so much hope and desire and sexual need into the ceremony, the omega is at least giving them all a private moment with him.
Even if they can only ever linger in his mouth.
Derek had glanced at the line when he was first placed into position and though he’s reasonably certain he’s in the middle of the line he would guess there’s at least thirty different alphas to be tasted before him.
Before the omega will eventually reach his sample. Even though Derek doubts he might be chosen, he knows that he’ll be sampled all the same. Every alpha here will be sampled and only afterwards will the omega make their choice.
If the omega does not choose today. Then there will be a number of new alphas for him to sample tomorrow.
A tasting ceremony is never finished until the omega had tasted all of them.
It’s an agonising wait.
Most of the alphas do not watch the omega the entire time, only interested when the omega reaches them. When the omega has their sample. But Derek can’t take his eyes off of him. Watches as he picks up each glass along the line and brings the sample into his mouth.
The closer he gets to Derek the more evident his minute reactions become. His lashes flutter closed sometimes, which Derek takes to be a positive sign though he can’t tell for sure from the omegas expression if any one sample has spoken to him yet.
His nostrils flare too and Derek wonders at that. At how potent the smells must be in that room. The mixture of samples overwhelming the omega’s senses.
He’s glad of the palate cleanser between each test, ensuring that the omega is taking each sample seriously. Unbiased and fair.
By the time he finally reaches Derek’s sample, Derek’s heart is in his throat and it seems to stop beating when the omega doesn’t immediately reach for the glass.
Instead he peers down at the mess. The way Derek has splattered powerfully against the sides of the glass when he’d come inside it.
Embarrassment steals into him again and there’s an undercurrent of murmurs in the room, a ripple of snickers that remind Derek of his lack of control. Noises that echo the sentiment that he’s an untried alpha. Untested. Young.
“Quiet please,” an attendant calls sharply, and the murmurs stop almost at once.
No alpha wants to be forcibly removed from a tasting ceremony until the omega has finished.
Derek’s face is on fire when the omega still doesn’t move and for a horrifying moment he thinks that the omega will break the rules of the ceremony, will not sample him at all before the omega finally reaches out.
Only he doesn’t pick up the glass like Derek is expecting. Like he has done for every other sample.
Instead the omega dips a pale index finger across the rim of the glass and scoops up the tiny portion that Derek had messily spilled across it.
Then, for the first time during the entire ceremony, the omega looks into the mirror. Straight at Derek, though he can’t actually see him. When the omega puts his finger into his mouth next, taking the smallest sample that Derek has seen during the entire ceremony, his face burns hot with humiliation and shame.
And arousal.
There’s another round of murmurings then, a few snorts of laughter and Derek knows, like all the other alphas do that he has been firmly rejected.
That he has been singled out in this rejection too. The omega has not taken so little a sample of any of the others.
“Quiet,” the attendant warns again, sharper now, but Derek barely hears it, too ashamed when the omega accepts the palate cleanser again and continues on to the next sample.
The omega is on to the fifth sample after Derek, delicately spitting it out once he’s done before Derek realises what has happened. What he had missed in the shock and embarrassment of the omegas unfamiliar attention.
His unusual response to Derek.
The omega never spat out his sample.
None of the other alphas have noticed this, because although they would have noticed the omegas obvious pause for Derek they would not have watched the tasting. They truly are only focusing on their turn.
Because they have no real interest in watching the omega sample another alpha.
Derek knows he only drew their attention because he made such a novice mess of his sample. Like it was his first tasting. Like he’s a green alpha.
But unlike Derek, they haven’t watched the rest.
Unlike Derek, whose eyes have been glued to the omega the entire time throughout the ceremony where he’s watched enough to notice the difference.
Why hadn’t the omega spat the sample out? Is it because he had taken so little of it into his mouth that he needn’t have bothered?
Or- or had he chosen to swallow it?
Derek is flushed with confusion, still embarrassed by his own arousal and desperate need as he watches the omega moving along the line, primly sampling, thoughtful and quiet, before spitting them out and drinking the palate cleanser.
A step of routine. Perfunctory and systematic.
He’s done every other sample in the same way. He’s never used his finger again. Not since Derek. He’s even used the same amount of time sampling every alpha before spitting it out. Derek doesn’t understand.
The omega is too clever with his reactions, too subdued for him to be sure there could even be a choosing today.
Whether it will only be a tasting ceremony and nothing more.
He watches and watches, as the omega moves further and further away from him, squirming and uncomfortable at the mix of alpha arousal in the air. He can feel that he’s been forgotten amongst the alphas, after the omegas open disapproval, can feel that they all think they have a prospective chance but Derek still can’t read the cleverness in the omega’s eyes.
Can’t guess how this ceremony is going to end.
It feels like hours. Watching the omega wind his way back towards the other end of the line. He’s in no need to rush, which is a surefire way of showing that a choice has been made. The previous female omega had started moving faster between tastings once she had clearly made her decision.
But Derek can still feel the uncertainty in the air. The anticipation. The nervousness.
Every alpha still hopes to be chosen. Still wishes to be the one to breed the omega on the other side of the glass.
And Derek watches silently, and aches at his missed opportunity.
The alphas begin to stir when the omega has two samples left. And they all seem to stand straighter, craning their necks towards the omega through the glass as if trying to determine if it will be a choosing today.
At the last sample, when the omega has finished spitting, has taken that last swallow of the palate cleanser, the attendant holding the cleanser leans towards him and seems to speak in a whisper.
But all of the alphas know the question being asked.
Will there be a choosing today?
Derek can feel the way everyone in the room collectively holds their breaths. The omega doesn’t nod or shake his head, but he says something, mouth moving in a way that Derek can’t read and he realises this is by design.
The omega wants to keep the alphas on their toes.
The omega is enjoying this. Being the centre of their rapt attention.
Derek’s cock twitches in his pants, a throb of excitement when the omega doesn’t disappear into the door at the end of the line. The one that would signal the ceremony is at an end and that a choosing has not been made.
Instead he turns the opposite way, begins to double back and at once there’s excited murmurs amongst the alphas, all desperately hoping their sample has been enough to entice.
Derek continues to watch the omega, heart beating fast in his chest as he slowly walks down the line, ignoring all of the samples he had just tasted, clearly already moving in the direction of his choice.
Derek loses his breath when the omega stops in front of him.
He stares, astonished at the sight when the omega wraps a hand around the glass, pulling Derek’s sample towards him. The rest of the alphas are deathly silent, still unsure, still somehow hoping this isn’t the choice when the omega slowly lifts it up.
And just like that the choice is made.
“This one,” the omega says clear enough that Derek see him speak through the glass. “This is the alpha seed I want.”
There’s a chorus of audible groans as Derek stares, shell shocked at the realisation that it’s him. That the omega has chosen him.
He realises suddenly that the omega hadn’t been rejecting him during that first sample, he’d been singling Derek out.
But why use only a fingertip? Why had he taken such a small sample?
The omega answers that question for Derek barely a second later.
When, smirking now, he lifts the glass up to his lips and slowly begin to drain the remainder of its contents.
Derek flushes again, spasming horribly as his cock pulses and he hears several alphas gasp in shock.
This isn’t how a choosing is done. The omega usually pick up the sample and that’s it. They aren’t expected to- the omega girl at the last ceremony had never-
Derek watches, entranced as the omega’s lashes flutter, eyes falling closed as the sloppy mess of Derek’s sample pours into his lovely mouth.
The alpha on his left pats Derek on the shoulder in congratulations but he barely feels it, completely absorbed in watching the omega, his omega, swallow the sample greedily, savouring the taste as it fills him.
The two attendants glance between one another but don’t feel inclined to stop the omega. He has clearly made his choice.
Derek still can’t believe it. The omega hadn’t been rejecting him with that minimal taste. He’d been saving the rest of the sample for himself once he was finished with the tasting.
So he could savour it properly.
And Derek hadn’t just imagined it earlier- the omega truly had swallowed that first taste of him. When he’d spat out all the rest.
Derek continues to stare as the omega finally finishes, licking absently at his lips where flecks of white have suddenly been trapped at the corners of his mouth. Derek has never seen a more beautiful sight.
He’s been chosen.
This omega has chosen him to be his alpha.
“Derek Hale?” an attendant calls, now standing at his side and when Derek finally has the capacity to drag his eyes away from his omega, he finally notices that the rest of the alphas have already been escorted out of the room. “Would you like to meet your omega?”
Derek swallows hard, glancing back at the omega again as he sets the near empty glass back onto the table before using his fingertips to wipe at the corners of his mouth, licking the remainder of Derek’s seed off of his thumb.
Derek’s knees felt weak just watching him put it back into his mouth again.
“Yes, please,” he says hoarsely, dazedly, and lets himself be led through the door now opened for him.
He now has an omega to breed after all.