CamilaBel



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    "You know that’s not what I meant.” Mr. Smith says into the phone, and he sounds exhausted. Sam doesn’t turn around, trying to give him as much privacy as possible, even if it’s imagined.

    Sam throws his whole body weight into his next pull of the handle, feeling the budding sweat from earlier as a full-body wave, pricking at his neck and armpits and forehead.

    Nothing. The door doesn’t budge. Sam’s trapped.

    Or: Sam Wesson gets stuck in a supply closet with his boss, who's hiding out to fight with his girlfriend. Sensing the available omega that Sam's been into for months, Sam goes into an early rut.

    Written for WincestWednesdays Week 3 Prompt: "Trapped"

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    19 Apr 2026