by Noah Harris
He broke the kiss, moving up on his knees to grab the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head. Beneath him, Timothy whined, soft and needy, hands clenching and relaxing as if he wanted to touch but was unsure of how. Christopher peeled the omega's shirt from his body, tossing it to the floor with his own.
And then he hovered over him, eyes raking down his body, marveling at it.
They were of the same gender, same species, and of a similar age, and yet their bodies couldn't have been more different. He’d never paid much attention to his own body, but looking down at the two of them, he realized just how much he contrasted with Timothy Wolski. Where Christopher was large and broad, built strong, skin rough and calloused, Timothy was small and slender, skin soft and features delicate. Even the most innocent assets, like the curve of his knee or the jut of his hipbone, were infinitely finer and more delicate than Christopher's own.
He was beautiful.
Christopher was torn from his thoughts as Timothy, unable to stay still, began to grind against him, breath coming in rapid puffs of air as he found friction against Christopher's thigh. As arousing and erotic as the sight was, Christopher was already achingly hard, and his cock demanded attention.
He hastily finished undressing them both before crawling back over Timothy, settling between his spread thighs and lining himself up at his entrance. In his eagerness, blood burning his veins and wolf chanting in his mind, he began to push in, only to freeze the moment Timothy whimpered, face scrunching up in more pain than pleasure.
He pulled back immediately, his own desire overrun with a surge of protectiveness. Hovering over him, Christopher gently pushed a finger past his tight entrance, muttering soft sounds to soothe Timothy into relaxing. Once he had, Christopher let his fingers move, pushing in and out of him in a steady rhythm to let him get used to it. He bent low, pressing the omega down into the bed as his lips latched onto a peaking and delicious nipple. He sucked, flicking the bud with his tongue and reveling in the way Timothy's back arched. Fingers dug through his hair, holding him tight and tugging at the roots.
He pushed another finger inside the omega, mouth moving up his chest to leave marks across his neck and to nibble at his ear. He avoided Timothy's scent gland, but he was hyper aware of it. It wasn't a sense of don't go there that kept him at bay, but rather the thought of not yet.
He was hit with the sudden and firm realization that he was going to claim Timothy. He was going to leave his mating mark and bind them for life.
Timothy was his.
His wolf chanted. Mine. Omega. Mate. And it was a mantra he couldn't shake.
Timothy was his mate. This small, fragile and defiant omega was his. He couldn't deny it anymore. Not with the way he had scented him from so far away, or with the way his body had reacted to his heat, scent and touch.
A curl of fear unraveled in his chest, tight and sour, but he pushed it aside, burying it beneath the heat of pleasure and desire.
The consequences were something he would deal with later. He wasn't sure what he'd do, but there was time to figure it out afterwards. Once his wolf and his mate were satisfied.
He pulled back, pulling out his fingers and lining himself up at Timothy's entrance. He was tight and wet as Christopher pushed in, enveloping him in overwhelming heat. Timothy gasped, a loud moan tearing from his lips as his back arched, fingers scrambling for a hold around Christopher's shoulders, nails biting into his flesh. He squeezed his eyes shut, his own breath coming in rapid pants as he sheathed himself fully in that deliciously wet heat.
He held like that for only a moment, letting himself revel in it and letting Timothy adjust, but he couldn't deny his instincts for long.
He pulled back only to push in, faster and firmer. Again. And again. His hips snapped forward, building to a bruising pace that he couldn't stop. His omega writhed under him, sounds being punched from his throat with every thrust. His omega. Mine. Mate. Mine. Mine. Mine.
He felt his knot begin to swell, catching on the rim of Timothy's entrance. With every pass, he felt himself get closer to the edge. Heat swirled through him. Pleasure overran his senses. His wolf howled, demanding he claim his mate.
With a final thrust, he buried himself deep, knot pushing into Timothy and holding them together as he spilled inside him. He bent forward, sinking his teeth into the omega's scent gland. Blood filled his mouth, hot and spicy. His mate's scent filled his lungs, sweet and rich. Timothy clung to him, nails biting into his back and body squeezing around him as he screamed, loud and ragged, body convulsing as he came.
Christopher fell asleep that night with Timothy in his arms, small, delicate and protected. His throat bore the dark, bruised mark of Christopher's mating bite. Proof of their bond. The sight of it filled him with both bubbling pride and souring dread.
He closed his eyes, breathed in Timothy's scent, and told himself that was a problem for tomorrow.
For now, in this moment, he would let himself enjoy this. His mate. His omega. Mine.
Timothy
Waking felt like crawling through a fog. Mind in a haze, Timothy drifted toward consciousness in a confusing muddle of sensation. His first realization was that this was not his bed. It was far harder, smaller, and the blankets more course than those he had at home. That led to several moments of brief panic before he remembered where he was.
Training camp.
The barracks.
But he wasn't snapping awake as he normally did, nor did he hear any of the other cadets around him. His body was sticky and warm, sheets tangled around his limbs, scent heady and musky where it hung around him.
Heat.
The memory hit him all at once. His heat had begun. He would have sworn he had more time because his heats had always been regular, but this time it had been thrown off. It had come early. And he’d managed to get to his bed before the waves of restless desire and warmth began to roll over him. He remembered the faces and voices around him, the biting mocking laughter, all of it blurring into a muddled sensation mingling with his embarrassment and shame, yet he still couldn't control himself.
And then it had stopped.
And then…touch. He’d been touched. And it had been kind and gentle, firm and rough in all the right ways. It had been tender and his body had reacted to the touch with a newfound fire and desire he’d never known, even in the throes of his heat.
Christopher.
He remembered Christopher's face, blurry around the edges from his heat addled mind, but still so clearly the face he'd been fantasizing about for weeks. His strong body cut and chiseled as it hovered over him. Those large, calloused hands, uncharacteristically gentle as they touched him. His lips, firm and sinful as he claimed Timothy's mouth. Filling him, claiming him.
Timothy's eyes snapped open, and he found himself alone in his bed in the barracks. He stared at the ceiling fingers clutched tight to the sheets. His chest heaved with every breath, heartbeat pounding in his ears. His skin was covered in a fine layer of sweat, and his body felt hot and tight but not nearly as much as it should have since his heat had only started yesterday.
He should be in the throes of it still, head addled and body writhing. Even in moments of rest between waves, his body rarely felt his own during heats. Too hot and skin too tight, restless and squirming as he desperately needed relief. Here and now, he still felt hotter than normal, and his skin felt uncomfortably stretched over his bones, but his head was clear and his body, while panicked, wasn't vibrating with restless energy.
It was strange. Heats weren't supposed to end this early. None of his ever had, even the irregular ones. The only time he'd ever heard of them calming early was if the omega had been claimed by their mate…
A gasp tore past Timothy's lips, sharp inhale catching in his throat as his hand flew to his neck, slapping his palm over his scent gland.
It felt swollen and sore, and while it ached, a pleasant buzz trickled through his veins as he put pressure on it. He didn't have a mirror, but h
e knew what he’d find there. A heavy bruise. A bite mark. A mating bite. Christopher's mating bite.
So…so it wasn't just a dream then.
He had a hard time wrapping his mind around that. His memories were hazy at best, still recalled through a heat crazed mind, but they were definitely there, filled with Christopher. Memories, not fantasies. His body ached as proof. Everything hurt, faintly pulsing. A sharper pain between his legs. An ache in his thighs. He could feel the bruises that decorated his chest and neck. But it was a pleasant sort of ache. It was satisfying. It left his body tingling and pleased.
And the mark on his neck…Christopher had left it. He distinctly remembered the pain and pleasure as he was bitten, as they came together. As his wolf cried out for his mate and was overcome with the satisfaction of being claimed.
Christopher claimed him.
Christopher had claimed him.
His body shuddered as a giggle bubbled up his throat and slipped past his lips, giddy and uncontrollable. A lightness flooded through him, tingling in his veins and spreading warmth through his chest. He didn't remember much, but he remembered Christopher holding him throughout the night, whispering sweet reassurances. Promising to take care of him. Calling him his mate. Touching him so reverently, like he was something precious to treasure.
Another giggle slipped past his lips, and he put a hand to his mouth to stifle it and hide his smile. He squirmed in his bed, unable to stay still with the giddiness bubbling through him. Never before had he thought something like this would be possible. He had kept all his fantasies firmly locked away. He never dared imagine Christopher might actually feel the same way about him.
He felt something warm and bright unfurl in his chest, slowly blooming and spreading through his tired limbs and aching body.
Hope.
Maybe he wasn't destined to be alone after all. Maybe he wouldn't be forced into a role of submission and servitude like he’d always feared. Christopher was clearly going to be the Prime Alpha of their forming pack, and despite being the only omega, if he was Christopher's mate, he wouldn't be subjected to the typical treatment of a Prime Omega. He wouldn't have to fill that role at all. Not with the Prime Alpha as his mate, protecting him.
His next giggle was cut off abruptly as the door to the barracks slammed open, banging against the wall behind it. Timothy started, jerking into a sitting position and pushing back against the headboard. He clutched the blankets to his chest, eyes wide as he stared at the newcomers.
There were four of them. All cadets from his team. They stood just within the doorway, silhouetted against the light behind them, making them look even taller and broader than they already were. Even with shadows cast over their faces, Timothy could see their scowling expressions and the anger glinting in their eyes.
It was only then that he realized what having a heat in a public barracks and being claimed by the Prime Alpha meant. It meant that the rest of their unit had to sleep outside or were shoved into the losers' barracks.
Timothy felt himself shrink under the weight of this new revelation and the glares from his fellow cadets.
"Sleep well with the whole barracks to yourself?" one of them asked as all four stalked forward.
"Heard your heat started and that's why we all had to sleep in the rain."
"This is why they shouldn't let omegas in."
"If he's so hot, maybe we should cool him down."
A murmur spread between them at that suggestion, followed by low laughter that set Timothy on edge. He scrambled away from them as they neared, but there was only so far he could go. He realized their plan too late when they reached for him.
He tried to fight them off, to get out of their hold, but their grips were tight and they were far stronger than him. Hands grabbed his arms and legs, pulling him roughly from the bed and dragging him across the floor. He tried to fight it, even managed to drive his elbow into one of them and scratch another, but it barely affected them and their grips never wavered.
He was still naked as they dragged him from the barracks, face flushed and burning from embarrassment and shame as they dragged him across the training grounds and through the forest. They picked up an audience as they went. Other cadets who saw the spectacle fell into line behind them, grins malicious and laughter mocking, eager to see where this would go. He tried to plead with them, to apologize and to say that he wasn't in heat anymore, but they wouldn't listen. They wouldn't stop.
The ground tore at his bare skin, and the hands on him felt bruising. He eventually gave up the fight, unable to get away from four stronger wolves and unable to hide his shame as the others trailed after, snickering and sneering.
When they stopped, he could hear the sound of rushing water. They threw him to the ground, leaving him on his hands and knees on a river bank, staring with mounting dread at the rushing water.
"No," he whispered, voice cracking.
"If your heat is that bad, we'll cool you down." The vindictive voice was followed by a round of snickers, and Timothy's skin crawled.
"What's going on here?"
Timothy's head snapped up at the sound of Christopher's voice, so strong and full of authority, cutting through the rest like the tip of a sword. He felt his fear melting away, and a smile dared to pull at his lips. Hope fluttered in his chest, so full and bright and overwhelming him with relief.
Christopher stood so tall and proud, back straight and shoulders pulled back. His chin was held high, starring down the length of his nose at the gathered pack. The rest of the wolves had stiffened at his words, automatically turning to face their alpha.
"We were just going to cool off the omega," said one of the cadets standing over him.
Timothy watched Christopher look the man over before his eyes slid to him. His heart leapt in his chest, but something was wrong. There was no warmth in the alpha's gaze. Not even a spark of recognition or pity. He stared at Timothy with removed indifference, impassive as he’d always been.
That wasn't the look of a newly mated alpha, nor was it the look of a man who whispered fragile promises into Timothy's ear the night before.
It was cold, and Timothy felt the budding hope in his chest shrivel and die as Christopher said, "Then throw him in."
"What…no, wait!" But their hands were already on him, pulling him up. He stared at Christopher, eyes pleading and mouth agape. He wanted to say more, but there was a lump in his throat. His heart felt cold, and his lungs were tight and suffocating.
He glanced over his shoulder at the rushing waters of the river, then cast one last look at Christopher, at his mate.
For a brief moment, he thought he saw the look of indifference waver and crack. The alpha took a step forward, as if he couldn't help it. And for just a moment, Timothy thought he saw concern in those bright green eyes.
But then he was being thrown.
Cold water engulfed him, dragging him under and filling his nose and mouth. The current was strong and the river was surprisingly deep. He was quickly swept away, and his head only broke the surface for brief moments, just long enough to drag a wet desperate breath into his lungs, before he was dragged back under.
The current was too strong for a human, and it was through a pure wild instinct to survive that he managed to shift. His body ached, bones cracking into new places and skin tearing apart to make way for the new, but he barely felt it with the panic and adrenaline pounding through his veins and the cold numbing water.
As a wolf, he was able to paddle to the edge of the river, though it took time for him to find enough purchase to drag himself from the icy water. He crawled his way on to the muddy shore, shivering and soaked. His tongue lolled out of his mouth as he panted heavily, breaths wet as he dragged them into straining lungs.
There, he found himself surrounded by the pack. All of them shifted into their wolf forms and surrounding him, barricading him on the river bank. They must've shifted to keep up with his downstream travel.
Christopher stood over
him, large and broad, even in his wolf form. Fur dark and thick, eyes still a piercing green. The others stood behind him, falling into their places behind their chosen alpha.
Fixed by that unwavering stare, surrounded by his powerful scent and oppressive aura, Timothy found himself crumbling. In his wolf form, fighting his instincts was even harder. He couldn't resist as it felt like a hand was pressing down on him, pushing him humiliatingly to the ground. He bowed before Christopher, legs spread and tail tucked tight between his legs. He bowed his head, unable to hold Christopher's gaze, and bared his neck in submission.
Shame was hot and thick in his throat, but he couldn't help but give in to their new alpha.
And upon his show of subservience, he knew he was chosen as the Prime Omega. The pack punching bag. And with his fall, Christopher rose to Prime Alpha. It was a ritual, humiliating and unnecessary. But it solidified them as a pack.
The other wolves sat back on their haunches, raising their heads to the sky and howling together in harmony.
Timothy couldn't stop his own howl. It tore from him out of pure instinct, drawn out by the pack around him. But the sound of it was hoarse and broken, echoing the tearing of the broken heart that bled in his chest.
The celebration that night was loud and jovial as the cadets celebrated their new alpha and the solidification of their new pack. The sergeant allowed them liquor and beer for the occasion, food brought in for them to gorge themselves on. They played music loud around a bonfire, played games in human form and chased each other in wolf form.
And while they were all busy, Timothy haphazardly and quickly packed his bags. He hadn't been able to make eye contact with Christopher all day, and he’d shied away from the pack ever since the shameful display this morning. And now, under the cover of night and the celebration, he was going to leave.
He couldn't bear to stay. Not after suffering all that. Not when he was going to be seen as nothing more than a punching bag and a servant. He’d come here to escape the life of demeaning subservience, only to find it could reach him anywhere he went. Even with someone who was supposed to be his mate.