Chapter Text
“You’re an Omega?”
Even though Nicolo knows that this moment has been a long time coming, the question still makes him tense.
“Yes,” he replies through gritted teeth.
“Huh.”
Yusuf doesn’t sound angry at the revelation, only surprised and mildly curious. It is a much better reaction than Nicolo expected.
“Is that going to be a problem?” he bites out because Yusuf isn’t saying anything more and he needs to know. He has spent his entire life surrounded by Alphas who expect him to submit to them as soon as they realise what he is and are infuriated when he refuses. He will not willingly spend his time with another one, only other known immortal or not.
“No, no,” Yusuf hurries to assure him. “I’m just surprised, that is all. You didn’t smell like an Omega before.”
Nicolo hasn’t smelled like an Omega for a very long time. First it was because of the potions he had smuggled with him to the Holy Land to dull his scent and suppress his heats. Then, the harshness of war and long periods of starvation had forced his body to focus what little strength it had left to keeping him alive, not wasting energy on mating cycles or producing pheromones designed to attract a mate. Even after his potions had run out, his scent had stayed suppressed and he hasn’t been forced to suffer through a heat for a long time.
When they first met, he assumes that Yusuf thought he was a Beta. But they have been travelling together for more than a year now and his body is finally regaining strength and settling back into its natural rhythm. When he had woken up that morning, he had realised his naturally sweet scent had finally returned and knew that he would be forced to confess to his companion.
“This changes nothing,” he insists, hearing the harsh edge in his own voice. Their time travelling together has shown him that Yusuf is a good man. But Yusuf is also an Alpha and Nicolo cannot tolerate going from a partner and an equal to being seen as something lesser.
“Of course not.”
Yusuf sounds surprised at his words, as if Nicolo is stating the obvious. It makes Nicolo relax marginally. He had hoped that Yusuf would not be one of the Alphas who expected obedience and submission as soon as they caught his scent, but he has been wrong in his judgement before. It is reassuring that Yusuf does not seem to see him any differently now that his secret is out in the open between them.
He is surprised but grateful when Yusuf says no more on the topic. He had expected more of a reaction. But then again, he supposes that his status is one of the least surprising things in their lives at the moment. Against immortality, it hardly compares.
It is more than a week before they broach the topic again. It happens when they are in a small village, restocking their supplies. The town has a small but functional market and enough merchants who are happy to part with their wares to travellers for the right price.
Nicolo leaves the talking to Yusuf. His own grasp of Arabic is functional but nowhere near fluent. And even if his skill with the local dialect was perfect, they are still too close to Jerusalem for it to be safe to reveal himself as Genoese. The horrors of the war might not have touched this place directly, but rumours of the slaughter at Jerusalem have spread far. Nicolo knows that his accent gives him away the minute he opens his mouth. Once they realise what he is, the locals do not care that he is no longer a soldier or that he regrets his part in the war with his entire soul. As soon as they hear his voice, all hospitality is refused to him. And to Yusuf, when people realise that they are travelling together. It is better to let Yusuf do the bargaining rather than be chased out of town and nearly die in the desert when no one will sell them supplies. Nicolo has learned that from experience.
Yusuf finishes haggling with one of the merchants and turns to Nicolo with an assessing gaze.
“Is there anything that you need? For, you know...?”
Yusuf makes a vague motion towards the scent glands in his neck that Nicolo assumes is supposed to refer to his recently revealed designation. The day is hot and he knows that his scent is hanging heavily in the air around them. He wishes he could mask it, but they barely have enough money for food let alone perfumes or potions.
“One of my sisters is an Omega,” Yusuf adds. “She used to say that she could never get a good night’s sleep without proper blankets to nest with. We have enough money that we could spare some if you need it?”
It takes Nicolo a few seconds to register the question because he is so surprised that Yusuf would be willing to part with what little money we have left for such an unnecessary luxury.
“I… don’t,” he mumbles, shaking his head.
“Don’t…nest?” Yusuf clarifies, sounding disbelieving.
Nicolo shakes his head again.
“Not ever?”
Nicolo doesn’t know why Yusuf sounds so surprised. Nesting is a luxury that he has never been afforded. At the seminary, they had been warned against bowing to the temptation of earthly desires and indulging in unnecessary luxuries. And once he had gone to war, it would have given away his secret in an instant.
“It is an indulgence,” he answers. “I don’t need it.”
“Not needing is not the same thing as not wanting,” Yusuf points out.
“I’m fine,” Nicolo insists. “There are much more important things to spend our money on.”
Yusuf presses his lips together in a frown but he doesn’t press the matter.
That night, as they lie together outside, he sees Yusuf try to subtly nudge his cloak over to where Nicolo has settled down to sleep. At least, he assumes that Yusuf is trying to be subtle, although he is failing quite dramatically at it. Nicolo sighs from where he is lying on the hard ground and using his own cloak as a makeshift blanket.
“I told you, I do not need anything,” he tells Yusuf, who does not look even slightly ashamed at being caught.
“I’m too warm tonight,” Yusuf says, blatantly lying. “If you don’t use it then it will just go to waste.”
Nicolo could point out that the night is cold and Yusuf will likely get little sleep if he has no protection from the chill. He could also point out that even if Yusuf is inexplicably too warm for a blanket, he could use his cloak to rest his head on rather than attempting to give it away. But Nicolo has learned over the many months that that have spent together that Yusuf is an incredibly stubborn man and there is no point arguing with him once he has made up his mind about something. Nicolo is confident that even if he refuses the offer, Yusuf will sleep without anyway just to make a point.
So instead of bothering to argue, he accepts Yusuf’s cloak and wraps it around himself, burrowing into the warmth. Yusuf looks inordinately pleased at the sight.
Although he hates to admit it, Nicolo finds that it does help him sleep. Two cloaks is hardly enough fabric to build a proper nest, but it is enough to satisfy the deeply buried instincts that he mostly tries to ignore. Yusuf’s scent is also deeply ingrained in the material of his cloak which adds a layer of comfort that Nicolo didn’t expect. Yusuf has always smelled good to him but there is something incredibly soothing about sleeping wrapped in his scent.
Not that Nicolo will ever admit it out loud.
Because it has been so long since his last heat, Nicolo fails to recognise the symptoms until it is almost too late. He writes his uncharacteristic irritability off as tiredness from travelling and the flushes of warmth that run through his body as a side effect of the hotter climate. He even convinces himself that the spikes of arousal that race through him whenever he looks at Yusuf mean nothing. He has already acknowledged to himself long ago that Yusuf is a very beautiful man. So surely it means nothing that he feels an aching heat pooling in his gut whenever Yusuf is near.
It is only once he finds himself curled up one night with his nose pressed into Yusuf’s cloak and breathing in the heady scent of alpha until his head is swimming and he is unbearably hard that Nicolo realises this may not be normal. His hand is halfway down his breeches before he even realises what he is doing and forces himself to stop. He does not know what has come over him. He usually has far better control than this.
Then the pieces fall into place with a horrible clarity and he finally recognises the symptoms for what they are.
He bolts upright, swearing loudly and creatively. Next to him, he hears Yusuf’s sleepy noise of concern. When Nicolo turns to look, Yusuf is sitting up too, eyes bleary and hair tousled.
“What is it?” Yusuf mumbles, rubbing at his eyes and yawning. “Is something wrong?”
Nicolo’s throat feels dry and it is almost painful to force the words out.
“My heat,” he whispers, body flushed with shame. “I’m going into heat.”
There is nothing he dreads more in the world than his heats. Heats at the seminary had always been torture. They were supposed to be a time of solitude and contemplation and so every time his heat had come, he was locked in a bare stone room with nothing but his crucifix and an altar and told to pray for forgiveness and resist the temptation of the sins of the flesh. It usually took three full days for his heats to burn through him and they always left him miserable and exhausted.
He hates the complete loss of control. The feeling that his body is no longer his own. The burning in his skin that consumes his every thought. One of the priests had once told him that Omegas burn with the heat of hellfire to remind them of the original sin and Nicolo cannot imagine that to suffer for three days and be granted no relief could be anything but a punishment. It was a blessing when he escaped to the crusades and was able to pass himself off as a Beta, suppressing his heats the way that he had always been forbidden to do before.
Yusuf lets out a choked off noise at the admission and when Nicolo looks at him again, his eyes are wide.
“How long do you have?” he asks hoarsely, voice filled with concern.
“A day maybe. Two at most.”
Now that he is aware of what is happening, Nicolo can smell the faint traces of sickly sweet pre-heat on his skin. He curses himself for not having noticed earlier. Soon the scent will be noticeable to others too and if his pre-heat has already begun, it won’t be long until the full force of his heat is upon him.
Yusuf moves closer and reaches out to rest his hand comfortingly on Nicolo’s arm. He is scent is warm and soothing and Nicolo wants to bury his face into Yusuf’s neck and never let go. He resists, but only just.
What do you need?” Yusuf asks, eyes dark and worried. “Whatever you need I can get it, just tell me how to help you.”
Nicolo suspects that he is not the only one whose behaviour is being influenced by his more primal instincts. Yusuf smells strongly of protective Alpha, likely a subconscious side-effect of being in such close proximity to an Omega in pre-heat. His natural instinct to protect and provide are probably the driving force behind his concern.
“I need nothing,” Nicolo replies, forcing himself to remain calm. “I have endured this before and I will do it again.”
Yusuf doesn’t look particularly happy with his answer but he doesn’t push the point. Instead he moves his hand from Nicolo’s arm and shuffles back until there is a respectable distance between them.
“Do you want me to leave?”
The question takes Nicolo by surprise. It shouldn’t. He has always ridden out his heats in solitude before and it is beyond improper to have an unmated Alpha so close during his pre-heat, let alone his heat itself. But for some reason, he doesn’t want Yusuf to go. He rationalizes it as a matter of safety. To suffer his heat alone here would leave him vulnerable and exposed. There is no locked door to keep him in when he is driven into madness. Or to keep unwanted visitors out. It is better to not be alone when his body betrays him and leaves him too weak to defend himself.
“No,” he admits, and he thinks he sees Yusuf’s shoulders relax slightly. “But Yusuf, please know that when I am in heat I am…not myself.”
Even as he says it, he can feel the shame rising within him. He has never spent his heat with an Alpha so close and he doesn’t know if it will change anything about what is to come. But he usually spends his heats writhing on the floor in a mixture of arousal and despair and begging the Lord for relief that never comes. He doesn’t want Yusuf to see him like that. But he has little choice in the matter now.
“Nicolo,” Yusuf say softly, and his expression is unbearably kind. “You don’t have to be ashamed of this. I promise I will not think any less of you because of it.”
Nicolo desperately wants to believe that to be true.
The next morning the scent of pre-heat has grown stronger and Nicolo knows that Yusuf can now smell it on him too. He doesn’t say anything, but Nicolo sees the way he subconsciously sways closer whenever they are near.
They are too far from the nearest village to reach it before his heat hits, so instead they settle down in a cave far away from any roads. It is secluded enough that Nicolo is reasonably sure no-one will stumble onto them accidentally. It’s not ideal, but he is already used to bare stone walls and rock hard floors from his heats in the seminary so he can make do. Yusuf seems much less content than he is and spends the day alternating between pacing agitatedly and eyeing the lack of comfort in the cave with obvious displeasure.
As the hours pass, Nicolo can feel himself slipping further and further down into his heat. He catches his eyes drifting to Yusuf far too often and has to force himself to look away. As the night creeps in, he has to fight the urge to strip himself of the clothes that have grown far too hot and uncomfortable against his skin. Clinging to the last shreds of control he has left, he lies down and prays for sleep, knowing that he is running out of time.
When he wakes up, his body is on fire.
There is heat burning under Nicolo’s skin. The scent of Alpha surrounds him and he whines, trying to draw it closer. He has no coherent thoughts, only a desperate, all-consuming need that strips him of everything but desire.
“Alpha,“ he moans, writhing as his body burns and his mind cries out for relief. “Alpha, please.”
The scent of Alpha moves closer and Nicolo revels in it. He presses himself as close as he can, inhaling the sweet scent that calms his every nerve.
Soft fingers brush against his forehead and the touch only makes the flames inside Nicolo burn hotter. He latches on to the contact, pulling it closer until there is a warm body pressed against his. He buries his face against the place where the scent of Alpha is strongest and mouths at the skin beneath him.
“No Nico,” a gentle voice says as strong hands push him away. “You do not want this.”
“Alpha,“ he whines desperately, knowing that he is begging and far past the point of shame. There is a fire in his soul and only his Alpha’s touch can extinguish it. He throws himself back into comforting arms, longing for the sweet relief that he so desperately craves. He rubs himself against his Alpha’s skin, scenting him until they are indistinguishable from each other. He needs his Alpha to smell like his, to be his.
Once again, strong hands push him gently away and the rejection burns hotter and more painful than the desire ever could. He wants to scream and sob and beg his Alpha not to leave him in this hell alone but his words have been stolen from him and all he can do is curl in on himself and wallow in his misery. Everything is too hot and it hurts and his Alpha is close but not close enough.
The scent of Alpha moves further away and Nicolo is left alone for the fire consume him.