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Baelor has been pack alpha for two turns of the sun before the topic of taking another omega is brought up to him again. It’s Brynden who dares to broach it during a structure meeting, when Baelor is bent over his table, trying to make sense of the newest mess his pack has gotten itself into.
Fights with neighbouring packs, encroaching onto other pack’s territories, encroaching onto another alphas territory, disputes between alphas over some omega, mating requests, building requests, trading treaties.
No one ever said there’d be this much paperwork when leading a pack. In his youth the only important thing had been fighting other packs and protecting their own members. Sometimes he curses his predecessor for leaving him with peace between the different territories and no outright war.
“Come again?” he dares Brynden to repeat himself and his advisor gives him a thin smile. No one would ever vote him into the top three – or ten, or even fifty – of charming alphas but he does have a mind for the darker part of politics that Baelor sometimes can’t be bothered to consider.
“You’ve been unmated for ten summers,” Brynden elaborates. “Your pups are grown and mating themselves. When was the last time you rutted an omega? Your bed is cold, your knot unused. Some might say you are old enough to be succeeded Taking another omega would put you in a position of stability.”
Baelor blinks. He had not been under the impression that their relationship was close enough to talk about their cocks.
“I have no interest in mating some omega from some other pack.” He did once and while he never minded his mate and got to appreciate her presence, he feels too old to go through it again.
And he doesn’t need a mate. His home is lived in, his den is full.
“Not what I’m saying,” Brynden corrects. His eyes bore into Baelor’s in a way that makes him feel uneasy. “We don’t need you to mate for political reasons. Take a look at the unmated omegas in your pack. Choose one of them. Old, young, unattempted or with a litter of pups already, it doesn’t matter who it is.” He throws his hands up and keeps going, despite the sour look that Baelor knows must be on his face. “Seven hells, choose someone like or who you’ve always wanted to knot. It’s about showing your pack that you’re alive.”
He blinks. Leans back on his chair, the wood creaking ever so slightly. “It’s not that easy.”
Brynden gives him an unimpressed look. “We both know that the one thing you want is unattainable.”
“Come again?”
“The one thing you want is the one thing you can’t have,” Brynden reminds him and Baelor would like to swear that there’s nothing going through his mind, that there’s no face, no scent, no voice immediately rising before his inner eye but– “My last information is that he refuses any attempts of the elders to ask him to mate so you need to get a grip and find yourself some viable options least you pine away for the rest of your days.”
And then, because there’s maybe only one person in the pack who’s allowed to speak to Baelor this way and it is decidedly not Brynden. “Respectfully, pack alpha. That is just my political advice.”
The one thing he wants is the one thing he can’t have. Isn’t that the irony of it all? He is the most powerful alpha from the sea to the river and yet it doesn’t matter because he cannot have what he wants.
“Let me get this straight.” He rubs his fingers over his forehead, feels a headache building. “Your political advice of the day is for me to date so I don’t look like a sad, old alpha?”
Brynden rolls his eyes. “Those are the words you chose to use, not me.”
*
Baelor is still thinking about Brynden’s words as he leaves the offices for the day and moves back into the townhouse he shares with the rest of his closest pack mates. Some of them littermates, some further removed. Older members are uncles and aunts. Younger members are cousins.
In a pack as old and big as theirs, it’s not always clear who has been sired by whom in the past decades so Baelor has long stopped enforcing strict rules about who is allowed to stay here or not.
Much to the chagrin of some of his pack.
“I want you to throw him out, uncle!” Is the first thing that gets thrown at him when he leaves his shoes by the door and takes a steep into the open space that’s used as the pack’s main meeting place.
“Who?” he asks and takes a look at the cause of his biggest headache.
Aerion is sweating, his pupils blown wide, his face red in anger and … something else. Baelor takes a step back and breathes carefully through his mouth.
“Aegon’s new friend. Teacher. Whatever. He’s too old to hang around a pup that young,” Aerion seethes. “Something that big shouldn’t be in the house, he’s–” Aerion breaks off, losing his speech temporarily. Baelor tries to concentrate for a moment. Listens into the house, tries to figure out who else is in his innermost sanctum.
He smells Aegon and Duncan, the tutor Baelor has approved for him. He’s a good alpha. Simple and single-minded, but strong and with a good sense of justice and sense for the politics that so often follow those who are closest to leadership. That has Aerion so flustered– well.
Daella and Matarys seem to be somewhere on the upper floors. Valarr must be at practice still, Rhae and Aemon at school but–
“Daeron!” Baelor says, slipping a hint of pack alpha into his voice and Aerion in front of him stops breathing for a moment. Sways a step closer and Baelor lets him cling to his arm, rub his chin against his shoulder, his chest.
“He is horrible, uncle,” Aerion says. “Have you seen how big he is, how strong, he–”
Daeron stumbles down the stairs, holding onto the reeling with every step. He smells like the herbs he smokes to make sense of the sickness inside his head and Baelor rolls his eyes at him.
“Uncle, what– I was– sleepi–”
“Take Aerion up to the heat room,” Baelor snaps. “Prepare it for him and lock his door.”
“Wha–”
“No!” Aerion screeches. “Uncle you can’t, the alpha, you have to–”
“Daeron now!”
Daeron tugs Aerion out of the room. Stumbling up the stairs, bickering, fighting, as only siblings can do when one is in the throes and the other’s mind is addled by herbs.
*
Maekar returns with Rhae a few hours later. By then Daeron has climbed out of the window and fallen onto the grass – Baelor had had a very good view of that from his place at the kitchen counter while sipping a glass of water – and he had spoken to young Duncan for a moment, who seemed to be apologetic and yet somewhat proud to be the cause of Aerion’s peril.
Rhae runs past the door with the energy of a young pup and Maekar joins him in the kitchen soon after. His nose is crunched and his eyes are unfocused, his ears tuned in to what goes on in the house.
“Aerion went into heat,” Baelor says, even though it’s far from necessary. The whole house can smell. “Aegon’s new tutor.”
Maekar groans. Drives his hands through his silver hair. “Did he throw himself at the fucking mutt?”
Baelor shakes his head. “Just demanded he be thrown out. How were the border reports?”
“Good enough that I’m not stuck in the fucking outpost all day. Again. But Rhae got into a fight with one of the other pups so there’s that bullshit.”
Baelor hums. Looks at Maekar. “Pups.”
Maekar groans. “A joy.”
He opens his mouth. Doesn’t really know what he wants to ask. Maekar has always been there, when Baelor has needed him. Giving his opinion, as unwanted as it had been at times. Uncaring what his own alpha thought about them, uncaring if Baelor or his own omega or the elders or whoever had the misfortune to find themselves in his path wanted to hear them.
If Baelor asked Maekar for his opinion, what would he say? His mate had died in a territory dispute eight summers ago, even before Rhae had been born. He remembers his face, belly just slightly swollen, Aegon barely able to crawl, still nursing and a dead mate in front of him. He hasn’t taken a new mate. Nor spent his heats with an alpha. Not that Baelor has been paying attention to it. He just knows who comes in and out of his house. Not that he would have allowed it, of course. Just because– just because he has accepted his lack of chance in this area doesn’t mean he’d allow any strange alpha to make an attempt at an omega under his care.
“What are you looking at?”
“Nothing,” he immediately says. Maybe– maybe he’ll talk to him about it tomorrow. Maybe he’ll be able to bear his answer once he has time to sleep on it.
“Well then. I’m gonna check on Aerion. Don’t suppose Daeron is home?”
“Nope.”
“Fucking great.”
*
He doesn’t get out of bed in the morning. His thoughts are racing, his mind spinning scenarios. Should he do it? Was the advice sound? Who could he even choose who would compare?
Around him, the pack rises. Maekar, who always sleeps closest to him on one side with all his smaller pups clinging to him on the other rises first, waking him in the process. Pups getting up to get ready for school, Valarr and his mate stealing away for some quiet time before they start their practice. By the time it’s only a drunken Daeron and him in the communal den, Baelor has resigned himself to bearing Maekar’s ridicule and wrath.
After cleaning himself and getting dressed, he eats what’s left of breakfast, everything the pups didn’t want on their plates as he has done since his own pups decided they didn’t like specific foods. He cleans the plates quickly, making sure that Maekar won’t have to be bothered with it before he leaves for his own duties.
Maekar’s steps down the stairs are heavy, despite him being barefoot and Baelor can smell the wrath that burns inside of him. He quickly makes sure that there is water on the hearth, tealeaves ready in a cup, so that Maekar won’t have to wait too long for some energy.
“You will not believe this stupid bitch,” Maekar seethes. “He wants the mutt.”
“Duncan is a formidable fighter. He’s a good alpha,” Baelor reminds him. Fills the mug with water and starts counting quietly. Maekar doesn’t like his tea to be too bitter. “You approved of him teaching Aegon.”
“Teaching Aegon,” Maekar says. There are red blotches on his pale neck. “Not rutting Aerion.”
He has always been a passionate omega, quick to anger, to amuse, to hate. In the summers since his unmating, most of those emotions have been negative but it still burns inside of him, as it does in all of them. It’s riveting to watch, those emotions, that passion.
The leaves end up in the drain for now, too hot for the trash. Baelor sets the cup down in front of Maekar, waiting for him to take a sip and calm down – or talk himself into a rage, whatever it is.
“But– speaking off.”
With the cup raised to his mouth, Maekar goes unnaturally still. His eyes move, staring straight at Baelor.
“Of what?” he asks, his voice completely toneless. Having known him all his life, Baelor quickly corrects.
“Rutting, not Aerion.”
“Ah,” Maekar says and the tension in his shoulders eases considerably. “You’re not due for three moons.”
“I–” He has a calendar in his office. It might say three months, he is not sure.
“Don’t look at me like that, there are four unmated omegas in this house. You think I’m stupid and don’t keep track of all the alphas ruts?”
That isn’t something he has ever considered. He’s marginally aware when Matarys gets cranky and when he needs to take over for Maekar with handling the pups but– he doesn’t know for sure about everyone in this house.
That’s what a mate is for, he thinks, that’s what I am missing. But then– he isn’t missing it, because he has Maekar for that. Making him do the work of Baelor’s omega.
“I have been… advised,” he says, carefully changing the topic. “That I should consider taking another omega.”
The tea goes down the wrong way in Maekar’s throat. Something spikes in him, something that might be the pain of hot tea or something else, but he coughs and Baelor steps closer, rubbing his back, letting out some scent to calm him down.
When his breathing has calmed down, Maekar remains next to him for a moment, before taking a step back.
Maekar looks at him for a moment. Searching for something in his eyes. Waiting– for something? Maybe to continue, maybe to tell him who he has in mind (not that Baelor knows that much even, because the one thing he wants is the one thing he can’t have). When Baelor leaves him hanging for answers and remains silent, something flickers over his face. Pain and bitterness. The tea must have been too hot, burning his throat.
“What do you mean, an omega? Feeling your age? You need some fresh cunt to pup? Doe-eyed and oh so happy to serve the pack alpha?”
“Don’t be crude,” Baelor scolds him and Maekar laughs. There’s something ugly there, something he hasn’t seen or heard in a long time.
“No, no, I mean– tell me, do you already have someone in mind? Have you spoken to them? I can’t even think of anyone who wouldn’t immediately cower in awe?” Baelor can. Baelor knows someone like that.
“Maekar,” Baelor says slowly, raising a hand to Maekar’s shoulder. “Omega calm–”
His hand gets slapped away and Maekar bares his teeth at him.
“Do not tell me to calm myself,” he hisses. “You talk about bringing another omega into this house, where my pups live? The house you have invited me and my pups into, to nest and grow and you tell me to calm myself–”
“Alright!” Baelor interrupts him. Maekar looks about a second away from jumping right into his face, claws and teeth, maybe even a shift. “I wanted your opinion on the political viability of the pack alpha being mated, I–” He stops. “I didn’t consider the– implications it would have for you and your pups.”
“The implications?” Maekar seethes. “You will have enough implications introducing some unattempted bitch to Kiera and Matarys as the omegas belonging to you and letting them fight on rank and you want to talk about politics?”
“Maekar,” Baelor says weakly. He doesn’t want to make him stop talking because he does appreciate Maekar’s opinion, as harsh as it comes. Had he thought about what another omega in the pecking order would mean for his good-omega and his pup? Or even for Maekar? No, he hadn’t thought that far. He had only thought about what alphas would think. What the pack would think.
“Let’s talk politics. A pack alpha your age should be mated yes. You get by right now because you have a house full of pups and–” Me.
The word doesn’t have to be said. Baelor has never been anything but grateful for Maekar’s support in the raising of his pups. Knows that Maekar profits from their arrangement as well, not having to justify his decisions because it isn’t just him. Knows that that is all this is to Maekar.
“But you have one pup mated and the other not far behind if the alphas sniffing around his cunt are to be asked and then what? Then the questions will start. How can he lead us like this? Does no one want him despite his position? So yes, you are putting yourself in a position of weakness by not taking an omega.”
Silence.
Maekar’s scent is sour and angry. Baelor feels– weaker than he has ever before. He cannot even tell what has happened inside of him, what makes him feel like this. Why Maekar’s open contempt has hit him so deeply.
“Thank you for your input.” His voice is weak. “I– shall consider it.”
“I expect a warning,” Maekar says– no demands. “A warning period. So I can find other accommodations for me and my pups.”
“I wouldn’t throw your and your pups out of the house,” Baelor says. “This is your home.”
A sigh. An angry groan. Something that sounds like a curse to Baelor’s whole gender. “If you expect me to play second omega to some bitch who will want to– who is expected and allowed to make their position as pack omega known, then you don’t know me at all.”
“Maekar–”
“You’re late for your meetings. There is a snack in the coolbox. Kiera’s sire and dam invited you to lunch today, don’t skip it.”
Maekar turns around and pours the rest of his tea down the sink. His pack remains turned to Baelor and despite their differences in rank, in status, Baelor knows he has been dismissed.
*
“Wait I don’t understand–” Duncan says. “Why exactly is he angry?”
“He’s worried about his position,” Pate answers.
“Imagine if that is your life,” Lyonel throws in. “You’re an unmated omega with six whacko pups and no one can touch you because you share your den with our pack alpha. And now he’s looking for some new meat and you think you’re old news.”
“That is not–” Baelor, who doesn’t know how he ended up in this situation, interrupts. He had confided in Pate while meeting the alpha on a routine inspection of the pack’s storeroom where the other alphas had met for an after duty ale. Pate has gone through a number of different ranks and mates in his life and always offers good advice. “They’re not whacko. They have their issues, of course,” he immediately adds. “But–”
“I’m really sorry, pack alpha,” Duncan says, scratching his head. Baelor doesn’t even know why he is here. Or why Lyonel came with him of all people. “I always thought you and Aeri– Eggs dam were– uh– involved.”
Baelor blinks.
“You’re not insinuating that our pack-alpha wouldn’t mate an omega if he rutted them regularly, of course,” Pate says and Duncan’s eyes bulge. His scent grows with fear.
“Of course not! I just– I always thought– I don’t know what I thought.”
“No worries,” Baelor reassures him.
He has never thought about– Well, that’s a lie. A–
“If our big bad pack alpha would mate anyone it definitely wouldn’t be Maekar, I mean–” Lyonel laughs and elbows Raymun, the younger alpha among them who Baelor isn’t sure dislikes him – like Lyonel – or is just very intimidated. Maybe a bit of both. “No offense to Egg’s dam–” He winks at Duncan and Baelor feels like he is missing something when Duncan blushes. “But if I were pack alpha, not that I have any aspirations and all, I’d get myself a hot young piece of ass and nothing less. Maekar is–”
“Very serious,” Pate interrupts and he tries to make it sound like a compliment.
“He’s very consistent in his actions and opinions,” Duncan offers and it does sound like it’s a compliment and like he’s terrified of the omega at the same time. If they weren’t fighting, Baelor would consider telling him immediately when he gets home. “And I mean he’s sturdy, right? Six pups.”
“My sweet Rowan says that his check-ups at the healers are always very good, like he could bear another pup anyt–” Raymun stops. “Not that my mate discusses other omegas bodies with me.”
“Which doesn’t change the fact,” Lyonel says. “That if someone like our pack alpha had the choice, he’d go for someone younger, nicer and less used, right?”
That is indeed something everyone seems to agree on. Mumbling all along the table.
It’s just Baelor who’s silent. Deep in thought. Would he? Would he go for someone– young and sweet, for some innocence and soft words? Some young thing to warm his den who will stand by his side and wait for his passing so they can reap the benefits? He isn’t quite fair to this imaginary omega who hasn’t done anything that hasn’t been asked for him but– For what? So that he can show strength? So that he can show other alphas that his knot works? That he is still an alpha?
There is nothing missing in his home.
His pups are growing, his home is filled with Maekar’s pups and their antics. There’s a grumpy omega waiting for him and giving his opinion whether it is asked or not. In rut or when he lays hand on himself, there are many things he imagines. Based on scents and looks and– Baelor isn’t dead. Just because it isn’t a possibility doesn’t mean he doesn’t think about it.
“Alphas,” Baelor says. “If you would excuse me, duty calls.”
The other alphas give him their goodbyes, all proper and respectful, unaware of the turmoil inside of him.
His duty to the pack is over for the evening.
But still, duty calls.
*
“How is Aerion?”
Silence. A knife pointed at the ceiling. If Baelor concentrates he can hear Aerion whining and screaming.
“And the others?”
A shrug. Back turned to him.
The knife goes down onto the cutting board again and again. Dinner has long passed because Baelor did miss it during his drink and talk with the other alphas. Maekar hasn’t offered to make him some, while he is preparing the pup's breakfasts and lunches.
“I wanted to apologise for earlier.”
Maekar freezes.
“I hadn’t considered how much you rely on my position. I am not going to jeopardize that while you are so vulnerable.”
Maekar turns around.
His knife is red, tomato seeds and juices clinging to the blade, dripping onto the floor.
There are no emotions on the usually so expressive face.
“While I am vulnerable? I thought this was about your position.”
“Your pups aren’t grown enough. You wouldn’t be able to care for them on their own and no alpha would take you with pups so young and their reputation–” Baelor tries to explain himself, feeling like he is missing part of their conversation, like Maekar might be angry about something else.
Maekar blinks. “Is that what this is? A favour?”
“Maekar,” Baelor pleads. “I am trying to do the right thing here. I can bear the weakness for a few more summers and then–”
“Invite some young cunt into your den and let them handle it all?”
“Then I can make sure you’re taken care of. If not by Daeron, then maybe by whoever Aerion manages to entrap into his bed–”
“I am going to ask the elder omegas for a mating then–” Maekar interrupts him and something shatters inside of him. Maekar isn’t supposed to agree to a mating. “I am not young but the elders say I have another pup in me, maybe even two. There have been suitors in the past–”
“What? Who?” Hate burns inside of him for whoever dared to try and lay a claim on something that belongs– that should belong to him.
“It doesn’t matter–”
“It matters. You are under my protection, you live in my home, you share my ne–”
“So what?” Maekar throws his shoulders up, the knife still in his hands.
“I will deny the request.” Simple as that.
“I am not your mate. I am not your omega. You have made that clea– You cannot deny me a second chance at happiness–”
You are supposed to be happy here, Baelor thinks. I was supposed to give you the peace you needed right here.
“I will make you happy. I thought you were, but if there is anything missing I will give it to you.”
Maekar raises his hands to his face. The knife is still gripped tight and Baelor makes an attempt to say something but Maekar flips it around, the blade pointing down as he rubs his palms over his eyes, his forehead, the bridge of his knows.
“I am nothing but a caretaker right now, Baelor. I run after my growing pups, I sleep alone in a den surrounded by my growing pups, I want– it’s not even–” He groans. “Fuck if the seven are so gracious I will bear another pup before it’s too late but I want to belong.”
“You want a mate.”
It cannot be true. Maekar told him. He said– Baelor can’t make sense of it. Eight summers ago, Maekar had been clear about his wants for his future and Baelor made peace with them right there and then – mostly.
But if Maekar wants a mate.
If it can be that easy.
“Yes–”
“Alright,” Baelor says. “Problem solved.”
For a moment, confusion clouds Maekar’s features, then– “Have you lost control of your senses? I am not going to be your second–”
“There’s no need for someone else, if I have you. You are already running my home, I can give you the bite.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No, Baelor,” Maekar snaps. He finally puts the knife away. “I will find the meat hammer and bash your head in, I am not looking to be a caretaker with a bitemark.”
“I’ll put a pup in you. Your next heat isn’t far.” Out of the goodness of his heart, of course.
Something changes in the air, something sharp and spicy. But Maekar still shakes his head. “You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it.” He steps closer. Not crowding Maekar against the kitchen counter as he wants but so close that he won’t be able to flee easily.
“You propose an arrangement. Things stay as they are and you bite me and you pup me during my heat. But if I take a mate again, I want it to be proper. A real bond. I won’t settle for anything less.”
“A real bond.”
“Yes. With someone who wants me and not something convenient.”
Feelings. Attraction. Possession.
Baelor feels all of this. Has for longer than he would admit out of respect for his late mate. But for Maekar… Baelor is convenient for him. Baelor is safe. He is not what Maekar wants.
He could force the issue. Bite him. Breed him up. Make him his in every way imaginable. But Maekar would hate him, might hate him already for putting him in this situation but–
“I cannot let you go.”
“You will need to.”
He shakes his head.
“If you want to strengthen your position as you said, that is the way.”
“I won’t, then. I’ll let Valarr challenge me in five summers and be done with this.” Valarr is far from ready but– he cannot let Maekar leave. The thought alone rips out his heart.
“You are being fucking ridiculous, what has gone into you?”
He does it now, steps forward, crowds him against the counter.
“You are not leaving me.”
His eyes drop to Maekar’s neck. Old scar, no protection because this is his home. He is safe here. Baelor has never been a danger to him because the omega is his in any way but the real way.
“Don’t–”
“Tell me you won’t leave.”
“Baelor, seven above, I will crack your head open if your teeth come anywhere near my neck.”
“Swear it.” He breathes in, expects fear and tension but– there is anger in Maekar’s scent. Anger and– something spicy. Something sweet.
Slick.
He’s wet. He must be. Baelor steps closer and watches as Maekar makes space for him instinctively. Hands next to his hips, clinging to the counter, legs slightly apart, inches between them. “Swear it or I’ll bite you–” he can’t stop himself, leans in, tastes Maekar’s lips for just a moment, so far from enough, over a decade in the making, long enough to feel teeth in return. “I’ll bite you and knot you right here until you can’t do anything but swell with my seed, heat or no heat.”
Maekar bites him again. Teeth into his cheek and then tongues and lips and there’s a hand pressing against the front of his trousers, feeling, weighing and then cupping him. Holding. Too tight. A promise. A warning.
“Let me go,” Maekar hisses, squeezing as a warning.
“No,” Baelor answers. One hand against Maekar’s throat. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to come into my home and nest here, be done with alphas and mates only to change your mind and run off with someone else. You want to belong? That choice is gone by now, you already do. Your pups are mine already, the next one will be as well–” Maekar squirms. The hand wrapped around Baelor’s clothed cock stops squeezing as a warning and starts caressing him mindlessly. “I’ll keep you on your back until your womb dries up if I must but you are not leaving me. Understood?”
Nothing.
And then– “Dam! Aerion’s calling for you!”
Maekar slaps him. Right in the face, strong hands, strong body and Baelor is so hard, he could just–
“Coming!”
He pushes Baelor off.
“I will tend to my pups and you–” He looks him up and down. “Calm the fuck down. And tend to yourself, for fucks sake.”
It sounds like it should be a warning but– it feels like a promise.
*
“I apologise for the late call,” Baelor says to Duncan, when the young alpha had followed the call to his home. “Maekar tells me Aerion has been … insistent.”
The young alpha has the decency to blush from his neck to his ears. “I’m sorry, pack alpha. I know I should have come to you first about your pu– I mean– Wait you said earlier you’re not– Maekar’s pup. I am sorry nonetheless for overstepping.”
Baelor hums.
The stairs creak as Maekar descends the top. Coiled tightly, radiating anger. The kind of wrath that would strike down from the heavens and smite Duncan where he stands if they all couldn’t hear the commotion in the heat room.
“Follow me,” Maekar says bitingly and Duncan swallows.
“Good luck,” mouths Baelor at him and then waits.
“What did he mean?” Maekar demands to know, after he has descended the stairs. His clothes stink of needy omega and interested alpha. His skin– his skin still smells– “When he said you told him something earlier?”
“I asked some of the alphas for advice on the mating situation after duties.” A clenched fist. “Young Duncan had been under the impression that we were engaged in a sordid affair without proper mating.”
“You wouldn’t do something like that.” Leave it to Maekar to be protective of his honor, even in a situation like this.
“I wouldn’t– Which explains why he is so uncomfortable. He knows someone else would have been offended.”
“I am offended.”
“I’m touched by your care,” he says dryly and Maekar gives him an eye so evil, Baelor is surprised he doesn’t turn to ashes right there.
“I don’t want him here. He’s a mutt. Mounting my pup as we speak right under your roof.”
“He’s a good alpha.”
“You shouldn’t have allowed it.”
“You could have stopped me. Put your foot down. I am not your alpha, as you made clear earlier, the future of your pups is your own to decide.”
Silence. Grinding teeth. The kitchen island between them. “That’s not fucking fair, and you know it.”
“I can tell you what’s not fair–”
“Don’t–” Maekar closes his eyes. “When you offered to move me into your home, to put my pups into your den, I surrendered these decisions to you. You cannot take it back because it’s no longer convenient to you.”
“Nothing about that has ever been convenient.” Maekar doesn’t scold him for it. They both know that his pups struggle, that they need the firm hand both Maekar and Baelor provide for them. And still, that isn’t enough. “And I offered you this space because you told me you didn’t want to be mated to someone the elders chose for you. And now– that’s exactly what you’re going to do.”
“It’s been eight summers. I’m unmated, not dead. I have changed my mind, as I’m fucking allowed to do.”
“You want to change your mind? Fine by me. You want to get mated? It’s done by the end of the day.”
Silence.
And then, Maekar laughs. “Eight summers, Baelor, you have had eight summers to do what everyone would expect you to do but you’re only moving now because you cannot bear the thought of someone else having me? Hells, you could have asked me this morning when you first informed me and my answer–” He breaks off. The same hurt that Baelor has seen this morning is written all over his face.
Betrayal. Disappointment. Rejection.
Maekar had expected to be asked. Not for his opinion. Not about Baelor mating some omega. He had expected to be asked himself.
“You are not leaving,” he insists. Maekar bares his teeth at him and Baelor rounds the kitchen island. Stands in front of him once more. “I already had you. Have you. In any way but the one,” he reminds Maekar. “You were done with mating, your words, not mine. You had a pup suckling at your teats, one growing inside, four more missing their sire, acting out, looking for guidance you were barely able to provide.”
Maekar hisses at him, but Baelor doesn’t have it in him to coddle him.
“Should I have broken down the door to the heat room when you weaned Rhae off and your cycle started anew? Or during the height of every summer, when all the pups were out and I spent my days and nights alone in the den while you fucked yourself knowing it would never be enough?”
Maekar’s answer could be anything. Obscenities, crude remarks, calling Baelor out for his words, his threats, his desperation. But in the end, it’s just: “I don’t lock the door.”
It knocks the wind right out of him. “What?”
“I don’t lock the door to the heatroom when it is my turn because the pups need me and because the only alpha who could hope to overpower me has no interest in joining me.”
“The only alpha who could do that has been respecting your wishes,” Baelor reminds him.
Maekar shakes his head. “You say that–”
“Because you threatened to leave, yes. I will not deny that I would have continued on like this, had you not said anything. But that is because I had you. If you had come to me telling me you wish to find an alpha, you think I would not have gone to the elders directly and laid down a claim?”
Silence. Maekar’s eyes, those light eyes that usually bore into him with truths and demands, turn away. He cannot even look at him.
“You don’t believe me.”
“I don’t know. I didn’t–” Maekar drives a hand through his hair. “Fuck me, I don’t know what I believe. A day ago you were proclaiming your wish to mate some young fucking thing and now you’ve settled on me?”
“I never said young omega, that’s been your,” and everyone else's, “assumption. And I wouldn’t settle, I would simply take what is already mine.”
Maekar turns away. Turns his back to him, something he wouldn’t do if he believed himself to be in any danger. He puts his hands down on the kitchen island, pressing against it, eyes closed. He can’t stop himself. Baelor presses himself against Maekar’s back, noses under his ear, so close to his scent gland. One hand against the counter, the other carefully hovering over Maekar’s waist.
“I am not yours.”
“Then let me change that. Let me have you.”
His tongue touches Maekar’s neck. Fingers dig into his own, a back presses against his chest.
“How?” That’s it. That’s all Baelor needs. Maekar wants him, even if he is hurt and proud. He wants to be his and there is only his own pride and Baelor’s fumbled explanation standing in the way.
“I don’t think we can go back to the den now, the pups are sleeping,” Baelor muses. The hand on Maekar’s waist digs into it, finding a tiny amount of soft flesh and hard muscle underneath. A fighter, this omega. “I’ll take you right here, maybe drag you to the couches if you need coddling. Knot you–” A shaky breath. “Every day, maybe every hour until your next heat.”
“Before the next moon,” Maekar supplies and Baelor bites into his neck, eliciting a moan from the omega.
“You’re not leaving that heat room without a pup in your belly, without my mark on your neck–” He presses his palm against the flat of Maekar’s stomach.
Hand scrambling away from the kitchen island, the sound of a belt and for a second Baelor can’t imagine what’s going on in Maekar’s head. But then the hand that he has on Maekar’s stomach gets gripped and tugged down and inside and–
“Fuck.” He doesn’t know which one of them says it.
Maekar’s head hits Baelor’s shoulder, Baelor’s fingers find him wet.
He wants to roar with the submission presented to him.
He makes space, hand crammed into the front of Maekar’s pants, palm brushing against the sensitive nub, coarse hair drenched. He doesn’t have a lot of leeway to move his fingers but still, he parts Maekar’s lips and pushes two fingers inside without preamble.
He’s hot and wet and tight inside, gripping him like a vice. Not the uncomfortable tightness of a scared virgin, unknowing of what is to come but the heat and welcome of an omega who has birthed six pups, who knows how a knot inside them feels, who’s chasing the feeling that only their alpha can give them right now.
“Gods, don’t stop–” Maekar moans, hips twitching, trying to take what he wants and Baelor should have known, should have known Maekar wouldn’t just take it, knows his own needs and wants too well.
“Can you wait for me?” he asks, lips and teeth against Maekar’s jawline. The omega's eyes are unfocused and he shakes his head. “Can you try?”
“Fuck no,” Maekar says. “Make me come, fuck me after.”
“Greedy,” Baelor scolds him and Maekar laughs. “Am I gonna spend the rest of my days making you come?”
He lets his thumb play with the little nub, watches, feels, as Maekar twitches with every movement, tightens at the same time around him.
“Ob–Obviously.”
Maekar’s body presses against him. Back to chest, ass to cock. He is uncomfortably hard inside his pants and welcomes the friction, the tossing and the moans. His fingers thrust in hard, keeping the same rhythm again and again and again.
Around him, Maekar clenches, body locking up. Pulls one of his legs up instinctively, breaths coming fast and short, little moans.
“Breathe,” Baelor demands. “There you go, come for me, let it go.”
He’s beautiful. Silver hair falling over forehead, eyebrows scrunched together, eyes closed, mouth open and Baelor holds him as he shakes and clenches.
“Fuck.”
He laughs. Rubs his thumb over the little nub just for good measure and feels Maekar twitch around him. Gets a slap on the back of the hand and finally pulls it out from where it belongs. Raises his hand up to his face, sucks the wet fingers into his mouth to taste Maekar in the absence of time to properly eat his cunt. Fingers dig into his face, turn it around and then Maekar’s tongue licks into his mouth, using too much force for an omega, being too bold. Baelor growls against him, fights him with teeth and tongue and then, he finally has control, holding Maekar’s head in place against his, still pressed against his shoulder.
His belt gets opened blindly, as Maekar’s fingers sneak behind him, between them, deft fingers wrapping around him, finally.
“You want me on my front or my back?” Maekar asks and Baelor has only just opened his mouth to reply, although he isn’t sure yet what the answer would be, when a crash sounds from upstairs and Aerion starts screaming.
*
“I am so sorry, again, pack alpha,” Duncan says. He’s mostly naked, just in his underwear, his pants ripped apart somewhere on the floor inside the heat room. There’s sweat on his chest, teeth marks everywhere, scratches on his back and his hair is a mess. He is hard and he stinks of slick and seed. He also looks close to tears.
It would be hilarious if Baelor wasn’t feeling the aftereffects of not being able to fuck Maekar and if the stench inside the room wasn’t getting to his head slowly. He breathes through his mouth but even that isn’t enough.
At the other end of the room, curled inside his nest with his arms wrapped around his head lies Aerion. Maekar kneels beside him, everything downstairs forgotten in that way that only omegas can when their pups seem to be in danger.
His face is serious, brows drawn deep over his eyes. Tension in his shoulders, mouth a thin line.
When Aerion makes an attempt at getting up, Maekar snaps something at him and pushes him down.
“Idiot!” he hisses. At Aerion probably but then his head raises. “You too, what were you thinking?!”
“What happened?” Baelor asks and Maekar throws something at him. He catches it, finds the thin horseshoe shape in between his fingers. A bite guard.
“It wasn’t me!” Duncan insists. “I was wearing it and he put his fingers in my mouth which was– I wasn’t expecting it and next thing I know– and then–” In the dim light of the heatroom Baelor can see the blood at the corner of his mouth.
“You mated him,” he states.
“I didn’t mean to,” Duncan excuses himself and at the other end of the room Aerion whines. Immediately, Duncan takes a step towards him, only stopped by the murderous look Maekar sends his way. “I just– I know it ain’t proper, pack alpha. I would have asked for your permission of course, but he– he tricked–” Aerion wails.
“Don’t reject an omega in the middle of a heat,” Baelor snaps at him. “No matter your feelings on the matter, he’s in hysterics because you rejected him at this moment. If you wish to dissolve the bond–”
“What?!” Maekar yells and rises to his feet.
“Only as an option, of course.”
“No pup of mine will have a dissolved bond. I will kill you, before I let you reject him,” Maekar threatens. He’s still standing right next to Aerion, who’s clinging to his leg. “If you can stick it in, you can bear the consequences.”
“It’s not really his fault and if it was done against his will–”
“Oh no!” Duncan interrupts. “I mean I’m up for it, pack alpha, I just– I mean– I was surprised and I didn’t ask for permission from you. Or– Aerion’s dam.”
“And I would not have given it!”
“Be that as it may,” Baelor says and throws a look at Maekar. “It has happened and you don’t reject him, so–”
Duncan blinks. Looks at him. At Maekar. At Aerion.
“You can continue,” Baelor says, slowly and gracefully.
“Oh! Yes of course! Thank you for- uh- allowing that, pack alpha. I will treat him well.”
“If you don’t I will cut you cock to throat.” A simple statement from Maekar. Nonetheless, Duncan goes a bit pale. His cock doesn’t show any reaction of softening though.
“We will leave you now, please try to contain your problems to this room.”
“Aerion, let go,” Maekar says. There’s bite in his tone but also the kind of softness that he only ever reserves for the worst of his pups. Like all parents Maekar claims not to have a favourite. Like all parents, he is a liar. “Your bad choices are coming back to you right now.”
Aerion slowly unwraps himself from his dam’s leg, reaches out with his evil little hands for Duncan and Baelor would find it cute if Aerion wasn’t the cause of ninety-percent of all of Maekar’s problems.
Maekar hisses something as Duncan walks past him and then breezes past Baelor as well, tugging him with him at the last moment, before the door closes behind them. It doesn’t lock behind them because neither of the almost-grown pups in there are in any way able to think that far.
“Should we–”
Maekar kisses him. Presses him against the wall next to the door, strong body right against him and Baelor would protest, would ask if he is sure, if they should wait. But it’s only a matter of time until one of the pups in the den will wake up and ask for water, for breakfast, for the scent of their dam, so Baelor is not going to complain.
“Downstairs,” Maekar pants and tugs him forward. “I don’t care where, but not here–”
Hand on Maekar’s throat, Baelor tugs him down the stairs, considers for a second where to put him. They’re too old for the hardwood floor without a shift and he can’t decide if he needs Maekar on his front or on his back.
Baelor loses his sweater along the way, fingers scratching through the hair on his chest, tongue licking his skin.
In the end they sink down on the thick rug between the couch and viewing place, pillows around them, the nest the pups use outside the den. It smells like both of them and those belonging to them. Maekar ends up astride him, acceptable for now and pulls his shirt over his head, tears at Baelor’s belt once again.
He should think about nothing but getting his cock out and burying it deep inside Maekar’s cunt but faced with his teats, Baelor can’t stop himself. Reaches for them, hands squeezing pale skin and pink teats between his fingers, leaning up to take them into his mouth.
“Ah- Ah,” Maekar pants, one hand at the back of Baelor’s throat.
It’s been many summers since he last– Not since Jena whelped Matarys, her own teats red and abused, full and glistening.
He bites into them and Maekar grinds down, clothed cock against clothed cunt.
“Take them off–” he demands, pulling back long enough that they can scramble to take the rest of their clothes off. No preamble, no teasing, just clothes being tugged off, nearly ripped away and then Baelor flips them around, puts Maekar on his back where he belongs.
He’s strong, this omega of his. His duty to the pack has left him with thick muscle in his shoulders, his legs, his waist. The skin around his belly is riddled with marks, stretched out from six pregnancies and Baelor– he sired two pups. He’s seen his mate swell with his seed, the fruits of their mating and he’s never– Outside of the natural response of everyone knowing what he has done to his omega, it has never been something that stoked the flames inside of him this much. But looking at Maekar. He digs his fingers in, nails into the stretch marks and Maekar laughs.
“Savage,” he taunts, mean and condescending and Baelor’s grips becomes near painful for a moment.
His eyes move lower, onto silver curls. Maekar, despite his natural disposition to be as difficult as possible, has spread his legs around Baelor’s hips, feet planted on the rug, opening himself up for view.
No shame in his eyes, no hiding, just one omega presenting his cunt to his alpha. He’s wet, his curls sticky, nub red and swollen from the abuse Baelor rained down on it earlier.
Had they time – had he the patience – he would bury his face inside, take him in any way possible.
“Need a manual?” Maekar asks then and Baelor rolls his eyes.
“Am I not allowed to look at you? You’re beautiful.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
He drives his fingers through Maekar’s slick, dips them in just for good measure and watches him close his eyes, take a deep breath.
“Get on with it– come on.”
He wraps his fingers around his cock, coats it in Maekar’s slick. The omega's eyebrows rise, his mouth opens.
“Say please.”
“Fuck you.”
He leans forward. Hips so close, cockhead pressing right up against him. Forearms next to Maekar’s head.
“Maekar,” he says. And then, “Omega.”
Nails dig into his side. Painful. Grounding.
“Please,” Maekar’s eyes burn with unconcealed rage. But then, a slight smirk. “Please fuck me, alpha.”
Baelor’s hips drive forward as if on their own accord, cock pushing into Maekar. Hot and wet and tight around him, gripping him like a vice. He’s tight. Tighter than Baelor expected.
“How–” He stops himself from moving, tries to give them both a moment to adjust. Maekar’s eyes are closed, his eyebrows drawn together. He’s still holding onto Baelor sides, one hand climbing up to his back, holding him, drawing him close. “How long’s it been?”
“How old is Rhae?”
Seven above.
“No one?” he asks. Pushes further in, his cock driving deeper. Almost there.
“Whe-n would I have the– the fucking time? Huh?” He looks down. “Are you– fuck– are you in?”
“Almost.”
Maekar curses. Breathes out and in, relaxes. One of his legs wraps around Baelor’s hips, allowing him to go deeper.
“I guess that’s why they call it the hammer, huh?” He laughs, but there’s something hysterical in his tone. “Gods, I can feel you in my throat.”
Baelor bites him, teeth into his jaw. Strong fingers tug at the short hairs at the back of his head and then Baelor finds his mouth turned towards Maekar’s. Kissing him, tasting him.
When his balls hit Maekar’s ass, he moves his head back just a fraction, spit between them. Pulls out, slowly. And slams back in.
Maekar moans. Baelor grits his teeth.
With anyone else, maybe he would have been more careful. Wait a little longer, take a bit more care. But Maekar– strong body, strong mind, strong everything. He sets a punishing rhythm, skin slapping against skin. Maekar is so wet, there’s nothing but slick sounds between them, moans and grunts and hands scrambling to touch, to hold.
“Look at me,” Baelor demands when Maekar closes his eyes. They snap open immediately, pale eyes and white lashes, looking only at him.
“One of tho–ose, huh?” Maekar says, words barely making it past his lips, red and spit-wet. But his eyes don’t move away again. Even when Baelor fucks him with abandon, when he he drives into Maekar again and again, chasing release.
He wraps Maekar’s other leg around him as well, knee digging into his sides.
“Need a hand?” he pants into Maekar’s ear and the omega shakes his head, breathes coming raggedly. If they were alone in the house they might take some more time, but the pups could awaken any moment, so hard and fast it is.
“Let me have you?”
Again, headshake. Baelor curses under his breath, slams in and Maekar wails.
“Properly,” he forces out. “Mate me properly, alpha.”
His gums feel swollen, his teeth hurt. The need to sink them into Maekar’s neck, make him burn inside of him. Almost as hot as the cunt around his cock, almost overwhelming.
“When?” he asks. Maekar said, didn’t he? Told him when his next heat would be but he didn’t listen in the moment, doesn’t remember when release is so close by, when his balls feel heavy and tight.
“Before the next moon.”
A fortnight away.
Cruel, mean, teasing.
“Maybe you’ll get to mate and pup me at the same time,” Maekar says. His pupils are so blown, there’s almost no light in his eyes anymore. “Put your teeth and seed into me and mark m–”
Baelor slams in one final time, knot growing rapidly, locking him in, tying them together. Maekar’s eyes go comically wide, mouth hanging open. He locks around Baelor’s like a vice when he comes. Arms holding, legs digging, cunt clenching around him again and again, head thrown back eyes–
“Look at me!” Baelor snaps and when Maekar does he realises it’s the worst thing he could have done because he’s coming inside him and Maekar’s eyes are on him and his neck is right the–
He bites down into his own forearm, breaking skin, tasting blood as Maekar trashes underneath him. His back burns as Maekar’s nails rake down.
When he manages to tear his teeth out of his own skin Maekar is shaking beneath him, twitching through the aftershocks. He raises his head though, sticks his tongue out and Baelor holds his arm towards his mouth.
Watches him clean the wound, lick up the blood, taste the raw meat of his wound as he is filled again and again.
Baelor is starting to realise that they won’t leave the heat room for days on end when the time is near. He’s not even sure he can allow Maekar to leave the den every day if this is what he is like.
His head comes to rest on Maekar’s shoulder, the omega caressing his back, feeling over the welts and wounds his claws have left, making Baelor hiss in a twisted mix of pleasure and pain.
“You’ll let me mate you?” he asks, just to be sure. “In your heat?”
“Hm,” Maekar hums.
“Take my knot and my seed?”
A shaky breath.
“Be pack omega besides me?”
“Urgh. On second thought…”
“Don’t–”
Maekar smiles, all feral and wide, even though his exhaustion feels palatable, his legs trembling around Baelor’s hips.
He licks over Baelor’s neck, his jaw, sucks on his scent gland in a way that’ll make both of them reek of each other for the rest of the day.
By the time Baelor’s knot has gone down enough for them to untie, there’s noises going through the house, yawns and groans and the tell-tale noise of Aerion’s whining having died down to an acceptable volume. When he pulls out, Maekar is leaking and he stuffs three fingers back in, keeping him full – for now.
“Give me,” Maekar demands and it takes him a moment before he reluctantly withdraws his fingers, white and sticky. Maekar’s hands wrap around his wrist, lips around his fingers and lick them clean.
Baelor’s breath hitches, his spent cock giving another attempt at rising to the challenge. But Maekar opens his mouth again, tongue peaking out and he uses his own hand to scoop up the seed between his legs and taste it again.
Like a cat who got the cream but instead everything Baelor has ever wanted and desired is spread out among the rug he provided for their home, sticky and spent, well fucked and only missing a bite and a swollen belly.
When someone calls from above Maekar groans as he gets to his feet. Swaying, trembling, like a newborn fowl taking its first steps. Baelor reaches for him, steadies him with hands against his calves and thighs.
Bending down to kiss him, Maekar lets him taste them both for a moment.
Another call for him.
A sigh. A bite against his lower lip. “Let me check on my terrible six and your golden two.”
“Don’t forget Duncan.”
Maekar gives him a tight smile. Creases around his eyes, dark shadows underneath. Neither of them have slept much, haven’t they?
“Dam!”
He rolls his eyes.
“I expect our terrible six to be better behaved,” Maekar demands and then moves away. Limps towards the stairs, picking up some of his clothes along the way.
“What the fuck did you do now?!” he yells to whoever is calling for him and Baelor leans back.
Head still clouded from release, from omega slick and cunt, from the force of nature that is Maekar.
Our terrible six.
It burns hot inside him, his cock starting to fill up again at the thought of Maekar carrying his pups.
Upstairs, something crashes and pups start yelling for their dam, fighting as Maekar wrangles the complaints of his own pups and Baelor’s alike.
And he realises that he might be in over his head.