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It's quiet in the Archives, something Jon used to long for but now finds oppressive; Melanie never speaks to him any more, and Daisy and Basira are off somewhere together, leaving him alone in his office. Surely it doesn't echo any more than it always has; surely the rooms are no emptier than they've ever been. 

Perhaps it's that unwanted solitude that leaves him so sensitive and hyperaware, in defiance of all logic, of the figure who's appeared silently at the door to his office. He doesn't need to look up to identify the looming presence, but he does anyway. "Lukas."

"Archivist," Peter Lukas answers amiably. The man is shorter than expected, although he does have the beard Jon has always imagined. He has his hands in his pockets, leaning casually against the doorframe, but there's no mistaking the air of a predator that hangs around him. It's then that Jon recognizes the biological stench that accompanies the pressing ache of loneliness as an alpha in rut.

He's never been good at keeping his emotions off his face, and Lukas must see it on him, because he grins as he comes the rest of the way into the office and closes the door behind him. Jon scrambles to put the desk between them but there's nowhere to run. It takes him a moment to remember that isn't the most effective defense he has to hand. "What are you doing?" he Asks, as fierce as he can, buying time while he thinks of a better question.

But he's too slow – before he can move Lukas has him by the hair, twisting one arm behind his back as he slams him face down across the desk. Jon twists his head, narrowly escaping a broken nose, but that's as much luck as he has. He's too winded now to reach for another question, and then Lukas is answering and he couldn't interrupt if he tried.

"They told me you were uninterested, but I didn't think that meant you were naive," Lukas says casually. One of his broad hands is on the back of Jon's neck, pinning him down, and with the other he unbuckles Jon's belt. "You know there are virtually no omegas employed by your Institute? I'd say it was prejudicial hiring, except I think that Elias just didn't want the competition. He's always been a slut, but I didn't realize that extended to maintaining a whole staff of alphas and betas. Still," he says, sounding not at all put out as he wraps Jon's belt around his arms, securing them together across his back, "it was very rude of Elias not to leave me with any options at all. So I suppose, under the circumstances, you'll have to do." And with that he sinks two fingers into Jon's hole. 

He's humiliatingly wet, which is the only reason he can bite back a cry of pain from being filled with too much, too fast. Jon swallows hard and tells himself that it's a biological reaction, a defense mechanism. No matter what – Lukas sighs in pleasure, directly into his ear. Jon gropes for another question, but Lukas hasn't finished answering yet.

"In plain terms," he says, shoving Jon's clothing out of the way, rucking his shirt up under his bound arms, "I'm going to fuck you. For the rest of the day, certainly, and as long it takes after that. Clever little Archivist like yourself, I'd think you at least know how this works."

He does, of course. In a mature alpha a rut can last anywhere from about a day to as much as a week; a dizzying, terrifying thought under the circumstances. And Lukas might be coherent now, but that will change as the rut takes hold, leaving him in the grip of a mindless lust for as long as the rut lasts, and there will be no reasoning with him then. As a beta, Jon's always been relieved that it's not something he's ever had to deal with.

Lukas withdraws his fingers with a wet sound and something hot and much thicker rubs up against his hole, parting slick folds, and Jon sucks in a sharp breath.

"Now," Lukas says, "are you going to be good for me?"

"Or what, you'll gag me?" Jon snaps without thinking.

Lukas rocks his hips, threatening but still not penetrating him. "Oh, that would be such a waste. I could threaten to hurt you, but I really don't think you'd care. No, if you kick up too much of a fuss – if you keep asking questions – I'll have to find someone even less biologically compatible to get me through this." His voice brightens. "I have this lovely assistant –"

"Fine," Jon grits out. He doesn't want to hear it, doesn't want to even think about Lukas doing this to Martin. (And, he doesn't quite let himself think, Lukas is right; what's one more hurt among everything else?) He swallows hard, tensing in anticipation though he knows it's not a good idea. "No more questions. You can – whatever you want, just get it over with."

"Naive after all," Lukas murmurs. "That really isn't how this works." And he sinks his full length into Jon with one hard thrust.

The pain is excruciating, knocking the wind out of him again; faintly, through the haze of it, he can hear Lukas moan. His body really wasn't built for this; he might have a wet hole for Lukas to fuck, he thinks bitterly, but he doesn't have the omega hormones that would open him up to take an alpha's cock easily, wouldn't have even if he didn't override the ones his body churns out with ones from a bottle. But just as he's afraid it's going to hurt like this the whole time – as long as it takes – something in him eases and the next thrust is – more than tolerable. Almost good, the fullness and slick friction, which is worse in its own way. Jon whines low in his throat. 

"There we are," Lukas says, pleased, and he picks up the pace.

It's rough, uncomfortable; his neck twists strangely since he doesn't have his arms free to steady himself and he can feel every grain of the wood against his cheek. It's also driving every other thought out of his head. Jon is grateful for Lukas's selfishness, at least; he's fairly certain that if the man were touching his cock he'd have embarrassed himself sooner or later. As it is he can do his best to ignore the way the steady rhythm and aching fullness are winding up tight and hot in his core. Between largely living in the Archives and months of stress and depression he doesn't know when he last had the time to bring himself off. 

Lukas drapes himself over his back, nuzzling at his hairline, and Jon tenses again at the thought of a claiming bite on the back of his neck. "Don't," he warns breathlessly, but Lukas laughs.

"Don't worry, Archivist, I've not interest in tying anyone to me." He pushes back to standing, though, grabbing Jon's bound arms for leverage to drive in even harder. "I tell you what I am going to do, though," he says, teasing. "I'm going to knot you. Fill you up with cum until you're dripping with it." His hips stutter as he talks, turning himself on with it. "I'll come inside you until you've got no other choice, put a little baby Lukas inside you and get Nathaniel off my back once and for all."

Jon's brain shudders to a halt. He doesn't have enough control over his body to do anything but his his mind is screaming at him and the mismatch is disorienting. He can't think clearly. He doesn't – he couldn't, surely? Does his body even work like that any more? He doesn't want to know, focuses hard on wanting desperately not to know.

"And won't that be a sight," Lukas breathes, bracing his arms on the desk to fuck Jon from a new angle that sends sparks racing through his veins, "Elias's prudish little Archivist, growing fat and full with my child until everyone knows how thoroughly you've been fucked."

Jon comes in a rush, clenching hard around the thick length inside of him and soaking his thighs as suddenly it's all too much. He pants helplessly into his own shoulder, shaking but still pinned by the belt around his arms and Lukas's broad torso over him and Lukas's cock inside of him.

Lukas just fucks him through it, careless of Jon's reactions, laughing a little as he tugs at Jon's hair to bare his vulnerable throat. Jon's obscurely, vindictively pleased to hear him sound a little breathless himself. "So that's what gets you off, is it? Was it the thought of me filling you up so full you won't be empty for months? Or was it the thought of everyone seeing that I fucked you like the whore you are and you liked it so much you couldn't get rid of the evidence?"

Jon hears a helpless moan escape his throat. He's beyond overstimulated and his body is begging for a rest, and he's afraid he's going to come again if Lukas doesn't shut up.

He's given a reprieve when Lukas gives a low moan of his own and snaps his hips against Jon's arse, pressing in as deep as he can go. And then comes the part that Jon had nearly forgotten to be afraid of, as his knot starts to swell inside of him.

"No," he whimpers, hating the pathetic sound of it but unable to stop himself. He's already taken too much, this isn't – "I can't, I –"

"Oh, now you can't?" Lukas doesn't quite sound cocky any more, although he gives it a valiant try. "Well, if you're sure..." 

He starts to pull out, but it's too late, he's already too big, and even with that small motion Jon can feel his body being stretched beyond its limits. He has graphic visions of blood, tearing, the horrible things his new tendency to heal wounds as soon as they're made could do under the circumstances. "Wait," he gasps, "wait, stop, don't pull –" And Lukas leans back in and comes inside of him, thick, heavy pulses that make Jon want to retch.

Lukas collapses over Jon's back again with a sigh, his weight squeezing the last of the air from Jon's lungs. "Knew you'd admit you wanted it sooner or later," he breathes, smug. Jon wants to protest but he can only muster a small noise. He'd say he doesn't know how much more of this he can take, except he's sure the Eye isn't going to let him expire from exhaustion just from being fucked by Peter Lukas.

"You're very like Elias, you know," Lukas says, apropos of nothing. "I wonder if it's a Beholding thing, or if he just saw something of himself in you. Neither would surprise me," he says wryly. Then he chuckles. "He wouldn't mind getting some more of himself in you, I'm sure. If he were an alpha he would have claimed you already, beta or no."

What the hell – Jon is sore and weary, Peter's knot inside of him pressing just past the point of comfort; despite being restrained he feels as though he might escape his skin if he isn't careful. He shakes his head weakly, too tired and too baffled by this statement to respond in any meaningful way, which apparently Lukas takes as encouragement to continue.

"Perhaps I should see if I can get him a little holiday after all. I know he said he doesn't want to see you, but I do think he'd make an exception for this."

Jon is distracted from trying to figure out how he feels about the prospect of Elias fucking him over his desk by Lukas attempting again to pull out. His knot must be going down, because the pressure is still a lot, but it no longer feels as if it's going to tear something vital. Lukas carefully works himself out, then slowly thrusts back in, shoving his knot back into Jon's hole with a snap of his hips. Jon cries out for the first time, choking the sound back just a moment too late, but god –

"There we are," Lukas says, and Jon can hear the satisfied grin on his face. "Ready to go again?"

He doesn't wait for an answer.