...the wind was warm, the grass was green
When Kyphon, from the peaks unseen
More wolf than man, descended there
And Loog chased his scent upon the air…
- ‘The Lay of Loog and Kyphon,’ author unknown
The pen's high walls shudder as various alphas press against them, angling for a glimpse of the omegas on the other side of the wood. White cloth and mingled scents flicker between the cracks of the fence.
Dimitri waits near the back of the crowded pen, where various members of the church check new alphas in for the Hunt. It's a laborious process: an inspection for concealed weapons or drugs beneath their loose ritual clothing, the confirmation that the hunter has only a length of rope wound about their waist and a plug in their hand. Barbaric, in some ways, this biannual reenactment of Loog's Chase and Kyphon's Surrender, but Faerghans, for all their civility, have wolves beneath their skins.
Thankfully, none of the other alphas, already pacing and snarling, snapping at each other when they get too close, challenge him; they eye his height and breadth and leave him be, even though this is his first Hunt. All the better. He's participating as a favor to the privy council, not as a true hunter.
"Dimitri!" Sylvain's managed to find a crack in the wall behind him. Only half his face is visible, but it's enough to see the interest in his eye. "I didn't think you'd actually run."
"Countess Aria makes a persuasive argument, I'm afraid." Dimitri settles his free hand on the thick blue rope wound about his waist, thumbs at the heavy silk. It's the traditional claiming binds of the Blaidydds, and it's odd to wear it now when he has no intention of hunting and binding anyone.
"’The stability of the realm rests upon your claim, my lord,’" Sylvain says in a high and wheezing tone, wrinkling his face into a respectable imitation of the aged Dowager Countess. "’You must embody Loog-’"
Sylvain's expression softens at the mention of his alpha. "She's running protection with the Falcon Knights, same as usual. Don't go getting any ideas." He winks.
Dimitri snorts. "Again, Sylvain, I'm only present as a favor."
"So you didn’t pre-arrange?"
It's become more common, with the progress of years, for alphas and omegas with compatible scents to arrange their match before the Hunt. Then, on the day of the event, they meet in some selected spot to couple before the alpha returns with their newly-claimed omega, bound and bred and plugged.
Dedue and Ashe had arranged theirs, and a corner of Dimitri's mouth ticks into a smile at the memory of Dedue throwing aside any challengers as he followed Ashe, sauntering backwards and grinning, into the forest. It'd only taken three burly alphas laid out on the ground for the rest of them to decide there were easier matches.
"Do tell, Sylvain. I'm sure there are rumors aplenty of my choice."
Sylvain rolls his eyes. "Some, sure, but mostly everyone's whispering about Felix."
Dimitri's mouth goes dry. He swallows, throat clicking. "Felix is running?"
Felix has run in most of the Hunts since the long grinding years of war ended, but-
Well, Felix seems to view the Hunt as a challenge, the same way he does everything else. He'd been the prize of the first Hunt he'd participated in - a Duke and a war hero - and most of the hunters had chosen to harry him. They'd regretted it, come limping from the forest with broken fingers and blackened eyes, one especially handsy sort returning with his nose charred by lightning and both wrists broken.
'He grabbed me and sniffed me,' Felix had said in irritated explanation, and while the church organizers had tutted and whispered, there was, after all, nothing in the ancient laws that said an omega couldn't fight back with all they had.
"He... didn't tell you?" Sylvain says, brow furrowed, and Dimitri can only shake his head. A strange mix of irritation and hurt rises in his chest, and a few of the other hunters who've been standing near edge away.
"No, and I cannot imagine why." Dimitri's proven himself to be a decent man, he'd like to think, and he's never viewed Felix as someone to be protected or cosseted. Even when an obscenely tall hunter in Felix's second Hunt had pinned him in front of everyone, had dared to roll her hips in brute intimation before Felix had whipped around with a snarl to hurl dirt in her eyes, then kneed her in the jaw so hard she almost bit her tongue in twain-
Dimitri had sat still on his temporary throne and trusted Felix to save himself.
"Besides," Dimitri says, frowning at Sylvain, "I thought Felix had chosen not to run anymore since no one could catch him."
Felix's last Hunt had ended in him strolling alone out of the woods at sunset, white robe pristine and wolf mask still settled across his face. He'd waved away the cheers of the audience with an irritated flick of the hand, then paused beneath Dimitri's throne and said, blunt as ever,
"Not a winner among the lot, I'm afraid." His eyes burned with challenge. "Find me someone better, Your Majesty, or I'm done."
Sylvain nods, slow and exaggerated, as if speaking to a child. "He did. But this Hunt is special, got someone who’s a real challenge."
The gates to the pen creak shut to Dimitri's right, and both he and Sylvain glance aside. Now that the alpha hunters are hemmed in to wait, it's only moments until the omegas, bodies stirred to heat by the proximity of so many hungry alphas, are freed to plunge into the forest and try their wits.
"Special?'" Dimitri echoes. It's a standard Hunt - usual rules, usual garb - and there's no one of great repute on this-
In the thin space between the boards, Sylvain's grin widens. His eye sparkles. "Caught on, huh?"
"He wants me to-"
"Chase him, yeah."
Dimitri closes his eye and blows out a frustrated breath. His voice, even to his own ears, is plaintive. "We could've prearranged this if he'd just told me."
It's Sylvain's turn to snort, an inelegant sound. "That'd require Felix to communicate, and you know how he is. Oh, they're about to open the other gate- see you later!"
Before Dimitri can say anything, Sylvain's gone, leaving him alone in the milling crowd of alphas. Their scents press from all sides, sweat and lust and irritation, and to the left two alphas break into blows, rolling across the grass with fingers digging and teeth snapping. Church attendants hurry over to tear them apart and throw them bodily from the pen to cool their heels.
The closeness of all these challengers prickles at the back of his neck, has his upper lip twitching with the urge to snarl, his fingers tight about plug and rope.
Of course Felix, practical as ever, would see the Dowager Countess' request as an opportunity.
An opportunity Dimitri will seize.
On the other side of the wall, the gates thud open. A cheer rises from the assembled onlookers. No doubt the omegas, in their wolf masks and white robes, are streaming forth onto the green lawn, their scents silent invitation in the fresh spring air. No doubt Felix has utterly ignored the crowd and gone straight for the woods, challenge pulsing hot in his blood.
Dimitri's blood answers, beats hot in his chest, in the roar of his heart.
His toes curl in his boots, the urge to run trembling through his frame. Across the pen, the other alphas swarm the gates, pushing, their snarls and calls resounding in the cool of morning.
Felix is swift and possesses a wiry strength that surprises most pursuers. Dimitri will likely need both hands, so he tucks the shining silver plug beneath the rope wound about his waist, tightens it to make sure it stays. The images flicker in the back of his mind, the ancient predator now unleashed: rope wound about slim wrists, pinning an ankle to a thigh, spreading his prey wide to lap at the soft pink clench of him, taste his need, the plug slipping inside him to keep his spend caught, keep his omega full-
The gate opens. The alphas hurl themselves toward the widening gap, mud flying beneath their boots, jabbing at each other with elbows and knees for advantage. Some slip and fall, caught up in fights with other alphas, and blood joins the scents of crushed grass and earth. Dimitri, at the back of the crowd, waits, then- there, an opening, a weakening in the scrum before the gates.
He lunges, shoulders his way through the packed bodies - a faint part of him whispers apologies, is all too aware of how unseemly it is for the king to act a beast - and bursts out from the throng into the open, stumbling to a halt to get his bearings. The light is piercing, forces him to blink before glancing about: the stands for the onlookers to the right, a riot of color and noise; to the left, a few pairings already wrestling in the grass, white robes stained green and shouts dissolving into gasps; ahead, the woods, a few flickers of white moving beneath the shadows of the trees.
And scents, a near wall of them, too intermixed to separate Felix's from the overpowering smell of excitement and anxiety and desire. Better to get closer to the woods, where there are fewer scents, and pick up the trail there. He breaks into a run, ignoring the other alphas streaming around him, the air thick with their rut; if any of them are also after Felix, Felix can handle them.
At the wood's edge, he sniffs again but finds only the faintest hint of Felix. The church insists the omega runners come to them freshly washed, none of their normal scent present; Felix has always been sword oil and ink and sweat to Dimitri, and he barely remembers what Felix smells like beneath it, what scent he would glean from the tender hollow of his throat, the hair beneath his arms, the thatch at the apex of his thighs. But there's the breath of him upon the breeze, a wicked anticipation and invitation.
The shadow of the woods cools the back of his throat as he steps within. The woods are dark, but nowhere near silent; brush crunches and branches snap beneath blundering alphas' feet, and less than a hundred feet from him an alpha has pinned her prey in a sunlit glade and is fucking her mercilessly, the omega's arms bound behind her back. Her moans drown out everything but Dimitri's pounding heartbeat.
He plunges into the forest, chasing the scent that's wound itself around him, pulls him on. Brambles tear at his face and worn clothes. Roots threaten to trip him or turn an ankle, but Felix is always ahead, deeper in the wood. All around him, alphas have caught their omegas, have bound them to trees or stone or themselves and are pulling climaxes from them, cracked wails of pleasure rising with the sun's climb along the sky.
Kyphon had made Loog chase him for days, had crept into the sleeping hunter's camp at night and painted his slick across the future king's bedroll, a taunt and a promise both, spurring Loog on to greater pursuit of the warrior he desired most. It's still considered a good omen for the Hunt to last, for the alpha to work for their claim, and Felix, if nothing else, is making Dimitri work.
He tracks the scent, follows it across streams where Felix must have washed some of it off, to the bottoms of great oaks where Felix has left bits of his robes fluttering from the lower branches. Felix leads him in a circle, once and then twice, and a few times Dimitri stumbles past alphas limping back towards the fields, their faces scraped and bloody, their hands raw. There’s a few battle sites still to be seen: dirt and moss kicked up, rocks flung about, snapped branches. The beast within him shudders in pride that their chosen fights so well, has so much faith in their abilities that he will lead them such a chase.
Near noon, and Dimitri’s throat clicks painfully when he swallows. He’s deep in the forest now, the moans of other alphas and omegas a memory, the only nearby sound the trickle of a brook and his own hoarse breathing. He angles toward the brook and kneels to cup some water in his hand. It’s blissfully cool on his throat, on the sunburned back of his neck.
A branch snaps upstream as a body shoves through the brambles. Another alpha, this one broad, bulky with muscle, sweaty and bleeding, falls onto both knees beside the water and sticks his face in it. He, too, smells of exhaustion, unsated lust and rising frustration.
Dimitri considers him. There’s no reason for another alpha to be this deep in the woods unless he’s pursuing the same prey, and the red haze of rut sings for him to lunge, to grapple and hurt-
The other alpha sniffs the air, then jerks upright and wheels to face Dimitri. He snarls, and Dimitri snarls back, rising from his knees. He plants his feet wide apart on the lip of the stream and raises his fists, and the other alpha, his rut overcoming his good sense, no recognition in his glazed eyes, spits.
“You chasing Fraldarius?”
Dimitri keeps the bubbling fury from his voice with an effort, but even so, his voice is lower, darker, than he’s ever heard it. “I am. You should leave.”
The other man barks a laugh and steps towards him. “His little cunt is mine, so-”
Dimitri barely recognizes the roar that breaks from him as he closes the distance between them in two strides. His opponent throws a punch that glances off his cheekbone and leaves it throbbing. There’s a distant small part of him that whispers to hold back, to be a king, to be worthy of Felix, and it’s all he can do to stop himself from grabbing too roughly. Instead, he snatches at the rope wound about the man’s waist - rough and hempen, not good enough for Felix - and catches it. He winds one hand in the ropes, the other in the loose cloth of the man’s tunic, and with a grunt, lifts and hurls him across the stream.
Dirt and stones fly at the impact, and the other alpha scrambles upright. Dust and dirt streak his sweat-damp hair. Blood trickles from a cut above his eye.
“Say that again,” Dimitri says, “and I’ll hurl you into a tree instead.”
The man, all wounded pride, spits, “You couldn’t catch him anyway.”
Dimitri curls his upper lip to expose his teeth. “Watch me.” He shifts his weight, raises his fists again. “Now leave.”
The other alpha glances at Dimitri’s fists, the loosened rope about his own waist, and then decides discretion is the better part of valor and turns away. “I’ll watch you walk out of the forest alone,” he tosses over his shoulder, and Dimitri ignores the jibe, only stands, poised and ready, to make sure he leaves.
As the crunching of leaves beneath the man’s feet dies away into the distance, Dimitri turns back to his quest. The scent is stronger on this side of the brook, leading ever-farther into the damp coolness of the woods. Now it’s tinged with desire, the twin to the heat in Dimitri’s blood that makes him breathe in the rich scent of Felix with open mouth, makes his loose tunic stick to his shoulders with sweat, makes his cock throb in impatient need and paint dampness against the laces of his trousers. The rut dizzies him, leaves his heart pounding in his ears. He presses onward, all of his being focused on Felix’s scent, on the promise in it.
He emerges into a small clearing with a large outcropping of stone, the scent thick here, and glances up to find Felix, seated cross-legged at the apex of the rock. Felix, for who else could it be, even robed and masked? His eyes gleam behind the holes of his wolf mask, and his scent, upon seeing Dimitri, spikes with lust and pride.
“Dimitri,” he says, standing. His robe, torn and tattered, is shadowed with slick between his thighs, his arousal evident in the air, in the tremble of his frame. His voice remains steady, the faintest quiver of need lacing each word. “Took you long enough. There were other alphas chasing me most of the way.”
Dimitri smiles, predatory, and savors the way Felix shivers, his tongue dampening his lips beneath the mask’s muzzle. “I trusted you to take care of them.” He pauses in the middle of the clearing and balances on the balls of his feet, ready to bolt in any direction to catch his wily quarry.
“So you did,” Felix says, and leaps down to the thick grass carpeting the glade. He’s barefoot, and his arms, lithe and muscled, shine in the sunlight as he reaches up behind his head to untie his mask.
Dimitri’s mouth dries. His hands curl into fists as the leather strands come undone and Felix pulls the mask from his face. It’s Felix beneath, of course - pale and sharp as ever, his hair unbound, his eyes glittering dark gold - and yet it’s more, for this Felix is...
Is pink-cheeked, his lips swollen and red from his teeth, the thin fabric of his robe translucent with sweat and need, touchable and vulnerable in a way Dimitri has never hoped to consider. Is his, if he can claim him.
Slowly, pulse thundering in his ears, even the air around him still in expectation, Dimitri lowers his hands to his waist and begins to unwind the thick blue rope, wrapping it in loose coils about his forearm. The glade is loud with their breathing.
Felix’s gaze, dark and hot, falls to the motion of his hands. The smell of his need permeates everything, is all Dimitri can taste, his attention drawn, again and again, to the rosy peaks of his nipples, the promising shadow at the join of those long thighs, trembling with need or escape.
Then, Felix’s breath hitches on a tiny sound as the plug, thick and silver and heavy, falls into Dimitri’s hand. His molten gaze flicks from the plug to Dimitri’s face, back to the plug, and he swallows, loud in the silence.
“Yes,” Dimitri says, low, certain, “it’s for you. For keeping you full with me.”
Felix’s scent grows, somehow, even stronger and richer, heady, until Dimitri’s near-drunk with it, until his cock aches to be buried in Felix’s tight warmth, to ease the aching need shivering in the air.
“You say that,” Felix says, all lifted chin and proud stance, his voice barely masking his shivers, “as if you’re certain of it.”
The rope loosed and ready, Dimitri circles Felix, slow, careful, as if approaching a wounded beast. “You say that,” he says, “as if you’re dying for the need of me.” A feint to test his quarry's reactiveness, and Felix responds beautifully, jerks to the side, then stills, chest heaving. The faintest smile tugs at his mouth.
The thread connecting them winds tighter as Dimitri circles, closer and closer, the rope heavy on his arm, the plug waiting where he’s tucked it between elbow and side.
Felix licks his lips. A fine tremble races across his skin where his blush has spread down past the collar of his thin robes. He turns with Dimitri, keeping him in his sight, his gaze steady, challenge burning in his eyes. His pulse beats quick in the long line of his throat.
Lovely and proud and strong, and he’s chosen Dimitri.
“Thank you,” Dimitri says, the raw honesty in his voice surprising even him, and then he lunges.
Felix bends beneath the sweep of Dimitri’s arm with a breathless laugh, turns with Dimitri’s momentum to shove him in the back as he passes by.
Dimitri manages to keep his footing, his weight an asset, and whirls. Hunger for Felix, pinned beneath him, writhing, all that taunting erased in the tide of pleasure, wells hot and sharp in his throat.
Felix waits just out of reach, his cheeks flushed, his eyes glittering. He just manages to slip from Dimitri’s grip, barking a laugh, when Dimitri grasps the trailing edge of his robe and tears a great strip of cloth from it. The standoff lengthens, the sun descending in the sky. Felix knows his strengths and weaknesses as any soldier must: uses his speed and flexibility to his advantage, knowing he’s outmatched in strength and stamina.
“You haven’t asked why I’m still fighting,” Felix pants after another near-escape, his voice hoarse. Sweat beads at his hairline. His robe is more translucent than not now. His eyes gleam with the open desire of an omega in full heat, his small cock jutting against the thin cloth.
Dimitri is no ordinary alpha, to be angered by an omega who doesn’t yield, who dares to try their strength against him: far better to have an omega who trusts him enough to do so, who knows their power and expects an alpha able to overcome it. Dimitri bares his teeth in a smile, nostrils flaring at the sudden fresh bloom of Felix’s arousal in the air. The words rise easily to his lips. “It’s you.”
Felix stumbles, takes a stunned breath, and that’s all the opening Dimitri needs. He lunges, gets one arm around Felix's narrow waist, the other about his shoulders, and lifts his prize off the ground, all sharp limbs and slick skin, writhing. The air's thick with sweat and mutual arousal, the sounds of their pounding hearts.
Felix, being Felix, twists, hissing and growling, tosses his head back to try and smash Dimitri's nose, slashes at Dimitri's face with his hand.
Dimitri catches his wrist, then drops to his knees, pinning Felix's thighs beneath his shins and the ground. The beast in him rises, all of him focused on subduing his prize, seducing him into shuddering pliancy with overwhelming pleasure.
Felix, a snarl distorting his face, uses his free hand to claw at the earth, tosses a clod of soil at Dimitri, who lets it break against his cheek without complaint. He lets the plug drop from its spot tucked between elbow and wrist to roll onto the grass, leans forward to snatch Felix's other wrist, and hisses, "Settle," against the sunburned back of his neck.
Felix does not settle. Felix spits, "Make me," and throws himself back against Dimitri, his hips grinding against Dimitri's erection. The slick-soaked cloth of his robes catches on Dimitri's laces, drags the rough trousers over the head of his cock.
Dimitri moans against his skin, a hot shock of lust racing up his spine, and Felix shudders, going slack, pheromones clouding the air. The sudden laxity of his body allows Dimitri to drag his arms together above his head, bend them into a U-shape, each hand cupping the other elbow. Then, working quickly but carefully, he winds the blue rope around Felix's forearms in a double-column tie, slipping fingers beneath each loop to check the tightness before moving on.
Felix, unsurprisingly, doesn't cooperate with being bound; he jerks against Dimitri's grip, continues to hurl himself back into Dimitri's broad, unmoving form. His hair hangs sweat-damp and tangled in his face, and when Dimitri reaches up to tuck it behind his ear, he narrowly avoids being bitten.
Dimitri yanks his hand back, then sighs. Always so stubborn, his Felix. So unwilling to let himself have what he wants, so insistent on fighting over every little scrap. Thankfully, Dimitri has strength and patience to match. Keeping the loose ends of the rope wrapped about one fist like a leash, he rocks back on his heels and rolls Felix onto his back, hand cupped about the sharp jut of his hip.
Before Felix can sit up or kick, Dimitri pins his thighs again, then tosses the rope ends about the trunk of the sturdy tree about Felix's head, knotting them against the bark and separating the loose ends to lie on either side of Felix. Then, both hands free now, he tugs Felix towards him until his arms are stretched upward, flat against the grass, the pale underside of his biceps bright in the shadow of the leaves.
Felix, his cheeks red, his eyes wide and dark, cranes his head up to see how Dimitri has bound him, then turns back to Dimitri, his grin bright and sharp. "Clever. What else do you have in store, Your Majesty?"
Dimitri reaches up to curl fingers about the simple ties holding Felix's tattered robe shut. "First," Dimitri says, thoughtful, undoing the first tie at the low neckline of Felix's robe and flicking it open to expose the spreading blush beneath, "you’ll be bared to me. All of you, even that hungry little cunt you keep pressing against me."
Felix inhales a shuddering breath, but the air between them tells of his sudden lust. His thighs tense beneath Dimitri's knees. Another tie, and another, Dimitri spreading the white cloth wide, leaving Felix's chest bared to his sight, his taste, his fingers. His lover's chest heaves, his nipples tightening into tiny pink peaks in the coolness, and Dimitri’s mouth waters. How would Felix taste, how would he react to Dimitri’s lips, his teeth, his tongue?
And then further down, over warm flat planes of muscle, the shuddering hollow of his belly, turning his hand to trail his nails over it so Felix bites back a sound, and then pauses, fingertips just brushing the curly hair beneath the last tie, and meets Felix’s black gaze.
“Get on with it,” Felix says, the bite in his voice softened with need.
Dimitri picks apart the last ties, the cloth strings damp with Felix, and flicks the robe open, leaving Felix exposed. The air is thick with his scent, his arousal, and Dimitri’s cock aches as he sits back to gaze in silent appreciation.
Felix is narrow-hipped, his thighs dense with muscle, their insides shining with slick, and his breathing hitches as Dimitri runs his hands down to cup the firm round of his ass, tilt his hips upward for Dimitri’s greedy perusal. A little cock, as usual for omegas, nestled at the top of his cunt: just long enough, hard as it is, for Dimitri to encompass it in two or three fingers, fondle and play with him, a perfect mouthful. And below that, glistening, the cleft of his cunt, pink and soft and so delicious Dimitri could spend all day lapping it open, suckling at the tender flesh there.
“Beautiful,” Dimitri says, and Felix huffs an irritated sound, thighs flexing beneath Dimitri’s weight. The huff becomes an appalled grunt when Dimitri picks up his left leg, bends it until his ankle rests flush against his thigh, and uses one end of the rope to bind thigh to ankle, then tugs his leg up and out, leaving Felix suspended, hips up, unable to close his leg.
“What-?” Felix starts, then thuds his head back into the grass on a groan. “You’re filthy, Dimitri.”
“You seem to like it,” Dimitri says, watching Felix’s cock tremble in its folds of skin, a bead of clear fluid rising on his slit. “Besides, you deserve the best bindings I can give.” There’s an art to proper binding, an awareness of a partner’s frame, their tolerances, and Dimitri would never be satisfied with something artless for Felix, a simple hogtie or the like.
“Even now you’re a sap,” Felix accuses, but his eyes go wide when Dimitri reaches down to strip his shirt off, then rolls it into a bundle and reaches forward to place it beneath Felix’s head. Dimitri isn’t above showing off the line of his body, the hard muscle he works to maintain, and Felix makes a tiny, airless sound when Dimitri sits back, running callused fingertips over the trembling line of his belly.
“So you can see what I’m doing to you,” Dimitri says, then repeats the binding on Felix’s other leg before sitting back, smile tugging at his mouth.
Felix twists, tugs against the ropes, but is well and truly caught: bared and spread wide and accessible to whatever Dimitri wishes, however he wants to draw surrender from his prey. He growls, meeting Dimitri’s gaze, and stays tense, expectant. Another pulse of slick flows from his cunt to dampen his crumpled robe beneath him.
“Second,” Dimitri says, rising off his knees to arch over Felix’s body, plant one hand beside his head and cup his sharp jaw with the other, “I’ll kiss you.”
Felix swallows beneath his hand, but before he can snap something, Dimitri leans down to take his mouth. Felix opens to him eagerly, arches up as much as he can, rubs his chest shamelessly against Dimitri’s. He is no passive ingenue, no reluctant virgin; he bites Dimitri’s bottom lip until it swells, moans when Dimitri returns the favor before sweeping his tongue inside to conquer there, learn the taste of Felix here: heady and impatient. His sounds are choked-off, still fighting for control even bound and ready as he is.
Dimitri tears his mouth away from Felix’s, breathes low and hoarse against his reddened mouth, “I see you holding back those pretty noises, Felix. Worry not, I’m going to make you scream,” and then drops his mouth to Felix’s neck, lays a necklace of reddened marks across the proud line of Felix’s neck, sucks at the pulse throbbing beneath his lips. He leaves careful bites across the wings of Felix’s collarbones, the straining arch of his neck, marking his desire into Felix’s skin.
The rope shudders with each twist of Felix’s body, leaves falling from the tree he’s bound to. Felix barely muffles a moan when Dimitri kisses the tip of his reddened ear, whispers, adoring the shudder it gets,
“Next, I’m going to explore you. All the spots that make you tremble, all the ways you like to be touched, all the ways I can bring you pleasure: I’m going to learn them all.” The way a proper alpha should: only needing their hands, their mouths, their cocks to coax surrender, the way Loog had. The old ballads said it had taken days for him to wring Kyphon’s pleasure from him.
He sits up, moves back between Felix’s thighs, and Felix watches him go, red lips shining, before he startles, seems to come back to himself. "I'm not that easy," Felix hisses. His eyes widen, his cheeks blooming in a hectic flush, as Dimitri, holding his gaze, reaches forward to curl two fingers about his little cock, thumb circling the head until Felix hitches a breath. Then, achingly careful, he dips his fingers downward to spread Felix's glistening cunt wide, exposing him, tight and trembling.
His kiss-swollen mouth falls open on a low cry as Dimitri traces a slow dragging circle about his entrance, collecting slick, and then drags it up to fondle his cock. Felix's hips arch into the touch, his body quivering, and he turns his blushing face into the inside of his arm when Dimitri says, low and wolfish,
"Easy for me, my love."
He reaches up to circle his damp fingertips lightly about one of the rosy nipples that have been begging to be touched, and Felix’s breathing shallows, his dark gaze fixed to the motion of Dimitri’s callused fingers. Then, catching it between thumb and forefinger, he eases his fingers tight, and Felix’s hips snap up, a strangled noise caught in his throat. Heat’s made him sensitive, his skin calling out for Dimitri’s touch.
“You like that,” Dimitri says, certain, all of him exquisitely attuned to Felix’s movements, his breathing, his scent. The rest of the world has faded, only necessary to acknowledge insofar as it comes to protecting Felix, who he’s made vulnerable, who has allowed himself to be vulnerable here, for Dimitri.
Felix tears his mouth away from the inside of his arm and says, all pride and bravado, “Harder than that.”
Dimitri blinks, taken aback for a moment. But it does make sense for Felix to enjoy the harder side of things: he’d never been satisfied with training until he was sore, always wanted to push harder, go faster, and well, all right - what kind of alpha would he be if he didn’t give his omega what he desired?
Felix, holding his gaze, somehow flushes even more, his scent souring with humiliation, and no, that won’t do-
Dimitri stares into Felix’s eyes as he twists, careful to hold back his strength, and Felix’s entire body arches into the touch, his head tipping back on a low moan, his cock twitching, precome trickling down over his folds. His arousal blooms in the air. Then he lets go, leans down over Felix’s body, and draws that abused nipple into his mouth, licks over the heated flesh.
Felix cries out, inarticulate, fighting against the ropes. His body winds tight in Dimitri’s arms, in his bonds, muscles standing out in sharp relief in the dappled sunlight. His heartbeat roars beneath Dimitri’s lips as he suckles at him, drags the edge of his teeth over the tender peak. He slips his hand to Felix’s other nipple to play with it too, drawing it tight with gentle strokes before catching it between his knuckles to twist sharply.
Oversensitive with heat, overwhelmed, Felix shudders in his grip, trembling, his breathing hoarse, then slumps into the ropes, his body trembling. His chest shivers beneath Dimitri’s mouth, and he flinches when Dimitri lets go of his other nipple, then bends to soothe it with his tongue as well. His slow breathing stirs Dimitri’s hair, and when Dimitri glances up the line of his body, he’s laid back against his makeshift pillow, his brow furrowed.
Dimitri sits up, glancing down to find Felix’s thighs, already damp, glistening with fresh slick. A sudden wave of animal need stirs in him, and he kisses down Felix’s heaving stomach to then flick his tongue against the soft inside of Felix’s thighs, to scent him finally. His scent expands across Dimitri’s tongue, has his cock aching even further, so much so that Dimitri finally undoes his laces and pulls it out to relieve the pressure. His cock, stiff at Felix’s nearness, his smell, his skin, bobs against his belly, paints a fresh smear of precome against his abdomen. Then, the pressure relieved, he returns to Felix’s thighs, the downy hair there, the delicious scent of his slick. He even dares to lay a few shallow bites on the straining tendons, savoring the tremble in Felix’s body, the hitch of his breath.
“Dimitri,” Felix manages, the sound of his name now slurred, his voice softer with the peak of heat. “Dimitri, it-” and then he cuts off, shuddering, his voice more moan than words, as Dimitri finally lays his lips where he’s wanted to most, curls his tongue about Felix’s cock and suckles it into his mouth.
Felix bites back a high-pitched sound, his hips held back from bucking only by Dimitri’s hands and ropes. He looks utterly debauched, his skin flushed and marked with the imprint of Dimitri’s mouth, his hands, his eyes dark and hooded with need, and every muscle in him trembles when Dimitri wraps his tongue about his cock. The glade is full of their sounds: creaking rope, moans, the wet slide of Dimitri’s lips.
For all his size, he’s hot and stiff in Dimitri’s mouth, his slit deliciously sensitive to the careful dip of Dimitri’s tongue against it. The ropes strain as he struggles against them, his back arching to try and thrust into Dimitri’s mouth but finding no purchase. It’s dizzying, the power Dimitri has, the power he’s been given, and the rut chants in his blood to take, fuck, claim, to prove his status by drawing out everything Felix can give until he’s breathless and limp and weeping with it.
Dimitri pulls back off him, hollowing his cheeks as he goes, and savors the way the filthy sound makes Felix’s eyes widen.
“You’re incredible,” Dimitri says, curling his fingers about Felix’s cock to draw back the foreskin. The first bit of come pearls white and glistening at the slit, and Felix’s breath comes out in a scandalized hiss when Dimitri bends to lick it up.
“Dimitri,” Felix finally says, “it aches.”
Tenderness wells up in Dimitri at the unexpected admission, and he presses a gentle kiss against Felix’s knee. “All right.”
He bends low again, sprawled between Felix’s spread thighs, and cups Felix’s ass in his hands, fingertips sliding on the slick there. Then he lowers his mouth once more to lap at Felix’s cock, pull it back into his mouth. No playing this time, no teasing or testing: only determination to make Felix come, to ease the aching of unfulfilled heat. Some alphas would never suck their omega’s cock, and seeing this, Dimitri can’t help but pity them; who wouldn’t want to have their omega spread out beneath them, whimpering and twisting with how good their cock feels? To have their omega’s cock in their mouth, and know all their pleasure is at their mercy?
Felix’s hands flex where they’re bound above his head. His toes begin to curl where they just brush Dimitri’s shoulders, and he tosses his head back, his chest heaving. He shudders, body a straining arch in his bonds, and cries out, “Dimitri,” the sound near to begging. It trails off into a stuttering moan as his hips shudder, the muscle of his ass quivering in Dimitri’s grip. His cock jerks in Dimitri’s mouth, a few faint pulses of come spreading across his tongue. Dimitri swallows him down, then stills, letting his mouth be a warm, soft haven while Felix returns to himself.
Felix sighs, then goes completely limp in his bonds, stirring only as Dimitri lets him slide from his mouth and sits up.
“Are you well?” Dimitri rests a hand on Felix’s belly and thumbs at the soft line of dark hair there until Felix cracks an eye open.
“Better,” Felix admits. “This is-” he shifts, taking a breath, as his stomach tightens beneath Dimitri’s palm, “-an intense one.”
A part of Dimitri, the beast he’s content to let lie these days, puffs its chest with pride. He’s driven his lover to such heights, inspired so intense a heat; omegas’ heats are said to match their partner’s stamina, and a longer coupling supposedly means a better match. Rather than saying anything, he ducks beneath Felix’s raised leg and crawls up his side, leaning down to kiss him again.
There are so many sides to Felix. This Felix, sated, sighs into their kiss, his eyelashes falling to lie upon his sharp cheeks. His mouth is slack, his movements languorous, but this is a welcome change; Dimitri takes the lead without a fight, learns every aspect of this new Felix he can: that he trembles when Dimitri rubs a careful thumb over his nipple, that he makes a wonderful, stifled whine when Dimitri bites at his lower lip. The afternoon shadows lie long and dark upon the grass of the glade, the only sound their breathing, the wet parting and rejoining of their lips.
After a while of lazy kissing, Felix begins to bite at Dimitri’s mouth, to shift his hips. His breathing quickens, takes on a frantic air. The flush that had settled on his cheeks spreads again, trailing south over his chest, his belly, and the air becomes heavy again with his need.
“Do you need me?” Dimitri asks against Felix’s cheek, and Felix, after a long moment of battling with himself, eyes averted and breathing harsh, finally dares a nod.
It may be traditional to thank a partner with ‘good omega,’ but Dimitri would rather stay alive. Instead, he slips back between Felix’s spread thighs, trails his fingers down to frame the glistening cleft of his cunt.
“You’re beautiful,” Dimitri says, low, rough, and Felix, somehow, manages to blush even more when Dimitri spreads him wide. Dimitri takes his time, gazes at where he’s pink and shining and soft, where even the faintest stroke of Dimitri’s fingertip over his slick hole has him trembling, biting back a moan. The muscles of Felix’s pelvis quiver against Dimitri’s fingertips, and he shudders when Dimitri bends to lap him open with long, careful sweeps of his tongue. The ropes hum as Felix fights to close his thighs, to arch into Dimitri’s mouth, his breathing ragged.
Ah, this, this Dimitri can see becoming his favorite. There’s something earthy, animalistic, about it: Felix’s slick smearing across his stubbled cheeks, the wet filthy sound of him suckling on the sensitive skin there. When he glances up Felix’s body, he finds him staring back, his eyes burning, his lip caught between his teeth as he uses what little leverage he has to grind against Dimitri’s mouth. His nostrils flare with tiny grunts as he rides Dimitri’s face.
Dimitri growls at that, the incredible sight of Felix taking his own pleasure, and the vibration of his voice must do something, for Felix stiffens, mouth dropping open, brow drawing together. His hips shudder, frenetic, and he moans, loud, unashamed, when Dimitri delves his tongue within, where he’s hot and tight and smooth, curls it to lick his juices out of him, swallow them down. Another growl, a long, slow lap of the flat of his tongue over his hole, up to curl again about his cock, and Felix-
Felix shudders through another climax, his eyes clenched shut, his body arched and quivering, a cry caught in his throat. His hands curl into fists in their binds, the sound of his breathing loud, animal, as he trembles, pouring slick against Dimitri’s tongue.
Dimitri draws back when Felix relaxes again, and while Felix rests, head thrown back on his pillow, he tugs off his trousers, the ache of his erection insistent now. The trousers he rolls up and slides beneath Felix’s hips to give him some relief from the hard ground. He wraps his fingers around his cock, works the foreskin back with his thumb, and strokes himself to quiet the unfulfilled arousal burning in his blood, the beast pacing behind his eyes. The pressure has him tipping his head back, hissing out a sigh, before rolling his head forward to gaze at Felix again.
Felix stares at Dimitri’s cock the way he stares at a new sword, which is flattering, if nothing else. Dimitri had been expecting trepidation, perhaps even a bit of fear - he isn’t small, here or anywhere else - but Felix only licks his lips, seems to look at it like a challenge. His smile is sharp-edged, victorious, when Dimitri takes his place between Felix’s thighs, but it melts into an open-mouthed sigh when Dimitri rubs the head of his cock over Felix’s, precome making the glide easy.
Then, nudging it down, painting his precome over the fluttering entrance to Felix’s cunt, teasing them both-
Felix breaks first, finally begs,
Triumph curls Dimitri’s lips into a snarl as he nudges his hips forward, plants his hands on the ground beside Felix’s head, and ducks down to bite new marks across Felix’s pale chest. Felix opens for him, but then goes rigid as Dimitri sinks the head of his cock into that tight heat. His body clenches down on it, almost too much for comfort, and Dimitri stills, arms trembling. Ducks his head to nudge at Felix, where he’s turned his face back against his arm, his eyes jammed shut, the salt-scent of tears on the air.
“What?” Felix snaps, and Dimitri’s heart drops at the tense edge of pain in that beloved voice.
“Do you need me to pull out?” He’s already shifting, ready to bite back the groan of loss, but then Felix tightens further.
“No,” Felix says, his eyes red-rimmed but steady, heat hazing the edges of them. “I want your cock in me, and I don’t care if it hurts-”
His mouth snaps shut when Dimitri growls, presses teeth to the line of his neck, rumbling, “I care, Felix, and if you’ve forgotten, you’re in my bonds. I caught you, and I have you, and I would not ever have you harmed because of me.”
Felix opens his mouth to argue, then tenses when Dimitri runs one hand down his body, parts his fingers about the base of his little cock, rests fingertips where Felix is tight and trembling, spread open. His thumb circles the delicate slit of Felix’s cock, dipping in the edge of a nail to watch his prize shudder, going taut.
“Who’d you give your cunt to?” If he weren’t in rut, if this weren’t the Hunt, Dimitri would die hearing himself say those words. Yet the beast is near the surface in the golden afternoon light, and the beast wants Felix well.
"You," Felix breathes, his face flushed, his eyes wild, sweat-laden hair sticking to the sharp cut of his cheekbones.
Dimitri has never seen anything more beautiful.
"Good," Dimitri says, and makes no mention of the way his rough praise has Felix hitching an airless sound of surprised pleasure. Instead, he holds Felix's spent cock, tenderly stroking it between thumb and forefinger, then sits back, using his now free hand to circle about his own erection.
"We'll just have to get you wetter." He strokes his cock, slick with Felix's wetness, with his own copious precome, and hisses between his teeth at the sharp spike of lust. The muscles of his back and thighs cord and tremble in the still air, everything in him demanding he fuck forward into Felix's tight heat, toss aside all care and take. But that is not him, and Felix deserves to be opened by careful hands, his tightly-wound frame persuaded into acceptance.
"I thought I was," Felix grumbles, his breathing fast. A few sounds of need tumble from his lips when his hips rock into Dimitri's touch, when the ridged head of Dimitri's cock dips into him, then out, Dimitri giving into the urge just enough to rock his hips in tiny thrusts.
Dimitri manages a huffed laugh, then speeds his hand. The silence of the glade fills with the sounds of their bodies: filthy, wet, the circle of his hand smacking against his belly. The tide works its way through him in a warm wave, his toes starting to curl. His gaze is riveted to where Felix's cunt spreads about the thick ruddy head of his cock, the thin skin there shading from pink to white as it stretches about him, the tiny hitching whines Felix makes when the ridged crown slips past and into him, then eases back out, glossed in clear fluid. It's torment, this slow racheting up of pleasure and need, a lust that eases higher with each careful push.
Then, the tide crests. His thighs shudder, and he heaves in a breath, his chest expanding, tightening on an explosive snarl as he keeps himself from pushing too deeply. His hand tightens about his shaft, the pressure a bare imitation of the sweet heat of Felix's cunt, and a sudden burst of heat licks through his belly, up his spine.
Felix's eyes widen, his mouth dropping open on a gasp of "Dimitri," as Dimitri shudders through his orgasm, groaning with each abortive thrust of his hips. The pleasure rolls through him in waves, his cock jerking in his grip, in Felix's cunt, and he shakes his head to force his hair from his eyes as it ends, wanting to see Felix better.
Felix swallows. His hands, bound above his head, flex with tension as he breathes, "You're inside me."
Dimitri slows his breathing with an effort, manages, "I am." The pacing beast within him settles, some of the tension released; he's marked his omega, entered him, and the possessive hunger within him eases. Carefully, slowly, he rocks his hips back. Both of them hiss when the head of Dimitri's cock pulls free, Felix at the loss, Dimitri at the half-formed knot at his base, angry at finding no omega to tie.
"Goddess," Dimitri says, "you're lovely." Pale white strands of his come mixed with Felix's fluids well in the wet pink hollow of Felix's cunt, coat the trembling folds of him. His hole's a little red, a bit swollen, but Dimitri has no time for regret; Felix curls his hips up, lifts himself towards Dimitri in silent offering or demand. His tiny cock, hard now, trembles in its bed of dark curls.
"Gladly." He scoops up the first few trails of come trickling down Felix's skin, still warm, and feeds them back into his waiting cunt.
Felix tosses his head back on a moan. He's hot inside, tight and slick, their mingled fluids foaming around Dimitri’s knuckle, and his muscles milk at Dimitri's finger like they want to draw him in, beckon him further. He takes one finger easily, the damp folds at his entrance clinging to Dimitri's skin, and then shudders, gasping, when Dimitri presses a second in.
"Damn it, Dimitri, why do your fingers have to be so fucking big-" his words trail off into a cry when Dimitri turns his hand palm-up and draws his fingertips along the upper wall of his cunt, searching. While he never participated in the conversations, finding them uncouth, he's been around alphas who swear by this maneuver.
There, a spot, different from the rest in texture, tucked a little ways inside. He curls his fingers against it, strokes in a beckoning motion, and Felix, who's gone loose in his bonds, tenses again, brow furrowed.
"What-" he mumbles, picking his head up to gaze at where Dimitri’s tucked his fingers inside him, hilted them all the way to his palm, Felix’s cunt small enough that Dimitri can encompass it in his hand. Dimitri’s come drips from him with each rock of Dimitri’s fingers, and Dimitri keeps drawing it up with his other hand, slipping it back into his greedy hole.
"Is it displeasing?”
Felix swallows and shifts his hips, clenches around Dimitri’s knuckles. “No. Just strange. It feels different, but…” the heat burns bright in his eyes, on his cheekbones, his tiny pebbled nipples, chasing out his usual reserve, “keep going.”
Dimitri bends to kiss the trembling flat of Felix’s belly, then focuses on his task. He works at Felix’s spot, over and over, rhythm steady, and Felix blows out a long breath, his cheeks darkening. More filthy wet sounds, Felix’s slick and his own come drenching his fingers, the blond hair at his knuckles.
“Faster,” Felix manages, his hips bucking upwards, then pressing downward against Dimitri’s fingertips, his hole fluttering. His breathing speeds, loud over the sound of Dimitri stroking him. He catches his lower lip between his teeth, shifts again, toes curling in the air. Every press, every breath, gets a noise from him - a cry, a moan, a gasp - and everything in Dimitri preens at how relaxed he’s made his prize, how open Felix is to him, to the pleasure Dimitri brings him.
Oh, and there’s room for still more. Dimitri catches Felix’s neglected cock between thumb and forefinger, fondles it with gentleness surprising for how rough the motions of his other hand are; each rock and curl pushes Felix upward, into the delicate roll of Dimitri’s fingertips across his cock.
“Dimitri,” Felix says, and the threat of tears in his voice makes Dimitri look up, away from the spread and curl of his fingers, to Felix’s face: sweaty, red, utterly wrecked and vulnerable. “It’s- I’m so full-” His cunt clenches about Dimitri with every word.
“You are,” Dimitri agrees, low, greedy, “full of me. Let it happen. Let me please you.”
“Like I’d- ah!” Felix squirms, Dimitri’s fingertips rubbing against his spot, against his cock, and tips his head back on a long cry. He jerks, shoves his hips into Dimitri’s fingers, chases his climax relentlessly, until all the muscles in him wind tight and trembling, until he can hardly make noise through his gasps-
The orgasm crashes through him. He screams, a sound Dimitri’s never heard from him before, and thrashes against the bonds, bucks so hard the tree he’s bound to groans. Fluid arcs from his cunt to spatter Dimitri’s chest, his mouth, drenches Dimitri’s hand, and with each new wave his body pulses about Dimitri’s fingers, the contractions milking at him. His muscles leap and tremble beneath his sweat-slick skin, fighting against the ropes, and then Dimitri twists his fingers, curls them again, harder.
Felix shudders through another rolling climax, silent, his body curling into itself, cunt spurting again. Were he not bound, he’d shake himself right out of Dimitri’s grip, and even with the ropes Dimitri has to palm at his hip to keep him from thrashing off the pillows. His breaths are more sobs than not, overwhelmed by the power of it, and then, as the shudders subside, Dimitri carefully passes just the pad of his thumb over his stiff cock, curious, greedy.
Felix near-seizes, one orgasm blending seamlessly into the next as his cock spills against Dimitri’s palm, wetting it with a few thin beads of white. The sight of Felix, abandoned entirely to pleasure, senseless with what Dimitri’s given him, goes on and on, all choked breath and hitched thrusts, and then Felix slumps into his bonds, trusting them to hold him up. He trembles through the last of the aftershocks, tears trailing from his closed eyes, and then whines, shifting his hips, when Dimitri eases his fingers out of him, away from his cock.
“No more,” Felix mutters, his voice hoarse and dry. His words slur. He’s utterly limp, all his formidable power given over to Dimitri for now, and the gift burns. Still, the heat’s eased, and it gives time for Dimitri to care for him.
“Not now,” Dimitri agrees. He licks Felix’s spend from his lips and fingers, then sets himself to undoing the ties on Felix’s legs. Even the gentle press of his fingers makes Felix twitch, all of him oversensitive. The ropes come away, leaving only their reddened imprints behind, and Felix hisses when Dimitri lowers his legs and straightens them, massaging the lingering tension away. “You’re thirsty, I’m sure. How are your shoulders?”
Felix licks his bitten lips. His eyelashes are clumped with tears. “A bit sore.”
Which, considering Felix, means that most would be howling. Although heat and rut leave their participants dulled to most sensations other than pleasure, that’s no excuse for leaving him bound too long.
Dimitri coils up the loosened rope, then undoes the binds around Felix’s forearms, helping Felix pull his arms down to lie loose, palm-up, on his belly. The rope marks linger, but they do nothing to settle the primal anxiety rolling inside Dimitri that his omega isn’t bound. Unwary Loog, having thought he’d seduced Kyphon into submission, had found his omega’s fist crashing across his face before Kyphon darted away, restarting the pursuit.
Felix, ever aware of Dimitri’s thoughts, cracks open one reddened eye and snorts, then points his chin at the rope. “Go on, then.”
Breathless with adoration, Dimitri bends to kiss him, to conquer the yielding pliancy of his mouth, dazed with exhaustion and pleasure. “Thank you.” He binds Felix anew, this one a simple three-column tie linking his elbows to his torso, then scoops him up, his weight a beloved burden. Felix fits against him like he’s been born to it, rests his sharp face against Dimitri’s shoulder with a murmur of contentment, rubbing his cheek against the bare skin there.
Dimitri does not puff up his chest, though it’s a near thing. Instead, he carries Felix to the nearby stream where he confronted the alpha, and preens internally when Felix, brows furrowed and face red - “I will kill you if you tell anyone” - allows Dimitri to cup water into his mouth, slake his thirst with long, slow kisses.
The shadows lie long on the forest floor, the sunlight wearing towards evening, when Dimitri carries his prize back to the glade, settles him on the remnants of his robe, props up his head once more on a makeshift pillow. There’s silence between them, broken only by their rapid breathing.
Felix’s lips, red with kisses and painted with water droplets, lies slack, a faint needy whimper at the end of each breath. He turns his face into Dimitri when Dimitri stretches out beside him and mouths at the line of his chest, uncoordinated, his eyes hazy with the rising tide of heat. His hips roll up into the air in slow, unconscious movements, demanding more.
Dimitri’s cock aches, throbs with insistent need to press inside Felix. Still, though, he draws his hand down Felix’s trembling body, over sweat-damp skin, to cup him where he’s hot and wet and trembling, hole yielding to the testing press of a finger.
“Dimitri,” Felix breathes, as close to begging as he will ever come, and all Dimitri can do is kiss him, then shoulder his way between Felix’s legs. His cunt, exposed to Dimitri’s hungry gaze, is open, with come and slick still painting its reddened folds, the insides of his thighs. Possessive pride rises in Dimitri’s chest as he catches Felix’s legs, props them over his shoulders, and then rocks his hips forward and down, the head of his cock leaving more slick painted over Felix’s hole.
“Mine,” he says, low, fierce, and holds Felix’s gaze as he presses inside him. It’s a struggle to keep his eye open, his attention focused, at the sweet clutch of Felix about him, the milking wet grip like a fist, but it’s worth it-
Felix’s brows draw together, his mouth falls open, and he arches against Dimitri with a low cry, bound hands scrabbling at the grass. “Ah, ah-” His cries are beautiful, tug at everything Dimitri is, make him want to roar with pride: see how he’s gentled his prize, this sharp and strong omega, how he’s made him writhe with agonizing pleasure with hands, mouth, cock, how Felix shudders and surrenders wholly to him.
“Lovely boy,” Dimitri murmurs, settling heavy hands on the sharp jut of Felix’s hips to hold him still, tilt him so the head of Dimitri’s cock rubs against that wonderful spot he’d stroked earlier. “Your cunt is so sweet for me, so wet-”
He breathes out the snarl of triumph as his hips meet Felix’s ass, pauses to hang, suspended, in the unholy pleasure of it: the tight clench of Felix’s body accepting his cock, the wild need in Felix’s eyes, the cries that have subsided to pleading whines. He could die happy, having known this, having been trusted like this.
“Let them hear you,” he says, rolling his hips back, biting back the groan of pleasure as Felix clings to him, every inch of his frame begging Dimitri to stay, to return. “Let them know who takes you so well-”
Faster now, power and lust rising in him, the ancient barbaric ways, until he has Felix pinned beneath him, his knees held back and down so Dimitri can thrust straight down into him, so his come will remain caught-
Dimitri's knees skid in the dirt as he hitches Felix's hips closer. Sweat rolls down his chest, his nose, droplets splashing against Felix's skin. He grunts with each thrust, bestial, unleashed, all his formidable strength aimed at making Felix quake with pleasure, at knotting him as deeply as he can. It's filthy, their mingled cries, the deep vicious plunge of his hips, the bruises his hands impress upon Felix's hips when he pulls his lover onto his cock, the slick sounds of their bodies meeting and parting, and Dimitri will remember this forever.
Felix writhes, whether to get closer or get away Dimitri's not sure, and then stills when Dimitri spreads his hand across his mound, pinning him. He moans, his tiny cock jolted into Dimitri's hand with each thrust, his breathing more sob than not, all his habitual reserve torn away, all his barriers breached. Yet still he accepts Dimitri within him, shudders with each press of Dimitri's cock, his legs quivering where they rest on Dimitri's shoulders. His eyes are wide, wet with overwhelmed tears, and he gazes up at Dimitri with awe.
"I'm going to knot you," Dimitri pants, words a snarl, curled over his prize, his Felix. Triumph burns through him. "Keep you pinned on my cock, keep you begging for it-" he rolls his hips, teases the forming knot against where Felix is already stretched white and shivering about the girth of him, and Felix-
Felix surprises him yet again. Through the fog of heat, the gulping breaths that are all he can get, bent over so harshly, his heavy, tear-blurred gaze sharpens. His knees lock against Dimitri's neck until the blood pounds in his ears. He bares his teeth, uses what strength he has remaining to yank Dimitri closer, cunt clenching about him, and manages,
The coiled tension crawling up Dimitri's spine unwinds in one bright burst. He rolls his hips, deeper, harder, uses his grip on Felix to pull him onto his cock, hilts himself deep in Felix's quivering cunt-
Felix's back arches into the shock of Dimitri's knot pressing within him, a wail unfurling from his mouth, and Dimitri uses the space to wrap his arms about him, sink one hand into his sweat-damp hair and tuck his face into Dimitri's chest, cup his palm across the small of his back with the other, so he's held close, so he's caught in his arms, against his body, on his knot. Tiny whimpers fall from Felix's slack mouth, the vibration of his voice quivering across Dimitri's chest. Then he shudders, breath hitching, as Dimitri's cock jolts within him, knot pressing him wide.
"So good," Dimitri says, low and rough, nuzzling kisses against Felix's temple, his hair. His hips, free of his control, rut in slow, gutting thrusts, his knot rubbing slowly, inexorably, across that spot he'd tormented and teased before. "You take me so well, so sweet, so tight."
Felix, near-curled in half, knees near his ears, gasps, "So deep, fuck- I- ah-" he cries out again as Dimitri thrusts one last time, then shudders, hands clawing at Dimitri's sides.
Dimitri groans as his knot locks, caught in Felix's body. He comes in great slow pulses of his hips, thrusts pushing the come deeper, and Felix gasps, sobs something that's almost Dimitri's name against his chest as he shudders through another climax, cunt squeezing at Dimitri's knot, near milking him of everything he has to give. The pleasure of coming, of taking and conquering and breeding, storms on and on, until Dimitri can do nothing but gather Felix closer, rumble against his ear with each slow drag of his hips,
"There you go, my Felix, take it all. So beautiful, coming on my knot-" he breaks off in a gasp as Felix shivers against him, another tremble pulling him somehow impossibly tighter about Dimitri's cock, "-just like you should, just like I wanted, my lovely boy."
Felix goes lax in Dimitri's grip as the last contractions roll through him, then makes a sound, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. He lets his head fall to the side enough to peer up at Dimitri with one wet eye, his cheek red with tears of overstimulation. "Saints, fuck, Dimitri- you beast." He shifts, manages to press one hand between his legs as if to feel where Dimitri's within him. "Goddess, I'm so full."
Dimitri bares his teeth in a grin, all alpha pride, as he helps Felix lower his legs from his shoulders. It’s the work of a few moments to gather Felix up with careful hands, then reposition them so Dimitri is on his back, Felix sprawled atop him. "I can’t say I’ll be like this every time,” he says, undoing the ties on Felix’s elbows and chest and casting the rope aside. His hips jolt upward as another pulse of come spills within Felix, and Felix hisses, clenching about it.
Felix laughs, voice hoarse. “Thank the Goddess.” He props himself up on an elbow, then drops his hand down between them to trace with quivering fingers where his rim strains about Dimitri, where he’s trembling and open and taken, where come and slick bubble around the base of Dimitri’s cock to wet their skin. His eyes darken as he holds Dimitri’s gaze. “You’re still-”
They’re naked and sweaty and tied, and Dimitri has never felt so much like an alpha, with his head pillowed on one arm, the other hand cupping Felix’s rear, then stroking up and down his back in long, slow sweeps, thumbing at the various marks he’s left scattered across Felix’s body.
“Yes,” Dimitri says, low, and watches with satisfaction as Felix hitches a breath, going tight. “Come here.” He reaches up, curves his hand about Felix’s neck, and pulls him down into a lazy kiss, muttering against his mouth, “I want to stay in you the whole time, if I can. Will you let me?”
“You are filthy,” Felix says, half accusation, half surprised delight, and kisses him back.
They trade kisses as Dimitri’s knot goes down, and Felix, his head laid on Dimitri’s chest, one hand lazily toying with his nipple, the thick swirls of blond hair surrounding it, shifts. Makes a small frustrated sound, then squirms again, hips rocking against Dimitri’s. Irritation and lust blooms in the air.
Dimitri, who’s drowsed a bit in the evening dimness, cracks open his eye. His cock, reawoken by Felix’s noises and movements, swells. His hand slips down to Felix’s hip, tightens.
Felix, who’s been making tiny irritated noises as he rocks, looks up, then gasps when Dimitri insinuates his hand between them to thumb over his stiff little cock, slick with precome.
“Still needy, aren’t you.” It isn’t unexpected- Dimitri has always had more stamina than was good for him, and omegas tend to match their partners - but sympathy wells in him as Felix hitches a wet breath, trembling against him as if he doesn’t know whether to rock into the touch or away. Sore, no doubt, overused muscles tense with exhausted arousal and unmet need.
Felix scrubs at his face with his hand, shoves his hair out of the way, and blows out an annoyed breath. His voice is thick with frustration, hovering on the edge of tears. “Yes, but I’m tired, and I don’t know if I can-” Felix starts, and then his voice splinters into a moan as Dimitri’s hips roll into him, forming knot tugging once more within his cunt. No wonder he’s frustrated; he’s always been the master of his own body, able to control it, and now his body demands something he’s not sure he can give.
Dimitri sits up, slowly, carefully, all too aware of how every motion pulls at where they’re joined, and drops a kiss on Felix’s furrowed brow. “Just let me, and I will make it happen.”
Felix butts his forehead against Dimitri’s shoulder, muttering a curse, and then bites Dimitri’s neck, growling assent through his teeth.
Dimitri huffs, amused, and curls one arm about Felix’s hips, holding him close as he rises onto his knees, spreading Felix out beneath him. He’s a vision, pale skin littered with the imprint of Dimitri’s fingers, his mouth, his cunt red and swollen where Dimitri fills it, his little cockhead beaded with precome. Dimitri curls over him, Felix’s legs crossed over his back, and mouths at Felix’s nipples until he shudders, breath hitching and fingers tangling in Dimitri’s hair.
“Gentle, this time,” Dimitri says against Felix’s spit-slick nipple, watching how even the passage of his breath across him has Felix trembling with an exhausted whine. “All you have to do is let me have you.”
True to his word, he’s gentle, almost achingly so: pushes his cock in, as far as it’ll go, until his swelling knot catches at the rim of Felix’s cunt, and then rocks his hips in tiny grinding rolls, so deep and slow his teeth ache with it, until Felix clings to him, every breath a whimper. Even the kiss he thumbs Felix’s jaw open for is slow, melting, languid, Dimitri drawing pleasure from Felix’s exhausted body with careful hands and loving patience.
“Dimitri,” Felix manages against his mouth. His face is flushed, his eyes wide, tears welling at their corners, and he gazes at Dimitri as though lost, seeking guidance. He shivers with each press and grind of Dimitri’s hips, tosses his head back on a whine when Dimitri tilts his hips higher, gets the angle just right for his deep, grinding thrusts to rub at Felix’s cock. “I can’t- I can’t-”
“Shhh,” Dimitri gentles him, kisses his brow, his slack mouth, tasting his tiny whimpers. “Just let me.” His knot drags at Felix’s spot, and he holds Felix still with gentle hands, the weight of his body, when Felix shudders and writhes, half-formed pleas and hitching whines filling the scant space between them. “Still so wet, so tight, for me, my love, even now. So good.”
He cups the back of Felix’s knee, moves his thigh up to shift the angle, and Felix wails, nails digging into Dimitri’s shoulders in red pinpricks of pain.
More. More deep rolls of his hips, more circles of his callused thumbs across Felix’s nipples, flushed red now with arousal, until Felix cries out. His cries have no words in them, only the overwhelmed sound of an omega at the brink, staring over the edge into an abyss of pleasure. He thrashes, every muscle locked up, trembling, straining, an endless climax overtaking him; his cock spills white across his belly with each roll of Dimitri’s hips, the knot forcing more and more from him.
“I have you,” Dimitri whispers, low and possessive, and drops his hand to span Felix’s mound, presses to work that swollen spot against his own knot where it rubs and grinds and drags, inexorable, unescapable. “I have you. Come.”
Felix’s mouth falls open. He shudders in great rolling waves, utterly surrendered, overtaken by the pleasure Dimitri’s worked from him. He makes no sound: only trembles, his head thrown back, his neck a pale arch, his hands digging into Dimitri’s shoulders, his thighs locked about his waist. Somehow, he comes again, more liquid squirting from what little space Dimitri’s cock leaves him to dampen Dimitri’s belly, and Dimitri swears, drops his head to bite at Felix’s neck, hitches his hips-
Comes with a great gasp that’s torn from the depths of his chest, his hips still working, rolling into Felix, spilling inside him in great pulses that have him moaning. His sight fades, his heartbeat overtaking all sound. He keeps himself from crashing down onto Felix with an effort as the last tremors work their way through him, then opens his eye.
Felix’s lashes lie, clumped and dark with tears, along his sharp cheekbones. The breath from his slightly-open mouth stirs the grass. Lovely, even now, every limb and piece of him loose with exhaustion, his nipples red and swollen, his lips marked with the imprint of his teeth. Blue and purple marks - Dimitri’s teeth, his fingers - scatter his lean form. Sated and beautiful and his.
He stirs, shifting, and then bites back a noise when Dimitri’s cock jumps one last time inside him before Dimitri carefully sits back on his heels. A last shuddering moan as Dimitri’s knot works free, and then the rest of his cock, shrinking in the cool air, and it’s all Dimitri can do to leave his hand resting on Felix’s belly, to not touch, play, explore.
Felix’s cunt gapes, there’s no other word for it, so that he can see how it twitches at the brush of air, trembles about the sudden emptiness, unable to close. Open like a hungry mouth, swollen and red, come and slick leaking from it in thick trails. Inviting his touch, and yet Felix has already given him so much.
Dimitri leans to the side, locates the thick silver plug. It’s heavy in his hand, will fill Felix’s little cunt well until the next wave of heat.
He leans down, nuzzles at Felix’s cheek until Felix mutters something approaching his name, rolling his head to face Dimitri.
“You’re full, aren’t you?” Dimitri says in response, predatory, and watches the shiver work its way through every one of Felix’s lax limbs.
A faint smile tugs at Felix’s lips. “Yeah.” His voice scratches, well-used, well-loved. He opens one eye, revealing the hint of amber between his lashes. “Full, and sore, and yours.” The sound he makes when Dimitri circles his swollen entrance with the tip of the plug is half a sigh and half a sob, the only movement he makes a faint quiver of his thighs. He accepts the plug with a small moan, sore rim stretching white and then closing pink about the thin stem as the cool metal sinks within him, trapping Dimitri’s come in his channel.
“Mine,” Dimitri confirms, and pulls the rope to him. With trembling hands, he binds Felix again, this a simple tie of wrists together and ankles together, laying kisses at each place he ties a knot. Felix lets him, weary, loose-limbed, and only lays his head against Dimitri’s shoulder with a low sigh as Dimitri lifts him into his arms and stands.
“Are you happy?” Dimitri asks, gazing down at the precious weight in his arms. The first hints of shame - what a brute he has been - crowd at the edges of his peace, and then fade away like mist when Felix laughs, tilts his head back to offer a smile.
“Of course. It was you.”
Title from Hozier's 'Someone New.' Comments and criticism are adored and replied to. Follow me on Twitter at 'carthageburning' if you'd like!