Omegas were known as bitches.
As soon as it escapes Cedric’s lips – a Beta and a nobody himself – Arthur’s fist flies out quickly, crashing into his teeth and knocking one loose.
Merlin gapes in shocked horror, at Arthur’s blood-crusting knuckles, at the schoolyard bully hollering at the top of his lungs and bursting into tears, fleeing across the yard. Some of the other kids start clapping or yelling their approval.
“What?” Arthur says confused, throwing up his hands, “Morgana says it’s a naughty word, and that people need to be teached a lesson.”
“It’s taught, not teached,” Merlin finally says after a moment, smiling big.
Arthur’s big blue eyes roll.
“Shut up, Merlin,” he mumbles, plopping down on the next swing with Merlin and shoving. “Ha - First one to teach the top wins!”
Merlin knew all the fairytales as a child. About how the princess Omegas knew that their true love was true and pure. That pull of attraction to their Alpha.
Not all girls were Omegas, same as not all vaginas belonged to girls. He knew his gender – Merlin knew he was comfortable with being his own male gender.
But, being an Omega complicated his relationship with others.
Never with Arthur, though.
Looking across the playing field, Arthur dripping with sweat and mud, knocking away the ball from the other footie team, Merlin feels the pull. It starts at his belly, from the centre of his navel, and radiates pleasantly to every nerve-end.
Somehow, Arthur always knows where to look for him. Whether it was their favorite hiding place in Merlin’s backyard, or in a never-ending crowd of their classmates.
He wraps his arms snugly around Merlin’s neck, stinking to high hell, laughing and burying his face into Merlin’s cropped, dark hair. It takes a lot to make Arthur Penn, voted Most Likely to Succeed, to be affectionate in public.
Everyone’s leering but Merlin laughs with him, clasping Arthur’s hips, breathing him in. A ripple of arousal twinges the base of his throat and Merlin’s prick.
Going though the heat cycles used to be frustrating as a teenager, lonely. Merlin preferred the glass dildos to the synthetic, to avoid fantasies.
He doesn’t need them now. He’s got Arthur’s beaten sofa and his favorite person in the whole of the universe.
“My god,” Arthur cries out, slamming up against Merlin’s bared arse and grunting. His knot locks inside, growing bigger, pulsing, flooding hot come.
His pheromones overcome Merlin’s own, as he jerks and rocks into Arthur’s hand fumbling into his jeans. His fingers fondle on Merlin’s little, Omega cock.
“Arth–” The noisy whimper stifles into the cushion as Arthur mouths and bites along Merlin’s throat and right ear, moist lips dragging against skin.
“For me, that’s it, darling,” he says, breathing out loudly, encouraging Merlin through his orgasm and sweeping his tongue over come-slick fingers. The knot still pulses steady and Merlin drowsily smiles, listening to Arthur whisper endearments. And not a single one of them is bitch.