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"Tim. Are you really all right?” LS asks, worriedly facing the camera.
They haven't met for – how much was it? Nemesis can't put his finger on it. His head is spinning, spinning, spinning. The only way to see each other with half the Earth separating them is to connect through the Internet. It's simply not enough. Being an omega without his alpha for a long time is hard. Even looking at his face now makes Nemesis hot and groggy and needy.
„I'm fine, look,” Nemesis lies and shows his neck to the camera. The quality of the video is not enough to catch on the fact that the mark was drawn with a lip contour.
Nick still looks unconvinced. Nemesis briefly wonders if he knows, but abandons the thought. It wouldn't change anything. The alpha is busy in Korea with his flourishing career. Nemesis won't ruin what they've been both working for by being needy.
„I'm just a bit tired,” he adds after a moment, realizing Nick is carefully eyeing him. The eyes piercing him directly to the soul send shivers down Nemesis' spine. He suppresses a moan. The call has to end. „I'm going to call it a day before I doze off,” he says as casually as the lump formed in his throat lets him. The call cuts off before LS acknowledges his shaking voice. The alpha tries to connect again but to no avail.
Unfortunately, Nemesis is hopelessly needy.
He forces himself off the gaming chair and nearly collapses. What he feels is familiar but much, much scarier than anything he's been through before. His heats used to be regular and mild before mating. Even afterward the regularity stayed, and even though they can't be called 'mild' anymore, getting to experience heats with your alpha is similar to seeing the sun setting over a sea. Beautiful, romantic and unforgettable.
Nemesis somehow makes it from his room to the bathroom he shares with all the Fnatic players. Cautiously, he cleans the lip contour off from the scent gland. The water set to the hottest setting trickles in freezing streams down his skin.
It's gone. The mark has completely disappeared.
Nemesis shuts his eyes close, holds on to the sink and lets out a series of heavy pants, trying to compose himself. Everything is moving slowly like the world is deliberately punishing him for lying for so long with a torturous stop. His brain seems to be drowning. His body might start to literally drown in slick if he doesn't make it back to his room fast enough.
He pushes himself off the sink and nearly collapses, but a pair of strong arms catch him mid-air. A musky smell of saffron overcomes the air around Nemesis. It's powerful, yet sweet and soothing. Safe. He lets go of his consciousness, instinctively trusting those pheromones.
Rekkles has to admit he's shocked. He's never had much to do with the omega midlaner. Sure, they're colleagues, but they both silently agreed on leaving each other to their own devices. Rekkles has always respected it.
And now, because of that, he has no idea what's going on. He felt the sweet, overbearing smell from the corridor and since the door to the bathroom was ajar, he decided to check if everything is all right. It isn't. More precisely, Nemesis isn't.
He barely manages to catch the scrawny body sliding off towards the ground.
If being an alpha taught anything to the ADC, it's how to act faced with an unsuppressed heat. Rekkles's been there before. Many omegas, mainly female, have thrown themselves at him, probably in hopes of either forcing him into a relationship or blackmailing him. This smell is different though. It doesn't reek of desperation but of honey and walnuts. Sweetness with a pinch of bitterness. Rekkles shakes it off before it fogs his senses. He starts to inhale with the mouth. The scent of an omega's heat is still going to affect him as he is not mated at the moment, but it's going to be a slow process if he doesn't let go of his self-control. And, as far as Rekkles can remember, Nemesis is taken, so his smell shouldn't affect other alphas. At least not that much, since Rekkles can still feel a flame forcing its way down his abdomen.
He sends soothing pheromones Nemesis' way and can feel the boy relaxing in his arms. It's cute how pliant his body seems in the alpha's presence.
Rekkles vaguely remembers Nemesis being mated to LS, but after examining the midlaner for injuries he spots no mark. Instead, the omega's shoulder and whole side are dripping with water. Nemesis needs to have his clothes taken off and be put in a cozy nest. Rekkles knows that his excitement at the first part doesn't exactly come from the rational side of his brain.
He hugs the omega tight to his body with one arm and opens the bathroom window with another. Their combined smell is overflowing in the small room and Rekkles' thought process has already slowed down uncomfortably. Thinking feels like walking in mud during a rainy day.
Instinct tells him to mix in more possessive smells. He takes a whiff of fresh air and tries to resist the temptation.
Nemesis is as light as expected, Rekkles thinks as he lifts the boy up. He holds the omega close, maybe even unnecessary close, while carrying him to the room in the middle. He considers going to his own room, just next to Nemesis', but resists the idea. At least for now.
Rekkles kicks the door open and lays Nemesis on the bed. He can't help but brush away strands of hair clinging to the omega's forehead. The little midlaner's never looked so... vulnerable.
The thought of the machine without emotions, the man who loves his oneplus more than humans, the always composed and consistent player crumbling into a moaning, hot mess, needy under the alpha's touch breaks Rekkles.
He runs out of the room.
He needs to get Hylissang in there. The beta should be able to actually help without abusing the second gender dynamic.
Rekkles has nothing to do with Nemesis and would never think about him this way if it weren't for the heat.
Selfmade considers himself the best at knowing what's on Nemesis' mind. He is cheating a bit because he's an alpha and can smell the omega's moods, but it still took him more than a year of practice to associate tinges of fragrance with attitudes.
Right now he can smell anxiety. Distraught. Fear. And some other musky smell he knows but can't associate with anything concrete. The emotions flow freely through the streets of Berlin and Oskar is seething.
He left the gaming house only for a second, to buy ice cream so that he can eat them with Neme when his friend ends the call with LS. Since the midlaner seemed rather upset lately, Selfmade wanted to cheer him up a bit. Even though he'd prefer to hold the omega tight and tell him that it's alright and that he's going to protect him and that he's safe and that he's here for him and always will be and that he... buying ice cream is all he can do.
But now Nemesis' pheromones are strong enough to escape the apartment and reach Selfmade two streets away. The jungler dashes as soon as he smells the familiar scent. Something terrible must be happening and he's having none of it.
Even through his seemingly blind rage, when he reaches the building he smugly admits to himself he broke the record of speed with this sprint.
When he opens the door to Fnatic's shared apartment and the pheromones hit him with full force, he can't admit anything anymore. The rational side of his brain gets fogged and simply disconnects. The smell of honey and walnuts and saffron is much, much clearer now. The saffron. It makes his blood boil. It's not Nemesis' nor LS' smell. It belongs to Rekkles'. The fragrances are mixed.
He dashes into the corridor. Rekkles is standing there, in front of his room. Oskar doesn't need an explanation. He can smell it.
Before Rekkles even acknowledges the jungler's appearance, Selfmade rams him onto the door. It opens from the force. Rekkles lands on his side with a thud. Oskar wants to kick him nearly as much as he wants to see Neme, but the omega's safety comes first.
Selfmade can't spot Nemesis in Rekkles' room. He whiffs the air to localize the midlaner and blue-burning heat hits him as the smell permeates his lungs. He dashes off in the direction of the scent.
„STOP”, he hears a low, grumbling roar behind him and despite his intentions Selfmade stops. He's never heard Rekkles use an alpha-of-the-pack command before and he inadvertently shivers. He curses his legs for not letting him move, curses Fnatic for existing and tying him down like that, curses Rekkles for being the main alpha, even though he used to be called 'the most omega alpha in the European pro scene' and curses himself for ever idolizing and giving his full trust to the leader.
„WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM,” he accuses the other, who's struggling to pick himself up. They both know that the strength of the command depends on the mutual trust between the alphas of a pack so there's no time to explain.
The stunning effect immediately wears off. Selfmade rushes to Nemesis' side. The rage, concern and burning heat lead him to the midlaner's room. The last thing he sees before his brain completely blanks out in pure lust and desire to relieve the pain of the suffering omega is that Hylissang is standing next to the bed.
Statistically, most pro-play supports are betas. It's like the role is made for people who can clean up after the alpha-omega shenanigans. Hylissang is no different. He can't smell pheromones and can't be ordered around.
But even he stops in his tracks when he hears Martin yell the command.
He's not ready to move when Oskar storms into the room. The alpha pushes him aside like he isn't even a person and kneels next to Tim's bed. Hyli's never seen him so riled up, yet the jungler's expression changes drastically when he locks eyes with the omega. He looks hungry like he was fasting for his whole life and is ready to devour his first meal.
Hylissang quickly evaluates his chances of separating an alpha in a heat-induced rut from an omega as close to zero. He leaves the room to call for Bwipo's help. Even though the toplaner is on a date, the situation is dire. And since Bwipo is the only mated alpha in the FNC house, he seems like Hylissang's only real chance.
Nemesis wakes up from Rekkles' roar. His head is heavy, he feels groggy and hot and most importantly he can barely move. When Oskar enters the room, the omega still stays frozen from the power of the command, even though it wasn't directed at him nor was it his alpha. Through the mist blanketing his mind a strange and frightening realization that he's now alphaless reaches him. A voice in his head tells him to watch out.
Oskar kneels next to his side and looks at him exactly in the way Nick does.
Nick.
Nemesis feels every cell of his being burning with need. The mark just faded away and his body is ready to accept another.
Except Nick isn't here. Instead, Nemesis is eyed by another alpha, his best friend and long time companion. He'd had a crush on Oskar for about a year before moving on and he must admit that the sight of the jungler in a haze does things to him. He mewls quietly and Oskar immediately catches the drift.
A sharp and possessive smell of fennel or licorice settles on Nemesis, rendering him completely unable to think straight.
It's different from the soothing smell already permeating the room and different from the faint smell of Nick's shirt Hylissang provided the nest with. The voice in Nemesis' mind screams at him the whole time but he doesn't care anymore. He needs to feel hands on his body, lips on his lips and a hard dick penetrating his slick hole.
„Oskar...” he moans breathily after the alpha's fingers leave burning tracks on his naked torso. Hylissang yells on the corridor, Rekkles enters the room and Oskar growls but Nemesis can't concentrate enough to understand what's going on so instead he demands, „more.”
Rekkles' limbs weight 100 kg each. He tries to follow Selfmade, to stop him from getting to Nemesis but it's like trying to deadlift for the first time in your life. What am I even doing, he asks himself bemusedly. Nemesis is not his. He has no right to shield him from anyone. If anything, he should shield the omega from himself.
He backs towards his own room again, breathing erratically through his mouth.
„Martin!” Hylissang calls his name pleadingly from the door to Nemesis' room like he'd like to believe the alpha is still in any control of himself.
Rekkles must look wrecked. He's sticky from sweat, an erection sits tight against his pants and he's forcefully clenching his nose.
„What?” he asks stupidly.
„Martin,” Hyli repeats the name to make sure he has the alpha's attention. „Bwipo is not answering my calls. I haven't given Nemesis any suppressants because he... I think he doesn't have any. I can't stop Oskar myself,” he looks at Rekkles as if he expects something from him, but the ADC is too hazed over to understand.
„And?”
„Martin. You have to stop Oskar,” Hyli explains impatiently.
„I have to?” Rekkles ponders, feeling like he's still missing something. „Why?”
„Martin! One of your teammates is going to rape another and you ask 'why'? Think about what they are going to feel after the heat wears off! Tim has a boyfriend!”
„It's not my problem,” Rekkles spews out, suddenly feeling very, very tired.
„Martin, for the love of God! I don't care what you think, get in there and stop him!” Hyli yells furiously and pushes Rekkles towards the room. „Your pheromones are in there too, do you want to be accused of rape?”
It clicks. Rekkles reluctantly enters the room and a mix of smells he can't give into brings tears to his eyes. Selfmade welcomes him with a guttural growl. His eyes pierce Rekkles like wild animal's, ready to pounce in self-defense.
„More,” Nemesis moans from the bed and Rekkles regrets ever listening to Hylissang.
But it's too late to back off as Oskar throws himself at Rekkles. He's red with rage and arousal and ready to fight for the omega. Rekkles barely sidesteps him. Oskar lands on the floor with a thud so loud the neighbors probably think somebody just knocked over a piece of furniture.
„Oskar, listen...” Rekkles tries but realizes he won't reach Selfmade with words when the jungler charges in again.
Rekkles takes a low stance and extends his arms defensively in front to stop the charge, but the sheer force of the attack pushes him against the wall. He can't help but exhale and has to take a breath, this time taking in the sense-numbing air. It's pleasantly pursuing his whole being on a quest to kill the last boss – the willpower. Rekkles' head is spinning.
He clenches Selfmade's head between his arms and before the other alpha can react he connects a knee to the face.
„No!” Nemesis shrieks in terror, his bitter walnut smell swirling around the room. He resembles a helpless deer peeking at hunters from bushes. Rekkles can't help but want to defend him from the other alpha. Defend him, then take him away, close away from the outside world and never let him suffer again. He'd answer his every whim. Let him indulge in constant pleasure until he can't take it anymore.
Selfmade squirms in Rekkles' arms. He manages to break loose from the grab but falls to the ground dizzily. Blood is trickling from his nose. He's panting heavily, trying not to gag on his own fluids.
„Oskar!” Rekkles roars, praying that the shock brung the jungler back to his senses. If it takes any longer, he'll enter a rut too. Then they'll fight without any limits. The victorious one takes the prize. Rekkles is ready to win. The last straws of his sanity start to tear.
„You fucker,” Selfmade articulates with difficulty, hiding his face in his hands.
„We must get him out of here,” Hylissang materializes in the room and kneels next to Oskar, frowning at the sight of blood. „Isn't this an overkill?” he asks and Rekkles wonders what the hell did he want him to do in the first place.
He leans to lift Selfmade up as he did with Nemesis earlier, but the jungler swats away one of the hands and grabs the other. He pulls on it and leverages himself to an upright position. He gazes at Rekkles with half-lidded eyes. Their color is so cold the blonde involuntarily shivers.
„I can walk myself,” Selfmade hisses and turns toward the door.
Rekkles feels all of his strength leaving him. He passes Selfmade and runs out to the bathroom. He hears the other alpha saying something behind him but he can't identify any words anymore. He secludes himself under a cold stream of water as the last straw breaks.
Oskar awakens to a nightmare.
His nose hurts. Maybe it's broken.
His heart hurts. It's definitely broken.
He can't believe himself. He lost control. He nearly destroyed the very thing he tried to protect. The very person he cared for more than for anyone else.
His mind is still muddy, the pheromones still permeate the air, but he can't smell them anymore.
When he's at a doorstep he turns to look at Nemesis one last time. Neme looks back at him with eyes wide open in shock and silent plea.
„I love you. I'm sorry,” Selfmade says.
Before Nemesis can react the jungler is out of the room. Normally, Selfmade would be able to sense his mood anyway by the tinges of smell changing the atmosphere, but he can't smell them through the blood.
Now he can assess Neme's mood only by hearing.
And he hears a prolonging, blood-curdling scream. He covers his ears, but there is no way to hide from the piercing sound.
Nemesis' scream doesn't fade away for the rest of the day.
Selfmade finds Rekkles alone in his room completely drenched, sitting in wet clothes in the middle of the bed. The wet Fnatic jersey clings to his body, revealing muscles underneath. When the jungler opens the door, the ADC's eyes shift towards him in a silent threat not to approach any further. He looks tired and done, but still wary.
„It's okay, I'm not here to fight,” Selfmade exclaims and moves closer. Without any word, Rekkles lets him sit next to himself. They both sit there for a minute, neither interrupting the scream coming from behind the wall. „I'm sorry,” Selfmade whispers under his breath, not sure if Rekkles even understands him. But Rekkles' muscles relax and he scoots closer. His sharp breath is tickling Selfmade's ear.
„Take me,” Rekkles whispers so quietly Selfmade is not sure if he heard right. He turns to the other alpha and catches him looking so sad that he's sure that he could drown in the sadness.
And he does.
Selfmade has never been with an alpha before, but he's sure Rekkles has. The strong body seems to melt under the first touch. Their mixed pheromones fill the air in a weird, sour blend, as they kiss precariously, the clicking of their teeth and sucking being the only sounds offering them a sour distraction from reality.
They break for air which is still full of Nemesis. It still intoxicates their senses as they try to cope with not being able to have him.
Rekkles takes off their shirts, though Selfmade silently wishes he'd left the wet one on. He pushes Rekkles down onto the bed and grabs his wrists with one hand, leading the strong arms to rest pinned above the head.
“I love him,” Selfmade says absently. Rekkles doesn't answer with 'me too', even though the words burn the end of his mouth.
They take their time to get used to each other as Selfmade explores Rekkles' upper body, first by hand and then by the tongue, leaving a path of saliva and blood. He feels powerful getting to top another alpha, and doesn't allow Rekkles to squirm out his wrists. Even though Martin could probably do it with ease, he plays into the fantasy and moans when Selfmade forcefully pins his hands. It gets Oskar more worked up than he'd admit, but his pheromones run freely.
“Mo- please...” Rekkles begs and Selfmade lets out a low groan. Even though he corrected himself from using the same expression they both heard from Nemesis, the damage is already done.
Oskar slaps his free hand against Martin's thigh and pulls down his pants and boxers. He needs a little help with that as they are wet with both water and precome and cling to Rekkles' legs. When they manage to completely expose Martin before the other alpha, Oskar returns to his position between Rekkles' knees
“Look at you. You're an alpha, yet you act like an omega in heat,” he teases, thinking about the omega in heat. “Would you like it if I marked you?”
“Yes, mark me,” Rekkles rasps and gives Selfmade access to the scent gland on the left side of his neck. Oskar's breath hitches and he automatically releases the possessive, marking scent, even though he can't make Martin his. He can't make anyone his.
He bites down at the tense gland and Rekkles jumps up uncontrollably, nearly knocking Selfmade off of himself, but he holds Martin down by the hands with the weight of his body.
“Shhh,” Selfmade shushes and closes his eyes. “It's alright,” he purrs. “I'm going to protect you. You're safe. I'm here for you and always will be. I love you,” he whispers while Nemesis' voice echoes in the distance.
“Me too,” this time Rekkles knows it's a lie and lets it settle between them along with a loving scent.
When Selfmade finally reaches down, Rekkles clenches his legs behind the other with anticipation. He opens eyes to a questioning stare and nods, reassuring that it's all right and giving his consent. He tells Oskar to take lube from the nightstand and doesn't move when he searches through the abundance of stuff. He lets him choose the one.
Selfmade pulls out the honey-flavored lube.
The last garments meet the floor. Oskar leads Martin to lift his ass a bit so he has better access. There is no slick and Rekkles jolts at the contact with a lube-covered finger. Selfmade licks the flushed scent gland reassuringly.
“Go harder,” Martin demands and Oskar complies, pushing in another finger. It's not enough and Rekkles desperately arches his back. He takes three fingers in like he does it every other day.
Selfmade thinks it might be the case, but doesn't ask. Tonight Rekkles belongs to him. Their lips gently brush together.
He takes the fingers out and tries to sink in his cock slowly, but Rekkles' hole engulfs him whole in one go. Oskar can't bite back a moan in time, which is met by a smug smirk from below. He can't let this one go and ghosts Rekkles' earlobe with a breath before tugging on it with teeth and growling:
“Are you having fun, hmm?”
When Martin tries to answer, Oskar starts to move, changing the unspoken words into a wanton whimper. They both know the real answer anyway.
Selfmade sets a steady pace of thrusts, closes his eyes and whispers sweet nothings between licks to the mark. Rekkles tries to concentrate on what his body is feeling instead of sniffing the air. He smears a drop of blood from Selfmade's face on his finger and licks it. The taste is metallic and awful. He closes his eyes too, listening to how well his 'lover' would treat him if he were born an omega.
“Fuck,” Rekkles curses the fact that he was born an alpha out loud, but Selfmade mistakes it for another desperate groan. The thrusts become more erratic but he pulls out before a knot can fully lock them.
Rekkles would let him come inside if he asked. Selfmade is needlessly soft to someone he doesn't even care about, despite all his uttered words.
Oskar sloppily joins their dicks together. It's the first time Martin's erection gets any focus this night and his brain short-circuits for a moment. He can't bite back a visceral moan in time and is met with a smug smirk from above. He smirks too and deliberately moans again. He can feel Oskar's cock swelling.
“Ah, yes, oh God,” Selfmade cries out in ecstasy, comes all over Rekkles' chest and collapses to his side. As he sees white behind closed eyes, Rekkles caresses his hair in a sudden spur of affection. Similar circumstances really do bring people together, if only for a night.
Rekkles grabs his own cock with one hand with well-trained precision, the other touching the flushed scent gland. He needs only a few more strokes to release.
They both lie on a bed wet from water, cum and blood and try not to hear.
Nemesis' scream won't fade away from their memories for the rest of their lives.