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John's in a bad mood.
And Arthur could take the time to ponder on why or what caused it but he doesn't particularly care to.
Maybe he doesn't go out of his way to tease the younger man like usual, or pester him about following him around-
He's not even sure if John's aware of it.
Too often to be coincidental, though, when Arthur looks up from one chore or another and John's nearby working on his own duties.
He isn't entirely surprised when John joins him by the fire but…
The younger man still has an air of anger around him, and no one else seems to want to dare anger the young Alpha further.
"Hey," Arthur greets quietly and John's eyes snap to him, wide.
It's an olive branch, but Arthur's not sure if John even wants it.
"... Hey," John says and his voice is low and hoarse.
Arthur studies him for a moment then goes back to sketching in his journal.
"You wanna talk?"
"What?" John asks and his nose wrinkles in confusion, "What 'bout?"
"Way you been actin' lately, like you're at the end of your leash just waitin' for someone to stray too close."
"... I ain't leashed," John mutters darkly and Arthur sighs, dropping his pencil to rub at his face.
"Didn't mean it like that, Johnny, you just seem… Mad."
"... You're heatin', soon," John says under his breath, lowering his voice like he's trying to afford Arthur some privacy even if there's no such thing in this life.
It's cute, though, warms Arthur just a bit.
"... So you're scarin' everyone off for me?" Arthur asks wryly, "My own personal guard dog?"
"... I don't-" John makes a rough sound and shifts his legs, frowning heavily at the fire, "I don't know."
Arthur tilts his head in question and John glances at him, then down.
And even in the dim lighting Arthur sees John's cheeks pinking.
"Sorry," John says quietly, "Not tryna be a pushy Alpha or nothin'... Feel wrong when I'm not with you, get angry when I realize I've done it again."
"Done what?"
"Trailed you," John mutters, "Found a job to do just to stay close to you."
"... You can smell me?" Arthur leans in a bit, folding his legs and frowning, "Shouldn't be close 'nough for that. Still a month off."
"A bit but you… You smell different, yeah? When you get close, sweeter, fattier," John says then presses his lips together, realizing how that's a strange way to describe an Omega's scent, "Y'know… Richer, like cream."
"... Like cream."
John sighs roughly and crosses his arms and turns his face away and Arthur's eyes are drawn to John's neck.
The gnarled scar there.
"You act different, too, carry yourself different… Lil' smaller and quieter," John says slowly, "It's real different from your normal, so I notice."
"Hm."
"Sorry."
"I ain't mad… Kinda nice," Arthur jokes, "No one botherin' me for nothin'."
"... Am I botherin' you?" John asks and it's a raw question.
An honest concern.
"... If you had to guess, how close do you think I am?"
John flusters and clears his throat, slowly turning his head to look at Arthur.
Arthur's neck.
"Can I-?" John whispers, gesturing between himself and the older man's neck.
"Go 'head."
John shifts a little closer and leans in, breathing in deeply as his long hair tickles Arthur's collarbone.
The younger man leans back stiffly and rubs at his nose roughly.
"Close… Couple days, at the most."
Arthur frowns in confusion and tries to really focus on how he feels but he doesn't feel heated in the slightest.
No urge to nest or be knotted anywhere to be felt.
"Think your sniffers broke," Arthur says slowly.
John doesn't meet his eyes, just shrugs.
--
Arthur's riding alongside John two days later when a breeze blows sideways and John's head suddenly snaps to look at him.
Arthur watches him cautiously.
"What?"
"You're close," John says then shifts and looks at Arthur urgently, "I know you don't believe me, but I ain't pullin' your leg or nothin', Arthur, I swear."
"... How close?"
"Hours," John says and shifts in his saddle, "You gotta get off the path."
"Hm."
"Serious, Art," John says weakly, "Please? Let's break off n' make camp, you can blame me, tell Dutch I got sick or somethin' and couldn't ride, please."
It's the willingness to face Dutch's wrath over a lost job that settles a nervousness in Arthur.
He's never seen the younger man quite so concerned.
"Alright," Arthur sighs and wipes the sweat off his brow, adjusting his hat, "But if I don't heat tonight we're goin' on."
--
John's taken post several yards away from him, whittling silently at the third stick in a row, needing to keep his hands busy.
Arthur watches him because he feels too restless to distract himself.
John's set up their tent with the promise that if Arthur heats, it'll be Arthur's tent, not theirs.
And he's grateful of all of them he's stuck with John, when his gut starts burning and he gets real cold despite the pleasant evening weather.
John's brows furrow when Arthur shifts, still flaking off slivers of wood until he stills.
Staring at the ground, then Arthur.
"I wanna know how you knew I was heatin' off cycle," Arthur mutters darkly and rubs at his stomach.
"I… I told you you smell different, you act different."
"No one else noticed."
"Oh, like all those Alphas ain't dull as dirt."
"Not you, though, huh?"
"... I don't know, Arthur," John says slowly.
"Hell… I don't know either," Arthur huffs and stands, looking around them then at John, "You gon' sit out here n' keep me safe?"
"Yeah," John mumbles, "'Course."
"Hm."
"I won't bother you none, I swear," John whispers.
"I ain't worried about that," Arthur says softly then grimaces when his gut cramps and he starts feeling warm.
John's eyes drop to his hands, the knife, the stick, but they're still.
"Can you get some water?" Arthur asks, nodding in the direction of the creek, "In a couple hours, bring it to me?"
"Yessir."
Arthur's head cocks curiously at that response, given that John rarely calls him Sir.
It seeds something like longing in his gut, an Alpha calling him sir while he's in heat.
"Thanks," Arthur says quietly then slips into the tent.
--
There's no privacy in this life, but especially now.
John moves as far away from the tent as he dares, rifle by his side as he sits against a tree trunk in the dark.
Firelight not quite strong enough to reach him here, but he can still see the tent, illuminated, golden.
Beckoning.
John grimaces and shifts and yanks at his trousers that are pulled too tight over his hard cock.
He can smell Arthur, smell that rich, sweet, creamy heat and he wants nothing more to taste it, drown in it.
And he can hear Arthur.
Muffled whines and breathy groans and the occasional shifting of fabric and flesh and John's resolutely not picturing what he thinks Arthur's doing behind the canvas.
He's grabbed more sticks, a couple of thicker ones, starts carving out some simple shapes to pass the time.
When it feels like three or so hours have passed he circles widely around the tent with his rifle, looking for any sign of anything that could hurt Arthur.
Then he hurries to the creek and fills both their canteens, bringing them back and hesitating.
Setting down the rifle and moving closer to the tent, quietly knocking on the main post.
"Arthur…" John says and his voice is thick, "Water?"
"Fuck," He hears Arthur whisper then shuffling and shifting then the older man clearing his throat, "Come in."
John blinks dumbly at the canvas then swallows, switches to breathing through his mouth and shifts the canvas out of the way, ducking inside.
Arthur's sitting up, flushed, chest heaving, blanket drawn up to waist.
And he stares at John with wild, bright eyes and John swallows thickly again, crouches and sets down both canteens.
"... You alright?" John whispers.
"This is… The worst, ever," Arthur says hoarsely, "Can't do anythin' that eases it."
John fidgets with the canteens for a moment then nudges one towards Arthur.
Who sits forward and grabs it, opening it and sipping slowly.
And John pointedly doesn't scent the air, despite how much he wants to smell Arthur up close and how much his cock is aching against the folds of his pants and-
"Can smell you," Arthur says quietly.
"Sorry," John chokes out and stumbles back a bit, trying to pick himself up and get out, "Not tryin'- Sorry."
"Stay," Arthur whispers and John falls back on his ass, staring with wide eyes at the older man.
Breathing in sharply then groaning softly and covering his mouth and nose.
"Fuck, Art-" John says shakily and closes his eyes tightly.
"... Know it's a big ask," Arthur murmurs and rubs at his burning face, not meeting John's eyes, "Dunno how long this will last, or how long it'll hurt… If I don't… If I ain't knotted."
"... Christ," John whispers.
"As I see it my options are you or we ride into town and I try n' find-"
"No," John says quickly and drops his hand, staring at Arthur, "I can do it."
"... I wasn't sayin' you couldn't, but if you don't want-"
"I do," John whispers, "Please let me help you."
Arthur blinks at him for a moment then gestures him closer and John slowly shuffles to kneel at Arthur's side.
"Have you-?" Arthur whispers.
"Yeah… Have you?"
"Mm. Not in a while."
"Do you think it'd help if I…" John trails off for a moment and cautiously settles one hand on Arthur's thigh through the blanket, "Or do you… Do you need my knot?"
John asks it more conversationally, concerned, not teasing or mocking but Arthur inhales sharply and lifts his leg into the touch.
"Knot," Arthur says thickly.
"Fuckin' hell, Arthur," John whispers and rubs at his mouth then gestures at Arthur's neck, squeezing the older man's thigh, "You want me to scent you?"
"You wanna scent me?" Arthur counters, teasing, trying to hold some sense of control here.
John nods roughly, looking at him with something akin to admiration and love and Arthur shivers.
Shifts with John until he's laying down.
John presses against his back and noses at his claiming spot and Arthur whines softly, the sound escaping him before he can even think to try and stop it.
"Wanna taste you," John whispers, "You smell so good."
"Fatty?" Arthur asks wryly and John grunts, embarrassed.
"You smell thick and rich and like one of them pricey desserts, expensive things where half the weight is butter," John whispers, "I know it sounds stupid but Jesus, Arthur, you smell like a sin. Like gluttony."
Arthur stares at the canvas and feels himself leaking again, more than before, slick flooding his slit and dripping down the back of his thigh.
"Fuck," John whispers, "Yeah, like that."
Then noses at Arthur's claiming spot and the older man closes his eyes, slipping one hand down under the blanket, between his thighs, fingertips catching on either side of his cock and rubbing it.
John growls softly into his hair and Arthur shivers again, tilting his head to expose more of his neck and John's lips are on him, kissing at the aching spot and tender surrounding skin and honestly?
He never imagined John would be sweet like this, loving.
John's hips press against him briefly then pull away.
Then John pulls away and Arthur makes a weak sound of protest.
John crawls over him and nudges him onto his back and kneels between his legs.
The blanket bunched up over his hips, covering his fingers moving over himself.
"Can I?" John asks hoarsely.
"What?"
"Taste you?" John whispers, settling one hand on Arthur's knee, squeezing, "Get my mouth on you?"
Arthur makes a low sound of want and nods, shifting the blanket and shoving at it until he's fully bare under John.
And John seems to notice the weighted difference in their state of clothedness, shoving off his suspenders and haphazardly yanking off his shirts, undoing his trousers and groaning softly in relief as the pressure on his cock is lessened.
He struggles out of the pants then lays down between Arthur's thighs, pressing them open.
Holding them down with his elbows then moving his thumbs to part Arthur's slit, looking up at the older man as he leans in.
Drags his tongue through the slick and groans loudly, growls and whines and his hips rock against the bedroll and Arthur breathes out shakily as John starts to suck and lap at him like he's devouring Arthur.
Consuming him.
Tongue playing over the older man’s cock and dipping into his hole as John makes small sounds of pleasure, muffled against him.
"John-" Arthur gasps, "Please."
And two, then three, then four of John's fingers are inside of him, fucking into him and stretching him, thumb nudging at his cock as John continues to lick around his leaking hole.
Arthur's thighs try to lift, close around the stimulation as he comes, hips rocking up against John's face and John whines, a needy, wanting sound.
"Fuck- Ah- John-" Arthur grits his teeth and clenches around the fingers as more slick floods out of him, "Knot- Please?"
John lifts up and wipes off his face then shoves off his drawers, crawling over Arthur and staring down at the older man.
"Do you…" John's voice is thicker and hoarse and low and Arthur presses his legs against John's hips, "You wanna be here or…?"
"What?" Arthur asks shakily.
"Position, Art, this good or you want… Somethin' else?"
"Oh…" Arthur whispers and thinks about for a moment then squirms, shifting under John and turning onto his belly, keeping his face pressed to the bedroll and lifting his hips up.
"Jesus," John says weakly and his hands are on Arthur's hips, squeezing and rubbing and his cock presses against Arthur's slit.
Arthur rocks back eagerly and is rewarded with a small whine, John's cock popping inside.
Arthur groans and folds his arms to hide his face as John's cock slides into him.
Pulls out, slides in.
John grips his hips tightly and starts fucking into him, rutting, really.
Hard, deep thrusts with John's balls hitting his slit and Arthur arches his back as much as he can, begging muffled by his arms.
One of John's hands slides around and grazes his belly, then moves down, into his slit, playing with the older man's cock as thrusts.
"Johnny- Johnny-" Arthur murmurs and rocks his hips between the two stimulations, voice going quieter, "Alpha-"
"Fuck," John whispers and stills, deep inside Arthur, growling softly as he leans over Arthur's back, pressing down on the older man, "Yeah? Am I your Alpha, Art?"
Arthur shudders under him and clenches around him and John rocks his hips harder, slower, firmer, making quiet, growling noises each time he bottoms out.
"Alpha," Arthur says again 'cause he likes the way John presses down on him harder, squeezes his hips more firmly.
He can feel John's knot starting to grow, swell, catching at the rim of his hole, popping in and out with every thrust.
John fucks him faster, thrusts becoming more erratic and he presses his cheek to Arthur's claiming spot like he might bite and Arthur just whines for it.
"Shit," John whispers, "Arthur… Love you- Love you- Ah-"
And John's hips still, knot locking inside Arthur, fingers still rubbing alongside the older man's cock and Arthur comes again with a shaky sound, clenching around the knot.
He feels John's cock jerking inside him, pulsing, filling him with his Alpha's seed and Arthur collapses.
John carefully extracts his arm and holds himself up just above Arthur.
"Lay down," Arthur mutters and John makes a weak, embarrassed sound but slowly lowers himself to lay on top of Arthur's back.
Fidgety, nervous, now and Arthur swallows roughly.
John's hands tentatively move in front of Arthur’s face, then hesitate and retreat.
And John's eerily quiet, keeping his weight half off Arthur with his knees outside the older man's thighs.
"Sorry," John says after a long stretch of silence and Arthur makes a quiet, questioning sound, "Didn't mean to say that.
"... Didn't mean it or didn't mean to let me know?" Arthur murmurs.
"The second one," John says weakly.
"Hm."
"Sorry," John says again and he sounds a bit scared, like Arthur might be mad at him for it.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why are you sorry?"
"... You don't like Alphas who like you," John says slowly and Arthur makes a confused sound, so John exhales shakily, "You… Whenever an Alpha acts interested in you, you turn 'em down, push 'em away, or threaten 'em or… Just… Hate them."
"... Not that simple," Arthur says slowly.
"I know you've liked… Some Alphas, Mary n' them," John whispers, "But in the last couple years you don't… You don't let any of 'em near."
"Except you," Arthur says pointedly, hoping it'll pierce John's thick skull and he won't have to say it outright.
"That's only when you need somethin' from me or- Or feel tolerable of me or-" John shifts and makes a small noise, knot grinding deeper inside Arthur and the older man makes an involuntary sound of pleasure, "Sorry."
"John…" Arthur says quietly, "It's not as simple as all that, I promise."
"I don't know what you mean by that," John whispers, "What's not simple?"
"I let you knot me," Arthur says roughly, "You're the first Alpha I've- In years, Johnny. Y'know what I was thinkin' when you were fuckin' me, at the end?"
"... What?"
"That I'd let you bite me, claim me, fill me with fuckin' pups and turn me into your bitch."
John inhales shakily behind him and sits up a bit.
"I don't want that," John says hoarsely, "I love you."
"If you love me don't you want that?" Arthur mutters, "Wanna be my Alpha?"
"I don't wanna own you… I wanna serve you," John whispers and Arthur stares at the bedroll then twists his upper body to see John avoiding his eyes, face cherry-pink and hands fretting over Arthur's hips adjusting himself so his knot won't tug at Arthur uncomfortably, "I don't wanna make you… Different, or be all growly and possessive and…"
"You love me," Arthur says, half realization, half accusation, and John just nods, staring sadly down at his hands on Arthur's hips.
"You… Don't have to do anythin' with that, y'know," John says weakly, "If you wanna act like this never… When we get back, I won't… Tell."
"That's cute but they'll smell you on me," Arthur mutters, "N' the other way 'round."
"We could pick up scent suppressants and-"
"John," Arthur says firmly, "I don't want to, alright? It's fine. I don't wanna lie to no one."
"Dutch is gonna be mad."
Arthur huffs then gasps softly when John’s cock starts slipping out, knot deflating.
He feels come and slick leaking out of him and squirms to squeeze his legs shut.
John shifts off of him and moves to sit next to Arthur, uncertain of what to do now.
Arthur slowly rolls onto his back and makes a weak sound pressing in on his lower belly while John stares.
"... You didn't take nothin', did you?" John whispers, "'Cause it was early."
"I know," Arthur mutters, "S'fine."
"We should clean you up sooner than-"
"It's fine," Arthur says again, weakly.
"... Oh."
"A lot," Arthur murmurs, "You came a lot."
John flusters and shifts.
"Didn't… I haven't- You smelled so good but it felt wrong to… To jack off to that."
"Hm."
"You know what I mean-"
"I know you love me," Arthur says frankly and John stops breathing, "Don't wanna do wrong by me."
"... Yeah."
"If… If I let this take," Arthur asks quietly, gesturing at his belly, "If I didn't take anythin', would you help? Would you claim me?"
"... I don't think you should," John says weakly, "... Not now, at least, not in this life."
"But you would."
"... Maybe."
"If you were anyone else I'd think you were a piece of shit for that, y'know?" Arthur mutters harshly.
"I… I'm sorry."
Arthur sighs and rubs his face roughly, frowning at the ceiling of the tent, then John, who still won't look at him, holding his legs to his chest now, looking small.
"I'm not mad, alright, I promise," Arthur murmurs and holds his arm out to John, "Lay down."
"Do you want me to get-"
"John, lay down, please," Arthur closes his eyes and wags his hand, inviting, "Too tired."
John sets his hand in Arthur's and let's the older man pull him down.
Shifting so that he’s pressed along Arthur’s side, tentatively curling an arm around Arthur’s waist.