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Thrain is lost to the instincts of his rut.
Heat has long since burned his brain until all that is left is pure instinct. Agitation courses through him, rut turning him into a restless beast trapped within the confines of his mind. It is a cage of his own making — men like Thrain, who have suppressed their bestial nature to this point, can only prevent harm to others by isolating themselves when they inevitably falter. It is a blessing that, as the captain of the Tsaritsa’s knights, none would dare to disobey his direct order to stay away while he was in rut. And at least, he thinks as he shed his clothes off his body, no one can witness him behaving so undignified.
It’s impossible to ignore the hardness of his cock, desire stirring within his guts. Even after rutting into his hand for hours since the heat consumed him, his length remains hard and desperate, aching to slide into a warm body. He grunts as another orgasm wracks through him, unsatisfying as all the ones before. There is no dignity in rut-sickness for an alpha, so Thrain resigns himself to sleeping in the soaked sheets of his bed.
Sleep evades him however, all his senses attuned to every shadow, every leaf that stirs outside his den. There is danger there, danger that is as real as dreams, and Thrain is helpless but to wait for this unending tension to pass. He rests between moments of fitfulness and burning desire, a chained beast ready to bite and fuck.
The opportunity comes with a trace of summer’s warmth — the scent of sun-warmed wheat and fresh basil that stirs him to wakefulness. It is faint, so faint that he almost misses it. The moment he scents it however, Thrain’s body moves without a thought.
It could have been a trap. None should have entered his territory, all those beneath his command aware of the consequences of such trespass. That leaves only enemies who would dare to disturb him, ignorant of his condition — or perhaps, arrogant enough to believe it would be enough to compromise him.
It matters not anymore. Not to the beast who hungers to taste the one who tempts him so. It takes only the breath between waking and scenting that alluring fragrance for Thrain to lunge forward and grasp the body hovering above him. Dimly, he registers the glint of steel and knows it must be an enemy he faces. The servant’s garb draped over the intruder’s body does not fool him.
It’s easy to disarm the man, easier still to push him down onto the bed and trap him beneath the weight of his own body. Thrain shudders, bare skin finally feeling the warmth of another. He realises the one below him is too slight, the gasp he hears too sweet-sounding to come from a hardened warrior. Barely a man, still just a boy, slim and soft and breakable beneath Thrain. He relishes in the way their bodies seem to fit together, the boy pressed perfectly against the hard edges of his body, his heat radiating through layers of fabric.
It’s not enough. The boy is so covered up that no part of his skin is visible, and Thrain glowers at the scarf covering his neck. Impatient, he sits up, still pinning the boy beneath him with his legs, and tears the robes off. He pauses, his gaze raking over the skin-tight clothes hidden beneath.
It’s form-fitting — indecently so. Were he not already consumed by the fires of lust, Thrain fears this would have been his undoing. As he is, the sight only serves to make his mouth go dry, his heart pounding within his chest. His gaze wanders up, from the garter around firm thighs, higher up to the slim waist emphasised by the tight coat hugging his body, and then higher still to see—
A beauty, eyes wide and gorgeous in pink and blue hues. Red flushes soft cheeks, traces of youth still present in the face of a boy on the cusp of adulthood. His body is still and pliant, a dazed creature stunned in his grip. Thrain freezes as the man beneath him stares up at him, lips parted in surprise, and he wonders faintly if this was the plan along — for his enemies to undo him with a man so beautiful that he would not be able to resist him.
The beauty blinks and, subconsciously perhaps, tilts his head up. The movement draws Thrain’s gaze to the peek of bare skin, his throat bared before his eyes, and that’s what snaps him out of his reverie. A growl rips out from his throat, his rut making itself known again as desire slams into him like a punch to the gut.
When Thrain shreds the clothes off the beautiful boy’s body, he doesn’t move. When Thrain presses his body down onto his, he doesn’t move. When Thrain ruts his cock between boy’s legs and his knot starts to form again, he doesn’t move.
It’s only when Thrain noses at the vulnerable nape that the boy finally act — only to bare his neck fully to Thrain.
“I—“ The beauty tries to speak, words faltering as Thrain licks at the flushed patch of skin. A weak whine spills out, and his voice is sin given sound. “I’m not an omega, y-you can’t bond with me.”
Thrain growls, but the boy isn’t lying. The faint scent of basil ground with dried wheat is too faint to be that of an omega’s, the gland on his neck too indistinct. If Thrain were within his right mind, he would wonder how it could be possible for a beta to have such an alluring scent. The thought slips away however, intangible as smoke and all that remains is damning lust.
His response to the boy’s words is to simply grind his cock harder against him, grunting as he finally spills. Instinct drives him to wedge the tip of his length against the plush ass, his spend painting the soft tight of muscle. The boy whines louder but doesn’t do more than wriggle, going limp when Thrain growls at him in warning. He releases enough to drench the boy in his scent, coating tan skin with milky white. Thrain imagines, for a moment, spilling deep inside the boy and seeing him round with his seed, and it’s enough to coax another spurt of cum from him. The thought stirs him to act and he reaches down to prod the boy’s hole, coating his fingers with his spend before firmly pushing them inside.
“What are you— wait,” the beauty says, confusion turning into shock as Thrain pushes another finger in and spreads them, stretching the tight hole open with single-minded focus. The clutch of him is addictive. Thrain can’t bring himself to stop, his cock growing hard again as desire continues to scorch through his blood. It’s then, hearing the beautiful boy’s voice whimper with each move, that he forces himself to speak.
“Name.”
“Huh?”
Thrain growls, shoving his fingers in deeper in frustration. His brain is sluggish, slow, unable to verbalise the thoughts swirling in his head over the sound of his instincts screaming at him to bite-claim-mark. He gentles his movements when the boy yelps, but it takes everything in him to make the words come out.
“What… is your name?”
The beauty shakes his head, breath hitching when Thrain slides a third finger inside him. He doesn’t stop Thrain from nuzzling at his neck, scenting him desperately and nipping at his skin until his marks cover the tanned surface. All he does is warble out, “I can’t, ngh, I shouldn’t tell you.”
“Tell me,” Thrain insists, punctuating the command with a harsh bite right over his nape, dangerously close to his scent gland. Even if he’s a beta, even if it may not leave a permanent mark, Thrain wants to bind the beautiful boy to him. Whether it is simply the rut sickness demanding him to bite and fuck the nearest warm body, or a rare demand of his heart, he cannot bear to let the boy beneath him go.
How can I make him stay?
Despite wanting nothing more than to shove his cock deep into the beauty, he focuses on bringing pleasure to him first. If he can convince him that Thrain will be a good mate for him, then perhaps he won’t ever want to leave. He fucks the boy harder, shoving his fingers deep and spreading them. Thrain can’t help using his own seed to smooth the passage, rubbing against the inner walls until the muscles go pliant and soft. A deep purr rumbles through him, satisfied at marking the boy with his scent inside of him. The warm stretch of his hole feels too inviting to resist, and Thrain doesn’t realise how long he’s been distracted by fucking the boy until he hears his voice cry out.
“Hahhh! Hold on, wait,” he’s blabbering, the sound of it making his cock throb. “I, my name, it’s, mm!”
“Tell me.” With one last thrust, his fingers curving to press against that sensitive spot, Thrain finally makes the boy break.
“O-Ororon!” His voice, his name, is sung so sweetly that Thrain aches with need to hear him sing like that again. “Please, please, I want to, let me—“
“Beautiful.” He says, heart bleeding at the whine Ororon lets out in response. “Mine.”
Ororon shudders at that, his orgasm shaking through his body at the praise, eyes dazed and cock going soft between them, his release coating their stomachs. When Thrain slips his fingers out of Ororon, his lips part prettily, the peek of his fangs obscene and tantalising. Thrain can’t hear anything over the sound of his heart pumping blood through his veins. Desperate, needy in a way that he’s never felt before, he finally presses his cock back to the now pliant and soft hole. He stares down at the beauty laid beneath him and feels the plea tumble out of his heart.
“Ororon… stay.”
The boy’s breathing hitches. Lowering his head down to nuzzle again at his flushed scent gland, Thrain purrs and pushes into Ororon firmly.
“Stay.”
He’s enveloped in obliterating heat. His vision goes white, muscles tensed as his cock sinks deeper into Ororon. He can feel every clench, every tremble that runs through Ororon’s body, and Thrain has to stop himself from immediately releasing. He can feel his knot already forming just from entering the tight hole.
“Ah—!” Ororon throws his head back when Thrain forces the rest of his length into him, not stopping until he’s fully seated inside. His legs wrap tight around Thrain’s waist, legs shaking as he struggles to adjust to Thrain. There are tears in his beautiful eyes, his scent growing sharp enough for him to scent.
The evidence of Ororon’s pleasure is enough to break his last restraint. Lunging up to catch Ororon’s parted lips in a devouring kiss, Thrain immediately begins to fuck the man without hesitation.
“Mine,” he rasps out, desperately pounding Ororon’s hole while he steals every gasp from his lungs. “Mine.”
Ororon whines brokenly, body jerking from the strength of each thrust. He’s clenching around his cock, as if trying to keep him inside every time he pulls out. “Y-yours, I’m yours, please.”
Grasping the soft strands of his hair, Thrain pulls his head back and kisses him, licking into the man’s mouth like a starving beast. His knot is forming at the base of his cock and, after grinding it firmly against the tight clench of his hole, Ororon seems to notice what he’s trying to do. He shakes his head and leans back, avoiding Thrain’s lips. He gasps, a wet and pitiful sound as he weakly pushes at his chest.
“Too much, too—“ Another insistent shove against his hole makes him falter, Ororon’s face falling in panic. “I’m not an omega, please, I’m going to b-break, I can’t, I can’t!”
“You will.”
It doesn’t matter that the boy’s body isn’t meant to take a knot, not as wet or pliant as an omega’s hole. The rut has long since burned away the last of Thrain’s consideration. All that is left is the determination to breed and claim. He brings his hands to grab Ororon’s hips, pinning him down to the bed so he can’t escape. His resolve now set, Thrain finally bites the scent gland on Ororon’s neck and bullies his knot inside the tight hole.
Ororon clenches around him, locking his knot inside. He’s coming, Thrain realises, the taste of blood strong on his tongue. Closing his eyes at the overwhelming pleasure, the refreshing scent of his mate surrounding him entirely, Thrain relaxes and finally releases inside Ororon.
“Mngh…” Ororon moans, trembling again as he feels Thrain fill him with his seed. After he licks the blood from where his teeth punctured his skin, satisfaction sitting heavy in his guts at the sight of his mark on him, Thrain pulls back and just stares at Ororon.
He’s beautiful — eyes half-lidded and body pliant with contentment like he’s just awoken from a sweet dream. Thrain watches him, gaze focused on his hand as it shakily presses against his slightly bloated stomach. Ororon murmurs, dazed and awed, “feels so full…”
A strangled sound escapes Thrain. He feels his cock throb and release another spurt of semen, making them both groan. Gently, he lays his body on top of Ororon, trapping him beneath his weight. From the sound of his tired purring, it seems like Ororon doesn’t seem to mind it too much.
Contentment is an unfamiliar feeling. For a man like Thrain, who has never allowed himself to give into his instincts, he wants nothing more now than to curl around his mate and hold him forever. It is an unrealistic dream — one he allows himself to indulge for now.
“Mine.”
What do the affairs of kings have to do with Thrain? Here, settled within sheets soaked with their pleasure, tied to the mate he never thought he would find, Thrain cannot bring himself to care for the war waged beyond their den. What does it matter that Ororon may have been sent to assassinate him in his sleep? So long as he finds a way to obtain a treaty between Ororon’s people and his king, then Thrain can ensure his mate stays with him.
When his rut is over, perhaps Thrain will realise how idealistic his thoughts are. Maybe then, he’ll manage to shove the wants of his heart away and deal with Ororon the way he’s dealt with all of his enemies. But, body lax with satisfaction and something warm blooming in his heart, feeling the gentle touch of a hand running through his hair, Thrain allows himself to close his eyes and fall asleep to the scent of sun-warmed barley and fresh basil.
For now, there is no hatred, no enmity here — only the seed of something sweeter, buried in the core of his chest.