Archive of Our Own

Simon is an Alpha; that much is not surprising.

The way he carries himself, the way he acts, looks—it all oozes Alpha. It intrinsically bleeds from his scent, heavy with notes of an earthy musky moss mixing nicely with a little nutmeg; all around just a picture perfect scent for an Alpha. He’s definitely intimidating, even if you’re excluding his scent. Despite his scent, stature, and overall presence screaming Alpha, Simon never really found himself to be like the Alphas you see in the media.

Sex education where he lived when he was a pup was pretty good, it was a government run program. It was mandated for everyone to take, they also offered additional sex education classes that went more in depth, but those were meant to be taken later in life. You learn about hormones, secondary genders, instincts. You’re taught rituals, how they’re tied to your instincts, how ruts and heats work, etc.

He doesn’t think he feels most of what school taught him about secondary gender, his instincts and all. Sure, he’s hyperaware of scents like all Alphas, he’s protective, and Simon loves taking care of people. However, he doesn’t feel that “natural” pull towards any Omegas he’s met so far, not in a romantic sense at least. Society is very pup-centered, so when he was younger, he couldn’t help but attempt to view any Omega he knew as a potential mate.

Simon never felt any sparks, or butterflies, or anything magical like people around him claimed it felt like when meeting Omegas. He for sure thinks they smell nice; some of them, anyway. Calming and soothing pheromones, a natural scent from most Omegas. Supposed to mix well with an Alphas.

No one in the 141 is an Omega, so he doesn’t get much of a chance to mingle with Omegas these days. There’s no particular reason for that, it just ended up being like that. Gaz and Price are Alphas, Soap’s a Beta. Price doesn’t care for secondary gender, he cares about skill.

Simon always thought his scent mixing with Omegas was too much, overwhelming to his senses. Not in the Alpha rut type of way, but in the way of it being too much for him. Simon has never liked it. The relief he’s supposed to feel from the comforting smell always turns into a sour feeling in his chest, his hackles raising. The urge to jump ship would bubble up under his skin every time.

Of course Simon has had sex with Omegas. Betas too, and maybe fooled around with an Alpha or two a couple of times. He finds himself gravitating towards Betas the most—Betas, they have scents but they’re not as… oppressive as Omega or Alpha scents. Betas do not lack instinct either, but their instincts are more mild, different in a way. The scent Betas will leave in his sheets is something he can handle better than any other. He prefers a partner who is taking suppressants, but he’s not the type to request that just for sexual gratification.

Sex has always felt like a performance for Simon, a way to prove himself somehow. He’s seen the behavior in others too, Alphas trying to act big and macho, dominant to the point where their behavior is overpowering and suffocating. Simon used to do it when he was way younger, but he’s aware and watches out for it now. He watches for body language cues and keeps a mental note to pay attention to the person’s scent. Even if it overwhelms his brain and makes him flaccid. He tends to blame it on being tired.

The usual dynamics in sex have never worked for Simon, especially when it comes to Alpha-Omega sex. It just doesn’t seem to click for him like it does for everyone else. Simon’s rut isn’t a very enjoyable thing for him, feeling a little depraved and so unlike himself. Even then, being purely driven by instincts, he wasn’t a rabid animal; not like most other Alphas.

The sex he had with Alphas was the closest to him figuring himself out. Something was welling up in his stomach, his dominance clashing with theirs. Simon enjoyed the tension, the struggle. He liked the fight and the game of it all—but the other person always seemed to be too in their head, taking it as a genuine challenge instead of a sexual game. He doesn’t like that. Simon can’t blame the Alphas though, it’s how society shaped them. Him, too.

Simon regularly takes suppressants and wears scent blockers, he’s done it for a while. His status as an Alpha is no secret, but the suppressants help settle this weird tingle in his muscles. The scent blockers—he uses both patches and cream, both for different occasions—help him tolerate other people's scents better. He doesn’t have to smell himself with other people, which is a big pro of using both simultaneously.

The biggest con? You can’t take them forever. 

Not in a healthy manner, anyway. Simon found this out through a conversation with one of the Alpha-specific doctors on base during an appointment. “You need to allow at least one rut cycle every season, Ghost,” The doctor had uttered after Simon revealed he took his suppressants every single day without fail. Simon vaguely knew doing this could hurt him in the long run, but he never really cared. It’s not like he felt anything like the other Alphas. He didn’t think much would change. 

He was assigned a specialist after that, taking these long term means he needs to be regularly monitored, clock-work bloodwork, the whole nine yards. Simon was hesitant, but if it meant he could keep taking his medications, he would go along with it.

The specialist outlined a medication schedule for him, times of when to take his medication and when to take breaks. She writes him doctors notes to help get his Rut leave approved quicker than it would without them. Labs are ordered, blood is drawn and sent off. Exams are done and questionnaires are filled out. He’s also prescribed Viagra—embarassing to an extent, especially when his problem isn’t getting it up, it’s being into it mentally.

Simon figures it's a psychological thing mixing with his biological characteristics. Simon’s been through the ringer, so he wouldn’t be surprised if he’s too fucked up to feel whatever is considered.. Normal. Trauma affecting his mind and body, that sort of thing. Simon is also no stranger to concussions, a TBI that may have gone unnoticed. His new meds don’t change anything, which Simon is thankful for. At least the Viagra helps to keep Ghost’s sexual partners thinking he’s into it like they are. He does it for the release by this point.

It’s not that Simon doesn’t want to have sex, it’s just not as satisfying for him as it is for his partners.. Clearly.

Then comes the time for his Rut—something he always disliked. The buzzing deep-boned ache embedded in him, yearning for something that he couldn’t ever put his finger on. Being around other people, no matter their secondary gender, pissed him off. Everyone’s scents got more overbearing and stinking up his senses. He’s sweaty and gross, his head hurts, his joints feel like they’re trying to burst out of his skin.

The symptoms that might bother him the most are his aching gums, his canines protruding and needing to bite something—always ends up his pillow or arm—and his knot. Simon had half of a right mind to buy Rut aids, but nothing really relieves anything for him, so he doesn’t end up using them very often. His glands also hurt, becoming overly sensitive and sore. He’s just thankful when it’s over.

When it is over, Simon has this weird, heavy feeling in his chest. Like some sort of weight in between his lungs, stuck under his sternum. The silence also bothers him a lot, like it’s too much yet too little at the same time. So, instead of dwelling on the feeling, he begins to clean up. Stripping his mattress, collecting the dirty clothes and towels, stuffing them into a laundry hamper. Opens up his window and turns on his box fan, airing out his room. Scent neutralizing sprays, too. Disinfecting the bathroom and basically every surface around; stress cleaning.

It helps. Helps Simon regain some of the control he lost during his week-long Rut. 

Simon never takes on Rut partners anymore—not since the first few times, and learned his lesson. He ends up feeling worse. Unfulfilled, unhappy, and irritated in his own Den. He can’t handle it, so he doesn’t ask anyone for help.

Once every season. Three more ruts to go this year.. Then the timer resets.

Simon sighs, the exhaustion prickling at his senses as he stands there in the middle of his room, naked and oddly cold. He swallows, listening to the white noise of his box fan.

Simon thinks he’s sick when your face and name begin to pop up in his thoughts a little too frequently. You’re not a new face; he’s known you for a good couple of years now, a good friend he made a while back. The only thing that was worth returning anywhere near his old home for. A sweet girl who didn’t take shit from anybody—an Omega. It’s not common to see an Omega comfortably be so.. brazen as you.

You’re confident, you’re loud—you take up space and you’ve never let anyone make you feel smaller. Simon likes that you set people straight if they fuck with you. Despite your stronger and louder attributes, you’re still soft and caring. You make a point to check on people, especially him. You don’t know much of Simon’s story, but you know enough to know that the Alpha has bad days, especially when he comes back to visit.

What’s been surprising him more than thinking about you more often than usual is the fact that your scent doesn’t really irk him anymore. It’s no longer… oppressive to his nose, for the lack of a better word. It no longer bothers him—in fact, you’ve been smelling good. More sweet and alluring every time he comes to visit. Logically he knows that you’re literally biologically wired to be that way, but it’s so startling to someone like him.

Something so sweet, invading his senses and lingering deep. He can’t put names to how you smell because it’s unique, unlike anyone else. Something about your smell lights his brain and skin on fire. It makes Simon.. Worried. He’s never reacted this way towards anyone, and now he’s worried maybe his suppressants are fucking with him—or maybe they aren’t working? But even then, without his medications, everyone smells like shit and is too much for him.

Simon begins to notice you more often when you’re together. The curve of your throat, where your scent glands are between your neck and your shoulders. The curve of your waist, leading into your hips and thighs. The pudge of your stomach—Fuck. As soon as Simon realizes he’s been sneaking glances at your body creepily, he tries to shut that shit down in his head. He curses at himself internally, facing away before he’s chubbing up in his pants.

Your gorgeous eyes, the way your eyelashes flutter; a weakness for most Alphas, including him apparently. Your smile, God, the way you make eye contact with him without flinching away like most other Omegas. You’re also one of the only people brave enough to casually touch him. A brush against his arm, a loud laugh and you budging against his side to shove him playfully. Feeling your fingertips against his skin makes him tingle. Something whispering unintelligible things in the back of his head. 

Everything about you has slowly been coming to the forefront of his mind. Simon’s guessing something had to be the reason for this sudden change, but he can’t put his finger on it.

Now, look… Simon knows what arousal feels like, but wasn’t aware it could feel like.. this. 

It took him a second to realize what it was. There’s a thudding, rushing sound in his ears—like his blood is pumping. There’s this buzzing underneath the surface of his skin, rattling deep beneath the layers of fat and muscle, striking through his nervous system. He’s acutely aware of how his cock is hardening in his pants, his eyes zeroing in on you. He’s hoping the face mask he’s wearing hides the flush of his cheeks.

He’s so gone. You’re yelling at him and he’s fucking hard.

Lucky for him, his scent is dulled to something more neutral with the suppressants he’s taking. Thank God, because he knows he would’ve been stinking up the room. You’re yelling at him—not really yelling, more so bossing him around and reprimanding him for… something. Something that he isn’t quite catching because he realizes he’s not listening. He’s watching the way your eyes burn holes into him, keeping him in place, the way you’re calm and collected, but firm. You don’t even let him glance away.

The next time he feels the new arousal is when you’re giving him menial tasks to help around your house. Simon’s on leave and visiting, which means your space gets messier than usual. Two people have been hanging around, after all. He’s not exactly sure what about it turns him on—being told what to do? Is it the fact that it’s your home? You in general?

Simon knows it has to be something about you in specifics, considering you’re the only person who has ever affected him like this. He already knows secondary gender doesn’t matter.. But maybe the dynamic does. Simon’s always assumed the dominant partner position; it’s what is expected of an Alpha, especially of his stature, size, and reputation.

But maybe that isn’t something he wants. A typical dynamic.

Maybe Simon wants something different—maybe he wants someone else to be in control. It’s.. a taboo desire, to say the least. Goes against everything society sets for Alphas and Omegas. To want to submit to an Omega.. But what if it’s good? Better than anything Simon’s tried before? Hell, maybe anything could be better than what he’s experienced up to this point.

Eventually, his little fantasy of a dominant Omega slowly but surely gains a face—your face. You are on his lap, mouthing and nipping at his throat and scent glands, hand on his jaw, moving his head however you want. 

You’re just in your panties, pressing down on his bulge with your bodyweight teasingly. Simon can feel how wet you are through the fabric and he can smell it. The smell of your fucking—

His eyelids flutter as your lips trail down his jaw, leaving a trail of spit that gets cold. Goosebumps down his arms as you chuckle, pressing a firm kiss to his scent gland. Your hand rubs his chest sensually, slowly gliding down before you touch h—

“Simon.” You call out from the kitchen, breaking the Alpha out of his trance. Simon swallows hard, his hands curled into fists and resting on his thighs. He lets out a slow breath, silently telling himself to get his shit together. Simon stands up, heavy footsteps as he makes his way into your kitchen. His face feels a little hot as you turn your head to look at him. You’re organizing your pantry, the kitchen table covered in cans, boxes, and plastic packages.

You nod over to the mess. “Organize those for me, will you? I need to get this sorted before I lose my mind.” I grumble. Simon blinks, looking over the table before silently agreeing. He knows what you want; alike items with alike items. He takes his time and sorts cereal boxes together, canned fruit and canned vegetables separately, snacks together, stuff like that. 

“S’that good?” He rumbles, watching the way your head turns, your eyes scanning his piles. Something flutters in his chest—he feels like he’s seeking approval from an Omega he’s trying to impress. You hum and nod, walking over to grab the boxes first. “Perfect. Thanks, Simon.” You respond with a smile, beginning to put all of it away onto the shelves.

The flutter in his chest turns into a blooming warmth; happy Omega, happy with me. An inner monologue that’s unwanted.

Oh shit.

Simon’s brain panics a little as he hands you the last of the cans. He only ever has these thoughts when he’s nearing Rut.. Which makes no sense because it’s not his time to take a tolerance break of his suppressants. That’s the only time he’s supposed to have his Rut, he and the specialist lined everything up perfectly.

Simon mentally counts how many days it’s been since his last Rut... Yeah, he’s definitely early.

He probably should have guessed, though. He’s ignored the other signs; the need for his own space—or the odd urge to invade yours, the need to provide. He’s cooked breakfast and dinner the past couple of nights he’s been at your house. Ignoring how his scent patches get saturated with oils quicker, how he’s woken up overheated a couple of nights.

Ignoring his late night need for you. Something Simon doesn’t attempt to acknowledge because as far as he knows, you’re not interested. He doesn’t do relationships anymore anyway, and especially no fuck buddies. That doesn’t stop his instincts and body from aching for you.

Simon is stuck in his head for the rest of the night. You’re in the backyard together when he notices you’re looking at him, so he looks back for a second, catching the twinge in your eyebrow. “You alright?” You question, sitting in the lounge chairs with him and feeling the cool summer breeze wash over you two. Your bottom lip is poking out a bit. You smelled sweet like always, but with a tinge sour; worry.

Simon is tempted to say yes, I’m okay like he usually does but rut isn’t something you should ignore. Especially in the home of an Omega where their nest is located. Omegas can feel threatened by Alphas in rut if they’re too close to the nest. It often ends in violence and a bloodbath. 

“I think I’m entering pre-rut.” Simon admits, a heavy sigh leaving him. He glances away. “It’s a few weeks too early, and m’sorry. I was supposed to be back on base for it.”

You hum in response. “Don’t apologize. I’m just happy you’re taking your health more seriously.” You shrug, tilting your head as you try to get a read on him. “You can stay, y’know. I appreciate you telling me. Good man.”

Simon’s head snaps up, looking at you. “Stay? But your nest?”

“It’s alright. You can ride it out in the room you’ve been staying in. I can run out and get whatever you need. Food, water, rut aids.” You utter, voice light and soft like it’s nothing, like you aren’t offering a safe place for Simon to stay during something so vulnerable. Acting like you aren’t offering a space within an unmated Omega’s home. With you.

You look over at Simon, scanning his expression. “Are you overly aggressive or anything? Do you think you’ll leave your room in a haze?” It’s a valid question; trying to avoid any conflicts. After thinking for a minute or two, Simon shakes his head no. “No, not really. I would only leave my room for the bathroom,” Simon utters as you adjust how you’re sitting in your chair. Your knees are pulled up, feet resting on the seat with you.

His eyes roam over your legs for just a moment when you move them.

“I don’t really like my rut.” Simon blurts out without much thinking. A beat passes and you look over at him once more. “Really? I mean.. I don’t think anyone enjoys their cycle, but is there anything in particular?” You question, curiosity heavy in your tone. Simon twitches a little—what is there to like?

Simon feels disgusting when he’s in rut. He feels out of character and so unlike himself. Too animalistic. Simon decides instead of confessing what he truly feels, he’ll just shrug instead. “I mean.. It’s just.. A lot.”

You nod in agreement, your fingers drumming against your knee. “I see what you mean. It’s overwhelming, isn’t it?” You reply, voice soft as you tilt your head. Cute. “But doesn’t being with someone else make it better?”

He scoffs a little under his breath; no, it doesn’t. It often makes it worse for him. All of those expectations everyone has for an Alpha like him.. Simon can’t stand it. He hates it. “Not really.” He ends up replying, glancing away from you.

You don’t end up prying which Simon is very thankful for. He’s never shared his revelations with anyone and he would be a little embarrassed for the first person to know about them to be the person who caused the revelation. No thanks.

Simon isn’t exactly sure how long he’s been in rut, but his cock hurts and his half formed knot at his base is so unbearably sensitive that he can’t even touch himself. It feels like a shock to his nerves, traveling up his spinal cord and uncomfortably settling at the scent glands on his neck. In his haze, Simon has come to the conclusion that it’s your fault—well, not directly, but being in your home, your space, surrounded by your smell? 

For the first couple of days of an Alpha’s rut, it’s common for their memory to not be very good—which is why when he’s finally actively conscious of his surroundings and realizes you’re actively in the room, he’s a little freaked out. His vision is blurry, but he can’t mistake your silhouette for anyone else. Not a chance. 

You’re quietly picking up some of the wrappers from snacks, some of his clothes that need washing. Clothes he doesn’t have hoarded up on the nest. Nesting is a behavior Betas, Omegas, and Alphas share. They all operate a little differently, so Alphas don’t get too mad when you need to wash some nesting material.

Simon’s vision comes into focus as he watches you move around his room. Simon sniffs the air and realizes he can’t smell you—blockers of some kind, he thinks. It also makes him realize his patches are gone. Simon feels disgusting—oily, sweaty. Dirty. His nose wrinkles from his own scent. His balaclava is.. Somewhere.

A low rumble comes out of him as he sits up, the sheet obscuring his hips and groin. He blinks away the sleepiness, slow and languid. Simon wants to speak, but the effort required would exhaust him. However, his rumble is enough to catch your attention. You turn your head to look at him, your eyes scanning his state. Simon’s hair is a little grown out on the sides and top—perks of wearing a balaclava all of the time include not being in regs. His pupils are blown, focused on you.

“Mornin’.” You murmur, stuffing wrappers into a small trash bag. “You’ve been out for a while. Ten hours, I’d say. Came to clean up and check on you.”

Ten hours is a record. Rut is basically the only time Simon can sleep soundly without some sort of night terror. “Water is on the night stand.”

Simon looks over at the nightstand and grabs the water bottle. He opens it and practically chugs half of it down before closing it. He fumbles ever so slightly as it feels like his fingers won't cooperate. Kind of like how your fingers numb up from cold, winter air.

His eyes trail down to the trash bag in your hand and then you bend over in front of him. You’re wearing shorts.

His core tightens as he stares straight at the curve of your ass, how it melts into the curve of your hamstrings. Simon swears that his brain begins to melt out of his damn ears because he can see the sliver of skin from your ass peeking out and it’s making him feel feral.

“You should go.” Simon manages to garble out, feeling that heavy need settle back into his stomach. It trails down from his navel, settling behind his balls, buzzing. It’s even worse as you stand back up and look over your shoulder. It takes a second for his eyes to catch up with making eye contact, making an accidental show of how he was looking.

You tilt your head a little, fidgeting with the garbage bag in your hand for a second, like you’re debating something. A slow, sure smile spreads across your face, making the warmth under his skin worsen. 

“Why would I do that?” You reply, noticing how he’s getting a little antsy. You’re acting like you didn’t see what he just did. Simon swallows, his head beginning to fill with that familiar fog—it feels like every fiber of his being wants you. It would be so much worse if you weren’t wearing blockers.

Simon’s hand twitches on the bed as you take a few steps towards him. There’s an invisible force tugging him towards you, resulting in him leaning forward. The sheet that was around his hips slowly falls out of the way as he crawls towards you on the bed, hands and knees, looking up at you through his blonde eyelashes, his breathing hitching. He settles when he reaches the end of the bed.

Simon’s conscious in the back of his head is screaming at him to tell you to leave the room. The rut rotted part of his brain is convincing him otherwise. He doesn’t want to ruin what you two have, the close bond, but something is telling him that you wouldn’t mind. Maybe it’s the rut talking, but the way you’re looking down at him is very… telling. His blood is rushing in his ears.

Your expression is a little unreadable, except for perhaps the slight amusement. You’re not afraid to make eye contact with him, an Alpha in rut and.. God, he loves your confidence.

Simon can’t help but seek out your scent. He inhales quietly, maintaining eye contact. Simon doesn’t get anything, considering you’re wearing blockers. He watches the way you put the trash bag onto the ground, your other hand reaching out to brush against his hair. The simple touch is enough to make his skin itch, your touch like balm to the fire prickling under his skin. His eyelids flutter for a moment, feeling your hand trail down to his cheek after brushing over his scalp.

Simon’s eyes remain shut as your thumb strokes over the grown out stubble on his jaw before tracing over to his lips, gently pressing on his bottom to expose his teeth. His jaw opens naturally, letting your thumb press into his mouth. Simon’s breath hitches as he presses his tongue against the pad, tasting your skin. Fuck. He doesn’t want you to stop.

“You with me, Simon?” You ask, your voice airy yet firm. It takes him a second but he nods, not wanting to let your thumb go in order to respond. You hum as you press your thumb a little deeper, his lips wrapped around the last knuckle. “I want to help you. Can I?”

It’s a good check in—you didn’t want to ask when he got too deep into his rut because it would’ve been a yes no matter what, no matter what he truly wanted at that point. Simon’s eyes open, peering up at you.

Your pupils are blown, lips a bit parted. Simon is guessing your scent must be sweetening under those blockers; there’s a flush to your face. Simon finds himself nodding despite everything he always feels about taking on rut partners.. But he’s hoping it’ll be different this time, going through it all with someone he likes. Craves.

You hum in response, that sweet smile coming back to your lips. “Okay, Simon. You have to be a good boy, though. I’m not the sort of Omega you can push around.” You reply, the tone of your voice making his cock ache. Simon mindlessly nods again—he can be good. He doesn’t like to push people around in bed, anyway. It’s never been something that particularly turns him on. It’s never felt right.

Simon presses a little closer to you, your thumb gently popping out of his mouth as he leans in, pressing his face into your stomach. He inhales against your shirt, your hands finding his shoulders and nape. He shudders when you gently scratch at the sensitive skin on the back of his neck; his scruff. Everyone has one, it’s a very vulnerable area.

Simon exhales as the urge to knot and breed is building in his veins. You grab the hem of your shirt and you tug it off, letting Simon’s face press to your soft skin. He immediately feels ravenous, inhaling the scent of your skin, his hand coming up to your hip to tug you closer. The smell of your skin is all he has of you right now.

“Fuck,” He breathes out shakily, his head beginning to spin as he looks back up at you. You make a soft noise as you make eye contact, tilting your head. “Yeah? Hurts, does it?” You murmur, recognizing the strain in his voice. Simon swallows hard and he nods. Simon noses his way down to the waistband of your shorts, rut brain hoping for just a whiff.

Your hand goes from his nape to his shoulder, gently pushing him back so instead of Simon being on his hands and knees, he’s sitting back, hands propping himself up. You pull the sheet away to fully expose him, wanting a good, proper look at what you’re working with. Your eyes trail over his fat cock, nodding your head forward once. “Back up.”

Simon licks his lips as he crawls backwards more towards the middle of the mattress now.

He’s leaning back on his hands, legs spread apart. His cock lays on his stomach, throbbing and hard. It’s pinkish near the tip, smeared drips of precum on his skin near his navel. His knot is already attempting to form at his base, something he can’t help considering he’s in rut. Simon swallows hard as he watches you crawl onto the bed and right into his lap, either thigh on the sides of his hips.

Just feeling your skin slide against his feverish flesh makes him feel so fucking insane. Simon swallows, his hand coming up and hovering over your hip for a second. His eyes flicker to your face, his lips parting before closing as he loses the confidence to request something.

You catch it, your brain borderline on the same wave length as his. You tilt your head, your hand coming down to guide his hand to your own hip, encouraging the contact. “Speak up, don’t be shy. What were you going to say?” You utter with a smile, your eyes dancing across his face. You’re memorizing the creases up close, the faded freckles, and the way his blonde eyelashes obscure his dark, brown eyes.

“..I want to smell you.” He admits, letting himself be honest as his hand squeezes the fat on your hip through your shorts. “Before it hits me hard again.”

Simon wants to remember his first proper whiff before the rut brain takes over again. That makes you feel a little fuzzy. You reach up to your scent glands and you grab the edges of your blocker patches, peeling them off. Within seconds, Simon finds himself drooling your scent. 

Jesus. Simon could huff the way you smell all day and he wouldn’t get enough. Sweet, like every Omega—but uniquely you. Ocean breeze, mixing with gentle pine and sweetness as if someone is baking pastries on the shore. Simon tries to lean forward, his nose brushing against your jaw before you’re able to get a good hold on his face.

“Say please.”

Simon’s jaw tenses in your hold for a moment. “Please, let me smell you.”

Satisfied, you let go of his jaw and allow Simon to lean in closer. His nose brushes against your jaw once more before following the curve of your throat, all the way down to your scent glands. He presses his nose against one of your glands. It’s like a shot of alcohol to his system; it burns and spreads, leaving a buzz behind its trail.

Simon inhales again, unable to suppress the shudder as his other hand comes up to your other hip. He grips both sides and he gently tugs you a little closer, curling his head more and pressing closer to your neck.

After another inhale, a deep-chested moan leaves him. It almost feels like he’s four beers deep, that buzz under his skin, how his mind is scrambling. Your hand comes back to his nape and trails up his head, holding him there. Omega, omega, omega omega omega–

“No biting. At least not my glands.” You murmur, letting Simon get what he needs. He grunts in response, your voice breaking him out the little trance he found himself in. “Don’t want to have to muzzle you, hm?”

Simon shakes his head no, very reluctant to pull back from your sweet smelling throat. He does it anyway, looking at you to make sure you know he’s acknowledging that boundary. You smile, your fingers trailing down to his nape, gently scraping your nails against his scruff. His lips part for a moment you lean in, connecting yours to his.

You’re hungry, so much so it takes the Alpha in rut by surprise. He’s not complaining, especially when your jaw twitches open to accept his tongue. You moan into his mouth, your tongue swirling with his, exchanging spit. It’s certainly sloppy, your tongue swiping over his lips and canines. Simon’s dick aches underneath you with every noise that unwillingly escapes your lips.

Kissing you is like a breath of fresh air for Simon; you’re leading the kiss, dominating him in fact, and you’re kissing him like you’re starving. He tilts his head in an attempt to match your energy, his hands sliding up and down your sides.

Simon pulls away with a strangled noise, a string of spit connecting his lips to yours appearing before snapping. He winces as a wave of uncomfortable heat and sensitivity flows down his spine, causing his hands to pause. “Starting back up?” You breathe out, one of your hands rubbing his sternum in grounding circles. “Yeah,” He clears his throat, licking his lips subconsciously.

You smile, your hand sliding up to the base of his throat to keep him in his spot. “I got you, pup.”

“Go ahead and lay down on your back for me, hm?” You hum, gently pushing him down by where you have him under your palm. Simon obeys and lays back, wincing a little from how he can feel the sheets sticking to his sweaty skin once again. He inhales sharply as you crawl up his body, his eyes roaming every inch of skin available. He looks over your throat to your breasts, trailing down that delicious belly to where he really wants to be near.

You give him a knowing smile as you crawl over him, your knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his head. Simon’s unable to hold back that deep chested Alpha growl, his eyes gluing to your sweet, soaked pussy. Pretty, his rut-rotted brain thinks. Fat clit and folds, glistening under the low light of this bedroom, his lamp in the corner being the only source of light. Fuck, his cock aches… But Simon wants a taste.

Before he can let himself beg again, he feels your hand press on his forehead to keep his head down and your hips lower. His large hands grip at your thighs as you press your cunt to his face, folds smearing slick across his skin. Simon feels insane as he starts huffing your scent, making himself dizzy with how he’s pushing his nose into your scent. He’s forgetting that he’s supposed to be licking—he can’t help it. Simon wants you to smear yourself all over him until he stinks of you.

You break the spell by lifting your hips, ignoring his annoyed growl at how you took away what he wants most right now. “Stupid Alpha,” You breathe out, a little laugh leaving you as you see a string of slick connecting his nose to your clit. “You’ll get plenty of my scent later. You got a job to do, yeah? Don’t make me leave you here.”

Simon exhales shakily and he nods, closing his eyes for a moment. “Yeah, hh.. Sorry.” He croaks, trying to reign in some sort of intelligence for this. Get it together, Riley. His fingers squeeze the meat of your thighs as his eyes open again just in time to watch you lower yourself again.

Simon’s lips part, his tongue pressing to your folds and licking upwards, catching droplets of your slick. Something snaps inside of him at the first taste of your sweet pussy; its musky, so so sweet like an Omega always is—addicting. Omega’s scents and tastes always effect Alphas more when they’re in ruts. He moans into your pussy, dragging his tongue through your folds again and meeting into a sloppy kiss right on your clit. He wraps his arms around your hips, tugging you down, wanting you to just sit.

Your hips jolt a little as you feel his lips and tongue get to work, your clit sensitive from arousal. You exhale harshly through your nose as you’re looking down at him. Simon’s eyes are closed, his eyebrows furrowed. You can feel gentle vibrations from him as he’s moaning into you. Your lower belly is so warm, especially when his lips wrap around your clit and suck.

Simon moans into your clit, suckling greedily, fingers subconsciously digging into your sides, keeping you sat on his face. As he tilts his head, letting go of your clit and pressing his mouth near your hole, he doesn’t care that he has a little bit of a hard time breathing. He’ll gladly die like this if it’s an option. Simon’s jaw opens as he sloppily licks over that sweet entrance, lapping up your slick and swallowing down whatever he’s collected. He inhales through his nose and holds his breath as he presses his tongue into your cunt.

“Oh fuck,” You choke, clenching on his tongue as you feel him wiggle it into you. Your thighs flex, pressing down around the sides of his skull from the sensation. You feel a bit of sweat accumulate on your brow line, your hand going down and landing on his scalp. You close your eyes, eyebrows furrowing as you feel your clit drag against his nose. “Oh fuck!” You repeat, more whiney. You rock your hips forward against his face for a moment, earning you a loud groan.

You smile, panting a little as you press on his forehead. “Good boy, keep going. Fuck. Suck on my clit again.” You command, lifting your hips a little. You watch him chase your clit—it lights a little fire in your stomach, God, he’s so hungry for it—and latch onto it. Your stomach clenches as you settle back down before rocking your hips against Simon’s face. “Fuuuuuck, don’t let go, Alpha. Keep–nnh, keep it up..”

Simon shudders from the praise, trying his best to stay latched onto your clit as you rock your hips. Your cunt keeps squelching, your folds rubbing against his chin, slick dripping down his throat. Good, he thinks. You’re rocking your hips in a way where you’re kind of fucking his mouth.

Simon moans around your clit, following your movements. His eyes open to glance up at you, and shit. He’s watching the way your belly is clenching and rolling with every suckle and movement. His eyes close again as he opens his mouth, sticking his tongue out for you.

You grunt, gasping for a moment. You debate reprimanding him for changing it up without permission, but you quickly discover that this feels good. You’re sliding your clit against his tongue, rocking back and forth against his face. “Goddamn, Simon—” You laugh, keeping his head in place by his forehead as you smear yourself all over his tongue and chin.

You get so into it that you don’t just aim for his tongue anymore, you’re rubbing yourself all over his face again. “This is what you wanted, hm, Alpha?” You breathe out. He can hear the smile in your tone. Simon moans in response, his fat cock leaking all over himself. He’s so sensitive, so fucking needy, but he doesn’t wanna move. Not until you want to, anyway. He forgets to respond as all he’s thinking is omegaomegaomegaomega.

You laugh at how he doesn’t respond, knowing he’s probably in too deep. Yet, he’s not trying to gain control. He stinks of rut and it only turns you on more. A submissive Alpha? He’s a fucking wet dream for you.

Your thighs begin to tremble a little as you press your clit back against his mouth. Simon gets the message and latches again, sending electricity down to your pelvis. You’re getting close and Simon can tell; your clit is pulsing. He greedily sucks on it, moaning quietly as your hips are twitching. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Don’t stop, don’t—” You grunt, melting into loud whimpering as you grind your hips down against his face again. Simon’s arms tighten, tugging you down against his face.

You gasp, your hand slipping from his forehead to the sheets above his head, gripping them as you press yourself down hard. “Harder, suck harder—” You choke. Simon of course obeys, suckling on your clit a little meanly, but it makes you orgasm.

It starts deep behind your clit before exploding like hot liquid dripping down your legs into your toes, whimpering as it travels up your spine. Simon is moaning below you, his tongue lapping up whatever dripped out of his favorite hole of yours. You left out softer moans as feel his tongue move around your folds. You’re a little sensitive, so your eyebrows furrow and you eventually press on his forehead as you lift up again. “That’s enough, pup.”

Simon’s eyes open as he pants, pupils blown with his face and neck soaked. It even got a little onto his sheets. If this was anyone else, you probably would’ve been a little embarrassed, but Simon seems obsessive with scent. A little treat for him, you muse to yourself in your head. “Good boy. You liked that? Hm?” You murmur, grasping his jaw and wrangling him around like a dog like earlier. You feel your own slick smear against your palm, but you pay it no mind.

Simon nods in your grip, his lips parting to speak, but he can’t seem to find what he wants to say. “Yeah, I know you did.” You swing your leg away from him so he can see down the front of his body again. Your hand reaches down to grasp the base of his cock. He gasps and he grabs your wrist; just the slightest bit of pressure around his knot is enough to get him whimpering.

“Look, baby. Leaked all over yourself. I think you’re wetter than I am.” You tease, a soft laugh as Simon’s face tints pink from the jest. He swallows hard, shakily exhaling as he glances up at you.

You tug Simon closer, so now he’s leaning a little back into you, one hand around his fat dick and your other hand cradling the side of his face. He moans, your fingers pressing into his mouth again. He groans loudly, his leg kicking out involuntarily as you squeeze the base once more, making him shudder. You can’t help but play with him a little; it’s… maybe a tad cruel to tease an Alpha in rut, but you can’t help it. Simon’s cute like this. The big brooding Alpha you’ve known reduced to a needy mess? Fuck, it makes you horny.

Simon’s hearing is muffled, his skin is warm and wet. Sweat, fluids—probably precum, Omega slick, too. His neck is extended as he’s panting, his hips attempting to push up. You’re on his lap, his cock half way in your pussy. You’re being so mean, controlling the pace, only giving him what he wants if he's good, if he behaves. 

He’s not really sure how you two ended up like this, you were just teasing his cock, but he’s not going to complain. Especially when he’s got a fantastic view of you like this.

You say something he doesn’t quite hear as his hands tug at your hips, a whimper leaving him. He needs you taking all of him and he needs it right now. Your hands are on top of his, not letting him do what he wants. A noise of protest leaves Simon when you grab his wrists and force them on the bed, both besides his head. He grunts, struggling against your grip, not hearing whatever you’re saying.

Simon’s eyes roll a little when you suddenly sink down to the base, his tip nudging deep inside of your soaked hole. His happy trail is matted in your slick, his heavy balls dripping with it, too. It’s probably all over his sheets at this point. Simon’s not mad about it, either. He’s so depraved that he will press his face to the saturated fabric and suck at it for another taste.

One of your hands slap him across the cheek—not too hard, just harsh enough to leave a sting that catches his attention. His eyes focus on your face, your pupils blown. He can barely see the color of your irises, your lips parted, eyebrows perfectly settled. You’re serious. “You with me?” You murmur, your voice a little shaky. You have a fat Alpha dick inside of you, after all. You’re all warm and wet around him, squeezing him so nicely around his base, right where his knot is trying to form. He licks his lips, trying to keep his focus on you.

It’s hard for him to be good when you just keep fucking squeezing. Like you’re already trying to milk him.

“You’re going to keep your hands up here until I tell you that you can touch me,” You breathe out, fingers tightening around his wrists. His heart drops a little because Simon found out he loves the sensation of your skin under his palms. “Do you understand?”

Simon’s lips sputter for a moment, trying to argue before you squeeze his wrists harder. “Either you’re going to say yes, or I’m gonna get off of you, make myself cum and leave you to use my slick to jerk off.” Your threat is mean, you know it is, especially for an Alpha in rut, but you know how to play your cards right when you want something out of an Alpha.

He nods, his breath coming out in harsh exhales as his wrists turn in your grip, fingers grabbing bundles of the sheets besides his head to force himself to keep them there. “Got it.” Simon manages to slur out, his eyelids fluttering as your walls close in around him again before releasing, making his leg twitch. “You may be in rut, but I’m the one helping you out, yeah?” Your hands slowly release his wrists, trailing down his forearms to his biceps. Goosebumps follow your fingertips.

Your hands trail from his biceps to over his pecs, Simon’s eyelids fluttering as you rub over his chest and give him a bit of a squeeze. He exhales slowly, trying to focus on your hands instead of the sweet, gummy sensation of your cunt.

Simon’s self control whilst being in rut is really surprising to you—and it’s also arousing. He isn’t the first rutting Alpha you’ve witnessed, but he’s the only submissive one you’ve seen. He’s willing to let himself suffer for your comfort, willing to be in pain if it means you’re happy. You do feel a little bad; you can feel the threat of his forming knot below you. You know he’s incredibly sensitive, but you can’t help but like it.

You like how jumpy he is, you like how reactive Simon is. To your touch, your scent, your voice. His eyes are full of need and submission. Hell, he’s even baring his neck to you and you aren’t even sure if he genuinely realizes what he is doing. Simon’s also unable to hide his expressions, so you get an extra treat watching him tear up a little when you’re teasing him.

“Be a good boy and lemme use you, Simon.” You murmur, breathy as you circle your hips on his cock, ripping groans out of the Alpha below you. Your eyebrows furrow as you feel the tip nudge deep, making you whine quietly. You keep your hands on his pecs to keep yourself steady. “There you go, let go. Just let go, Alpha.”

Simon moans, his length throbbing as you clench around his base again. “Omega..” He whispers, eyes dipping to where you’re connected to him. “Right here, m’right here.” You coo, rubbing his sternum affectionately. “Relax, Simon. Deep breaths.”

Simon grunts and forces out a harsh exhale, trying to be good and obey. His fingers grip the sheets a little harder as his eyes trail back up to your face. His breath hitches; the lamp in the corner is still on behind you, illuminating the room with an outline of light behind you. Like a fucking halo on an angel.

“Gorgeous.” He breathes out, his chest feeling a little tight. Simon’s gums ache with the urge to bite. To claim.

You pause for a moment before you smile, tilting your head. “Yeah? You think I’m cute?” You hum, gently rolling your hips back and forth on his cock. Simon grunts and his eyelids flutter, leaking fat drops of precum deep inside of you. “Fuckin’ stunnin’--” He stammers, having a hard time keeping it together. You clench around him and lean down, a warmth blooming in your belly that’s separate from arousal. You lower your body to get closer to his face.

Simon lifts his head a little to meet you, your noses brushing against one another as your lips connect. You moan quietly into his mouth, your warm tongue dipping into his mouth. He meets you halfway, all messy and you still subtly taste yourself on him. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, teeth gently nipping at you.

Your eyes flutter as you tilt your head, disconnecting from his lips as you focus on lifting your hips a bit before dropping them back down. You can hear how wet you are as you begin to fuck yourself on his fat Alpha cock. Simon growls quietly before leaning forward and pressing wet kisses to your throat. Being the good boy he is, he remembers he can’t bite your mating gland, but you never said anything about licking, nipping, kissing.

“Jesus, Simon..” You whine quietly, your back straightening out as the hungry Alpha mouths at your scent gland along the side of your throat. He’s being careful despite being so hungry for you, suckling gently, no teeth, no teeth, no teeth—

You nod mindlessly as the sensation of his mouth on your gland swirls nicely with the hefty weight inside of you. You’re panting as your hips speed up, the room filling with pleasured noises from both of you combined with loud, wet plaps each time your hips meet his. Simon’s lips trail to your shoulder, giving into the urge to bite. You swear loudly, wincing, but you tighten so good around him. 

Simon groans into the meat of your shoulder, his knuckles whitening as he’s resisting the urge to grab your hips. Fuck, his knot is forming. He begins to whimper as harsh waves of pleasure crash into him, his length throbbing with every time you fuck yourself on him. You twitch and slow down—it’s because you’re orgasming—but his brain is panicking. Don’t slow down, please, please please please—

“Baby, fuck–mmh, I can feel your knot,” You breathe into his ear, thighs trembling as you push through the pleasure. You know you’re soaking the sheets even more than earlier, but you don’t care. Especially with how good Simon is being. You slowly smile for a moment as he lets go of your shoulder, the ache settling deep in the muscle. You sit back up properly and you pull off of him.

“Wh- mmh–” He gasps his half formed knot swelling and aching, his eyes shooting open to look at you properly, all wide eyed and desperate. You know you’re being mean, but.. God. You can’t help it, not when he begins to whimper and babble. “Noo, no, please, mmh, fuck..” Simon chokes, lifting his hips in desperation, as if it’ll convince you to sit back on what belongs to you.

It hurts. You know it does, and you still did it. Simon feels tears prick at his eyes, making you hum in delight, despite his condition. “Oh, baby, no.. Take a breath for me, yeah? I’ve gotcha.” You coo, your cunt throbbing. You lean forward, knowing you have to be dripping all over his belly as you wipe away a few tears that have escaped. “Hey, Si, I need you to look at me..”

Simon blinks rapidly for a moment, shakily inhaling before looking at you in the eyes. It’s another check-in, he can tell. He just nods for a few seconds. 

Simon can’t help the crying, he’s just very overwhelmed. He’s never felt like this during sex or during his rut at all. He swallows, that weird guilt settling in. Why would you pull off of him? He doesn’t understand why this is what is pleasurable to him. Why isn’t he.. Normal? Why doesn’t he want to be dominant? Press you into the mattress like those pornos, like how he had done for other sexual partners before? Why does this feel so fucking good? Why are you doing this for him? Did he somehow.. coerce you into having sex with him? He is in his rut after all, and he knows he can be very intimidating. Did Simon threaten you and he just doesn’t remember? You don’t smell upset, in fact, you smell incredibly horny. It makes his mouth water and he wants you back on his dick, but fuck. What if this ruins everything you two have? What if you’re doing this just to placate him? It’s okay if this is supposed to be casual, just a friend helping out a friend, but he doesn’t want this if it’s going to mess things up. Or make it weird. But dear God, he’s hoping that he didn’t somehow make you, this is your home, your space—

“Simon.”

He comes back to reality. Your hands are on his cheeks and he feels strangely light-headed, his throat feeling dry and tight like he was gasping for air. “You with me?” You whisper gently to him, your thumbs brushing against his cheekbones, warm skin on warm skin.

“Yeah,” he croaks, seeing the worry in your expression. He wants to press a kiss between your furrowed eyebrows, kiss that worry away. “Just.. got in m’head.”

“I see that,” You muse, your hands moving from his cheeks, down his throat to his shoulders. “You were hyperventilating. Stay with me, pup.. I got you.”

Simon nods, swallowing to lubricate his dry throat. You lean down and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, using one of your hands to steady his length. “Yes.” You whisper to yourself as you sink back down. That small whisper dampens the anxious fire in his gut a bit. “Can I touch?” He garbles out, needing to ground himself. You nod , your hands meeting his wrists once his palms get close to your hips.

Simon’s palms press to your hips, his fingertips gently digging in just to feel you. You keep your hands on top of his, raising your hips before letting yourself lower back down with a soft wet plap. He inhales sharply as you do it again, a soft noise leaving you. You’re watching his face twitch and contort with pleasure. Again, you love that he just can’t seem to control his expressions.

“You’re such a good Alpha, look at you. Listening to your Omega, letting me do what I want.” You breathe out, circling your hips down on his fat cock. His tip is nudging real deep, length rubbing against your g-spot and you’re trying so hard to keep it together. He feels so fucking bone achingly good. You know you should pull off, but that little voice wants his fat knot, his cum.

Fuck it, you decide against your better judgement. Simon moans at your praise and lets out low Alpha grumbles. You shiver, unable to help your full blown grin now. You guide one of his hands over your belly, smoothing upwards to cup one of your breasts in his palm. You keep one hand there as you throw your head back, panting as you bounce on his dick like a toy. That’s what he is to you right, anyway. “Yes, such a good fuckin’ Alpha.. Fuck.. So thick, baby. I’m close again. Shit..”

Simon groans deep in chest at your admission; he wants to see you unravel again. He wants to smell it, feel it, he needs it. He craves it.

“I want to knot me, Simon.” Fuuuuuuuuuckin’ hell.

It’s to be expected, especially because he’s in rut, but shit. You nearly made him spurt off by just saying it. “Mh.. I..” He grunts, panting as he feels your nipple against his palm as he squeezes, shuddering as his dick throbs and pulses. He feels his balls begin to pull up against his body before releasing. “I want t’breed you.. Mh, please, lemme.. Lemme knot ya, please, please..”

Simon’s not begging, he’s pleading. He’s fucking practically sobbing for it, knot half formed and body ready to explode. You nod half way through it all; there was never a moment where you were going to deny him. Well.. deny him a second time, anyway. You weren’t that cruel.. Not unless he asked for that. You hope this isn’t a one time thing, especially with how he’s murmuring your name like a fucking prayer as you plap down on him over and over and over and over.

“Oh please, please–” He chokes out your name, his hips lifting to meet yours, pressing his cock in, making you gasp. You nod, panting as you let your full weight down on him. Sweat drips down the line of your back as you straighten out again for proper pelvic control. “Yes, you’re gonna knot, hm? Wanna knot my cunt, Alpha? Pump me full?” You push out weakly, voice a little high pitched from how close you are yourself.

Simon’s nodding to every word, his big brown eyes teary as he sniffles. “Yesss, please, fuck!”

He feels you clench down around his forming knot, making him gasp. You’re trying to kill him. You’re trying to milk him to fuckin’ death, shit—

You whimper loudly as you’re grinding back and forth, rubbing your clit down on his happy trail. With another push of your hips, your hearing blanks out as it slams into you like a fucking train. You end up squirting all over him, moaning as it spills over his abdomen and balls, almost like you’re marking him. 

That’s what gets Simon; thinking about how much your scent is sinking into his skin. Simon chokes as his head rolls back, his knot popping right past your entrance and locking. You’re still fucking grinding, milking every thick spurt of his hot, creamy cum right into your sweet, sensitive pussy.

Simon comes back to reality at some point. You’re laying down on his chest, mouthing sweetly at his jaw. His arms are wrapped around you and you’re still knotted, hips still glued together. “Mmh, you did so good,” You whisper against his skin, your hand gently cupping his other cheek, rubbing against his stubble. He shudders, his hand rubbing up your back.

This is.. Nice. There’s no weird emptiness inside. No unsatisfied feelings. He doesn’t feel awkward or disgusted with himself or you, the person he had sex with. He’s heard of “Rut Bliss”, but he hasn’t experienced it. Or at least he didn’t think he has, not until now. You smell so.. Good, happy, satisfied. Like satisfied Omega. Bred, full, good—

Simon exhales softly, knocking himself out of the rut rotted brain loop he keeps getting stuck in. He glances down at you again and you’re rubbing yourself all over him—he loves it. He hopes the stink sticks for a while, even after a shower. He turns his head, knocking his nose against your cheek and neck, softly inhaling. He relaxes as your scent washes over him; he’s not giving into that guilt he was swallowed by earlier.

You’re showing him that he’s allowed to want things and like things. Maybe they aren’t normal, but it doesn’t make it bad. It doesn’t make him bad.

And maybe he wants you.