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Oscar wakes up disoriented, a thin sheen of sweat covering his body and with the worst cramps he’s ever experienced in his life.
Okay, fine — he says that every time he gets his heat. This time, though, he really thinks it’s accurate.
He rolls onto his side and curls himself up small, tucking his arms around his torso. He feels half-conscious and hazy; he only distantly hears the pitiful whine that slips out of his own mouth as he shifts uncomfortably on the bed.
The sheets rustle lightly beside him, and his own heightened scent is overpowered momentarily by the smell of an aroused alpha. His aroused alpha. He whines again, intentionally this time.
“Osc,” Carlos grumbles, his voice rough and gravely albeit honeyed by the stronger Spanish accent like it always is when he first wakes up. Embarrassingly, Oscar feels slick drip out of him at the sound of it, drawing his awareness to the sticky mess between his thighs.
The tension in all of Oscar’s muscles melts away when he feels Carlos crowd in behind him, pressing up against his back and burying his face in the crook of his neck. Carlos breathes in deeply, groaning on his exhale as he begins licking and nipping at Oscar’s scent gland.
He’s still in so much pain, but with each second that Carlos is touching him, his insides feel less like they’re being grated and instead like they’re bruised, sending dull throbs throughout his body and begging for an alpha — his alpha — to fill him and make it better.
“ Carlos ,” he whines meekly, tilting his head to the side to give better access to his unmated scent gland. Carlos growls low in his chest at the action, biting at Oscar’s shoulder a little harder. Carlos is hard; Oscar can feel the length of him pressing into his clothed back.
“Still good?” Carlos asks, licking a broad stripe along his neck and squeezing repeatedly at his hip, kneading the flesh there. “I need to leave now if you’ve changed your mind.”
Panic wells up inside of him. Carlos wants to leave him. His alpha is going to leave him and he’s going to have to spend his heat by himself, sad and in pain and all alone because his alpha doesn’t want him. This thing with Carlos is new. Them finally crossing the line and giving into the tension between them. He can practically feel his inner omega wilt, and the cramps come back full-force as the rejection starts to settle in.
He doesn’t realize he’s crying until he registers Carlos’s soothing scent flood the air around them, instantly dragging him back into his surroundings: Carlos’s voice in his ear, Carlos’s hand on his side, Carlos’s scent enveloping him inside of a safe little bubble. The alpha rubs his side gently, and his hand leaves goosebumps in its wake.
“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, I’m not leaving. I won’t leave you, tesoro. You’re okay.”
The sweet-spoken words filter into Oscar’s head and caress his brain and skull, the soft reassurance that he isn’t being abandoned settling over him like a warm, fuzzy blanket. He’s almost completely lost to his heat; he can only briefly recall the conversations he and Carlos had once his pre-heat symptoms started, where they agreed that Carlos would help him through it. They’ve been dating for a few months now, but Oscar was in Florida visiting Logan during his last heat. This is the first one Carlos will be spending with him.
The gratitude and appreciation he feels for Carlos quickly morphs into a big mess of love and desperation and desire as yet another wave of haziness overcomes him, and suddenly all that he’s aware of is the throbbing need between his legs and the wetness between his thighs and the aroused alpha behind him.
“Please,” he whimpers, baring more of his neck to Carlos’s lips.
“I’ve got you,” Carlos murmurs, gently guiding Oscar to roll toward him. Once he’s on his back he opens his eyes, and he’s met with the sight of Carlos half-hovering over him.
“Hi, Alpha.”
Carlos smiles warmly, pushing Oscar’s sweaty hair away from his forehead. “Hi, my sweet Omega.”
The grasp that Oscar has on the tiny remaining fraction of his regular mind — the part that would normally feel embarrassed by how pathetic he must seem — slips completely away. His whole being just knows that Carlos will take care of him. He can feel it.
“Help me?” he asks, his voice sounding small.
“What do you want?” Carlos asks kindly.
“Just— hurts.” Oscar wants to say more, wants to be a good omega and answer his alpha’s question, but his tongue feels heavy and his head feels empty. He doesn’t know what he wants, he just knows that he hurts, and that his alpha can make it better.
“Want me to touch you?” Carlos offers, sliding a hand from Oscar’s chest down to his stomach.
Oscar nods. “Please,” he says, making his voice nice and sweet. He feels more slick dampen the material of his boxers at the mere hint of being touched by Carlos.
Carlos doesn’t make him wait, doesn’t tease him like he normally would. He wraps a firm hand around Oscar’s cock over top of his boxers right away, and it feels so much better than when he does it himself — he keens, his back arching off the bed as Carlos rubs at him.
He’s already close. The pleasure heightened, almost as if he’s already been edged a few times. Carlos is barely even doing anything, too; just clumsily rubbing Oscar’s dick as best as he can through the material of his briefs, watching him hungrily with those dark eyes of his. He thumbs over the head of Oscar’s cock and the pressure is so good that it’s almost painful, and he tries to warn Carlos that he’s going to come, but all that comes out is a broken moan before he’s spilling inside of his boxers.
“ Good ,” Carlos coos, working him through his first orgasm of the day. The praise makes Oscar feel weightless.
When he comes down from the high of his climax, his dick is still just as hard and the itch inside of him has only grown. His boxers are a mess of slick and come, and he shifts uncomfortably underneath the weight of Carlos’s hand still resting on him to signal that he wants them taken off. His mind feels like it’s melted, brain a puddle of goo, and luckily Carlos knows what he wants as if he can read the thoughts that he isn’t even sure he’s forming.
“Here.” Carlos shimmies his boxers down his legs, and the cool air feels heavenly on his overheated skin. Mindlessly, Oscar paws at the hem of his hoodie, and Carlos helps him out of that, too.
“Can you open up your legs for me?” he asks, petting over Oscar’s thighs.
Oscar can hear the little noises he’s making, but they sound far away even to himself. He doesn’t really have control over it. He mindlessly obeys Carlos’s request, spreading his legs wide enough for the alpha to sit in between them.
“So wet for me,” Carlos comments, rubbing at his rim. His gaze doesn’t stray from where Oscar is exposed, eyes darkening and scent spiking. Another shattered moan forces its way out of his throat when Carlos slips two fingers inside him with ease. His body has already started to prepare itself to take something bigger. To take an alpha’s knot.
The desperation builds inside of his stomach until it’s nearly unbearable, and more than just an itch he suddenly needs Carlos inside of him. Like an instinct, he rolls over onto his stomach and whines when Carlos’s fingers slip out of him, and then he presses his hips upward until his ass is in the air and his chest is pressed against the mattress, presenting himself to his alpha.
“Fuck,” Carlos grumbles, petting over his ass and kneading at the flesh, spreading him further apart. “Good boy, Oscar. So pretty for me.”
The praise, again, has him warming from the inside out, his thoughts continuing to fade away like melting butter. He rubs his cheek against the sheets and tilts his hips backward subtly, arching his spine a little further.
“Please, Alpha,” he begs, clenching his hole around nothing. “In me? Hurts. Want your pups.”
Carlos growls then, rumbling in his chest, and squeezes Oscar’s hips tightly. It’s so possessive that it makes his head spin and his inner preen. A whimper escapes from his throat, though he’s barely even aware of his surroundings anymore, so when Carlos slips the head of his cock past his rim and slides inside all in one go, it’s like dropping back down to Earth after floating in the clouds — in the best way possible.
“ Fu —“
“ Yes ,” Carlos groans, thrusting long and deep. “Pretty little omega hole is all ready for me, huh? All wet and open.”
“Yes, Alpha,” Oscar squeaks, gripping the sheets beside his head.
“Don’t worry, my Omega. I’ll take care of you. I’ll make you feel better, hmm?”
“Thank you,” Oscar whines, as Carlos’s thrusts quicken a bit. The sound of his hips snapping against Oscar’s ass drown out his own heavy breaths. “ Thank you , Alpha, so good—”
Carlos is fucking him so hard that Oscar’s cock hits his stomach with every thrust, and he can tell he’s weeping pre just from the wet sound it makes. His head is completely empty, full of cotton and clouds. Alpha is making him feel so good and full. He’s so overwhelmed by the sweet words and harsh hands and rough voice and sharp scent — he’s already close, and it’s barely been a few minutes.
“ Alpha —”
“ Fuck ,” Carlos groans, thumbing softly at his rim where it’s stretched around Carlos’s cock. He applies just the tiniest bit of pressure, like he’s planning on working his thumb inside him alongside his cock, and even just the thought makes Oscar lose his breath for a moment.
The pressure builds slowly until Carlos’s thumb slips inside all at once, and it’s like the ability to breathe comes back to Oscar by crashing into him. The sound that comes out of his mouth is so raw and wrecked that he doesn’t even recognize it as his own voice.
“ There we go,” Carlos coos, drawing the first word out a little bit. Oscar’s cheek is smushed into the mattress, his hair is sticking to his forehead with sweat, and his jaw is hung open — he’s sure he’s drooling. He has no control over his body. All he can do is lie here and take it; let Carlos take care of him and wring him of pleasure.
Carlos moves his thumb a bit, just side-to-side, stretching Oscar out further.
“Gotta get you all nice and ready for my knot, don’t we, cariño?” Carlos asks. The pet name wrapped in such a filthy tone makes Oscar whimper.
“ Yes , Alpha, want your knot—“
“Shh, shh, I know,” Carlos cuts him off, his tone melting into something sweeter, though almost condescending. “Don’t worry, little Omega. Alpha’s going to knot your pretty hole very soon.”
Oscar tries to verbalize his gratitude, but all that comes out is a garbled mess. He thinks he might be crying again, but it can’t be anything bad, that’s for sure.
Carlos groans deep in his gut, and that’s when Oscar feels his knot starting to form. Every time he fucks into Oscar it presses at his rim, giving him a taste of the delicious pleasure-pain that he knows he’ll get to have soon. He feels himself leak more slick in preparation, and Carlos removes his finger from his ass to smear it around his stretched rim.
“Alpha,” Oscar whines.
Carlos cuts him off with a grunt. Clearly, Oscar’s scent spikes; Carlos knows that he’s moments away from tipping over the edge. “Hold on, cariño. Can you be good for Alpha and hold it? I’m so close, I’m— fuck , you feel so good. So tight for your Alpha, aren’t you? You’re going to look so perfect, all swollen and full with my pups amor .”
Oscar’s cock twitches violently. “ Pl’se ,” he whimpers, seconds away from his climax but overcome with the desire — the need — to be good for his alpha.
“That’s it, Omega,” Carlos grunts, “Alpha’s going to fill you up real nice. Breed you full of pups. You’ll look so good pregnant, fuck — I’m gonna come, I’m gonna—“
Carlos’s voice grows increasingly strained until the last syllable, and then he goes quiet. Suddenly, Oscar desperately wishes he could see Carlos’s face at the height of his pleasure, but he doesn’t even get the chance to try and look, because his head is effectively emptied of any thoughts when he feels Carlos’s knot push inside him, stretching his rim far enough that it’s just barely too much.
The sensation is so intense that his orgasm hits him immediately. The feeling of Carlos’s cock throbbing inside of him and filling him up with pulse after pulse of come scratches an itch so deep inside of him that he didn’t even know it was there. His vision and hearing goes for a moment, but his throat feels raw and scratchy so he thinks he probably screamed at some point.
It feels like his orgasm lasts for minutes; shockwaves of pleasure ripple through his body, heightened by every point of contact he has with his alpha. When he finally starts to come back to himself, the first thing he notices is the air, thick and rich with a sweet mixture of their scents, tangy with the smell of sex and sweat. It should be gross, really, but his scent mixed with his alpha’s only ever serves to calm him down. It’s comforting, like coming home.
Next, he hears Carlos. He’s panting, first of all, and humming softly, too. The sound of it is soothing, tethering Oscar to Earth and ensuring he doesn’t float away.
Then, all of the physical feelings. His asshole is sore, stretched around Carlos’s knot — and will be for a while. Carlos’s hands on him: his ass, his back, his thighs; wherever he can reach, it seems. They’re gentle and doting as they glide along his skin.
“You with me?” Carlos asks, always in-tune with every minor shift in Oscar’s scent, or his breathing, or his voice.
“Mm.”
Carlos lets out a soft little scoff, sounding more endeared than anything else.
“You okay?” he asks next.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Are you able to talk? Or just tired?”
“J’s tired,” Oscar slurs.
“Good. That’s good.”
It’s then that Oscar picks up on the hints of nervousness in Carlos’s voice, and the traces of it in his scent that he’s trying to conceal by pushing out waves of his calming pheromones. Oscar shifts, looking over his shoulder at Carlos.
“Wha’s wrong?” he asks.
Carlos looks startled, like he’s been caught doing something bad. Oscar can tell by his expression that he grapples with the decision of whether to be truthful or not for a moment, though he ultimately concedes.
“Nothing, I—” he sighs, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Oscar shifts again, an ache steadily beginning to bloom in his hips from the unfamiliar position he’s been in.
Carlos notices. “Here, let’s—” he murmurs. He doesn’t finish the sentence with words, but rather by nudging Oscar’s hip and guiding him onto his side. Carlos is so careful as they move into a more comfortable, relaxed position, it almost surprises Oscar. It’s such a stark contrast to his regular, playful demeanor. His chest fills with warmth.
They settle on their sides, Carlos spooning Oscar from behind, their bodies locked together until Carlos’s knot goes down. Oscar feels him nose at his scent gland again, and he takes a deep breath before he speaks, like it calms his mind enough to gather his thoughts and voice them.
“Nothing’s wrong, really. I’m just— like, I just wanna make sure you’re okay, and that I didn’t hurt you, or anything.” Carlos’s hand flexes repeatedly on Oscar’s hip as he talks.
Oscar’s brain is slow-moving, and he takes a second to process the words.
Carlos continues, “I got, like, caught up in the moment, I guess, and I feel like I was kinda rough. I know that’s normal for us, but I just— I really want your heat to be good. Well— as good as it can be. I want… to be good. For you.”
Oscar’s eyes start to prickle with moisture. He decides that he’ll blame it on the hormones. “Carlos,” he says, aware of how absolutely whipped he sounds.
“Sorry. God. I’m supposed to be taking care of you . Don’t worry about me, really— it’s probably just, like, post-nut… fucking— feelings , or whatever. Are you okay? Are you sore? My knot should go down in—”
“Carlos,” Oscar repeats, more insistently this time. Carlos falls quiet, and Oscar wants nothing more than to turn around and look in his eyes face-to-face, but he’ll have to settle for finding the hand Carlos has on his hip and lacing their fingers together. He squeezes once in reassurance, and Carlos squeezes in return.
“Sorry.”
“Carlos, what—” Oscar cuts himself off, taking a second to collect his thoughts. He shifts a little bit before continuing. “This is literally already the best heat I’ve ever had, and it’s barely even started. The fact that I’m even, like, lucid right now just means I’m not even fully in it yet. And I’ve had— I’ve told you I’ve had heat partners before, but it’s… it’s been, what, an hour? And no other experience I’ve had can compare to this.”
“That doesn’t even make sense,” Carlos refutes, but Oscar is having none of it.
“Carlos, shut up.” He lifts the hand that’s intertwined with Carlos’s, guiding their arms to wrap further around his own torso. “You are good. It’s… different, with you. Better.”
He feels the press of Carlos’s lips against his shoulder. “Me too,” he whispers, warm breath ghosting across his skin.
“Now stop being an idiot,” Oscar chides, cheering internally when the sound of Carlos giggling brightens the room.
“Are you tired? How long do you usually need between rounds?” Carlos asks.
“Mm,” he hums, feeling the pull of sleep on his eyelids now that they’ve gotten past that little blip. “Tired, yeah. And I dunno— it varies depending on how far I am into my heat. I’ll probably conk out for a few hours now, though.”
“Okay,” Carlos says, suddenly very soft. “That’s good. Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
I know , Oscar thinks.