Chapter Text
“Escuse me?” Robespierre asked, not sure he heard right.
He was sitting on a doctor’s table while Marat was hunched over his work, steering a glass rod into a beaker. The doctor turned around, showing the orange tint of the liquid inside the beaker.
“You’re an omega. The test says so.” He shrugged.
Robespierre shook his head, “No! That’s impossible!” His fingers found the buttons of his vest, he twisted on them nervously. “I can’t be an omega, I don’t have the characteristics.”
Marat put the beaker down and scratched his chin, “Well, it’s pretty rare but some omegas do not go into heat for various reasons.”
“Not only that, but no alfa can smell me. I barely have any pheromones, that’s a beta thing, right? If I was an omega, don’t you think alfas like Pétion or Danton would be able to smell me? Don’t you think you would be able to smell me?” The incorruptible insisted. Marat just looked at him unbothered, as if everything was perfectly normal. “There has to be another test to make.”
“Sure.” Marat shrugged, it gave hope to Robespierre. “Let me look at your genitals.”
The sitting man put his hands to his crotch. “Escuse me?!”
“It’s the second test. If you don’t trust the color one, we can look at your genitals.” Marat grabbed a book and flipped the pages; “Here, look.” He gave the book to Robespierre and pointed at the drawings with descriptions while talking. “A male alfa has a longer length and bigger circumference, their slit is also smaller; a male beta and omega generally have the same length depending on the individuals but a beta slit will be smaller and lips fuller where an omega slit will be longer and lips thinner.”
Robespierre’s face was burning looking at the pictures; he knew it was nothing dirty and all biology but since it was about his biology, he couldn’t help but be embarrassed. He let out a small hum, which sounded more like a whine.
“I suppose you’re not the kind to look at your own sex, are you?” Marat said matter-of-factly. The look his friend gave him told him he was right. “Would you like to keep the book? You could give it back to me on your next visit.”
Robespierre read the book front to back, still very confused. He focused on what differienced omegas from betas and found that it wasn’t a lot.
The types both could attract alfas and went through heat circles; omegas just had it more. But it still made no sense to why he wasn’t a beta, he had to be!
He looked back at the images of genitals and put a hand to his crotch, he never even felt aroused by alfa’s feromones to the point they just mixed with the usual scent of Paris; indistinguishable from dirt and smoke.
Robespierre shyly unbuttoned his breeches, avoiding to look down. He undressed thousands of times but never observed himself in the mirror. He never found his body particularly attractive; bony hip, small behind, thin limbs and square figure; nothing that would please anyone. Good thing he never felt the need to please.
He reluctantly approached a mirror and took it off the wall gently, as if it would jump at him if he was too fast. He laid down his bed with the mirror and the book, placed the mirror down and sat in front of it.
His legs parted and he took a good look at himself, feeling the oddness of intimacy which made his face burn. The pink lips were thin, he pushed two fingers on them and groaned at the unpleasing roughness of his own fingers on the dry sensitive surface. The lips were pulled to reveal a long slit, the simple movement built up moisture and a single drop made its way out of the open hole. Robespierre growled and let go of himself.
If the book was right, then he was an omega. A fragile being only good to be folded by an alfa for breeding purposes; that’s not what he believed- but he knew that’s what everyone would think if they knew. He had to make Marat quiet about this!
In the cold of night, Robespierre marched to his friend’s apartment complex, book securitized in a leather bag as the only protection from his shame. For Robespierre simply dressed back quickly, wig messy, face red, eyes glossy from the tears he tried not to cry.
It wasn’t more about being an omega he was tearing up about, he never thought omegas as inferior despite the popular aristocratic belief, he even found their perspective to be much interesting. It was about the lie, his family must have known, doctors must have known; why didn’t they tell him? Because he was promising and it would have stopped him from accomplishing his goal? Hah! That only makes it more intense for him to be greater, to show them all!
When the thought came to him, he stopped. The shame he felt earlier and the need for secrecy felt silly now.
Robespierre's thoughts were cut short when he smelled something new in the air, odd but not unpleasant. Next he heard footsteps approaching from behind and turned around.
“Good evening.” He spoke to the man who was approaching. He smiled politely until the moonlight hit the man, if his guard uniform wasn't enough to make Robespierre freeze, his face fully made him frown.
“Oh. Good evening.” La Fayette answered with an awkward smile. “I didn't realize it was you.”
Robespierre's head twitched on the side in confusion. A wave of the invading scent hit him again, it was something he never felt before, like the smell made him immediately feel safe despite his mind racing.
He knew that it was La Fayette's pheromones on him, and was very confused by that. How was he capable of being pulled away from the pool of scent that never bothered the incorruptible.
“Me who what?” Robespierre crossed his arms, getting annoyed.
The general rubbed his neck nervously, debating if he should say. His face warmed up. “You who… smells so good.” He said the last part under a murmur, but it got to Robespierre's ears anyway.
First, there was confusion. Never did anyone ever smell his pheromones before, not the most dominant alfa or fellow omegas. So how could a beta like La Fayette be able?
Then, came embarrassment. He hasn't made the decision to come out as an omega yet and his worst enemy was able to tell.
Finally, anger.
“How dare you speak this way to a fellow citizen?!” Robespierre defended, pulling his vest more around himself as protection.
“My apologies, sir.” La Fayette's spine went straight. “I overstepped.”
Robespierre huffed, another wave of scent hit him and his entire body shuddered against his will.
He huffed, annoyed, and rubbed his arms to pretend it was the cold. This seemed like a food idea until a weight fell on his shoulders and the odor surrounded him more. He looked to La Fayette, who just gave him his coat for warmth.
“What are you doing?” The incorruptible growled.
“Just giving you my coat since you're cold, as a form of apology.” The general smiled kindly.
Both the men's faces were red and they had started to sweat, intoxicated by each other. Robespierre could smirk realizing how much La Fayette was trying hard not to seem like he was enjoying it a tad too much.
“Very well.” Robespierre nodded and they both departed.
The incorruptible knew he should get rid of the coat because it smelled so much like La Fayette, this warm and safe odor that made him feel so odd and sweaty. But he couldn't, because he felt good to be odd and sweaty.
Although when he got back to his rented room, he ripped it off his shoulders such as the rest of his clothes. When he pushed down his underwear, he noticed a wet sensation against his sex which made the cold of the room hit twice as hard.
Never has he produced slick by simply standing near someone, or without having to touch himself first. And he was half hard too.
What did this wicked La Fayette wear as a cologne that made his biology wake up now? It could not be his natural odor, how shameful of Robespierre to get turned on by his enemy! Or was the knowledge of being an omega that made him act like one?
Whatever it was, Robespierre knew he was in need. He touched himself rarely and he knew the thoughts of the general would be all he came off to. Shameful, but nobody would know, he thought to himself as he sat down on his bed after slipping on his night shirt.
He raised the end above his hips and got comfortable. His hand easily slipped between his legs to grab his length and give him a slow stroke.
The rare times he did it, he would rub himself to completion but it wasn't what he wanted tonight. He grabbed La Fayette's coat, needy for the aphrodisiac odor it transported. Once his nose buried in the collar, his hips jerked and more slick flooded down his hole.
Robespierre pulled the coat over himself, like a blanket, while breathing in the scent. Once he felt comfortable, his hands moved down his body and between his legs again. Pass his hard member and to the wet pulsating slit only waiting for fingers to fill it up.
He let himself moan as his longest finger breached him, the slick making it easy for all the length to enter without preparation. Despite his hole being unused, his omega biology made it so he was stretched enough for two of his fingers to enter him. Robespierre bit into the collar and moved his fingers in and out of himself, imagining- despite his best intention- the beta general empalling him instead. He wondered what his cock would look like; and hoped it was on the bigger side, since his slit could already handle a third finger.
Robespierre sighed softly, trying to avoid being too loud with his moans. His hole was so much more sensitive than he expected, each movement of his fingers made him reach cloud nine. This was why omegas and betas alike loved to be fucked, he figured, the insides just feel too good when touched.
He worried for a second that he would become one of the men obsessed with sex, unable to stay an hour without being filled. The odor of La Fayette invaded his mind, and he stopped worrying. He whined, wiggled, went faster but nothing worked for him to finish. He needed the man inside him.
In a desperate attempt to finally please himself, Robespierre pulled his hand out of the coat’s warmth and pushed the fabric down his slit with his fingers. The roughness wouldn’t fit at first, and he whined in pain before his slick allowed him to ram his fingers inside, taking more of the fabric.
He knew it wasn’t actually La Fayette mounting him, but it felt the same for his body. His hole worked faster to milk the beta, wanting to be filled more and more until Robespierre could fit his entire fingers inside again.
“Oh yes, please.” He moaned, legs shaking with his orgasm building up. “La Fayette, fuck me- more-”
His fingers curled inside which finally pulled him over the edge. The fabric was stained in the white cum from both Robespierre’s slit and dick. He kept moving his fingers as he whined, riding the orgasm until he couldn’t anymore.
A hotness ran from his tighs to his entire body, relaxing every single muscle in its wake. Robespierre pulled the fabric over his nose and nuzzled before closing his eyes.