Chapter Text
Phainon stands straight as the meeting drones on, listening to advisors argue with each other over petty semantics and minor disagreements. He’s been here, standing next to the King for what must’ve been at least a few hours now, and nothing’s gotten done. Everyone is still arguing in circles. His knees ache with stress and his patience is wearing thin. Phainon looks over at Mydei, just a quick glance without moving his head, one that wouldn’t be noticed by anyone not paying attention.
Mydeimos leans lazily on his throne, his body relaxed and resting idly against the back of the stone. Phainon can tell he’s not even paying attention anymore, the blonde is probably close to driving the entire council out from annoyance. They won’t get anything else done today, might as well end it.
“Krateros,” Phainon calls out from where he is, “the King wishes to retire.”
He looks back at Mydei, who meets his eyes with a raised brow. Phainon waits to see if Mydei’ll call him out, he doesn’t. He never does. Of all the people in Castrum Kremnos, apparently Phainon is the only one allowed to speak for the King—an extension of his will—and he isn’t even from here. Phainon never understood why that is. He doesn’t bother to, it’s just always been this way.
They’ve been friends since childhood. No, that’s not quite right, it’s more fair to say they’ve met once and stayed together for a little bit when they were young. When Mydei wasn’t the King but a disgraced prince hunted by his own father and Phainon wasn’t his knight but instead just a village boy on the outskirts of the world. It was by chance that he rescued the other boy and nursed him back to health. Then the Kremnos Detachment took Mydei, and the rest is history.
It wasn't until the day Phainon’s village burned down and all its inhabitants killed, did Phainon see him again. Only this time he was the refugee begging for a place to stay after losing everything he knew in the fire. Mydei was kind to him. Overly so. The young King didn’t just give him to stay but anointed him as his personal knight, when Phainon could barely even hold a sword. He trained hard. It was the only thing he could do. Phainon was graciously given the best opportunities, training and studying with Mydeimos instead of being thrown into the barracks like everyone else, and he pushed his body to its limits everyday to repay that favor.
“Yes, of course.” Krateros turns towards the two hesitantly, then turns his head to call out to the rest of the council. “You are all dismissed, we will continue this another time.”
The council members begin to exit the room, one by one, politely and discreetly, bowing their heads towards the King before they leave the door. Krateros stays. He’s been a key advisor and a mentor to Mydeimos since the Detachment times, and somewhat of a second father to the King, if he stays behind to tell him something, it must be important, and private.
“I’ll be waiting out the door.” Phainon gives a little nod and starts walking down the steps.
“You can stay.” Mydei calls out before he can even make it half way. “There’s no need for such formalities between us.”
“But—”
“I’m sure whatever it is that Krateros wishes to tell me,” Mydei insists, his tone growing impatient, “will be fine laying on your ears.” He turns to look at his mentor.
“Yes,” Krateros adds quickly. “It’s no state secret, nothing you can’t hear, Sir Phainon.”
Phainon looks between the two hesitantly before walking back to his place beside the throne. “Alright, what is it?”
Krateros clears his throat, as if unsure how to lay the news out. “My King…” He begins carefully. “You’re the sole living member of the Kremnos Royalty, and you’re well into adulthood now…”
“I am aware.”
“Well, it is of most importance that you produce heirs to continue the lineage.” Krateros pauses just long enough to make peace with the consequences. “So the council and I think… maybe it is time for you to consider getting a mate.”
The man bows his head deeply and waits.
The air in the throne room hangs heavy, Mydei scoffs after a short pause. Phainon can see the blatant annoyance on his face, the eye roll, the pout, he’s not even trying to hide it from the two of them. He can’t help but turn his head away to hold back a laugh at the absurd situation his friend is in. King of the most powerful nation and still pressured about his love life.
“Is something funny?”
“No, not at all your Majesty.” His grin stays on.
Mydei turns back to the older mentor and folds his arms. “I’m not interested. There are more important things that require my attention than this…” he gestures vaguely with his arm. “Buffoonery.”
“My King, please.” Krateros begs. “The council has asked other prominent kingdoms for marriage candidates, please, at least talk to them before dismissing it.” The older man is practically on his knees. “They’ve traveled far to meet you, it’ll be much too cruel to just send them back like this.”
The room is silent, Mydeimos refuses to say a word. He’ll cave in eventually. Phainon knows he will. There’s nothing Mydei cares about more in the world than his own people, and with his mentor practically begging him, it’s only a matter of time the King sighs and agrees.
“I think you should give it a try.” Phainon tells him.
“You just want to see a spectacle out of me.” The blonde rubs at his temples.
He grins wider. “Maybe.”
“If you all insist,” Mydei waves his hand in a weary dismissal, “then I’ll try. But not until you give me this rest for today.”
Krateros flashes Phainon a thankful look and bows deeply. “Of course, I’ll prepare everything at your pace.” He turns to Phainon. “I’ll leave you two to retire then.” The older man hurries to leave the room, as if staying any longer might cause the King to change his mind.
They both wait until Krateros is completely out of the room, not moving until they hear the faint footsteps disappear down the hall. Mydei stands up from his throne, yawning and stretching like that of a cat taking an afternoon nap. His blonde hair glows warm and vibrant beneath the torchlight.
Phainon falls into step just behind him as they move towards the side door towards the garden corridors. “Don’t look so miserable,” He nudges him with his elbow, “it might be fun.”
The golden eyes shoot him a flat look. “I fail to see why this can be entertaining.”
The garden corridors open up in front of them. The warm afternoon light shines down onto the cold stone wall and the beds of greenery kept in the garden. The pomegranate trees line the hallway, their branches hanging low with the ripe fruits. The King was always fond of those, especially when combined with goat milk. Phainon fails to see the appeal, it seems almost hazardous. Mydei walks confidently in front, his steady strides and golden armor creating a stark contrast against the softness of the scene.
“I think he’s right.” Phainon speeds up his pace to a jog to close the distance, still falling back just behind the King. “You’re an alpha, you’re at that age, maybe it’s time to find an omega and settle down. It certainly won’t hurt.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Why not?”
Mydei doesn’t bother to look at him, his gaze still steady and fixed forward. “Don’t like them.”
“Omegas?”
“No, just not interested in courting anyone I don’t care for.” Mydei’s voice comes out strained. “I will not be tied down into a marriage of convenience. It will only hurt my partner.”
“How considerate.” Phainon mulls over the words, repeating what he just said in his head to better understand. “I don’t see why you can’t find someone,” He furrows his brows. “Why not try it with the omegas that help you during your ruts?”
The blonde scoffs again, his pace quickens, as if trying to escape from the conversation. Phainon speeds up to match his pace. Mydei’s hard to read sometimes. Normally, the King is an open book to him, saying exactly what’s on his mind and never hiding a thing from Phainon. But there are certain times where Phainon just can’t guess what he’s thinking about.
“Sorry, didn’t know that was a sensitive topic.” Phainon tries to get the man to look at him as he opens another pair of doors for them. “But surely you hit it off with at least one of them, right?”
“No” The answer came curt and blunt.
“Well, Mydei, you gotta pick someone.” He rolls his eyes. “The future of your kingdom rests on it.”
Mydei doesn’t answer. He opens the door to his own bedchamber, before Phainon could open it for him. He doesn’t wait for the doors to close before stripping off all his armor. “Go draw me a bath.” He demands, not looking up.
So damn needy. What is with him today? Normally, the guy insists on doing everything himself, only giving Phainon tasks if he’s way too worn out. Was the conversation really that offensive?
Phainon stands still and crosses his arms. “What am I, your errand boy?” Mydei stops taking off his armor and gives him a stern look.
“Alright, I got it.” Phainon raises his hands in mock surrender and heads to the bathroom to draw Mr. Fancypants his bath. He goes through the motions with practiced efficiency. The over-the-top bathing supplies are all Phainon’s, who insist on two baths a day complete with rose petals and everything. The King normally prefers efficiency over any of the luxuries other aristocrats may like.
He waits until the water temperature’s the way Mydei likes it—scalding hot and inhumane—before helping the King into the bath. Phainon hears a soft involuntary purr of relaxation and begins rubbing the soap into his scalp. Thank Nikador he’s in his casual outfit instead of his armor, or else he might actually die from exhaustion.
“You want a massage too?” He can’t help but roll his eyes, seeing how the blonde just completely sinks into the water and seems to have no intention of letting him stop anytime soon.
“Yeah, I do.” Mydei shoots back.
Phainon clicks his tongue in annoyance and pulls on the other’s hair a little, to which Mydeimos doesn’t even budge. “With all the things I’m doing for you, I might as well be your mate.” He grumbles.
“Would you like to?”
He laughs a little at the sudden suggestion. “You’re not getting out that easily.” Phainon pauses and shakes his head, perhaps a little at himself, and his voice drops, unintentionally. “I’m an alpha, I can’t give you any heirs.”
Mydei turns around to look at him, something dark and unreadable in his eyes. The water from the tub shifts with his body and spills over the edge of the tub, soaking through Phainon’s trouser and shirt.
“So if you can,” he asks, “you would be my mate?”
The silence stretches on between them as Phainon struggles to find his own thoughts.
“Just let me do my job.” He opts to shove the other man back into the tub instead.
Mydei lets himself be pushed back without saying another word. He turns forward and sinks into the tub.
—
It’s the third he’s rejected today. Phainon watched Mydei and his companions, just lingering exactly five steps behind with something bitter in his throat. From the throne room to the gardens to the library, they’ve toured every inch of the castle grounds and yet he can tell the blonde’s heart isn’t in it. The talks aren’t bad. They’re polite, composed, and hollow. With just enough decorum to pass.
The two sit in a lone hallway, one that’s been mostly abandoned by the servants. It sits near the edge of the castle, with not much of anything going on, so no one really comes by. It’s barely lit half the time, a few broken lights, some unlit torches that serve more as an aesthetic addition than a source of illumination. They used to hide here and play, until Krateros inevitably finds them and drags Mydei back to his royal duties.
“They seemed nice.” Phainon offers.
“They are.” Mydei agrees.
“Really interesting stories. I’d love to hear more, actually.” He suggests carefully. “Especially about that priest in Aidonia.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Really?” Phainon turns to him. “You don’t think it’s at least a little bit impressive? She has my respect, for even going through with it. I’d turned back at the first sign.”
“You seem to like them a lot.”
“What’s not to like?”
“Why don’t you court them then?” The blonde snaps at, turning his head.
Phainon rolls his eyes at the attitude, unfazed by the other’s annoyed scent. “Maybe I will.” He feigns indifference. “I’m at that age too, perhaps I will find one that clicks with me.”
Mydei’s scent turns into something bitter and sharp, something much more upsetting. His face betrays nothing, but it’s obvious in the way his muscles tenses and his jaw clenches. If Phainon doesn’t choose his next words very carefully, he may earn himself a punch straight to the face.
A few years ago, Phainon might test the thin line and see just how much he can get away with, and punch the prince right back if he was ever struck. Things are different now. They got new roles, new responsibilities, the distance between them has never been greater. This is already further than he should go.
“That was unbecoming of me.” Phainon looks down to the floor. “Please forgive me.”
“Would you really?” Mydei bites out after a long bout of silence.
“Would I what?”
“Court another?” The King makes a strange sound that sounds a lot like a choke.
Phainon considers the question with care, like he always had with any of Mydeimos’s questions. Would he court another? No, not at all. He has a duty to Mydeimos, it’s all he has left. Phainon cannot imagine a life without the King when that’s all he’s ever known since that fire. How can he possibly find a mate when he spends his entire life serving the King?
“Maybe.” He replies instead, trying to salvage the last of his dignity. As if that makes him any less pathetic. What would the other think if he knew Phainon had no purpose outside of him? Would he be disgusted? “I’d have to quit this job first though.”
Mydei draws a deep breath, the sharp intake is evident. His scent turns rough with anger, Phainon would surely see the veins popping on his face if Mydei was facing him. “You think you can just quit?”
“No, of course not.” He looks down. He’s said the wrong things again. “I am grateful for everything you’ve given me, I’d never just throw that away.”
“Good.” The words come out cold. Mydeimos walks down the hallway without waiting for him. His footsteps deliberate. For a moment, Phainon considered just staying here by himself, but he didn't. He gets up and jogs until he’s just a step behind.
—
Mydei cancelled the whole selection that very night. Sent every omega back with compensation and an in-person apology about the untimeliness of an emergency he has to take care of. It’s nonsense, if there really was an emergency, Phainon surely would know. And now Krateros has decided it’s Phainon’s duty to change the King’s mind and somehow “talk some sense into him”. What’s he supposed to do? When he makes up his mind, he’s not going to budge. But one look in his teacher’s eyes and Phainon knew it was his problem to deal with no matter what.
It takes Phainon most of his morning to locate him, which is already irritating enough on its own. Despite his half-naked and extremely conspicuous body, the King had a remarkable talent for disappearing quite well when he wanted to. He eventually does find him inside the library, between the shelves about biology.
“What’s with you?” He comes around near the end and keeps a careful distance. That slippery fellow.
“What about me?” Mydei answers with nonchalance, his fingers still flipping through the pages of a book as he walks through the shelves.
Phainon walks up to keep his distance. “You bailed out on the whole thing, why?”
“It was a waste of my time.” He doesn’t even look up from the book.
“How would you even—”
“I am not interested.” Mydei cuts him off with annoyance. “I never was, and I never will be. I only entertained the idea because you begged me to, and what a mistake that was.”
Phainon can’t stand it, the way he’s standing, flipping through that book instead of meeting his eyes, giving him such horrible attitude, and just generally making his job difficult. He’s been standing in front of Phainon and hasn’t looked at him once.
He reaches out and snatches the book right out of his hands. “Would you just look at me while we’re talking?” The voice is louder than he intended, and the book torn with more force than intended.
Mydei moves his eyes from the book snatched from his hands to Phainon, there’s something strange in his gaze, something that made the back of Phainon’s mind hiss and the hairs on his body stand up. Mydei folds his arms.
“What now?”
“I—I don’t know…” Phainon stutters, feeling small at the sudden scrutinization. This isn’t like him, he shouldn’t have done that. He sets the book down. “I’m sorry.”
The blonde only sighs and runs a hand through his hair slowly, the hard lines on his face softens slightly. “I know Kratero’s been putting pressure on you over this, I’ll talk to him.” He says eventually, turning away again to avoid eye contact. “But there is a reason I cancelled it.”
“What is it?” Phainon asks, his frustration turning into concern.
“...My rut.” Mydei replies hesitantly. “It’s close, and I would be in no shape to meet any of them. It’d be a waste of their time to let them sit around for a week doing nothing.”
“Your rut?” Phainon furrows his brows. “But I remember, it’s not due until—”
“You remembered wrong.”
Phainon prides himself on his memory. He considers arguing, but decides against it eventually. “Should I…find someone? Get some suppressants? Prepare your room?”
“No.” Mydei scrunches his nose, as if the thought disgusts him. “I need you to help me through it.”
Phainon’s brain shortcircuits. He’s not sure if he heard right. It sounds too bizarre, like a scenario his brain would conjure up in the depth of his dreams. This can’t be right, he wouldn’t be a good partner, certainly not for the King. “We’re both alphas…” He looks at the ground. “I wouldn’t be able to please you. There are better candidates.”
“There are no other candidates.” Mydei grabs his jaw to force the white haired man to look at him.
He grabs the other man’s hand and tears himself free, stumbling back a step. “I am your knight!” He exclaims, as if he’s repulsed by the idea, as if he doesn’t fantasize about it every moment he has to himself. “My duty to you, and everything you’ve given to me, belongs on the battlefield, by your side, and at your feet, not in your bed.” He shoves Mydei back with both hands. “This is not what I am to you.”
Mydei doesn’t even stumble, he takes the shove and looks at Phainon evenly. “You bathe me.” He corrects with equal anger. “You sleep in my room, eat the food I cook, do you think that’s what a knight does?”
Phainon opens and closes his mouth.
“Why…Does it have to be me?” He looks away.
“Why shouldn’t it be you?” Mydei’s voice loses some of its edge. “We grew up together, you saved my life, you’re my equal. In every way that matters, in all aspects this kingdom and culture recognizes, you are already my mate, why can’t we just make it official?”
“You said you swore an oath to me.” The blonde continues. “I will take no other. Either you join my bed, or I will go through it by myself.”
Phainon stands there, in the library, as if nothing else ever existed other than the ultimatum given to him. All he can hear is the beating heart in his chest and the blood rushing through his ears. He knows how difficult it is for an alpha to go through a rut alone, how agonizing it feels. He went through every single rut alone, locked in a spare room with a piece of Mydei’s clothing he’d stolen in a corner of the castle no one else would find. Phainon doesn’t mind going through the pain, he’s gotten used to it after all these years, but it’s different for others.
But if he says yes, he’d be putting his own selfish desires over the betterment of the kingdom. He’d be robbing it of any future political marriages and potential heirs. How can he do that, when Castrum Kremnos welcomed him and gave him a home?
“I can’t. Please seek someone else.” He pushes past the other man in shame and all but runs towards the exit. The library doors close behind him as he leaves with what’s left of his composure.
—
The few days after the library incident has been hell. They’ve been going through the same motions, holding the same conversations like nothing has happened. But it’s pretty clear something had happened. Their talks became awkward and it seems like Mydeimos is trying to avoid him as much as he can. The King would often assign him to some tedious and mundane task that’s a clear diversion while he fucks off to Nikador-knows-where for the entire day.
When Mydei’s rut actually came, Phainon wasn’t even next to him. No, he was busy training new recruits on basic swordsmanship when Leonnius whispered in his ear about the ordeal. He wasn’t even really training them, they have their instructors, he was just assigned to watch for no reason.
Phainon strides with equal annoyance and urgency, from the training grounds, through the gardens, up the staircase, and through the hallways. He keeps his pace controlled, fast enough to be read as urgent but just slow enough to avoid panic. His irritation grows with each step, most of the time Mydei had no problem voicing his issues. But for some strange reason, he just refuses to communicate this time.
It only occurs to him when he’s standing in front of the door to Mydeimos’s bedroom. What can he even do?
“Mydei?” He calls out while pounding on the doors, shaking the handles to see if it’ll budge. It doesn’t. Of course it doesn’t. “Mydeimos! Let me in!”
He hopes his incessant knocking on the doors would eventually annoy the other enough for him to open up. And then he’ll…well he’s not there yet, but he’ll figure it out. Phainon sees no other option than to kick the door in.
He takes two steps back and kicks next to the handle as hard as he can. Unfortunately, the door immediately gave away with a very evident hole where the handle used to be. He’s going to have to fix that later.
He’s immediately bombarded with the thick scent that lingers in the air, cedarwood with just a hint of smoke and iron. It’s too much, the uncontrolled stench causes Phainon to instinctively flinch and snarl. He breathes it in and forces his body to adapt and pushes a chair haphazardly to block the door.
Mydei is laying in the middle of the bed, huddled underneath the blankets, his head barely visible. He looks feverish, his hair damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead and what’s visible of his face is reddened with blush.
“Nobody taught you to knock?” Mydei barely wheezes out the taunt.
Phainon kneels down beside the bed, until he’s eye level with the other man. “I did knock. Perhaps you’re going deaf.” He huffs. “How’re you feeling?”
“Fine.”
“Clearly not.” He touches the other man’s forehead gently with the back of his hand. “It feels like a fever.”
“I’m used to it.” Mydei flips over to the other side.
“What do you mean you’re used to it,” Phainon shakes his shoulder. “Don't be ridiculous, I’ll go find an omega willing to help.”
“No.” The rejection is firm. “It has to be you.”
It has to be you.
Phainon stays where he is, kneeling on the cold stone floor. He hears the inflections, the particular sounds that fall into place to make that sentence. Somehow that it breaks him. All the walls of responsibility and selflessness suddenly crack at the revelation. Maybe he can be selfish this one time, just once. And he’ll act like it never happened.
—
Phainon’s not sure how he even got to this point.
He knows exactly how he got here. Embarrassment pricks underneath his skin and the blood rushes to his face. Never did he ever imagine himself to be in this position, to be pressed under another man.
“I—I don’t think I can do this.” Phainon grips the sheets underneath him and tries to blink the tears away as he feels the fingers pushing in and out of him. He’s never felt so vulnerable in his life, in another alpha’s bed. He’s naked, on all fours, and pressing his face into the pillow while trying to breathe evenly. “It feels weird.”
“You can.” Mydei reassures him by kissing the back of his neck, exactly where his scent gland is. “We can always stop if you want to.”
He shakes his head slowly, burying his face even deeper to avoid the entire situation. “Just do whatever you need to do.”
“You’ll get hurt.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He hisses as another finger gets added. Nikador, he feels so full already. His body really wasn’t built for this. “I’m helping you, not the other way around.”
He’s painfully aware of the fact that he’s fully bare, and his King, his lord he’s supposed to guard, is putting a third finger into him. It hurts, and it burns. The stinging pain just reminds him more of his current situation.
“Does it hurt?” Mydei looms over him again and Phainon can feel his strawberry blonde hair just barely grazing him, the warmth of his breath on his neck. “You’re shivering.” He whispers, voice rough.
“A little.” Phainon admits, trying to merge his face into the pillow to hide from the shame.
Mydei rubs comforting circles into his back, the motion slow and deliberate. “I forgot, you’re not an omega yet.”
Somewhere in the back of his mind, a part of him questioned the sentence, but it was quickly brushed aside from the sudden curl of the fingers inside him. The burst of pleasure leaves his mind blank, his legs shivering against his will.
“Sorry.” The King said, not sounding sorry at all. “My mistake.”
He tries to take his thoughts off of the mind-numbing sensation that was just brought upon him, focusing on anything else other than the way his thighs are trembling with that one ministration. The sound of drawers opening, the heat of Mydei’s body, the smell of his overwhelming scent, anything.
And suddenly, the heat leaves him, the fingers that were just inside him a moment ago pull away without any signs dawdling, leaving him feeling empty. It’s somehow so much worse. That feeling of emptiness, the heat leaving. Did he change his mind? Was he disgusted by him? Or maybe the impulse of the rut wore off and Mydei just finally came to his senses.
Phainon doesn’t want to look, but he can’t bear to wait either, so he lets his curiosity get the better of him and flips onto his back to see what the blonde is doing. To his surprise, Mydei is holding a small vial of oil, carefully pouring it onto his hand.
“You came prepared.” Phainon breathes out, anything to make him seem more confident.
“I’m always prepared for you.” Mydei moves to kiss him, but Phainon turns his head just enough to avoid it.
“Let’s not get attached.” He sees it. The way those golden eyes darken and the scent in the air turns just a hint more bitter, but the blonde just moves on to slotting himself in between Phainon’s legs after a moment of silence.
“Open them.” Mydei demands, squeezing one of the thighs hard. Phainon complies. The oil feels cold, but not too much. It’s still a foreign sensation to him and he can’t help but squirm a little bit when the King’s fingers come back into him, continuing to work him open.
It draws on for way too long, it feels like he’s been prepped for hours already, and he’s supposed to be the one helping here. How Mydei can possibly exhibit so much restraint in his rut, Phainon does not know.
Is he this gentle with the others too?
The reminder of his position only makes more tears roll down his face.
Mydei doesn’t seem to understand his predicament or his internal conflict, as the blonde just moves to lap up the tears on his face, licking the trail from the bottom of his jaw to just below his eye. He can’t take it anymore. Phainon walked into this expecting for it to be transactional, cut and dry, not for his feelings to be played around.
“Stop it.” He grits out the words, his hand gripping the sheets so tight his knuckles turned white. Stop making me feel loved. “Just get on with it.” If Phainon could, he’d kick the other man for toying with him.
“So damn needy.” Mydei grins into the crook of his neck but still takes out his fingers. Phainon can’t help but let out another whine at the loss. He is needy. That’s the honest truth. He wants nothing more than to be loved and cherished right now, but that means he’ll have to walk out this room with an even more broken heart.
They spend a good while just staring at each other, faces inches apart, breaths interchanging. Oh Nikador, he looks so handsome. One of Mydei’s hands is still gripping his thigh and the other one roams his body idly, going from squeezing his pecs to tracing the lines of his abdomen. Phainon feels so sensitive, so exposed. It’s like he can physically feel the other’s eyes trailing up and down all over his body.
“L-leave my chest alone.” He crosses his hands atop of his chest, futilely covering what he can after Mydei returns to playing with them for what feels like the third time.
Phainon’s had enough. He’s not supposed to feel this way, to enjoy being played with by another alpha, and especially not Mydeimos. Even worse, he doesn’t hate this feeling of humiliation. What he really wants is for Mydeimos to touch him, to ravage him, to put—
Mydei tilts his head, his sharp golden eyes still fixed on him. “Do you dislike it?”
“N-no.” The words come out stammered. “I just— I want—”
“You want what?”
He’s not going to say it, he still has some dignity left, and he’s going to hold onto it.
Phainon shakes his head in frustration, blinking the tears away. “You know…”
“You have to use your words.” Mydei smiles and plants a small kiss on his jaw. “Or else I wouldn’t know what you need.”
“I want…”
“Hmm?”
“I want you to put it in already, is that what you wanted to hear?” Phainon concedes. “Nikador, you’re such an asshole.”
Mydei grins, his smile almost predatory in the way his eyes flashes. What an asshole. He feels his legs being pushed further apart, stretching until a slight sting begins to rise in his inner thigh. Oh Titans, he’s actually taking off his last undergarment. He can’t look, he’ll die, he’ll really die. Phainon attempts to avoid it all by covering his face with his hands, but it doesn't matter, he ends up peeking through the fingers anyways.
Oh fuck its huge. No way it’s going to fit inside of him, he’s not built to take it anyways. This is going to kill him, he’s going to die on this bed and it’ll be the most humiliating death of the century. Phainon holds his breath and shuts his eyes, as if that’ll somehow protect him from the inevitable.
Phainon freezes when he feels that distinctive heat press against him, slowly inching in. It’s so tortuously slow, he’s starting to suspect the other for doing it on purpose. It burns inside of him and it feels like he’s being split apart. How is it so damn big?!
“Are you done?” He chokes out. “I don’t think—”
“It’s half way.” Mydei replies, his voice strained, as if he’s holding back something. And that was the moment Phainon’s mind snap. The sense of domination feels too real, too shameful. He thrashes wildly, his legs kicking out at nothing and his nails dig deep into Mydei’s back. He hears a hissing sound from the blonde, but it doesn’t stop him from moving in.
The blonde opts to press him down by the throat, pinning him until he bottoms out in one motion. Phainon seizes all movements, his eyes roll to the back of his head as he screams at the sensation.
Mydei lets him rest for a bit when he finally, finally bottoms out. This cannot be something a normal human being can possibly take on the regular. And regretfully, he’s starting to enjoy the feeling of being filled, the initial pain has faded away and it’s replaced by a weird form of pleasure. Phainon squints his eyes and lets his brain take the backseat.
“All good?” Mydei asks while nipping and licking at his ear and jaw. Phainon gives a slow and dazed nod, and that was the only warning he got before Mydei starts to move. He sets a horribly brutal pace that somehow hits that one spot every single time. It’s nauseating, it makes him want to gag.
“Please—!” He screams instead. “Oh Titans, don’t, don’t stop.” His arms hook around Mydei’s neck as the King pistons in and out of him. He needs to hold onto something, anything, to ground himself from this pleasure. He feels himself being ragdolled, thrown around by the motion like he weighs nothing and it is exhilarating.
“You really like this don’t you?” Phainon hears the deep whisper against his ear. “All this fuss just to fold a minute in.”
He doesn’t have the energy to retort, way too delirious to bite back any witty comeback, too spent to think about anything else. Right now, Phainon just wants to stay like this, forever on the other man’s cock. It feels so good, he’s so filthy, and so, so close. He’s almost there, he just need—
Phainon reaches down to palm his own cock but Mydei stops him just before he can finally release the built up heat as if he anticipated it. The man pulls his hands off and pins the both of them above his head.
“What?!” Phainon struggles against the hold, his voice rising to a high pitched whine that even surprised himself. “I was about to— just let me—”
“Do what? Finish on your own?” Mydei taunts him, amusement leaking out of his voice. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping me?”
“I—”
He doesn’t get to finish that sentence. Mydei grabs his legs and pulls him closer, putting them onto his shoulder and pressing into Phainon until his knees touch his chest. The new angle somehow lets it go even deeper into his body.
“Don’t you ever think about finishing without me.” The voice above him threatens.
Phainon nods weakly, too busy trying to keep his mind together. Everything feels so good, why hasn’t he tried it sooner? This is where he should’ve been all along.
“Does it feel good? Do you like it?” Mydei coos mockingly.
He nods again, more feverishly.
“Use your words, Deliverer.”
“Y-yes.” He chokes out between the thrusts.
“I wish you could see yourself right now.” A hand caresses his face gently. “The expressions you’re making.”
He doesn’t bother with thinking anymore, or even moving. His mind is slipping but he can’t bring himself to care. Phainon just lays there pliantly, letting Mydei manhandle him however he likes, to whatever position he likes. The pulsing heat inside him is all he feels and all that matters. He just lets himself enjoy and take whatever Mydei gives him.
There are words coming out of his mouth, Mydei’s talking to him, that much he can see. But he can’t hear it nor can he possibly comprehend anything in this state. He momentarily breaks out of his daze when he feels a painful smack on his behind.
Phainon throws his head back and moans at the stinging pain and utter humiliation.
“Did you like that? You’re drooling like a whore.” Mydei chuckles.
He wants to say no, get offended, or maybe slap Mydei across the face. But his body unconsciously clenches up at the word.
Mydei notices too, the blonde strokes his hair slowly, like he’s petting a dog. “You like being degraded?”
“No.” He gasps at another particularly hard thrust.
“What do you like then?” The blonde hums. “Praises?”
The thought nearly sends him over the edge. He feels a devastating wave of pleasure wash over him. He wants it, he wants it so bad. Phainon nods enthusiastically. “Yes, yes, yes, Mydei, Mydei, please, Oh Nikador, please.” He chants.
He can practically feel the victorious grin Mydei must be wearing right now. The other man leans down, right next to his ear, and whispered.
His vision flashes all white. Maybe he screamed, maybe he didn’t. He’s not sure. Phainon feels himself reaching climax as Mydei spills inside of him. The feeling just pushes him further into the edge, his mouth loose and his tongue out. Mydei takes the opportunity to smash their mouths together in a violent kiss. He instinctively deepens the kiss as he comes down from his high, but it seems like Mydei has no intentions of stopping anytime soon. Perks of being in a rut he guesses.
The cock inside of him grows even larger, knotting and locking him in place. It’s the last thing he feels before his consciousness folds and he drifts off into sleep.
—
When he comes to, the blonde is still somehow pumping into him from behind. Phainon’s on his stomach now, with his face buried into the sheets and his back arched up in an almost shameful angle, like a pathetic dog in heat. The pace hasn’t mellowed out a single bit. His body is sore, every single part of him burns. He can feel the burning sensation in his jaw and the rawness around his chest. The bastard must’ve used them while he was passed out.
He finds that he doesn’t mind.
Phainon has never felt so full, just completely stuffed, he can even feel the excess cum streaking down his thighs and legs. Just how many times has Mydei came inside? Phainon doesn't think his rut has ever gotten this bad.
“What are you thinking about?” Mydei envelops him until his chest is pressed against his back. The blonde kisses and licks his scent gland, occasionally biting just to the side of it. “Focus.” He sends another deep thrust.
Phainon doesn’t reply, he just bites into the pillow and grips onto the sheet to let his body take whatever Mydei has to give to him. His body’s adapted to the relentless assault, somehow still functional after hours of pounding. Though he’s probably going to be bedridden for a few days.
“I’m going to fill you up,” Mydei’s voice has gone rough and fervent, just a little feverish. “Then I’ll put a baby in you. That’ll solve the whole problem, wouldn’t it?”
“Since you’re so concerned about it.” He continues his rant. “You should get it done yourself, hmm?”
Phainon’s not even fully comprehending what he’s saying, his brain can only understand that his alpha is asking something of him. The edge in his voice, the possessiveness of his grips, everything makes him feel so wanted, so loved.
“I should keep you here, finally put a collar on you.” He rubs his face into the back of Phainon’s neck, greedily taking in his scent. “You’ll do nothing but bear my children.”
“I can’t—”
“Yes you can.” Mydei ghosts his teeth just above his nape, pressing down just soft enough to not break any skin. “Do you feel the change in your body?”
Phainon blinks away the tears. Mydei reaches around to squeeze one of his pecs, now larger and softer. “Think you’ll produce milk?”
His face burns at the realization of what happened to his body. Phainon’s heard about these cases coming up every once in a while, never did he imagine it’ll happen to him.
“Shit.” He sees the tears flow down onto the bed through his blurry vision. “Mydei—”
“Just say yes, let me claim you. I’ll do whatever, let me treat you the way you deserve.” He licks at Phainon’s scent gland.
Ah. Isn’t that nice. His King wants to throw his life away for some penniless knight who doesn’t have a thing to his name. It’ll ruin everything, his standing, potential political marriages, any hopes of an heir. All because of Phainon. How can anyone be so selfish? He doesn’t know. Maybe in a better state he’d be a stronger man, strong enough to say no to everything he’d ever wanted. But he’s not, and in his pleasure numbed state, he can only nod.
—
By the time the rut ended, Mydei had already recovered and was able to go back to his regular duties. Him, not so much. Phainon spent most of his time confined to the bed due to the…extraneous exercise his body had endured. It’s nothing horrible, and rather quite enjoyable to be serviced every once in a while. He had told Mydei he can do everything just fine, but the King insisted on taking care of him.
None of them really brought up the glaring issues at hand, that they’ve mated underneath the sudden impulsivity of the rut, or the fact that there’s an obvious change in his biology after the act. He dreads that conversation. The fault falls solely on him, he was the one that’s fully aware and ruined what should’ve been a one-time deal because of his own selfishness.
Phainon rubs his temple in soothing circles as the King walks through the front doors with a cart of carefully arranged dishes. It must’ve been fixed while he was passed out. Mydeimos looks quite pleased with himself, his eyes narrowing to that of a satisfied cat, his lips just upturned enough for it to be a smile. He doesn’t look to have any of the concerns running through Phainon’s head right now.
“I brought you some food.” He shows him the variety of dishes on the cart. It’s a feast made out of thick stews, roasted meat, salads, plates of cheese, fruits and vegetables. Everything is cooked to perfection, the whole cart looks like essentially a smaller version of a feast they’d host for festivals. He recognizes the style, all cooked by Mydeimos himself no doubt.
“Have some,” Mydei says, trying to feed him a spoonful of the stew, “I made these myself.”
“I can feed myself.”
“I know.”
Phainon lets the blonde feed him after slight hesitation. He’s not going to say no to good food. The stew tastes just as amazing as expected—rich, savory, and still warm—he lets the taste hang in his mouth a little before swallowing and feeling the warmth travel all the way down.
“Listen, Mydeimos,” He furrows his brows as Mydei feeds him another spoonful. “I am sorry.”
“For what?” He pauses the feeding and gives his mouth a slight peck.
“I shouldn’t have let you claim me, your mind was compromised.”
“I’ve wanted you in and out of rut.” Mydeimos feeds him a slice of the roasted beef. “I believe I’ve been making it clear.”
“Yes but we both know it wouldn’t work out.” Phainon leans back onto the head board. “Even if I’m turned into…this.” He gestures vaguely at his body.
“This?”
“An omega.” He wants to bury himself into the bed forever.
“Why does that matter?” The blonde leans forward to kiss him again, this time a peck on the cheek. “I would’ve taken you as an alpha or a beta, it does not matter. But you seemed to be insistent on bearing heirs.”
He lightly punches him on the shoulder.
“It’s not my place.” Phainon insists. “You should’ve mated someone from a noble family, maybe royalty from another kingdom. Not your own knight, I still have a duty to you.” His voice drops to a whisper in the end.
“I don’t see why you can’t be both.” Mydei runs fingers through his white locks. “You know me best in the world, and I to you. You’re my equal in strength, by all counts in Kremnoan tradition you should be my mate. Is that not what you wanted as well?”
“Yes. It is.” He replies hesitantly.
“And you can bear my child.”
“I guess now I can.”
“Then there’s no excuse why you aren’t the best choice.” Mydei moves onto the bed with him after feeding him enough. “There’s no way of going back, why not go through with it?”
Phainon hears himself bark out a laugh. A dry, exasperated laugh. “How did you even manage to turn me into an omega?”
“Do you mind it?”
“No, not really.” He leans onto the blonde’s shoulders and rests his eyes. “This is just a very sudden change.”
“I’m sorry.” Mydei apologizes.
“Don’t.” He stops him. “You’ve done so much for me after Aedes Elysiae burnt down. Found me, gave me a place to stay and a purpose. I’ve always dreamed of a life with you. I didn’t think I was worthy to have that without overstepping my role.” Phainon admits.
He feels Mydei rubbing the back of his neck, his nape, slowly. His hand stays there, warm and certain. “There is no ‘overstepping’ when it comes to you.” He assures him.
“I’m lucky to have my feelings reciprocated.”
“Yes…” Mydei agrees. “We’re quite lucky to have found each other.”
Outside, the pomegranate fruits shine underneath the morning light, Krateros is probably writing and handling the diplomacy between the kingdoms. The council will have to gather again about some other menial issue at hand. But all of that can wait. Phainon lets himself lean into the warmth of the body next to him, right where he wants to be.