Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

An insistent knock at the door shattered the quiet stillness of the room, pulling him from the deep, dreamless slumber that he had just barely fallen into. His keen ears twitched at the sound, his senses slowly shaking off the broken remnants of sleep as he blinked open his eyes, taking in the small bedroom, lit only by tender moonlight.

“Sir Lancelot, the king requests your presence immediately.”

The soft, almost timid voice of the servant echoed faintly through the dimly lit hall, and though the words were spoken in urgency, they hardly stirred surprise in the knight. This was far from the first time that King Arthur had summoned him in the dead of night, often pulling him from the sweet embrace of sleep for a midnight venture through the quiet, moonlit gardens that sat just behind the castle. It had become almost a ritual, these late-night walks where the blue hedgehog would pace restlessly among the towering hedges, his practiced royal composure cracking just enough for him to confide in Lancelot about the sheer magnitude of his burdens. The endless duties, the constant decisions, the isolation and loneliness of the crown – all of it spilled forth under the veil of darkness, with only his most trusted knight there to hear.

And Lancelot, of course, had never once hesitated. Even when the hour was late, when exhaustion gnawed at the edges of his mind, he rose from his bed without complaint. His loyalty to Arthur was not solely born from duty, but from something deeper – something he had rarely bothered to pay any mind to. Even still, he had sworn an oath many months ago, and he would fulfill it, regardless of the hour or the nature of the requested task. For if his presence brought the king even a shred of relief, even if it was just to stand by his side in silence as the other unburdened his heart, then it was worth every lost hour of sleep.

It was his duty.

His voice was rough with sleep when he spoke, a low murmur in the stillness of his room. “Where is he currently?”

“His Majesty is in the North Tower,” the servant replied, her own voice hushed so as to not disturb any of the other sleeping residents within this corridor.

That struck Lancelot as odd – why would the king be up there so late at night? There was nothing up in that tower other than a bedroom that the previous kings had used to privately indulge in their harems. To his knowledge, Arthur himself had never used it – in fact, he did not even have a harem to sate his desires with, should any ever arise. Not to mention, the tower itself was the furthest away from the king’s personal chambers, intended to be fully private and set away from nosy servants and gossiping castle maids.

But Lancelot simply nodded in acknowledgement, the servant hurrying away a moment later, her footsteps quickly swallowed by the shadows of the corridor. For a moment, he sat still, letting the cool air of his room brush over him, grounding him in the present as his mind continued to claw its way out of slumber. His gaze swept over the simple, sparsely-decorated quarters – a far cry from the opulence of the king’s own rooms – before falling on his neatly arranged armor, hanging from a wooden rack that sat on the stone wall opposite his bed.

He rose from his bed and began to dress, each piece of armor perfectly polished to a mirror-like gleam, catching the faintest slivers of moonlight that filtered through the small window above his bed. The weight of the metal was a familiar comfort, the steady clink of buckles and leather straps tightening echoing softly in the otherwise silent room. He strapped Arondight to his hip as well – it was incredibly unlikely that he would need it, especially within the safety of the castle, but it wasn’t in Lancelot’s nature to leave himself vulnerable, even in the safest of places. His role as protector demanded constant vigilance, particularly in the presence of his king – any minor slip-up could mean inadvertently endangering Arthur’s life, and that wasn’t a risk he planned on taking.

With a final glance around his quarters, Lancelot strode out into the dimly lit corridor, his footsteps muffled by the immaculately-woven rugs and thick stone beneath his feet. The journey to the North Tower was one he had made many times for the kings before Arthur, though this time, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was different. There was an unusual tension in the air, something intangible but unmistakable; and as he began to ascend the spiral staircase that would bring him to the top of the tower, his mind raced with unspoken questions that made his muscles tense in anticipation. Why had Arthur requested that they meet here? With this tower’s history, he couldn’t help but let a multitude of assumptions plague his mind as he made his way up. What awaited him at the top? The questions made him uneasy.

Each step seemed to echo louder than the last, the weight of his armor amplifying the silence that hung heavily in the air. The narrow windows lining the stairwell offered fleeting glimpses of the moonlit courtyard below, the garden where so many of their shared midnight walks had taken place, now bathed in argent light. Yet tonight, there was no peace found in the moon’s glow, only a sense of foreboding that grew stronger with each passing second. There was a disturbance in the air – something wasn’t right.

He reached for Arondight’s hilt, holding it firmly, at the ready should something happen. Striped quills began to prickle and rise as his pace increased – if the king was potentially in danger, then he needed to act swiftly. 

Once Lancelot reached the top of the spiral staircase, he found himself facing a simple wooden door. No torches were lit here, but the soft glow of moonlight filtered through a narrow window at the end of the hallway, casting faint, silvery shadows across the stone floor. Though the door was closed, something unusual caught his attention – a faint, sweet scent drifting from the small crack at the bottom. It wasn’t an aroma he recognized, not one of the usual fragrances that filled the royal chambers, nor was it one that the king would typically wear to social events – it was far too pungent for something such as that. This was different, richer, almost intoxicating in a way that set his deepest, most primal urges on edge. He briefly considered that it might be a new fragrance, perhaps a gift from a distant kingdom, something exotic that Arthur had recently imported. But there was something about it that felt off, something too alluring to dismiss easily.

Lancelot’s armored hand hesitated over the wooden door, the metal of his gauntlet catching the faint flicker of moonlight from the narrow window in the hallway. His knuckles hovered for just a moment longer, his breath caught in his throat, before he finally gave the door a soft, restrained knock. The sound was careful, almost tender – out of place for a knight known so well for his strength and valor. But Lancelot didn’t want to startle the king.

He stood rigid, muscles tense beneath his armor, ears straining to catch any sound from the other side. His heart thudded in his chest, his hand poised on the hilt of Arondight, ready to draw it at a moment’s notice. The silence that followed his knock was deafening, stretching long enough that he felt his pulse thunder in his ears. But then, just as he was about to knock again, a faint sound slipped through the door.

A pained whine.

The sound was faint, barely discernible, but it reached Lancelot like a shock to his system. The noise was unmistakable in its anguish, a pained whimper that set his already high-strung nerves ablaze. Without a second thought, Lancelot reacted – his instincts as a guardian overtaking any semblance of hesitation. His shoulder slammed into the door, the wood groaning under his weight as it gave way, nearly splintering off its hinges as it flew open. In a fluid motion, Arondight was drawn, the blade gleaming in the dim light as he surged forward, prepared to face whatever threat awaited inside.

But no enemies met his gaze.

The room was dimly lit, a few flickering candles casting long shadows across the circular chamber. At the center, the enormous canopy bed dominated the space, the heavy drapes swaying slightly from the sudden gust of wind his entrance had caused. On that bed, tangled in a mess of disheveled quilts and silken sheets, lay King Arthur.

Lancelot’s breath caught in his throat as his gaze fell on the king. Arthur was barely visible beneath the blankets, his royal blue fur matted with sweat, body curled into itself and quills raised as though trying to ward off an invisible threat. His trembling was unmistakable, limbs quaking as though seized by some unseen force. For a moment, Lancelot’s mind raced, searching for an explanation – had he fallen ill? Poisoned, perhaps? But as the knight’s eyes traced the contours of the king’s form, taking in the way his chest heaved with shallow, erratic breaths and how his body jerked and twitched beneath the sheets, mixed with that alluring scent, the truth began to dawn on him.

Arthur wasn’t sick – at least, not in the way Lancelot had initially feared.

The air in the room was thick, heavy with something that wasn’t just the scent of sweat or the mustiness of the night. It was something more primal, something that hit the dark hedgehog’s senses like a hammer.

Arthur wasn’t just a king in distress – he was an omega . And he was in heat.

For a brief, dangerous moment, Lancelot’s mind was overtaken by pure, primal instinct. The scent, the sight of Arthur in such a vulnerable state, the way his delectable body seemed to call out to him – it was almost too much. His grip on Arondight tightened, the cold metal of the hilt a meager anchor against the sudden rush of desire flooding his senses. He forced himself to breathe, to stay grounded, to remember who he was and where he stood. He was here to protect his king, not to ravage him.

His breath came in shallow bursts as he fought to ground himself in reality. This was no mere omega in heat – this was his king , his liege. His duty was to protect, to serve, not to indulge in the primal urges that clawed at him, not to lose himself to the feral pull that screamed at him to claim Arthur in every way possible. But it was difficult – impossibly so – when his mind betrayed him, painting vivid, damning images of what it would be like to press the smaller hedgehog beneath him, to bury himself deep inside until all of Arthur’s cries were of his name, to fill him over and over until his scent was permanently entwined with Lancelot's own, until his body swelled with the promise of pups—

Lancelot clenched his jaw, baring his teeth in frustration as he shook his head violently, trying to dislodge the lust-fueled fantasies from his mind. They had no place here, not now. He was a knight, bound by his oath, and he would not – could not – fail Arthur. Not in this way.

“Sire?” His voice was thick with strain, barely managing to pierce through the fog of desire clouding his mind. Slowly, he sheathed his sword, trying his best to maintain control. His steps toward the bed were cautious, though his entire body was taut with the effort it took not to succumb to his baser instincts. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to lunge, to pin the tempting blue hedgehog beneath him and take , but he held fast. “Are you alright? I can… I can call for a medic if you are unwell—”

“H-Hey... Lance…” Arthur’s voice was strained, hoarse. Each word seemed to take immense effort, as though they were being forced through gritted teeth, and yet his kind gaze never wavered. Those emerald eyes, dulled by exhaustion but still captivating, were locked onto Lancelot’s own, holding him hostage with an emotion the knight couldn’t quite place. There was desperation there, yes, but something deeper simmered beneath the surface, something that made his heart stutter in his chest. “I need… I need you to do a favor for me.”

Lancelot froze, his heart hammering in his chest, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind. The sweet scent lingered heavily in the air, blurring the line between sense and instinct, and he could feel the pull of Arthur’s words, his plea. Whatever this favor was, Lancelot already knew it was far beyond anything he had ever been asked before. And yet, despite the gravity of the situation, despite the turmoil swirling within him, one truth remained unwavering.

He would do anything for his king, no matter the consequences.

“What is it that you desire, my lord?” Lancelot’s voice was low, steady, though it trembled at the edges. The question hung between them, heavy with the weight of unspoken promises, with the tension of a bond that ran far deeper than duty or title.

A faint, weary smile ghosted across Arthur’s lips, the barest hint of relief softening the tension that gripped his trembling form. “Stay. Protect me.”

"Sire, I mean no disrespect… but I am an alpha. Are you sure?" Lancelot's voice was low, doing his best to mask the urges that were beginning to gnaw at his mind. He could feel the slow burn of tension creeping up his spine, the heat coiling tighter and tighter around his core. It took every ounce of restraint to stand there, composed, when his instincts screamed for him to act. He had trained himself to withstand the most grueling of trials, but this... this was unlike anything he had faced before. His king, in the throes of his heat, was an omega calling out to him, and no amount of discipline would quell the alpha's natural response to that call. Of course, it was an honor to be chosen to protect his king while he was at his most vulnerable, but he feared losing control over himself.

That smile widened, Arthur's eyes fluttering closed. "Yes, Lance. I'm sure. There is no one that I trust as much as you ." Another pained whine escaped him, his face scrunching up as he fought through the wave of heat, "I need you here."

With a nod, the knight bowed low, crossing his arm over his chest in a sign of respect for the other – he tried his best to ignore any potential implications with how the king enunciated the word ‘ need ’. "As you wish, my lord. Your trust in me is not misplaced, I will keep you safe."

It would be torture, pure utter torture, but he would endure it if it meant easing his king's worries.

Lancelot stood outside the king's makeshift chamber, his body rigid, every muscle taut as if preparing for battle. The setting sun cast long, flickering shadows across the stone walls, bathing the corridor in a warm, orange glow. Yet the beauty of the twilight was lost on him. His senses were entirely consumed by the scent that had soaked into the very air around him – Arthur’s scent. The intoxicating perfume of an omega in heat. It gnawed at him, unrelenting, insistent, until it was all he could think about.

Three days had passed, each one feeling longer than the last. And the torment was exquisite, his very instincts at war with his honor. The alpha in him growled for release, for action, for the taste of flesh and the bite of submission, but his knight’s discipline held firm, a thin but impenetrable barrier between his desires and his duty. His hand drifted to the hilt of Arondight, his fingers curling around the cool metal as if it could anchor him, ground him in the present. The blade had saved him many times on the battlefield, but here, in the quiet halls of the castle, it was a reminder of who he was – a knight, sworn to protect, not to take.

Yet even that steel resolve wavered under the relentless assault of his senses. How many times had his thoughts drifted, unbidden, to dark places throughout the months since he had sworn his oath? How many times had he envisioned the scene? Arthur laid out before him, his submissive little body trembling, every inch of him calling out for Lancelot to come closer, to give him what he needed. The omega's soft, broken cries filling the chamber as Lancelot claimed him, marked him, filled him over and over again until neither of them could think of anything but the feverish desire that consumed them both.

It was a torment like none he had ever known.

It wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed his mind, the maddening temptation to let go, to give in to the raw, overwhelming need to pin Arthur down on that luxurious bed, to claim him, mark him, knot him, until the omega was reduced to a trembling, breathless mess, unable to do anything but beg for more. The vision came unbidden, a brutal strike to his willpower, but Lancelot bit it back, his jaw clenching hard enough to hurt. He would not falter. He couldn’t. The king’s trust in him, his dependence during this most vulnerable time, was an honor that he would never dare to betray.

Still, the physical toll was undeniable. His pouch strained painfully, his cock thick and heavy as it threatened to slip out of its sheath. He couldn’t deny that he had touched himself during the hours when Arthur slept, but it only seemed to make matters worse – the urges only continued to grow as he remained unsatisfied. The heat in his core was unbearable, every inch of him on edge, primed to respond to the intoxicating scent that flooded the corridor. An omega’s heat pheromones were designed to lure alphas in, to ignite their ruts, and Arthur’s scent was no different – delicious, heady, impossible to ignore. Lancelot’s breaths came shallow, his nostrils flaring despite his attempts to inhale as little of that addictive fragrance as possible. But the damage had already been done. It had sunk deep into his very being, wrapping around his thoughts like a vice, threatening to drag him into a state he might not be able to recover from.

And there was still a full month of this to endure.

He exhaled slowly, steadying himself, though the knowledge of the days ahead sent a wave of both dread and a strange sense of pride through him. He was chosen. Arthur had personally selected him to guard him through his heat, a sign of the deepest trust, a bond far beyond the typical knight and king relationship. Lancelot was honored, truly, even if it felt like an impossible challenge at times, like the very air in the castle was working against him.

“L-Lance?”

The sound of Arthur’s voice, barely above a whisper yet still audible, sent a delicious shiver down the dark hedgehog’s spine. His name spoken like that was both a command and a plea, summoning him in a way that no force could keep him from resisting. Without hesitation, the knight turned, his armored hand reaching for the door’s handle. He eased it open, just enough to peek his head through, and immediately met the piercing heat of Arthur’s gaze. Those emerald eyes, usually so sharp and effortlessly commanding the attention of his subjects, were now clouded with discomfort and something far more primal, pupils dilated, darkened with a need that he could feel vibrating in the air between them – their compatibility was undeniable.

Arthur lay atop the now very wet, slick-coated silken sheets – the quilts that had once cocooned his body had instead been kicked aside and lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, likely due to the uncomfortable increase in body temperature as hormones relentlessly raged through his system. The blue hedgehog’s body shifted restlessly, the motion doing little to hide the effects of his heat; his fur was damp with sweat, clinging to his frame, and the scent of omega was so strong now that it nearly took Lancelot’s breath away.

The king’s chest had swelled during his cycle, a soft, enticing plushness that moved with his body as he struggled to find comfort. Blue hips squirmed, desperately seeking any form of friction, his body arching and pressing into the mattress, but the action seemed to bring him no relief, instead only serving to highlight his growing frustration.

The knight’s ruby gaze lingered, his composure faltering as he took in the sight of Arthur’s fawn-colored chest, the way it jiggled slightly with his movements, drawing his thoughts back to places he knew that he shouldn’t let them go. The natural omega traits such as this were specifically designed to attract any potential mates, and it was working – perhaps far too well. Every instinct screamed at him to move closer, to soothe, to satisfy, to sate his own needs. His cock twitched within his armor, the red tip sliding out of his pouch a little as his eyes roved over the object of his lust, grateful that the visor he wore kept his eyes hidden – if Arthur noticed, he didn’t comment on it.

He swallowed hard, his voice rough when he finally managed to speak. “Yes, my lord?” The words came out more strained than he intended, barely masking the desire that simmered beneath the surface.

The king winced and groaned, his body tensing as another wave of heat rolled through him – likely due to now being in the presence of an alpha –  his own voice hoarse and laden with exhaustion. “Can you help me move? I want to sleep, but... my back hurts from lying like this for so long.”

It was an odd request, but a simple enough task. Lancelot knew well enough how an omega’s body would weaken while going through their cycle – Arthur’s limbs would essentially be useless by this point.

“As you wish, sire,” the knight responded, stepping fully into the room, closing and locking the door behind him. The atmosphere seemed to press in on him immediately, the heady scent stronger than ever, enveloping his senses and making it difficult for him to hold himself together. He approached the enormous bed, the soft clank of his armor barely audible over the sound of his own rising heartbeat, which pounded in his ears and drowned out everything else. Every step toward Arthur felt like it took an eternity, the distance between them shrinking far too quickly yet not quick enough. And though Lancelot’s will remained steadfast, he couldn’t help but wonder just how much longer he would be able to hold on.

As the dark hedgehog neared the bed, the tension in the room thickened, settling over his shoulders like an invisible weight. Arthur's scent, that maddeningly sweet, alluring fragrance, grew stronger with each passing second, clinging to the air like a thick haze. It tugged at him, pulling his mind deeper into a fog of temptation, making it harder to think, harder to focus on anything except for the omega before him.

Arthur shifted again, his body still wiggling uselessly atop the sheets in a futile attempt to find comfort. The soft silks beneath him crinkled with his movement, the sheen of sweat on his fur catching in the fading light that filtered through the narrow windows. His expression, one of pained discomfort and silent need, hit Lancelot harder than any blow ever could. The king’s eyes, heavy-lidded and filled with a quiet plea, locked onto Lancelot's, drawing him in like gravity, leaving him no room to escape. As an alpha, it was his duty to take care of an omega, social status be damned – and it was evident just how badly this omega needed him.

The knight’s breath caught in his throat, his instincts flaring dangerously close to the surface as that thought passed through his mind. His body screamed to act, to touch, to help Arthur in ways he hadn’t dared to imagine before. But he buried it deep as deep down as he could, forcing it back into the abyss of his mind. He couldn’t – wouldn’t – betray his king’s trust. Arthur’s vulnerability in this moment demanded protection, not indulgence.

“Sire,” Lancelot said quietly, his voice low and careful as he came to stand beside the bed. His eyes swept over Arthur’s form, taking in the way his hands trembled as they gripped the sheets. He reached out slowly, fingers brushing lightly against the edge of Arthur’s arm, testing the waters, making sure his touch wouldn’t overwhelm or hurt him in his current state. A soft gasp escaped fawn lips, making the dark hedgehog’s ears twitch in interest. “Allow me to help you. I will be gentle.”

Arthur seemed to choke on his breath, a soft sound that sent a ripple of heat through Lancelot’s veins. The king’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he exhaled rapidly, his body going still beneath the touch, as though even that small contact had brought him some measure of relief. Yet there was no mistaking the tremor that passed through him, the subtle shiver of desire that ran just beneath the surface, his blue thighs clenching together and hiding everything that the alpha so desperately wanted to see. Lancelot's fingers twitched, his control wavering just slightly at the mere sight of the omega’s body relaxing beneath him – a sign of submission – but he gritted his teeth and focused on the task at hand.

The temptation gnawed at Lancelot, insidious and relentless, clawing and screaming at the edges of his mind with every passing second. It would be so easy – so dangerously, tantalizingly easy – to abandon his duty for just a moment. To surrender to the primal urge simmering beneath his skin, the one that whispered dark promises of satisfaction after days of suffering. He knew that Arthur wouldn’t fight him, not in this state. The king was too weak, too far gone, his body vulnerable and pliant, desperate for an alpha’s knot and seed. He would have no choice but to submit, to take everything Lancelot gave him and more .

And deep down, the knight knew Arthur would enjoy it, too.

The thought twisted in the alpha’s chest, sending a rush of molten heat through his veins. His hands hovered, trembling as he battled with himself, fighting the beast inside him that snarled and raged, demanding release. His pulse pounded in his ears, nearly drowning out any last rational thought. His fingers twitched, the weight of his desire pressing down on him, suffocating. It took everything in him not to give in, not to tear away the thin veneer of control he had left.

Slowly, carefully, he slid his arms beneath Arthur’s trembling form, lifting the omega with the gentlest of touches. Arthur’s body was soft and searing hot, the heat radiating from him almost unbearable. The king’s breath hitched once more, coming out in shallow, ragged gasps, his hands instinctively reaching up to grasp at Lancelot’s armor. His fingers brushed against the steel, and though the contact was brief, it sent a sharp jolt through Lancelot, as if the omega’s warmth could burn straight through the cold metal.

“Lance…” Arthur whimpered, the sound fragile and raw, laced with an undeniable need that reverberated through the room like a plea. That single note, so filled with vulnerability, pierced through Lancelot’s carefully maintained composure, twisting something deep inside him until it hurt. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to take the blue hedgehog’s pain away, to do anything to ease that suffering. He swallowed thickly, fighting to keep his focus as he shifted Arthur’s position. Gently, he laid the king on his stomach, adjusting him so that his head was cushioned by the soft pillows and ensuring his back was no longer strained, as he had requested.

The knight’s throat tightened, his heart hammering in his chest as he tried to pull his arm away, but Arthur had reached up with his hand and clutched at him, fingers curling into his armored wrist with more strength than he had anticipated for someone so deep into their heat cycle. emerald eyes cracked open, wide and shimmering with a mix of gratitude and something far more wicked.

But then, Arthur moved .

Lancelot’s heart stuttered, words failing him as he watched the omega lift his hips, arching his back in the most enticing display he could imagine. The motion was slow, deliberate, every muscle in Arthur’s body trembling as he raised himself onto his knees. His little blue tail flicked aside, exposing the vulnerable curve of his spine and the dripping, glistening pussy beneath. The omega’s entire form shuddered, laid bare, offering himself without shame or hesitation.

There was no questioning what he desired.

Arthur was presenting – offering himself to Lancelot, the unspoken request clear in every breathless whimper and whisper of the dark hedgehog’s name that escaped his throat. The sight of him like this stole the breath from his lungs and left him momentarily paralyzed. Ruby eyes trailed over the omega’s form, drinking in every detail: the flush of his skin beneath his blue fur, the way his muscles tightened in anticipation, and the scent… oh , that scent. It was thick and intoxicating, clouding the air around him, pulling at every primal instinct buried deep within the alpha.

But Lancelot still couldn’t move, not yet. His heart raged, torn between the duty he had sworn to uphold and the overwhelming, primal urge to claim what was being offered to him so freely. He had promised to protect Arthur, and that protection extended beyond the physical. The king trusted him – trusted him to keep him safe, even now, when he was at his most vulnerable. Lancelot knew that once the line was crossed, there would be no going back.

“Sire…” Lancelot’s voice was a strained whisper as he fought to hold onto the last fraying threads of his restraint. His hands hovered just inches above Arthur’s trembling form, his fingers itching to close the gap, to feel the warmth of the omega’s skin beneath his fingers once more.

Arthur was shaking now, his back arching slightly as he struggled for breath, his chest rising and falling in ragged pants. His claws sank into the silken sheets beneath him, shredding the fabric with every instinctive clench of his fingers. Lancelot’s gaze was fixed on the omega’s every movement, his heart pounding like a war drum in his ears as he watched his beloved king turn his head, emerald eyes dark and hazy, clouded with overwhelming need. The desperation in those eyes, the silent plea buried beneath layers of pain and savage hunger, was enough to make Lancelot’s resolve waver. That perky blue tail of his flicked again, bringing the dark hedgehog’s attention back to the delicate area between his thighs.

“ Alpha… ” Arthur’s voice was barely audible, a pained whisper that sent shivers down Lancelot’s spine. “ Please… ”

That single word was his undoing. It shattered the fragile dam of restraint he had so carefully maintained, and suddenly, everything inside him snapped. The title hung in the air, heavier than any command Arthur had ever given him before, striking at the core of Lancelot’s baser instincts. It was more than a request – it was an invitation.

The king was submitting to him .

Before he could fully comprehend the magnitude of what he was about to do, his body moved on its own, driven by a force he could no longer suppress. He was on the bed, positioning himself behind his king’s trembling form, his heart thundering in his chest as he drank in the sight before him. Arthur’s soft pink folds were glistening with slick, the delicate fur of his inner thighs matted with the evidence of his arousal. The omega’s pheromones, thick and overpowering, filled the air around them, and Lancelot’s head spun as the scent wrapped around him, pulling him deeper into the haze of desire.

His hands trembled as he reached up, the cold metal of his gauntlets grazing his own skin as he fumbled to lift his visor. The steel felt foreign, almost distant, as if it no longer belonged to him, as if the armor of duty and honor he had worked so hard for and worn for so long was now just a barrier in the way of what he truly craved. The very moment that his face was bare, Lancelot leaned in, inhaling deep and letting the thick, intoxicating scent of Arthur’s slick hit him full force, overwhelming his senses. It was so much stronger up close, the aroma of omega heat wrapping around him like a noose, tightening with every breath he took. His control, already frayed, shattered entirely as he pressed his nose against Arthur’s wet folds, the heat radiating from them searing his skin like a brand. He inhaled deeply, greedily, pulling in as much of that sweet scent as he could, his whole body shuddering with the force of it. The tension that had coiled tight in his core for days snapped, flooding him with a wave of liquid heat, primal and all-consuming.

His cock slipped free from its sheath, the weight of it heavy and throbbing with an unbearable ache. The knot at its base pulsed, just begging to lock their bodies together. His every instinct screamed to bury himself deep inside the trembling omega before him, to claim and fill him until there was nothing left but the primal connection between them, no thoughts, no responsibilities – only fulfilling their needs. His breath hitched, each exhale ragged as he pressed closer to Arthur’s quivering form, his lips brushing ever so slightly against the delicate, slick folds of his entrance.

Arthur’s entire frame trembled, muscles twitching with every light, teasing touch. The smallest movement sent ripples of tension through his body, and a sharp gasp tore from his lips, breathless and raw. The sound was pure need, an unfiltered cry of desperation that only fueled the fire burning in Lancelot’s chest. The king’s hips moved instinctively, pressing back against his face, a silent plea for some form of friction, for the alpha to take what was his by right.

The blue hedgehog's entire frame quivered beneath him for a moment before melting into the mattress below, a sharp gasp escaping his lips, the sound caught somewhere between relief and anticipation, his muscles twitching with every featherlight brush of the knight’s nose and lips against his slick entrance. Even the slightest contact seemed to send sparks of pleasure shooting through Arthur’s body, his breath stuttering as he instinctively pushed back, pressing his hips into the alpha's face as if silently begging for more.

Lancelot's resolve finally shattered completely. The quiet desperation in his omega’s movements, the way he arched his back so beautifully, pushing against the knight’s lips, was enough to destroy the last vestiges of restraint. With a feral growl rumbling deep in his chest, Lancelot’s hands shot out, his fingers digging into Arthur’s soft, trembling hips. His grip was rough, possessive, his fingertips pressing hard enough to leave indents in the omega’s flesh. He dragged Arthur back toward him with an almost violent need, pulling the blue hedgehog’s body flush against his face until the slick folds were pressed fully against his lips.

Lancelot’s tongue darted out, the taste of Arthur’s heat spreading across his tongue in an instant, igniting a fire that roared through him. The sweet, musky flavor of the omega’s slick was overwhelming, more potent than Lancelot could have ever imagined, and it consumed him completely. His groan vibrated against Arthur’s sensitive skin, the sound rough and needy as he lapped greedily at the omega’s entrance. His tongue moved with unrelenting hunger, dragging across every fold, gathering the slick that dripped from Arthur’s core, savoring the sweet, molten heat that drove his every thought to madness.

The taste was more than he’d ever dreamed of, the culmination of every forbidden desire he’d tried so desperately to suppress over the past three days. But now, with Arthur’s slick coating his lips and tongue, all sense of duty, all thoughts of honor were obliterated completely. Nothing mattered but this – claiming the submissive little omega before him, devouring every ounce of pleasure that his body had to offer. His tongue worked feverishly, exploring every soft curve, every inviting crevice, tracing the outline of Arthur’s fluttering entrance with meticulous care, as if committing each delicate detail to memory.

No longer were they a king and his loyal knight; but an omega being cared for by his alpha.

“ Mmh… ” Arthur’s gasps turned to moans, each one sending pulse after pulse of heat straight to Lancelot’s throbbing cock. The omega was quivering almost violently beneath him, completely at his mercy, his body pliant and soft, submitting to every rough tug and heated lick. The dark hedgehog’s chest heaved with the effort of restraining his own wild desire, his breath growing increasingly ragged. Every inch of his being wanted to lose himself in the feeling of Arthur’s trembling form beneath him, in the taste of his arousal on his tongue. His lips pressed against the omega’s entrance in a wet, heated kiss, the quivering folds so soft and inviting, begging for attention as Lancelot’s tongue finally dipped inside – he groaned as that enticing heat surrounded the muscle, his own voice tinged with desperation as he lapped greedily at the source of his newest obsession, lost in the intoxicating scent and taste of his king.

And oh, Arthur – Arthur was completely undone beneath him as he neared his peak. His claws were tearing at the silken sheets weakly as he cried out his knight’s name, his usual strength and cockiness drained after long days of enduring his relentless cycle all by himself – but no longer would he need to worry, his alpha was here now and would ensure that each and every one of his needs were met – he could surrender completely. Blue hips bucked against Lancelot’s face, his body clearly pleading for more, needing more, as his moans grew louder, breathier, filled with a helpless kind of desperation – but the alpha wasn’t about to let him think that he had any semblance of control here. He gave that up the moment he presented himself to the dark hedgehog, offering his body willingly.

“ Aah , yes, alpha…”

Deft fingers reached up to find Arthur’s swollen clit, the sensitive nub throbbing beneath his touch as he circled it in quick, precise motions. The king’s reaction was immediate and intense – his hips jerked against Lancelot’s face, desperate, helpless, each movement more frantic than the last as he teetered on the edge of a long-awaited release. His cries grew louder, more ragged, filling the room with a symphony of pleasure and need. It was evident how close he was, and the dark hedgehog couldn’t help but feel proud that he was able to bring his king some semblance of relief so quickly.

Lancelot’s tongue continued to work relentlessly, dragging across every sensitive fold, plunging deeper with each flick, each roll of his tongue against the slick heat that sent shudders through the omega’s body as he finally came with a cry that echoed off the walls of the circular room. As the waves of his orgasm crashed over him, Arthur buried his face in the plush pillows that cushioned his head, muffling his sobs of ecstasy and exhaustion. His breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, each shuddering exhale a testament to the intensity of his release. Lancelot’s name fell from his lips like a fervent prayer, each utterance laced with both reverence and desperation.

Yet even as the initial wave of pleasure ebbed, the knight knew deep within that this release alone would not be enough to fully ease the agony that had gripped him for the past three days. The relentless cycle had left him drained and aching, and the satisfaction of the moment could not erase the lingering need that had built up over his solitary struggle. The emptiness that remained was a stark reminder of the pain he had endured, and though Lancelot knew that he had provided a momentary reprieve, Arthur's needs were far from fully sated.

Slowly, the other’s form slowly grew pliant beneath him with a soft sigh, practically melting into the mattress, and Lancelot reveled in the power that he now held, in the knowledge that the blue hedgehog belonged to him – he was his to ravish, to possess, to mark as his own.

He would leave no part of Arthur untouched, no inch unmarked, until the omega knew beyond any doubt that he belonged entirely to his alpha.

Chapter Text

With a lewd slurp, Lancelot greedily lapped up the last remnants of Arthur’s release, his tongue tracing every slick fold, savoring the trembling shudders that wracked the beautiful omega’s body with the slow motion. The sweet, intoxicating taste lingered on his tongue, and he closed his eyes, rolling the flavor around in his mouth, savoring the pure essence of his king. The air around them was thick, heavy with the overpowering scent of sex and heat and desire, Arthur’s pheromones saturating the atmosphere and clouding Lancelot’s already hazed mind further with each passing breath. 

His thoughts grew darker, more possessive, driven by the undeniable, primal instinct that roared within him.

The vast differences in their social statuses didn’t matter – not while they were locked within this small room.

Arthur was his.

His to claim. His to mark. His to breed.

The image had already burned itself into his mind, every detail vivid and pronounced – Arthur, his proud, cocky king, his belly swollen with their litter of pups, sitting gracefully on his throne and happily showing off that growing bump. The mere thought alone sent a visceral surge of adrenaline coursing through the knight, electrifying every nerve in his body. It spurred him forward, the hunger in his chest growing more ravenous with every second. The vision of His Majesty carrying Lancelot’s heir wasn’t just a simple fantasy; it was a need, a consuming desire that gnawed at him relentlessly now that it had been implanted in his mind – especially now that it was a very real possibility.

Lancelot’s hand trailed possessively over Arthur’s trembling thighs as he lifted his head, and saw that very same desire mirrored right back at him, clear as day. Blue ears were pinned back in a blatant show of submission, a stark contrast to the proud, easygoing posture the king usually held before his court and subjects. Now, in this moment, there was no monarch, no royal titles or duties – just a quivering, needy omega, begging to be knotted and filled to the brim. Emerald eyes were now glazed over with pure lust, fogged with the same desperate craving that echoed through the dark hedgehog’s mind. His blue tail wagged high in the air excitedly, the perky appendage shamelessly flinging droplets of slick across the room.

Lancelot huffed out a low growl as he slowly rose to his knees, his own body trembling with barely-restrained desire. He watched Arthur’s hips sway back and forth tantalizingly, the delicious wetness between his thighs glistening in the dim light as it dripped from his hole and down onto the crumpled bedsheets below, his pussy just begging to be filled up and stretched wide. Lancelot’s hand wrapped around his neglected cock, the ache unbearable now. He gave himself a few firm strokes, biting back a groan as pre-cum seeped into his glove – he had half a mind to shed his armor and the clothing underneath, but he couldn’t be bothered to waste his time doing such a thing right now, not when he was so close to finally burying himself deep inside his king.

Arthur was right where he wanted him, ready and willing – and the possessive part of Lancelot could no longer hold back. His omega, trembling beneath him, was openly begging to be taken, to be claimed fully, and the knight intended to do just that, over and over again, until their mating cycles came to a close.

And if he was being honest with himself, he hoped that they could continue this lewd dance long after, as well.

The alpha poised himself at the entrance of Arthur’s wet, trembling pussy, the omega's heat radiating out in waves so strong that it was difficult to hold himself back for even a second longer.

“Are you ready?” He managed to ask, voice rough with lust, just barely pressing the pointed tip of his cock against the needy hole.

Underneath him, Arthur squirmed, his lithe body twisting on the bed as he writhed against the torn silk sheets, his legs parting wider, hips bucking backwards in a silent plea that only Lancelot could answer. His cries from earlier had faded into soft, desperate whimpers as his limbs continued to shake from the intensity of his previous release. His emerald eyes, half-lidded and glazed with lust, met Lancelot’s over his shoulder once again, the depth of heat and desperation in that gaze sending a shudder of anticipation down the knight’s spine.

Each breath Arthur took was ragged, punctuated by soft, breathy sounds, his voice breaking as he babbled incoherent pleas – a jumbled mess of words that tumbled from his lips in a fevered rush with little thought behind them. But amongst the jumble of babbles, the dark hedgehog could make out a clear sentence:

“Please, alpha… please…”

And, after waiting so valiantly for three days and denying himself of this pleasure for so long, the mere sound of his omega begging for him sent a bolt of pure, feral satisfaction coursing through him. His control faltered for a heartbeat, and with a low groan that vibrated through his chest, he gave in – just enough to let the thick head of his cock breach that desperate entrance – Arthur’s body welcomed the length with a delicious tightness, his silken walls parting to accommodate the girth, squeezing around him so perfectly, like his body knew that Lancelot belonged here, buried deep inside of him.

The knight’s jaw clenched, teeth grinding together as he fought the primal urge to take the omega with reckless abandon – the only thing holding him back was the knowledge that there would be plenty of time for that later, after they were more accommodated with one another. Inch by inch, he pressed forward, the slow advance a torment of its own, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as the pleasure intensified, the tightness around him becoming almost vice-like and painful. The blue hedgehog's inner walls squeezed and fluttered around him, practically pulling him in deeper and welcoming him within tight, addictive heat.

Arthur’s reaction to being filled was immediate, a sharp cry ripping from his throat as he tensed and pushed back towards the other, his body straining closer to Lancelot with desperate need. "Mmh-aah!" His voice echoed in the chamber, bouncing off the stone walls, the sound drenched in pleasure and longing – the knight couldn't wait to hear more of those melodious noises, knowing that he was the one drawing them out from his beloved king.

Fawn-colored hands scrambled for purchase on the sheets, clutching at them as his hips bucked up, instinctively seeking to take more of his alpha’s cock. He was a quivering mess beneath him, his body pliant and submissive, trembling with the desire to be claimed completely as his heat cycle consumed the last remnants of his conscious mind. His legs spread wider, blue hips rocking back in time with Lancelot’s slow, shallow thrusts as he continued carefully working him open, every muscle in his body practically screaming for more.

Once his length was fully sheathed inside of Arthur, Lancelot grunted as he pressed his unswollen knot against his omega's entrance, earning another soft whimper from the other. Blue legs quaked beneath him, his omega's body trembling with the effort to hold itself together as Lancelot repeated the motion, pulling himself back an inch before pushing forward, harder this time, just enough for his knot to tease and stretch that tight hole a little wider – it throbbed, aching, as he thrust again with more force, letting it slip into the heat-addled blue hedgehog. The gland hadn't fattened up enough to lock their bodies together, but the mere thought of being tied with his king nearly made Lancelot salivate.

"Mmh–yes…"

"Chaos…" Lancelot cursed under his breath as stars burst in his vision – his knot was so sensitive after being denied the stimulation that it so badly needed over the past three days while in Arthur's presence. But now, wrapped in pure wet heat, he couldn't deny how incredible everything felt.

Deciding that they had both waited long enough, the knight pulled back just slightly, groaning as his knot caught at the rim of the omega’s entrance for a brief moment before sliding out with a lewd pop. He didn’t wait before pushing back in again, the slow drag of his cock through Arthur’s tight, slick heat absolutely maddening, each careful thrust driving him deeper into the omega’s willing body – it took everything within him to not let his more feral instincts consume him; even with the heat pheromones clouding his thoughts, he didn't want to risk accidentally hurting his king by either being too rough or pinching his delicate backside with his armor. 

“Y-yes, yes, Lance–… alpha…” Arthur’s voice was barely a whisper, every word breathy and ragged, but the sound of his name spoken with such desperation sent a jolt through Lancelot’s entire system. It was as if the very syllables wrapped around his rut-hazed mind, urging him forward, intoxicating him with their weight.

The mix of delicious, tight heat wrapped around his cock, and the way Arthur responded to every inch of his length as he moved made Lancelot’s hips snap forward with a force he hadn’t intended, his self-control slipping just enough to elicit a sharp, breathless cry from the smaller hedgehog beneath him, “Alpha!”

“My king…” Lancelot groaned. The title fell from his lips with reverence, but there was no mistaking the raw possession that bled through the words. His armored chest pressed down against Arthur’s back as he leaned forward, the weight of his body forcing the omega to press deeper into the mattress. Plush pillows and silken blankets bunched beneath him, cradling his oversensitive form tenderly, but they did nothing to ease the pressure of Lancelot pinning him down – yet Arthur didn’t resist. There were no murmurs of discomfort, no hesitation. His pliant and submissive body simply melted beneath his knight, more than willing to do anything that he desired.

Arthur was perfect like this – utterly compliant, his body offered without reservation, something entirely unexpected of a king. But Lancelot should have known better; despite his upbringing, there was always something different about the blue hedgehog – something that set him apart from others. 

"My omega," Lancelot corrected himself, his voice dropping to a deep, husky growl as he adjusted his grip on blue hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh with renewed intensity. Though some viewed the term as derogatory, it felt right – more than right, especially now, in every possible way. Arthur was his omega, regardless of if he was the ruler of this kingdom. In this room, the pesky blue hedgehog held no true power – he was expected only to submit, to take his alpha’s seed deep within his body over and over again until they were both fully satisfied.

With a slow roll of dark hips, Lancelot pulled out until only the bulbous head of his length remained inside before he thrust forward again, the movement fluid and deep. He could feel the way Arthur’s body immediately tightened around him in response, drawing the knight in deeper, as if it knew what it needed and wanted to keep him trapped inside. The thick gland at the base of his cock teased incessantly at Arthur’s entrance, pressing against him with a delicious pressure a moment before popping inside of his welcoming heat once more – it still wasn’t swollen enough to lock them together, but the reaction it caused was instantaneous.

“Yes–aah!” Arthur’s body convulsed, a tremor running through him as he clenched down hard, a sharp cry ripping from his throat. His fingers dug into the sheets, knuckles turning white as he clung to the bedding beneath him, his entire body arching up to meet Lancelot’s grinding thrust. “More!”

The plea hung in the air for a tense moment, but instead of satisfying Lancelot, it ignited something darker inside him. The word, uttered so wantonly, sent a spark of fury searing through his veins – a white-hot surge of primal rage that obliterated any sense of rational thought.

His omega was not in control here. His omega did not make demands of him.

A low, feral snarl rumbled deep in the dark hedgehog’s chest, vibrating through his entire body. His grip on Arthur’s hips tightened, fingers digging into the soft flesh with bruising force, and without a second thought, he bared his teeth and sank his fangs into the tender skin of his omega’s shoulder – the sharp points easily broke through the flesh, instantly filling his mouth with blood. His teeth held firm as he huffed out a growl, the sound muffled against Arthur’s skin, but the message was clear – this was a reminder of who, exactly, was in control here.

Arthur let out a startled yip, his body jerking beneath Lancelot’s hold. For a moment, he thrashed and fought, his slick walls clenching down hard around the cock buried deep inside… the reaction was normal given the sudden burst of pain – but it only served to anger the dark hedgehog more. How dare he fight against his alpha?

But after that brief moment of resistance, Arthur finally stilled, his movements slowing as he surrendered once again. Whether it was from fear or the realization of his mistake, Lancelot didn’t know – he didn’t care. All that mattered was that his omega had fallen back into line without needing further punishment.

Lancelot grunted as he pulled back, releasing Arthur’s shoulder from the vice of his teeth, leaving a bloodied mark in his wake. He lapped at it with his tongue a few times to ease the sting, but a piece of himself was satisfied knowing that his king now carried his mark. Arthur was beneath him, writhing in a mix of pleasure and pain, submitting fully to his alpha’s will. And that thought alone drove Lancelot to move again, his hips snapping forward again with renewed vigor, each movement rough and precise, driving deeper into the blue hedgehog’s trembling body and filling the small room with the sounds of desperation and wet flesh slapping against flesh.

Arthur’s hands clawed at the blankets and furs beneath him, fingers flexing and curling into the coarse material as if seeking an anchor amidst the relentless pace that the alpha had set. The fresh wound on his shoulder glistened in the low light, the mix of blood and saliva a stark crimson against his beautiful blue fur. His body was trembling as he met the knight thrust for thrust, slick walls fluttering around Lancelot’s length with every punishing slam of his hips. A low, broken moan slipped past his lips, half from pleasure, half from surrender as he arched his back, instinctively offering more of himself to the dark hedgehog.

Lancelot’s lips twisted into a wicked, predatory grin that bared just a hint of sharp canines. Dark, calloused hands roamed over his body with purpose, sliding from the lean curve of blue hips to the delicate dip of his lower back. There, he pressed down hard, forcing the omega’s spine into a deeper, more submissive arch, angling his thrusts with ruthless precision to strike that sweet spot buried deep inside. Instantly, Arthur’s breath caught in a sharp, ragged hitch, his lithe body jerking as if a bolt of lightning had surged through him. His keening moans spilled into the air, each one a jagged shard of sound that made Lancelot’s cock throb and twitch.

“Haah–yes! Lancelot–please!” Arthur’s voice was a broken plea, high and frantic, his words dissolving into a whimper as another deep thrust rocked his quaking frame. His blue thighs quivered, muscles straining as he pushed back instinctively, chasing the overwhelming pleasure despite the intensity threatening to shatter him.

“Mine,” Lancelot snarled, the word a low hiss that just barely carried over the rhythmic, wet slap of skin against skin. He punctuated the claim with a thrust so deep it felt like he was carving his name into Arthur’s very soul, grinding his fattening knot against the blue hedgehog’s entrance as he did so. Arthur’s body responded in kind, his hips rocking back with a mindless desperation, seeking more, needing more, even as his moans grew sharp and wild, teetering on the edge of his orgasm. The knight’s blood sang with the power of it, the knowledge that he alone could reduce his king to this – a writhing, pleading creature who belonged to him in every single way.

Lancelot leaned down, his broad chest pressing flush against the sweat-dampened fur of Arthur’s back once again, the heat of their bodies melding into a single point of searing contact. His breath ghosted hot and heavy against the sensitive curve of Arthur’s ear, each rough exhale making the triangular appendage flick in response. “Say it,” he demanded. His tongue flicked out, tracing the delicate shell of Arthur’s ear before his teeth grazed the tender flesh – a warning. “Say that you are mine, Arthur. Say it now.”

“Yours!” the king cried out instantly, his voice shattering into a high-pitched wail, raw with beautiful surrender. “I’m–hngh–I’m yours, Lancelot! Pl-please!” His words were a fevered chant, spilling from his lips as his body arched beneath the knight’s brutal thrusts.

“Good boy,” Lancelot purred, his voice dripping with approval. A low grunt tore from his throat as Arthur’s inner walls clenched tight around him as he was praised, the omega’s body gripping him like a vice, hot and slick and so utterly perfect. They were both teetering close to the edge now, the air thick with the scent of sweat and arousal, the sounds of Arthur’s keening cries and Lancelot’s ragged breaths weaving together and filling the room with the sound of their shared desire.

Lancelot’s knot pulsed, thick and fully swollen, aching for stimulation. He pressed it against Arthur’s weeping entrance again, teasing the tight ring of muscle with slow nudges that drew a broken, pleading moan from the omega’s lips. Arthur’s body shuddered violently as he pressed back, inner muscles fluttering around the knight’s cock as blue thighs spread wider as if to beg for it, his voice a wrecked litany of, “Your knot, I need it, your knot–”

The knight growled low in his throat, a sound that was equal parts possession and adoration, as he leaned down to nip at the sensitive juncture of Arthur’s neck and shoulder, right below the mark that he had left minutes ago. His teeth scraped just hard enough to leave a second fleeting mark, a silent vow that this was only the beginning.

“Take it,” Lancelot rasped, the sound of his voice scraped raw by the fire roaring through his veins. The words trembled with a barely leashed ferocity, betraying how close he teetered to the precipice of losing himself entirely to the rut that was clouding his mind.

He thrust forward again, hard, his swollen knot catching against the tight, slick ring of muscle at entrance, too swollen to easily breach it. Lancelot pulled back, just enough to gain some leverage, before slamming forward once again – his breath caught in his throat, pulse hammering as he felt the omega’s pussy forcefully stretch to accommodate the fat, throbbing swell of his knot.

The dark hedgehog pressed his face into the slick, fevered curve of Arthur’s neck, his lips grazing the hypersensitive skin as he drew in a ragged breath, drowning in the intoxicating scent of his king. It was a wild, primal blend – lush grass and fresh, blooming florals, undercut by the sweet, dizzying musk of an omega in the throes of heat. The aroma was a molten surge through his veins, igniting the smoldering fire in his core, urging him to move, to claim, to devour Arthur entirely until nothing remained but the raw, electric connection that buzzed between them.

Dark fingers clamped around narrow blue hips with punishing force, claws biting into the yielding flesh until the fur flattened beneath his bruising grip. Every muscle in his body was taut, veins bulging along his arms like cords, straining from the sheer effort of restraint. His body screamed for release, a primal demand clawing at his insides, but he held back, every sinew trembling with the need to ensure his mate’s satisfaction before his own.

“Mine,” he growled again, the single word an oath, a prayer, a sacred promise carved into his king’s body. His lips found the delicate curve of his omega’s shoulder, kissing and nipping at the tender, sweat-dampened skin.

With one final, forceful thrust, his knot breached Arthur’s tight, quivering entrance, the wet, obscene pop echoing in the haze of their shared ecstasy. His hips jerked backwards instinctively, dragging Arthur’s trapped body with them, the swollen gland too thick, too unyielding to slip free.

“Yes–oh fuck–Lance–! Mmm!” The blue hedgehog cried out into the air, his voice echoing through the chamber, “Mm–haah…!” Arthur’s body shuddered violently beneath him, a breathless cry ripping from his throat as the fattened gland locked them together, an unyielding tether that pulsed with their shared heartbeats. “Shit–I’m–Ah!” The blue hedgehog’s climax crashed down on him like a tidal wave, his body arching taut as a bowstring, every muscle seizing in a sudden onslaught of white-hot surge of ecstasy. His inner walls clenched around Lancelot’s knot, a rhythmic, desperate pull that dragged a guttural groan from the dark hedgehog’s chest.

Lancelot wasn’t far behind, his own release tearing through him in that same moment, a cataclysmic torrent of pleasure that obliterated every thought, every fragment of control, leaving only the primal roar of his need in its wake. The sensation of Arthur’s tight, slick pussy spasming around his cock was absolutely maddening, drawing out thick, hot ropes of cum that flooded his omega’s core. His chest heaved, breaths coming in short, ragged bursts as he fought to ground himself in the overwhelming tide of sensation.

The warmth, the slickness, the relentless pressure of Arthur’s inner walls enveloped him, a velvet inferno that seared every nerve ending with exquisite agony. His knot throbbed, swollen to its limit, each delicious pulse of his release sending shudders through his frame as he poured himself into Arthur, marking him, claiming him in the most primal way.

Even though they were knotted together, Lancelot’s hips rocked with feral desperation, shallow, hard thrusts that pressed the engorged gland deeper against his omega’s quivering insides. The friction was torturous, amplifying the overwhelming sensation of being locked inside of his mate, the tight, slick heat dragging out his orgasm until his vision blurred and his breath came in ragged, animalistic gasps.

Arthur’s pussy clenched around his cock and knot in response, a delicious sensation that extended their shared ecstasy, wringing every last drop of seed from Lancelot’s shaking body. His hands gripped Arthur’s hips harder, claws biting into sweat-slicked fur, anchoring himself as the world dissolved into a haze of heat and pleasure.

After a few moments, he could feel the blue hedgehog’s body begin to relax beneath him, still caught in the aftershocks of his climax, his inner walls fluttering around Lancelot’s still-throbbing knot with a softness that contrasted the fierce, desperate grip of moments before. Every subtle clench sent a fresh jolt of pleasure skittering through the dark hedgehog, his oversensitive nerves sparking with the lingering heat of their shared release.

Then, his king’s head tipped back into the nest of furs, sweat-damp quills spilling across the tangled blankets like a darkened crown. His chest rose and fell in uneven pulls, each breath catching faintly as the tremors of release began to ebb. Emerald eyes fluttered half-open, their sharp brilliance softened into a glassy haze of languid satisfaction. A soft, broken whimper escaped him – a sound so fragile it cut through the fading storm of release and caught something deep in Lancelot’s chest.

The knight eased his hold, the bruising grip on Arthur’s hips loosening until his hands slid upward to cradle the narrow curve of his waist. Calloused fingers traced the sweat-slick fur in slow, delicate passes, their tenderness at odds with the ferocity that had consumed them only moments ago. He leaned in close, lips following the path of his fingers, pressing slow, worshipful kisses along the sensitive line of Arthur’s throat. Every delicate kiss carried a quiet promise, tasting of salt from sweat and the faint sweetness of his omega’s scent.

“How do you feel, my King?” The quiet words vibrated against Arthur’s skin, stirring a faint shiver in the blue hedgehog’s frame.

Arthur’s lips curved into a faint, exhausted smile, his eyes fluttering open to meet Lancelot’s ruby gaze. The vulnerability in those emerald depths was tempered by a quiet strength, a flicker of the indomitable spirit that the dark hedgehog knew all too well.

“I feel great, my knight,” Arthur whispered, his voice hoarse and barely audible.

“Hmph.” Something in Lancelot’s chest tightened at the reply, a fierce warmth blooming through him. He exhaled a long, steady breath – and, with a careful shift, he gathered his king close and rocked them to their sides. The movement was a bit complex to maneuver given that he was still clothed in his armor, but thankfully, he managed to readjust them without accidentally bringing discomfort to the other.

Arthur yielded to the movement without resistance, a small sigh escaping as he nestled back against the knight’s breastplate. Lancelot curled his body protectively around him, one arm draped over the blue hedgehog’s waist, his palm smoothing along his side in slow, grounding strokes.

As the minutes passed, Arthur’s breathing slowed, each inhale deeper, steadier, until it settled into the soft cadence of sleep. Lancelot tightened his hold fractionally, his thumb brushing idle circles against the blue hedgehog’s hip as he listened to the quiet sound of his beloved king’s slumber.

But Lancelot did not allow himself to drift. Though exhaustion tugged at his own limbs, the knight remained awake, his senses attuned to the subtle shifts of the body in his arms. Should Arthur stir, he would feel it instantly; should the cold creep in, he would draw the furs tighter. Anything that his king needed, Lancelot would be prepared for.

The dark hedgehog rested his chin against Arthur’s shoulder and let the silence fill him, his body relaxing as he settled into the rare moment of peace.