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Phainon has little clue how they got here. The day went as it normally did until the topic shifted. He’s not sure how he ended up discussing sexual encounters with Mydei.
They stand in the shade beside Kephale’s fountain amidst the rush of crystalline water and the bobbing of pink petaled lotuses.
“You’re a virgin?” Mydei asks, incredulous, crossing his arms in that tight manner he always does.
Phainon laughs. “So, what if I am? Do you have a problem with that?”
“Hmph.”
He knows Mydei has experience. It’s rather obvious, but his heart still gives a little squeeze when he hears it. They’re not dating, so there’s no reason why he should feel this way to begin with. Still… he closes that line of thought.
They aren’t a couple. Not now, probably not ever. He’s a sorry excuse of an omega. No alpha will take to him, much less an alpha as strong and effortlessly commanding as Mydei. He knows this.
So, why…? Why does he care so much?
☼
They don’t speak much after. Mydei is sent off on a mission to uncover information about the missing coreflames, and Phainon spends his time training on the battlefield, honing in his skills and ignoring the whispering in the back of his head that reminds him of his shortcomings.
Mydei has been with others. Briefly, he wonders who Mydei spends his ruts with, if they’re soft and sweet, dainty and delicate—everything that he’s not. He wonders how Mydei treats them, if he’s rough with them or gentle in that strange manner that always catches Phainon off guard.
Jealousy curls in his gut. With a roar, he slices through another training dummy, spraying wood and hay everywhere. The tenth one of the day. His muscles ache, sweat beading down his temple as he leans beneath the shade of an olive tree to catch his breath.
When he sees Mydei again, it’s near the gates of Okhema. Kephale’s dawn shines bright, stifling and unwelcome. His clothing, thick and layered, sticks uncomfortably to his skin, and he feels like he’s being broiled in a pressure cooker. The scent patch strapped to his neck presses uncomfortably against his sweaty skin.
Mydei is speaking to a young Kremnoan maiden—long brunette hair, cinched waist, smelling sweet like warm cinnamon rolls and honey. She giggles and inches closer. The prince makes no move to push her away.
Phainon turns and leaves.
☼
The days pass. Phainon knows Mydei’s schedule down to the second. It’s easy to avoid him, hiding away from the places he knows Mydei likes to visit. Marmoreal Market is off-limits during the third quint of ascent hour and he can’t step foot in Kephale Plaza during the first quint of parting hour. He even stops visiting the baths for his daily relaxation ritual, not willing to risk an accidental meeting.
It’s horrible, petty. He knows he’s acting stupid, irrational. Mydei hasn’t done anything wrong yet he can’t bring himself to face the alpha, not when these ugly feelings have sunk their claws so deep that he doesn’t know where it ends and where he begins.
The thought of Mydei with someone else haunts him. These emotions threaten him, a looming shadow that follows him wherever he goes. It hides in the corner of his vision, always there, always a reminder of what he wants but can’t have.
Mydei is everything Phainon wishes he was. Strong. Brave. Confident. An alpha that naturally commands attention with his presence. A born leader.
Someone so effortlessly perfect would never desire someone like him . Phainon knows. After all, he had fallen in love with Mydei the day they met, as they lay side by side on the stone, worn out from the ten consecutive days and nights of battle. Only he realized then that his feelings would never be returned. He’s cursed to hurt anyone he’s ever loved.
Besides, Mydei has never given any indication that he likes Phainon as anything more than fellow chrysos heir, rival, and comrade in arms. The prince isn’t lacking in attention. No. Omegas and alphas alike desire him, whisper about him.
Unfortunately, Phainon is set to meet with Aglaea at the Hero’s Bath, every two weeks on the dot. The meetings are said to be a way to catch up on current events and allow him transparency in the flame-chase but he knows she does it as a way to keep him in line. Even with her golden threads weaved throughout Okhema, she still doesn’t trust him. And well, he can’t blame her. He caused her enough trouble when he first arrived.
It’s no matter. He’s known himself to be a liability. No one has said it to his face, but their expressions of silent judgement show more than words ever could.
He only hopes he doesn’t see Mydei along the way, but he should have known better than to try his luck. His walk through Marmorael Market carries on without a hitch but the moment he steps foot into the public baths, he’s faced with strawberry-blonde hair and the scent of sea salt and iron. Mydei spots him before he can slide away, and Phainon silently curses to himself.
Did he inadvertently anger Zagreus? Is that why he’s so unlucky?
His skin prickles, thousands of searing needles jabbing into his tender flesh. A voice in his head whispers to run, hide. He brushes it off and forces a wide grin, “Hey, Mydei! What are you doing here?”
Mydei looks him over, sharp golden eyes staring straight into his soul, dissecting and ripping him apart like he’s a lab specimen. A shiver runs down Phainon’s spine, his smile quivering at the edges.
Straight to the point, Mydei says, “You’re avoiding me.”
The alpha moves closer. Phainon’s leg twitches.
“Am not,” Phainon says. He coughs into his hand, “Well, would you look at that. I have to go—”
A gauntleted hand grips his wrist. It scalds where they touch.
Panic strikes like lightning upon scorched earth.
“Let me go,” Phainon bites out as he attempts to yank himself away, only to find himself weak and unwilling to part with Mydei’s grasp. His body works against him as it always does. He should know better by now. “I really do have to meet up with Aglaea…”
“I’ll accompany you there,” Mydei says. The deep tenor of his voice has chills running down Phainon’s spine and a strange warmth flooding his chest. “It’s been awhile since we had the chance to speak, Deliverer.”
Cityfolk pass by, gazes lingering. The air is warm with the floral scent of bath oils and fragrant perfumes. Entering the baths feels like a warm hug, but Phainon finds it more akin to a searing embrace. He doesn't want to be here, not with Mydei in front of him, not with everyone staring at him, seeing him, pulling him apart at the seams like he’s an old, dirty rag doll with fabric ripped and threads loose.
“There’s no need,” Phainon replies easily. “You are a busy man. Go tend to your other affairs.”
Mydei’s expression grows stern. Those golden eyes regard him, and Phainon has to swallow down the notes of discomfort brewing in his chest.
This close, he’s flooded with the scent of iron and sea salt tinged with notes of sweet pomegranate. He wants to inhale, wants to coat his lungs in Mydei’s scent, but what’s the point? If at the end of the day, he can never have what he wants. Mydei doesn’t love him nor desire him. It’s a one-way street.
He wonders if the heat is getting to his head.
“What’s gotten into you?” Mydei asks, voice pitching lower with concern. “It’s been weeks since I’ve last seen you.”
Phainon turns his gaze towards the direction of the Hero’s Baths. He doesn’t like the look on Mydei’s face, doesn’t enjoy the guilt that threatens to spill over with each passing moment. Mydei doesn’t deserve this cold treatment, not when he hasn’t done anything to warrant it.
“You can come with me,” Phainon relents.
“ Deliverer. ”
“Let’s go.” Phainon stalks off, ignoring the thump in his chest and the curl of his fists.
It doesn’t escape him how Mydei trails slightly behind him, watching his every movement. They don’t walk shoulder to shoulder, Phainon moves as fast as he can without breaking into a run.
But even like this, even with this barrier, he doesn’t feel so alone. He misses this—Mydei by his side. The back of his nape stings where the scent patches stick onto his skin, muffling his scent.
☼
His cycles are sparse and difficult to predict. He doesn't know when his next heat will hit. Medications don’t work and even Hyacine can’t help him anymore. He has tried multiple times, forcing down those bitter pills until the nausea became too much to deal with. Even herbal remedies, toxic and astringent, do nothing to abate the fire burning inside him.
Worse is when he had fallen into heat in the middle of a solo mission. It made him violent and difficult to control, terrible for the monsters that he had been killing. When he returned, he passed out for a few days, only waking up to Mydei’s concerned knocking.
Thankfully, his door had been locked, but it nearly sent him into cardiac arrest. Had Mydei entered and found him in such a disheveled, weak state, Phainon doesn’t think he’d be able to look Mydei in the eye anymore.
After that day at the baths, their relationship resumes as usual, but the bitterness stays.
They spar, clashing with wide grins and loud words. He misses Mydei more than he’d like to admit. After being away from the alpha for so long, Phainon clamors for this.
His thighs grow wet and sticky with slick, and each brush of their bodies sends electricity coursing through his veins. His stance is unstable, movements shaky and uncertain. He’s glad his pants are dark.
With Mydei so close, heat radiating off the alpha. Each breath Phainon takes has him inhaling fire.
Mydei has never been one to shy away from his secondary gender. Unlike Okhemans who are more reserved with their scents, Kremnoans wear it like a badge of honor. The crown prince is at the helm, an alpha unlike the rest.
It’s night and day. Sometimes Phainon wonders why a man like Mydei would ever give him the time of day. Masquerading around as a beta, hiding away from reality.
Normally, they’re evenly matched. But this time, Phainon’s movements are sloppy, unbalanced. He wobbles in his step, wincing when a particularly harsh punch lands his way. He tries to dodge but ends up slipping, dragging Mydei down with him.
Mydei lands on top of him with a thud. His vision spins, colors dancing at the corners.
“Get off me,” Phainon groans. “Mydei…”
In this position, with Mydei pressed solidly against him, his hot body seeping warmth. The desire blooms, growing unbearable. A single breath has the scent of the prince flooding his lungs. Wetness pools. His pants are drenched.
He wants Mydei to fuck him.
Mydei’s gaze trails lower. Golden eyes widen, “You’re—”
“I need to go,” Phainon swallows, ears beginning to burn. “Get off of me.”
Without a second word, Mydei removes himself, giving Phainon space to finally breathe.
Tears sting the corners of his eyes. Phainon turns away then dashes off, running away as fast as he possibly can. He can’t be here. Not like this.
☼
Heat curls in his gut. The embers burst forth claiming all in its wake.
Safe inside the confines of his lonely bedroom, Phainon allows his scent to flow free. The patches have been removed, all lotion washed off. It’s only him, bare and open. His nape aches, and he runs his fingers over the jagged skin as he curls in on himself.
He feels hot, a simmering heat beneath his skin. Already, he’s beginning to sweat. Clothed in a thin, sheer exomis that hangs loosely off his shoulder, there’s little left to the imagination. The fabric rests uncomfortably against his damp body, and he’s tempted to rip it off.
It’s customary to spend his heats alone, hidden within his room, unable to brave the light of day until he feels like himself again. When he first arrived at Okhema, he had downed suppressants as if they were candy, but overuse led to their effects wearing off. Even the strongest of medications have no use anymore.
All he can do now is hide beneath layers of enchanted clothing, lotions, and scent patches. The one time he allowed his scent to flow, spurred on by Tribbie’s insistence, he had been thrown back to reality. Those around him had stared horrified when he walked through the plaza in the middle of his pre-heat—whispers of an omega that smelled like burning forests and decay.
His room is barren. His bed cold. There’s nothing here, merely a room meant for fitful rest when he has the chance. A singular pillow, a thin blanket. He doesn't allow himself the luxury of a nest. He doesn’t deserve one, and well, he barely considers himself an omega.
Damaged goods. That’s all he is and all he ever will be.
The Okhema of now believes him to be a beta. Mydei does too. It’s better this way.
Phainon clutches onto Mydei’s chiton, the one he accidentally left at the bathhouse, and presses it to his nose. He inhales deeply. It’s shameful, but it soothes the omega inside him, the one that clamors for a mate.
His mating gland is damaged—not from a claiming bite but from the blade of the masked spectre. His scent is permanently stained with a burnt bitterness. It’s worse during his heats, the scent of burn and decay overwhelming.
He smells like Aedes Elysiae did on that day. Or rather, the remnants of Aedes Elysiae, the crumbled ashes of what was once his home mixed with the metallic tang of splattered blood. If he closes his eyes, he can see Cyrene smiling at him, the light leaving her eyes as she bids her soft farewells.
It’s hilarious to think that he had been ruined far before he even knew what secondary gender was. The masked spectre allowed him to live but forced him to bear a constant reminder, a stain that cannot be removed no matter how many washes. It wasn’t enough that his sleep is plagued by nonstop nightmares.
No. He wasn’t even allowed the reprieve of an unharmed body. He still bears physical marks of that day.
It wasn’t as if he planned on settling down and starting a family. He’s not even sure he can bear pups given his constitution and penchant for training until his muscles no longer respond. He’s sure the medications have done their damages.
The prophecy looms over his head. He has his duties.
Maybe if the circumstances were different, he could look to a future where he has a family of his own, a child he can cradle in his arms, singing the lullabies his mom once sang to him. He remembers laying in her warm lap as they gazed up at the stars, the light, rhythmic swaying of the wheat surrounding them.
Tears trickle. He tries to blink them back, but they fall regardless, sliding down his cheeks and wetting his pillow.
It’s pathetic. He’s pathetic.
His hole clenches and unclenches around nothing, begging to be filled. His body burns, like the embers of a bushfire burning through untouched forest.
☼
The scent of forged iron and sea salt floods his senses. He’s falling. The beacon of light grows dimmer and dimmer. It’s futile yet he stretches his arm out, attempting to reach what he knows he can’t. The haze washes over him like the changing tides of summer.
A gauntleted hand pulls him out of the fog. For a moment, all is still. Slowly, his eyes blink open, and he’s greeted by the sight of blonde hair falling over sharp golden eyes. He wonders if he’s still dreaming. It must be a dream.
He reaches out to touch the spectre of the man he so desperately desires but can never have. The alpha that makes him feel like everything and nothing all at once. His feverish hand collides with Mydei’s cheek, thumb stroking over the smooth, tanned skin in reverence.
“Deliverer,” Mydei murmurs. His voice cuts through the haze.
Phainon jolts like a deer caught in a trap. This… This isn’t a dream. Mydei is here. In front of him.
Fuck.
“How did you get in?” Phainon asks, quickly pulling his hand away.
“The door was unlocked,” Mydei states.
“Oh.” In his haste to return home, he must have forgotten. Stupid of him, really.
Concern is etched onto Mydei’s features… the pity in those golden eyes lined with crimson. Phainon has to turn away, his cheeks growing hot. Shakily, he pulls himself up and into a sitting position, fingers bunching at the bedsheets.
Why… Why is Mydei here? He shouldn’t be here. He can’t be here.
Barely clothed, his body on display with none of the thick layers of clothing or armor to hide him from view, Mydei can see him. All of him.
He can’t hide. There’s nowhere to run. Panic rises like the tides crashing over the shore. The surroundings grow thick with hazy, ashen pheromones, the scent of scorched earth meshing with the sour tang of decay.
No. Nonono. This can’t be happening.
“Have you eaten?” Mydei asks. “Do you need water? I can—”
“Get out,” Phainon snaps. He can’t help the tremor that wracks his frame nor the heat that builds between his thighs.
Mydei stays planted in place. Phainon’s vision burns red.
“Get out!” he roars.
“Deliverer—”
He lunges at Mydei, clawing at his exposed skin. He throws out punches and kicks that are promptly blocked off. His movements are messy, akin to a scared, feral animal more than a trained, disciplined warrior.
It doesn't take much for Mydei to overpower him. His arms are swiftly pulled behind his back, chest pushed against the wall. His nape is bared, scars visible. It’s humiliating, and even worse is how turned on he is by this entire debacle, by Mydei manhandling him so easily—a brazen alpha subduing an unruly omega. Slick trickles out of him as he trembles beneath Mydei’s grip, and he fights the burn in the corner of his eyes, the tears threatening to spill.
Mydei’s body heat is blistering, scent cloying and heady.
Soothing alpha pheromones fill the air, an attempt to placate, and unwillingly, Phainon finds himself relaxing, tension smoothing out of his body even as his heart pounds, and his mind screams.
“Get off of me,” Phainon says— whines . His cheeks burn red as he turns to glare at Mydei who stares back with an unreadable expression.
They engage in a staring contest. Blue against gold. Phainon bares his teeth as he thrashes beneath Mydei whose bodyweight pushes down on him, keeping him locked firmly in place.
Panic rises, overflowing. His scent continues to devolve. The raised scars on his nape begin to prickle, the corners of his eyes stinging with unshed tears. Subdued so easily with little to no effort on Mydei’s part, it’s embarrassing. To call himself Mydei’s equal is a delusion.
“How…” Phainon swallows. Even through the turmoil, the chills running down his spine, desire still finds its way, simmering and pooling in his gut. The scent of fire and forged iron clouds his mind as his thighs quiver. “H-How can you stand to be here?”
Mydei’s lips draw into a thin line. He does not answer.
Phainon knows he smells disgusting, abhorrent. He can’t help it. An omega in heat that reeks of decay and destruction—the very antithesis of what a good omega should smell like.
“What? No response?” Phainon laughs. A lump grows in his throat. “Shocked that an omega dares to claim to be your equal?”
“You’ve been acting strange,” Mydei tells him, voice uncharacteristically quiet. “I simply wished to see if you were okay.”
The alpha acts so unaffected because of course he does. After all, it’s Mydei.
“Does my scent—Are you not disgusted?” Phainon whispers, swallowing down the shame. He faces the wall, resting his cheek against the cool plaster.
“You smell fine to me,” Mydei replies. His grip loosens, and Phainon feels like he can finally breathe again.
“ Liar, ” Phainon murmurs. Tears burn the corner of his eyes. Shame courses through his entire being. “You’re lying to me… Don’t even start.”
His room is warm, the windows strewn shut. His clothing is stiff, uncomfortable and scratchy against his feverish skin. He hates this, hates being in heat, hates feeling like this, barely able to control himself. His entire body is on fire and the wetness between his thighs is abhorrent. It’s disgusting .
“I’m not lying,” Mydei says, sounding so earnest that, for a moment, the swell of hope makes its way into Phainon’s chest. He snuffs it out as quickly as it comes.
“Yes, you are,” Phainon laughs. His fingers tighten over the sheer fabric covering his chest. His vision swims, and his hole leaks slick at each slight shift of his thighs. The scent of alpha lights the fire, and he wants to plug his fingers inside to abate the ache. If only Mydei would fuck him alright, breed him, fill him up until he doesn’t have these thoughts swirling and making a mess in his head—
No . It’s just that side of him talking. He knows better. His attraction towards Mydei is a one-sided affair.
“It’s ugly,” Phainon says, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His eyes fall downcast, lashes casting shadows over deep blue. “I’m ugly. There’s no need to try to convince me otherwise.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is, my dear Mydeimos,” Phainon replies with a wry smile. “I’ve made my peace with it. No need to lie to me. I don’t… I don’t want to hear it.”
With a shake of his head, Mydei murmurs, “My apologies if I’m being too forward.” Phainon is about to respond but the words die on his lips when he feels the press of warm lips against the raised scars on his nape. His soul nearly leaves his body.
“You’re beautiful, Deliverer,” Mydei murmurs. It sounds like an act of worship, reverent in a way that shouldn’t be for someone like him .
A dam has broken. Phainon can’t stop the choked sob that falls from his lips, tears flooding down his cheeks. Mydei’s lips are warm against his feverish, marred skin. It feels wrong, almost like he’s dirtying Mydei with his impurity.
“You’re lying,” Phainon whispers, the beginnings of hysteria forming in his throat. “Don’t—”
Mydei shushes him, and he quiets. The alpha continues to press soft kisses against his damaged mating gland, and little by little, Phainon begins to melt.
It’s too much yet not enough. Phainon wants —No. He can’t. But with Mydei here, it’s impossible to resist. His body reacts accordingly, and he squeezes his eyes shut, biting his lip hard enough to bruise.
“Deliverer, there is no part of you that is ugly. I would not lie to you,” Mydei says, warm breath fanning across Phainon’s bare neck. He lets go and steps away, allowing Phainon the space to catch himself.
By now, he’s a mess. Slick drips down his thighs and his cock strains his undergarments. Beneath his tight choker, the sun tattoo pulses gold as does the marking that curves down his clavicle and rounds across his chest.
Mydei isn’t unaffected either. Phainon’s gaze trails down to the very prominent arousal pressed against his dark pants, and his scent has deepened into complex notes of woodsmoke and fire.
They’re at a standstill. Mydei takes a hesitant step forward, testing the waters, yet he doesn’t say a word. Silent like a predator watching its prey, he watches Phainon's reactions, gaze following as Phainon sits back on his bed and pulls off his exomis , leaving himself in only a pair of thin boxers.
He’s going to do something stupid. Once he says these words, he won’t be able to take it back. Stepping into uncharted territory without a plan is a foolish endeavor, but with Mydei here, his soothing pheromones neutralizing the flood of burnt ash and decay, Phainon finds he doesn’t care.
“If you truly mean what you say, then show me,” Phainon whispers, unable to look Mydei in the eye. “If not, then you should leave.”
Only then does Mydei close the distance. His deep voice comes out hesitant in a way Phainon’s never heard before. “Are you sure? You might come to regret this.”
Sweet citrus and lavender flourishes. Phainon’s heart thunders in his chest.
“I won’t,” Phainon says, resolute. Because I’ve been in love with you for years. He doesn’t voice it, doesn’t think he can. Not right now. Or ever.
Still, Mydei remains uncertain. With slow and measured steps, as if he’s trying not to scare a cornered, wild animal, he sits beside Phainon, the mattress dipping with their combined weights. A gauntleted hand caresses his cheek, a silent request for permission. Phainon nods, and Mydei leans in.
Soft lips press against his own. His first kiss.
He’s never done this before. It’s a little strange, but he likes it. Mydei tastes good, uniquely Mydei, and his sea salt scent is calming, bringing the beginnings of a purr rumbling in Phainon’s throat. The warm hands around his waist ground him, and Phainon curves into the touch.
The alpha takes the lead, his experience evident in the confident way he moves. He guides Phainon to sit on his lap before deepening the kiss. Phainon’s mind blanks when Mydei licks into his mouth, shivers running down his spine as Mydei’s warm hands roam his bare body, fingers rubbing softly at his hips.
It’s everything Phainon has ever wanted, but not enough at the same time. Mydei treats him with a type of slow reverence that has Phainon wanting . The desire grows like the flames of a wildfire, leaving him breathless, panting. Impatient, his fingers shake as he hooks them beneath the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down and leaving himself naked for Mydei’s viewing.
It doesn’t escape how those sharp eyes widen before darkening, turning into a deep, honeyed amber rather than liquid gold. The scent of arousal fills the air, and even a single breath has Phainon leaking all over, his body burning from the fire inside.
“Take your clothes off too…” Phainon coughs, a little embarrassed. “I can’t be the only one who’s fully naked…”
Mydei rolls his eyes but concedes. It’s almost tortuous watching as the prince removes each layer, allowing his armor to softly clink onto the floor. Seeing Mydei naked like this…
Phainon gulps. Hesitantly, he reaches out to touch Mydei’s arousal. His hand can barely wrap around the length. It twitches beneath his fingertips. He’s seen Mydei naked in the baths before, but now… in this context…
“I’ve never…” Phainon swallows, eyes wide. “Big. It’s…”
He’s never had anyone like this. Never did he think he ever would. Especially not Mydei.
But he wants this. He wants Mydei in him. He swallows, stroking in long swoops. It hardens beneath his touch, leaking pearls of precum and wetting his hand. Drool pools in his mouth. His scent sweetens.
“Like what you see, Deliverer?” Mydei teases.
“Yes,” Phainon murmurs, entranced. He stares up at Mydei, blue eyes wide, almost glassy with desire. “Mydei, I want you in me.”
A widening of eyes. A hitch of breath. “We need to open you up first. If it’s your first time—”
Phainon snarls, face flaming at the insinuation. So, what if he’s a virgin? “I can take you. What? You think you’re too big for me?”
“Deliverer…” Mydei sighs. Even exasperated, he looks at Phainon like he’s something precious, like he’s something worth protecting and loving.
Never has he seen Mydei look like this. Briefly, he wonders if this is what Mydei looked like with all the others. At once, jealousy unfurls like a blooming flower, and Phainon has to turn his face away to hide the twisting of his expression. His scent decays, the sweetness turning astringent.
“What’s wrong?” Mydei asks, noticing the change before Phainon can reign himself in.
“Nothing,” Phainon coughs. “It’s nothing. Fuck me already.”
“Spread your legs, we’ll go slow,” Mydei murmurs, warm hands landing on Phainon’s thighs, kneading the soft skin until pleasantly red.
Mydei slots himself between Phainon’s legs. He rubs the head of his cock against Phainon’s slick hole, causing the omega’s breath to hitch before beginning to push in. Even with Phainon soaking wet, delirious from the rush of heat and hormones, he’s still too tight, too tense. It’s torturous.
“M-Mydei, ah—” Phainon gasps as his arms tighten around Mydei’s neck. The large cock— Mydei’s cock —throbs. It’s so hot, almost burning, sheathed inside him. Even in the throes of heat, each push is torturous, and Phainon trembles as he grips onto the bed sheets, fingernails shearing through the thin fabric. A whine rips from his throat, “Burns… Hurts—”
“You can take it,” Mydei whispers as he continues to push. “You’re doing so well for me.”
“Who told you to be this big?” Phainon cries, frustrated. He forces himself to relax, but even in the throes of heat, the stretch is too much, and his head spins. “This isn’t normal!”
Mydei stills. Using his thumb, he wipes away the tears dripping down Phainon’s flushed cheeks. His expression is soft as he murmurs, “Do you want me to pull out?”
It takes a few moments for Phainon to catch his breath. He opens his mouth to say something, but only a weak gasp comes out. His eyelashes flutter.
Calloused hands gently massages his thighs, “Relax. You’re too tense. I’ll pull out.”
The prospect of Mydei leaving him empty drives chills down his spine. Phainon fervently shakes his head as he spreads his legs out further. “No! Sorry, Mydei… I want you… all the way in me… Please—Please don’t go…” Desperation leaks into every word.
If Mydei were to leave him right now, he doesn’t think he’d ever recover.
“Are you sure, Deliverer?” Mydei asks, thumbing at Phainon’s wet cheek. “We can work our way up. I might have been a little overzealous in letting you—”
“No, I want you… I won’t be satisfied if it isn’t you…” Phainon gasps as he bucks his hips forward, pushing himself on Mydei’s cock. “Please continue...”
His thighs shake. Slick trickles out of him, mixing with the sweat that beads down his body. Phainon bites his lip to avoid crying out.
“You’re doing so good for me,” Mydei murmurs, pressing soft kisses to Phainon’s jaw before trailing down to his neck. “Bear with me a little.”
“Like that,” Mydei praises. Even through the pain, Phainon purrs and spreads his legs further apart, trying to accommodate as much as he can.
“I’ll feel good soon,” Mydei murmurs as he pulls Phainon into a gentle kiss. “I promise.”
Phainon nods, swallowing a hiccup. “I believe you…”
And then Mydei begins to move, and Phainon screws his eyes shut. He feels so full. It feels good, even with the burn, even with his heart leaping in his chest and the sweat dripping down his brow.
Mydei lightens his grip on Phainon’s hips and changes angle, pressing upwards. A gasp falls from Phainon’s lips, his toes curling as Mydei hits that spot inside of him. His visions swirls.
“Mydei!” Phainon gasps out. “That felt good! I want more... Please. ”
Even though he has no experience and can offer little, Mydei is still willing to be with him. He's given a chance he doesn't deserve. Mydei doesn’t abhor his scent. The prince thinks he’s beautiful.
Tears drip down his cheeks. His heart feels so full. Mydei fucks him with reverence, Phainon can feel it with each thrust, each soft press of lips against his feverish, sweaty skin.
“You feel amazing,” Mydei groans. His voice comes out low, guttural. His bangs stick to his forehead, chiselled muscles rippling as he moves. The crimson markings glow in tune with Phainon’s own tattoos.
Excitement brews in his chest. Each thrust has him seeing stars, his back pressed flat against the bedsheets. It feels so good, like he was made for this. The omega inside him purrs, and he can’t help the little noises that fall from his lips.
Still, there’s that bitterness that makes itself known with each passing moment, regardless of how tender Mydei treats him. Because, at the end of all this, he’s not Mydei’s first.
It hurts. He wants to be Mydei’s everything , but that’s selfish thinking on his part.
But even if he’s not the first, he’ll be the best. He’ll make it so Mydei only thinks of him if he ever finds another partner. No. Mydei won’t find another partner. Phainon won’t let him. It’s a little childish on his end, but he can’t bring himself to care when he’s being fucked by the man that he loves.
Mydei fucks like he fights. A born and bred warrior, the man is a beast on both the battlefield and in the bedroom. In the throes of pleasure, he's stunning, and Phainon can't take his eyes off. The primality, the urgency in Mydei's movements, the way he fucks Phainon like he means it.
A whine is ripped out of Phainon's throat, damp moonlight bangs sticking against his forehead. His walls are rubbed raw with each powerful thrust. Long eyelashes flutter as he wraps his arms around Mydei’s neck and pushes himself upwards to meet Mydei’s thrusts. The burn slowly gives way to hot, blistering pleasure.
Phainon chases the high, breathy moans spilling freely from his lips as he gasps out. “Mydei! More! Faster!” His vision blurs, sweet tears streaking down his cheeks.
“Insatiable. Are you sure you’re a virgin?” Mydei stills, his lips pulled into an amused smirk as his golden eyes trace over Phainon’s sinfully flushed face. He leans down to press a soft kiss against swollen, parted lips.
“M-Mydei…” Phainon whimpers as he tries to push himself on Mydei’s cock. His hips tremble as he sobs out, “More… I can’t take it… I-I need more. Fuck me, p-please!”
“Hm?” Mydei says, his deep voice taking on a teasing tone. “Only a moment ago, you said you couldn’t take me.”
“You’re infuriating, I hate you sometimes,” Phainon cries out, frustrated. “Get on with it already!”
Mydei obliges—fucks him until he sees stars. Phainon comes with a cry, his back arching off the sheets. He spills all over, making a mess of their bodies, as he claws at Mydei’s back, down the ridges of hard muscle slick with sweat.
The night progresses. Phainon’s lost track of how many times he’s come. Mydei’s stamina is impressive, and Phainon can match him, deep in the throes of heat.
“Bite me!” Phainon cries out. “Please… Mydei. I want it. I want you. Breed me. Make me yours. Mydei—”
Phainon is flipped over, his nape bared to the alpha. Soft lips press against the scarred skin, a silent prayer before sharp fangs sheathe into his neck. Phainon comes again, clutching onto Mydei as he feels the bond form.
Mydei’s thrusts stutter. A deep groan falls from his lips as he mouths against the bite mark, licking at the golden blood. Warmth floods Phainon, hot and fast, and he can’t help but moan, the omega in him delighting at taking his alpha’s seed.
Oh. Something inflates. This… This is Mydei’s knot. The hard ridges rub his walls, stretching him to his limits. They’re locked together.
Gently, Mydei pulls him into an embrace, facing each other. Golden eyes are soft, liquid gold, and his expression is light as he stares at Phainon.
To be loved like this, held like this, it feels like a dream. Tears slide down his cheeks as he holds on, unwilling to let go.
☼
Mydei stays beside Phainon for the rest of his heat. They cuddle, strong arms wrapped taut around his waist. For the first time in his life, he isn’t so alone anymore. His dreams are tranquil, and Mydei’s scent grounds him.
“Deliverer,” Mydei murmurs into his ear. “My rut is coming soon.”
Bitterness crawls into his throat. Regardless, Phainon leans against Mydei’s chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat. “Hm? No one else to help you this time?”
Mydei rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re still on that.”
Phainon sticks his tongue out. The newly formed mating bond on his neck prickles, but he’s feeling a little petty right now. “Who helped you before? I’m sure you have a list.”
“No one,” Mydei affirms. “I’ve never had a rut partner in all my years in Okhema. I’ve only ever desired you.”
At once, Phainon’s cheeks flush bright red. He coughs and turns away, unable to stand the sight of Mydei looking at him with so much tenderness and love . Butterflies flutter in his stomach.
Already, he’s starting to grow wet at the thought of joining Mydei, witnessing him in the throes of rut, being the only omega who can satiate the hunger in Mydei’s heart.
“Who told you to be so romantic?” Phainon huffs out, a small pout on his lips as he runs his fingers through silky blonde strands.
Mydei snorts, golden eyes soft. “I only speak the truth, Deliverer. I thought we established that.”
A soft spring breeze blows through, rustling the windchimes outside.
Phainon’s blue eyes twinkle. He can’t help the smile that pulls at the corners of his lips. “Fine. I guess I have no choice but to accept.”