Archive of Our Own ^beta

The gentle sift of the falling rain glided past the window as Phainon watched the water trickle down to join the puddle of the rest at the sill. Thunder clapped periodically above the world of Amphoreus, lightning joining the cacophony of harmonious sounds, joined together in wrathful nature.

The lion plushie held fast in his arms is drawn closer as Phainon’s gaze wandered from the raging tempest to the blinding light of a computer screen, blaring into the face of his beloved only a doorway away. Phainon exhales into the pillow beneath his cheek, white strands of hair falling further into his periphery that he doesn’t bother to brush away clinging to his skin as Phainon works up the courage to retrieve himself from the bed, bare feet hitting the cool, wooden floor, sending a jolt of realisation through his spine; this was no dream, but reality.

At first, it had not been something Phainon minded too much. The nights were longer, but not so long neglect became a normal part of their relationship. Then, it became a teasing niggle at the back of his head – the longer nights, the growing overtime, the days Mydei would not come back, leaving Phainon alone in a large, empty bed that felt chilling without Mydei’s warm presence. Until the days became weeks spent alone with nothing but the fading scent of Mydei's pillow and the lion plushie, gifted to him with a gentle smile and the promise of return, to hold in lieu of his beloved. As soft and inviting as the stuffed toy was, it could not embrace Phainon back.

Every step he takes feels like walking towards a hopeless doom. His heart thuds against his ribcage in dire warning not to get closer; to retreat, and do what he had continued to do since the first night Mydei spent away from him — wait. Wait for his beloved. Wait for his embrace to return. Yet, how much longer is Phainon supposed to wait? How much longer must he watch that shelter slip from him into the cold cage of numbers and words on a screen? If it was fate’s desire for them to break apart, then Phainon would cast that desire aside, for who was fate to dictate his destiny?

The calendar in the corner catches his eye, along with the sound of the ticking clock that spells their impending demise, a love not like the one with storybook endings, but the harsh march towards the end fate demands; it sounds like a crack opening in the floor with each quiet tick-tick-tick that warns him not to get closer — but the calendar draws his attention, and despite making no noise, is much louder than the clock with Phainon’s Heat in large red letters with a circle around it.

Phainon couldn’t be sure if Mydei had remembered. From this distance, it was hard to tell if the pen ink was fresh, or if it was placed there on a calculation on when his last heat was. As quietly as he could, Phainon, still clutching the lion plushie close to his chest, tiptoed toward the calendar; his heat was soon, only four days from now — only four days from now, and yet, Mydei was still glued to his computer screen. Phainon willed the tears stinging behind his eyes, threatening to spill down his cheeks and drip on to the marble floor beneath them, away. He swallowed, inhaled deeply, and attempted to stamp out the fire his inner omega was trying to ignite inside of him.

He shouldn’t be so sensitive. Mydei works hard, after all. It’s not his fault his job is so demanding — but wouldn’t it be nice for him to pay at least a little bit of attention to you? Phainon shakes his head, inhaling deeply. Maybe it’s true. Maybe it would be best for him to return to the bed, and continue to wait until the frozen tundra his beloved call work freed him from its confines. Sighing, Phainon makes to turn around.

“What are you doing?” Mydei rumbles behind him.

Phainon does not jump, nor does he flinch; but he freezes, as if he’s been caught in the headlights of an oncoming car only waiting for the collision to occur and throw him into the throes of death, left to die on the roadside while his dead body rots and the one who hit him comforts himself and only worries about his windshield. Slowly, still clutching the lion plushie close, Phainon turns to face Mydei.

“My heat’s soon,” Phainon states, as if it answers Mydei’s question.

Mydei peers behind him at the calendar. The bold, red letters stare back at him in accusation. An accusation Phainon, as self-sacrificing and abominably selfless as he is, not to mention how much he always sees the good in others before the evil they’re capable of, would never levy against him. His eyes soften in realisation as he tears his gaze away, glancing down at the lion plushie Phainon’s hands handle with such soft, loving care. The plush he had given him in the nights that would keep him company when Mydei couldn’t'; not a toy that was supposed to replace him. Mydei wonders if an inanimate plush makes a better partner than him as he levies the accusation against himself — a neglectful alpha, too preoccupied with work to pay his omega any attention. As if it was a good excuse. As if it made up for all the times Phainon went without his touch, his embrace, his care. As if other busy, working alphas didn’t still make time for their omegas.

Mydei plucked the plush from Phainon’s hands. Phainon drew his arms around himself, his hands holding his elbows in the way that reflects Phainon’s need for physical touch; for physical comfort as he hugs his own body, tightening his own arms around his torso.

“So it is,” Mydei states simply. He places the lion plushie next to the ticking clock and calendar and retrieves Phainon’s hand from where it holds on to his elbow. “Come with me.”

Puzzlement appears on Phainon’s features, a cute pout forming at his bottom lip when he cannot come up with an explanation, and Mydei, never one to deny himself his own desires while favouring actions over words, draws him forward into a soft kiss. Phainon gasps at the contact which informs Mydei it was unexpected. It works to his advantage as he slips his tongue inside, grabbing at the backs of Phainon’s thighs to hoist him up. Phainon lets out a surprised yelp, breaking their kiss, as his legs wrap around Mydei’s waist on instinct. Mydei allows Phainon little reprieve as his mouth is on his again, Phainon’s arms wrapped around his neck, becoming much more fluid and pliable as he moans into Mydei’s mouth.

Carrying Phainon in his embrace, Mydei kicks the bedroom door open from where it was left ajar. The rain grew distinctly louder against the windowpanes, a flash of lightning and the rumbling of thunder above seemed to grow much more ominous, though Mydei did not think it threatened harm. On the contrary, to Mydeimos, the sound of thunder was the sound of peace, the sound of protection, and the sound of harmony. Emboldened by the sound his people treated with reverence and the sound to which his mother would sing lullabies to him, with his beloved in his arms, Mydei moved closer to their shared bed, until he could push Phainon on to the bed, keeping him pinned underneath him in one swift movement.

Phainon’s pupils were blown wide, engulfing his sky blue in that brilliant gold, his thighs shifting in want as the smell of omegan slick rushing from his cunt filled the air; the sweet, intoxicating scent of vanilla overpowering his usual scent of freshly fallen snow, pine, and mint. The days spent in neglect must have made him more sensitive to his alpha’s touch.

Perfect, Mydei thought to himself. He had Phainon right where he wanted him.

“Wait — Mydei, I didn't mean —” Phainon began, fingers twitching in response over the back of Mydei's hands pinning him by the wrists to the pillows behind. Mydei’s other hand runs the length of his left inner thigh, resting at the outside. His inner omega sang with the attention from his alpha, pleased to see those burning golden eyes fixed on him once more, no longer left to the reconstruction of memory. Regardless, Phainon pushed the feeling down, sky-kissed gaze staring up in bewilderment, as, with uncertainty, he asked, "What about your work?"

“I've given work enough attention,” Mydei responded simply, further lowering himself ever so slightly for his breath to ghost along stray white strands, brushing the shell of Phainon's ear, an electrifying shiver sent up his spine, “don't you think?”

Phainon does not respond. Not in words, but in an involuntary whine as Mydei bites the shell of his ear gently, pressing a soft, reverent kiss behind it in the junction between the end of his ear and the beginning of his neck, an open-mouthed kiss dragged along the underside of his jaw before — a chaste, loving kiss is pressed to his cheek, causing his eyes to flutter closed as a soft sigh escapes the omega held beneath him. Mydei runs his hand along the rest of his thigh to settle at his hip, pushing the shirt Phainon is wearing up slightly to rub slow, soothing circles into the heated flesh.

“I’ve been neglecting you,” Mydei says, in between a kiss to Phainon’s temple, and kisses to both of his eyelids, that cause Phainon to exhale a shaky sigh once more as those blue eyes flutter open to greet Mydei’s burning gold, “haven’t I?”

“I —” Phainon begins, unsure how to continue. Mydei’s burning, intense gaze threatens to burn away any lies Phainon conjures; and Phainon goes over how he led himself into the lion’s den to be caught as his prey. The innocent oryx who wandered too far, getting himself into a situation where the lion’s attention was focused on him, and only him, and this reverent lion, who worshipped the oryx like a beauty to behold or a treasure to be taken care of, before devouring him, would roar with denial at any answer the oryx gave that is beyond the truth.

“Phainon,” Mydei states his name with force, like the thunder outside as nature warns of its capabilities to those who would seek to control it; to those who think it can be controlled. “Answer me.”

Phainon swallows. He does not want to accuse Mydei of anything. After all, is it truly his fault? Is it truly his fault his job requires — demands — so much of his time that he cannot find any to dedicate to Phainon? You’re making excuses — his inner omega chastises, and it sounds suspiciously like the cadence of the man above him in the same reproving tone. Phainon exhales shortly.

“You’re busy…” Phainon settles on.

“I’m not that busy,” Mydei fires back.

Phainon scowls. Mydei was not going to make this easy for him. A silence falls over them again as Mydei waits for Phainon to respond. The lion circles the oryx; circles the prey who has fallen into his trap, staring steadfast and unafraid as sky-blue eyes follow his every movement. In lieu of continuing their back and forth with words, Mydei slides the hand resting at Phainon’s hip further beneath his shirt, pushing the fabric beneath further up his chest until he can feel Phainon’s nipples, already hardened by his arousal.

Mydei’s finger barely swipes underneath them before Phainon twitches, pushing his nipple further into the air as his thighs begin to quiver. To save himself some dignity, Phainon bites into his bottom lip to prevent the moan that threatens to escape from Mydei barely touching him. Suddenly, a slight chill overtakes his exposed navel, coupled with something soft yet rough around his wrists. Opening his eyes to glance up, Phainon finds his wrists are bound by silk ties, and glancing down, he sees Mydei kneeling in between his legs with a smirk.

The oryx is in danger, and the lion is not planning to go easy on him. Phainon exhales shakily once more as arousal and need flood his very being from how helpless he’s been made; a delectable meal the lion plans on savouring, all for himself.

Phainon watches as Mydei pulls his pyjama trousers down with his teeth, replacing them with his hands once they reach past his knees to reveal a lack of underwear, exposing his heated, aroused cunt to the air, shining with slick, and enticing the alpha with its sweet scent. However, Mydei is nothing if not a master of his own self-restraint, for how he moves right past Phainon’s inviting, needy pussy and presses a soft, intending kiss to his pubic bone, ascending from there to his navel to pepper kisses over the places Mydei knew he was sensitive, eliciting quiet moans full of desire and need from the omega.

His hands grip tightly at his waist; tight enough to press bruises into his flesh in a way Phainon loves for the way it reminds him, beyond the mark on his neck, that he is someone’s; that he has an alpha to care for him — and right now, it feels like a reminder of Mydei’s own neglect, and his alpha’s response that he still remembers all the ways his omega likes to be tended to. Phainon swallows around the realisation, though his mind is left blank once again as Mydei’s lips descend upon his nipple, his hand tracing the faded scars underneath his other pec in tender love, swirling the bud inside of his warm mouth in a way that makes Phainon cry out for more as he, unintentionally, shoves his nipple further inside of Mydei’s mouth, pushing his chest further into the man’s face.

Mydei chuckles as he stretches Phainon’s nipple with his teeth in torturous attention, Phainon’s neglected cunt getting wetter and wetter by the second as Mydei pointedly ignores the now cloying scent of vanilla in the air, causing his inner alpha to sing with heady need; need to shove his own cock inside of Phainon and make him cry for more; to be full, to be bred.

Not yet, Mydei tells himself as Phainon writhes beneath the attention Mydei gives to Phainon’s other nipple, watching the other harden underneath the chill of the air as Phainon whines with need.

Finally, Mydei gently runs his fingers through Phainon’s hair, watching as his blue eyes, now filling with unshed tears of pleasure, open to stare at him. His pink lips are parted, a faint blush kisses his pale skin, his white hair splayed beneath him in a silver crown that makes him both look ethereally beautiful and downright sinful, his chest heaving, and his eyebrows furrowed over his eyes in the way that makes him look like the innocent virgin he had been on their bonding night.

Mydei would never tire of this sight.

Mydei would never tire of the way Phainon became so pliable underneath his touch, whether it was in moments like this, or his more preferred moments of forcing him into submission when Phainon wanted to test his patience, acting out like a brat begging to be tamed. Mydei turned Phainon’s head gently, savouring the whine that followed as he tilted his chin up, Phainon’s legs beginning to lock slightly around him just from having his neck exposed. It made Mydei’s inner alpha sing once more, but once again, he reminded himself, not yet.

Not before his teeth bit into the most sensitive part of Phainon’s neck, causing him to gasp before a long, desperate moan filled the space between them. Not before Phainon wrestled with the silk ties as he tried to grab on to Mydei’s hair, and definitely not before Mydei could lick up the blood he drew from Phainon’s neck, leaving healing, reverent kisses to the wound he had created as tears now began to spill down Phainon’s cheeks, his panting breaths, quivering thighs, and erratic movements of his torso, navel and arms filling Phainon with nothing more than the thought; the need to be fucked by his alpha.

“Mydei…” Phainon gasped into his lips as Mydei hovered over him once again, watching his eyes flutter closed, his lips pant for breath, and the tears kiss his eyelashes in a way that only served to make him much, much more beautiful in Mydei’s eyes. “Please…”

Mydei captures Phainon’s lips in a gentle kiss; a kiss that calms, a kiss that lets his omega know he does not plan to be so neglectful of him again — if only he would admit to feeling neglected.

“Be honest with me first,” Mydei rasps, ignoring his own arousal; the painful hardness of his cock begs to be free. His inner alpha begs to bury itself inside of this willing omega, pussy quivering and wet with desire to be one with the alpha who claims it. Phainon whines quietly in protest.

“Mydei,” he whines once more, attempting to hook his leg around Mydei’s calf to where he wants him to be, unable to use his hands to maneouvre them.

Mydei easily dodges the attack. Phainon throws his head back against the bed, white hair falling over his features as he kicks his feet. Mydei smirks. It appears the inner brat that lay dormant inside of Phainon, uninvited and suppressed, has come out to play. While it wouldn’t be as fun to tame Phainon from how sensitive and wet Phainon already is, Mydei supposes he can indulge him a little before they can engage in this kind of play properly once more.

“You’re more sensitive than usual,” Mydei murmurs as he slides his hands up Phainon’s thighs to pinch at his hips, causing Phainon to yelp, as if to make his point.

“Shouldn’t you do something about it, then?” Phainon retorts.

Mydei suppresses his smile.

“I would love to,” Mydei begins, smoothing his fingers over Phainon’s sensitive waist as Phainon bites his lip to suppress the short moan that rises from his throat, “if you would be honest with me.”

Phainon’s expression contorts into something complicated that is brushed off his face as quickly as it came; almost as though it were a mere shadow of a man who had never existed at all — a figment of Mydei’s imagination. However, when it comes to Phainon, the imperceptible was important to note, for the way his mask slipped and his true feelings shone through, even if it was only for just a moment. Mydei presses soft, wet kisses to his neck once more, licking around the wound he had imprinted on to Phainon’s skin.

“You should not let me get away with such things, Phainon,” Mydei admonishes. “I am your alpha, am I not? I’m supposed to take care of you.”

“Y-You…” Phainon trails off, unable to form words with the way Mydei continues to tease his sensitive, flushed skin. He swallows around suddenly finding himself inarticulate to respond, breathily, “You’re busy.”

“You said that already,” Mydei responds, teeth nipping at Phainon’s collarbone now, drawing a surprised whine. Mydei made a mental note of finding a new sensitive spot on Phainon’s body for later, “and I said I wasn’t that busy.”

“I — ah! — didn’t want to bother you,” Phainon breathes out.

Mydei sighs, stopping himself in his tracks, rising from where he had left marks in Phainon’s skin to admire the canvas of pale skin where colourful bruises began to bloom, where an angry, red wound, made in a show of love and want, stared back at him; only to reach up with both hands, from where he still held Phainon’s waist to cup his soft cheeks, drawing Phainon’s gaze to his own, blinking back the tears as confusion on why he stopped clouded Phainon’s features.

“You are always putting others feelings and needs ahead of your own, and leaving yourself in a position to feel undesired,” Mydei states simply. Phainon shifts uncomfortably, feeling exposed, though it had nothing to do with his half-naked state. “So, tell me the truth, Phainon. Did you feel neglected? Unwanted?”

Phainon swallows around the tightness in his throat as Mydei’s intense, searching gaze stared into his helpless, caged one; caged by the lion now, the oryx had nowhere to run, and no more excuses he could draw on to rebuild his glass cage for the way the lion destroyed his current one so easily, his head held in place by the lion’s adoring touch. Mydei’s thumbs stroked his cheeks as he wrapped Phainon in the warm blanket of his embrace; of his love, when the harsh scent of Mydei’s alpha scent he had failed to notice before, of fire and woodsmoke, wrapped around him, causing him to shiver and sigh in arousal.

In response to Mydei’s question, Phainon nodded.

“With words, Phainon,” Mydei commanded, gently.

Phainon’s lips parted. A sound came from his throat, yet no words. He inhaled deeply, exhaled even deeper, as he began to wish he could curl inside of himself. Draw himself away from that burning, intense gaze — but how could he? To Mydei, Phainon’s self-made cage of isolation was a challenge. If he built it of glass, Mydei shattered it easily. If he built it of stone, Mydei would knock it down. If he built it of wood, Mydei would burn it to nothing but raining embers until Phainon appeared to him, standing inside, embraced by the flames — because what Mydei loves isn’t a statue of Phainon; a personality adopted to please him, a character on a stage dancing for his own pleasure — not for the way he has held Phainon in his worst nights through his nightmares and still stayed, not for the way he has always managed to slip through the cracks Phainon left in his own mask to draw the true feelings inside to the forefront of his understanding, forcing Phainon to feel them, to process them, and then to leave them behind as he moves into the world as someone who experiences it, rather than someone who the world experiences, and casts aside.

“…Yes,” Phainon whispers, glancing down to where Mydei is slotted in between his legs, before glancing back up at Mydei, vulnerability and helplessness evident in his blue eyes as a single tear begins to roll down his cheek.

It does not remain for long before Mydei kisses it away in slow, soft adoration.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Mydei whispers into his ear.

Phainon feels the sudden urge to kick him, though the feeling is short-lived once Mydei’s lips descend on his once again, moving in tandem as he moans into Mydei’s mouth — that is, until, he feels something hard and large begin to breach his cunt. A gasp passes his lips as the head of Mydei’s cock pushes itself inside, causing Phainon to wish these wretched silk ties would be removed so he could clutch on to Mydei’s shoulders; to leave his mark on Mydei’s skin, in response to all the marks he left on his own in his worship.

“Relax,” Mydei whispers against his skin. “It’s been a while.”

“I can still take it,” Phainon breathes.

Mydei exhales an amused huff against Phainon’s cheek.

“I wouldn’t sound so confident, if I were you, omega,” Mydei retorts. “I’m barely inside, and you’re already struggling.”

Phainon does kick him, then, but it has little effect other than pushing Mydei further inside as he stumbles slightly, causing Phainon to tighten around him in surprise as something between a surprised moan and a pained yelp expresses itself from Phainon.

“HKS,” Mydei chastises. “Don’t rush into this.”

“Untie me,” Phainon whined.

Mydei stares at the silk ties still wrapped around Phainon’s wrists. If he was being truthful, he had forgotten to remove them, meaning to do so once Phainon admitted his feelings, but perhaps, after that kick where his beloved oryx, as always, bit off more than he could chew, a little more time spent bound by the wrists would prove fruitful.

“No,” Mydei states.

“No?!” Phainon almost yells in surprise.

“Consider it a punishment for your earlier impertinence,” Mydei replies. “Perhaps, it will do you some good.”

Phainon opens his mouth to reply — only to be immediately cut off as Mydei pushes himself further inside in one, slow thrust, bracing himself as he spreads Phainon’s thighs wider. Phainon moans around him, his wrists dropping above his head as his head is thrown back against the bedsheets. Allowing them both time to adjust, Mydei leans down, placing his palms either side of Phainon’s waist as he opens his eyes to see a sight he hasn’t seen in a while, that he has no explanation for why he denied it from both of them as he presses against Phainon’s stomach.

Phainon leans up, looking the picture of delicious ruin as he watches Mydei’s cock bulge inside of him, causing his stomach to distend slightly. With a moan that willingly resigns himself to his predicament, Phainon flops back down on the bed. The lion has come to feast, and the oryx has given up his fight, becoming the lion’s willing prey.

Mydei’s hands grip at Phainon’s hips as he begins to thrust; slowly, at first, to allow Phainon time to adjust, until Phainon is begging for him to go harder, faster — until Phainon’s legs are spread over Mydei’s shoulders, pounding into his wet, begging pussy with reckless abandon, the sound of his sensitive, helpless moans filling the air, tears of pleasure rolling down his cheeks. At some point, he opens his eyes to look at Mydei, and Mydei cannot help admiring the sight before him; Phainon’s hands tied above his head as his eyes cloud over in lust, tears rolling down his cheeks that he does not bother to — cannot — hold back, delicious, sinful moans spilling from his parted, spit-slick lips as his expression falls into pure, contented bliss, becoming boneless and pliant.

“Mydei,” Phainon whispers, like a prayer, and Mydei kisses him just before his hips begin to stutter; just before Phainon clenches around him in his own climax.

Phainon crosses his legs behind Mydei, trapping him inside, in quiet begging for Mydei to come inside; to leave him full and bred. It’s unlikely to take before his heat, and as much he will never admit to it out loud, Mydei has never been one to deny his omega his desires, despite how spoiled it makes him, but he has something to make up for now. Mydei spills inside of him, causing Phainon, unable to clutch on to him, to push himself further into their kiss before he breaks it to catch his breath.

For a moment, they stay there, joined together, as Mydei rests his head on Phainon’s shoulder, removing the silk ties from his wrist with one hand. Phainon cannot find it in himself to move, blinking sleepiness away from himself as Mydei’s weight on top of him makes his inner omega sing with contentment. Finally, Mydei begins to rise, causing a whine to escape from Phainon. In reassurance, Mydei kisses his forehead as he picks up their discarded clothing to throw into the washing basket inches from where Phainon lay.

Phainon falls asleep for a few minutes, waking only moments later in Mydei’s arms as he’s placed gently inside of the bath, Mydei stepping in behind him, who set himself immediately to washing Phainon’s hair.

Phainon hummed contentedly. “We could have stayed there for a bit longer, you know.”

“And listen to you complain about being dirty?” Mydei questioned.

“I wouldn’t have complained immediately.”

“Yes, you would.”

Phainon giggled.

“It’s good to keep up a good hygiene regimen, Mydeimos!”

“I know that, HKS,” Mydei responded, pulling a little sharply on Phainon’s hair, before smoothing out where he had tugged, cupping the side of Phainon’s head, to kiss the back of his neck. “Good to know you’re feeling like yourself again.”

Phainon smiled, deciding not to say anything more, and instead, leaned back against Mydei’s bare chest as he enjoyed the attention he had been denied for so long; the attention he would not admit to missing, to desiring, until it was forcefully drawn out of him like drawing blood with a needle meant for sewing. Exhaling slowly, Phainon decided he would ask Mydei if he could hold him tonight, instead of the lion plushie, now sitting on the mantelpiece beside the clock and the calendar.