#I need his impera to BREED THAT OLD MAN

[queenofyumcha]

nest of leathers - WIP

CW//omegaverse

Emhyr/Impera that accidentally became crackish which might disqualify this scene to becoming part of the NoL fic

-/-

“Even if he did make an attempt to be more feminine, it’s not as though it would be enough to shut the nobles up. They’d just find something new to complain about.”

A hissed whisper from between gritted teeth.

“Talking of shutting up, aren’t you of noble birth, Hendrik?”

“Are you technically still of noble birth if you were disowned? I resent you for bringing that up, by the way. Anyway, I don’t see what all the fuss is about. An omega is an omega. Who cares what he looks like? As long as there’s slick and somewhere for me to stuff my knot, I’m good to go.”

Emhyr cannot stop himself from laughing, abandoning feigning sleep to clap a hand to his forehead.

It’s not hard to see why Hendrik’s mouth might have been a leading factor to his disownment.

It’s mildly heartwarming to hear he has some support from his Impera, even if it had been put in the most base of ways.

“Your majesty, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean any disrespect! I just think that-“

“Hendrik.”

The young alpha shuts up instantly, mouth closing with an audible click. Emhyr really does enjoy his easy obedience. Perhaps that’s why he doesn’t insist on discipline.

“I think we might all be better off if we hear less of what you think. Now be quiet, all of you, but especially you, Hendrik. I was, at some point in the last forty eight hours, asleep and I’d like to return to that state.”

Hendrik bows his head and gives Emhyr a cowed look, doe eyes gazing contritely at him from beneath his eyelashes.

That boy was going to be a headache.

-/-

Hendrik’s hands greedily caress every inch of his body, the alpha’s teeth nipping at Emhyr’s chest, teeth and tongue teasing at the omega’s nipples.

Emhyr groans in a mix of frustration and pleasure as his sore chest is touched once more, undecided in whether to push towards the pleasure-pain or pull away from it.

The alpha looks up at him in concerned confusion, gently pressing a kiss to his chest in apology. His hands halt at Emhyr’s waist, thumbs nervously kneading away, tracing circles on Emhyr’s skin.

“Well I didn’t say stop.”

Emhyr sighs, a bemused smile slipping its way onto his face.

“Why is it you’re all so obsessed with my chest? At this point I’m concerned I’ll never be able to comfortably wear a fitted shirt again.”

Hendrik’s ears burn red, and the other Impera in the room for once decide to avert their eyes, conveniently distracted.

“It’s- it’s just that none of us have ever bedded an omega before, never mind a male omega, sire. I’ve never even met one before you. Male omegas don’t exactly grow on trees…”

The plucky alpha is surprisingly hesitant.

“Hendrik, against my better judgment, I implore you to finish your statement.”

Hendrik’s entire face is bright red now and the ranks of Impera scattered throughout the room are suddenly tense and still where they had been relaxed.

It doesn’t bode well.

The words tumble out of the young man in a frantic rush, as though he isn’t able to keep the words in for a second longer.

“Well sire, it’s pretty much the one thing I hear that omegas universally enjoy. I didn’t really know how male and female omegas differ, uh you know, down below, and we decided this was a good failsafe if it looked like you weren’t enjoying yourself.”

Emhyr closes his eyes for a moment, determined to make his Impera suffer with him in the wrought tension of the silent room.

“We, Hendrik? Who exactly is we?”

The young alpha stammers, looking back and forth between Emhyr and the other Impera brigade officers who are determined to not make eye contact with anyone, and if possible, anything.

“Just, just the lads and I. Sorry. We’re sorry. We know you didn’t want this, want us, we just wanted you to be happy.”

Hendrik’s voice wavers a little, the young man visibly uneasy.

Emhyr feels strangely guilty. His men had discussed how to take care of him during his heat, to not just get through it unscathed but to actively ensure Emhyr had a pleasurable experience.

To make the best out of a situation they’d known Emhyr had not wanted to be in.

Emhyr’s tucks a errant lock of hair back behind Hendrik’s ear, doing his best to smooth the chaotic tangle of the young alpha’s hair back into order.

Hendrik leans hesitantly into his touch, tentatively pressing his cheek into the palm of Emhyr’s hand.

Emhyr swallows. “Well. Like I said. I didn’t tell you to stop.”

Hendrik grins up at him, any trace of upset instantly erased.

[queenofyumcha]

Omega Emhyr / Impera Brigade

CW// omegaverse

Emhyr shoulders stiffen, and he feels oddly defensive as the young alpha’s gaze sweeps over the length of his body, eyes darting from place to place yet hands remaining firmly fixed to his sides.

It has been minutes since Emhyr has given permission for Hendrik to touch, and yet the man has done nothing but look.

Emhyr is under no delusions that he is an attractive omega. He has left his youth far behind him, his temples are by now far more grey than black.

Were his men to conjure an image of an omega whilst lying in their bunks, it would not be an image of a scarred, broad shouldered old man that would join them in their bed.

And yet- it upsets him all the same that his men would need to be ordered to his bed, that permission is not enough for Hendrik, that the young alpha would need to be incentivised in order to stomach touching an omega like Emhyr-

Hendrik’s calloused fingers skim gently across the palm of Emhyr’s hand.

A rush of embarrassment and relief alike. His heat has altered him greatly and not for the better, if he can descend into a flurry of anxious thought with so little provocation.

The young alpha peers carefully at him, and seeing no rebuke forthcoming, covers Emhyr’s palm with his warm hand, fingers and thumb tentatively wrapping around Emhyr’s wrist.

Emhyr knows without looking that he will find the familiar pattern of sword callouses across the fingertips and palm of Hendrik’s hand. The callouses are familiar, known only by touch.

After all, they were the same callouses Emhyr once bore upon his hands, now soft and ink-stained.

The only difference is in the dip of the callus on Hendrik’s index finger and thumb, worn down by the repeated draw of a bow.

Hendrik’s thumb gently brushes over Emhyr’s inner wrist, nudging him from his thoughts.

“Is… Is that alright, sire?”

Emhyr presses his fingertips against the curve of Hendrik’s wrist, seeking out the alpha’s pulse and proof of his desire.

Hendrik’s heartbeat pulses fast and yet steady against Emhyr’s fingertips.

It’s oddly intimate.

Emhyr swallows.

“Continue.”

[queenofyumcha]

I would like you to know that whenever I write a nilfgaardians/Emhyr fic this is the first image comes into my head