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filthforfriends · 3 years ago

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Chapter 2: Guardian Angel

Damiano x fem reader Omegaverse

Word count: 3.4k

“You told him to watch me?” you screech. The hospital room was occupied by your parents and Damiano, who hadn’t gone home when given the opportunity multiple times.

“Your mother was taking care of you,” your father declared, chest puffed out. It was almost amusing to see him preemptively compensate for being a beta in an alpha’s presence. The social dynamics of father and suitor were tricky to navigate amongst the power dynamics of hormones.

“Who’s to say I can’t take care of myself?” Your heart rate starts to climb on the monitor. Is a nurse about to come bursting through the door? The general medical consensus was that your hormonal reaction had been an extreme, unpleasant to experience, but not damaging. You were to be kept under observation, at home, with the expectation that this was a one time occurrence. Clio will make her presence unbearable, no doubt.

“If you could take care of yourself then you wouldn’t have needed someone to come save you.” Damiano visibly winces at your father’s use of language. Maybe this would be a good match.

“Uh, ‘save’ isn’t necessarily –”

“You could have been in serious danger!” he barks, perhaps well-meaning underneath the tactless exterior. Hearing your father discuss Damiano cradling you amidst a panic attack felt like an intrusion. For, however dire the moment had felt, it was also intimate. You could smell him on you still, even in the hospital clothes. Being in an enclosed space with Damiano only highlighted your chemistry. Just gazing at each other from across the room was electric. Of course, a great deal of this electricity came from enmity.

“What your father is trying to say, in his own way,” your mother pauses for a moment, garnering attention while perfectly unintrusive. “Is that we care about you deeply and you need to be more careful. We are so lucky to have help.” She smiles sweetly at Damiano, but there is nothing sweet about the sentiment.

“If you had told me how worried you were, I could have been more careful.” Your mother takes a long breath in then out, and glances at your father for permission. This is the part that you loath, despite not having an alpha, she is still subservient to her mate. A beta can offer all of the problems and none of the support. If it weren’t for a painful, front row seat to your parent’s marriage, you might have elected to partner with a beta as well, thinking it was a ticket to personal freedom. Right now however, you could feel your autonomy forsaking, like grains of sand falling between your fingers.

“Would you have, dear? Or would you keep trying to be invincible?” You let out a harsh sigh, knowing the answer. There had to be somewhere in between assigning your future mate to babysit you, and being so hard-headed you couldn’t take care of yourself.

“I have been successfully managing my life for years and one lapse in judgment does not change that. Overall, I have been self-sufficient, and will do anything to remain that way. Which you know! How can you be so eager to give away my personal freedom behind my back?” Keeping the tears out of your voice is proving embarrassingly difficult. “If it was a century ago would you just sell me to the highest bidder? Huh?” Your father gaffs and rolls his eyes, sitting back in his chair, hands folded. He was exceptional at cultivating an air that he was above all this.

“All I said to Damiano was that you’d gotten your implant, and I was worried about the side effects. ‘Can you please keep an eye on her,’ type of thing. I thought you’d be happy he had your number.”

“You thought I’d be happy that mommy gave my boyfriend my number for me?” you patronized. “Boyfriend” had just slipped out. You weren’t mates yet, or just friends. There wasn’t an accurate label to be had.

“I think we should all move on from this.” Your father sat up, legs of the chair screeching against the linoleum. Something in his eyes always revealed that he relished having omegan daughters too much. It allowed him to fulfill the dominant role and hold the power, if only as a cheap substitute. Of course, he lacked all the nuance and intent. Damiano’s brow wrinkled in surprise, then he nodded his head once, like something fell into place. His eyes settled on you, soulful hazel, hinting to an entire inner life you had yet to access. So this is how your father handles emotions. No wonder you’re so angry.

He was being cordial, affording social power according to polite society. Your father’s words, as the eldest and guardian, could take priority. In reality, Damiano was the only alpha in the room. He was the most dominant, the strongest, and the most worthy of fear. He could make everyone kneel before him in subservience, but he didn’t. A couple centuries ago, he could have torn out your father’s jugular for trying to prevent the match, then take you as his mate. You tried not to relish the thought. Damiano stood in the corner, watching, trying to not radiate energy that would invalidate your father’s feeble attempts at making a point.

“Dear, why don’t you get everyone a cup of tea? I think that’d be very calming.” He gets up with a huff and your mother waves him out of the room just so, careful not to threaten his power. “Damiano, you can take a seat,” she demurely requests. The prospect of living like her manifests a special kind of claustrophobia. Every breath is a calculation to serve anyone but herself, and she has to look content all the while. You’ve never done well with fragility. Around you, breakable things tend to end up broken.

Damiano perches on the end of your cot. His weight barely rests on the mattress, like he's ready to spring forth into action. Damiano’s hand almost searches for yours, but then he sits on it and bites the inside of his lip. He must have fragile parts too, and well-cultivated hiding spots.

“Part of reaching sexual maturty as an omega is finding an alpha of course, but the reasoning goes beyond that. See, when an omega reaches sexual matuity, everything changes quite fast. A lot is required of their development in a short time. Alphas are there to help protect them as they’re suddenly vulnerable in a new way. To guide them, even. Support them as only they’re able to. So while I may have overstepped, Damiano’s role is quite natural, not an attack on your freedom or an insult to your competency. Alright?” You don’t answer, picking at the tape which keeps your IV in place. “Okay, I’ll give you two a moment.”

As soon as she closes the door behind herself, you turn to Damiano. Reacting in proportion to the situation is not your strong suit, yet you can’t hold the words in.

“If this is how you’re going to treat me, I won’t be your mate.” His mouth opens and closes in shock a couple times, eyes wide.

“I, but – if I had known, like, I didn’t think that, that this –”

“I expect this coming from them, but not from you.”

“I know I should have told you y/n, I’m sorry. Omissions to a certain extent become lies.” Damiano seems to think he’s given a very fair and mature answer.

“This is so much more than that. You kept a secret from me, about me, for the sake of someone else. I won’t let you close if I can’t trust you.” Damiano takes a long pause, eyes fixed on the floor. There couldn’t be a less romantic context to negotiate your future.

“I know I’m not owed your vulnerability. I know I have to earn it,” he says, softly. It's so exactly the right thing to say that you forget your point for a second. “But this wasn’t an allegiance to someone else. It was for your well-being.” You try to be reasonable, even though you’re fighting the urge to scream.

“And that's the issue! You thought that anyone else but me could be the authority on my body. If that ideology extends to your beliefs, we aren’t happening.”

“Y/n, I swear to god I will never exercise authority that you haven’t submitted to willingly,” he pledged. “However, I don’t think I can completely exclude outside advice.”

“You don’t have to. I wouldn’t mind you keeping an extra close watch on me because my mom asks, just tell me. I don’t think I’m being unreasonable!” Of course, you’ve thought that before.

“I – uh,” he gets up and paces the length of the room, turning on heel. “I just want them to like me, you dad is…”

“Yeah, I know, sorry. Hey,” you reach out towards Damiano, and he takes your hand. Feigning seriousness, you jest “remember, you can alway challenge him to a duel, and I will support you.” You look up through your lashes, giving him a soft, reassuring smile. He relaxes a little, posture no longer like he has a titanium rod instead of a spinal column.

“I thought you were going to do that for me, when he said that bit about ‘saving.’ Has he met you?” You snort a laugh, looking at the floor, bashful. “C’mere,” you tug on his hand. “Let’s break their distance rule a little longer.” Damiano scoots next to you, and you rest your head on his shoulder, breathing in deep.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he confesses. “How to keep my distance now that I’ve met you, or if I should. I can’t figure out the moral thing, so you don’t end up feeling trapped a couple years down the road.”

“Is that what you’re really worried about?” You turn to meet each other's gazes, faces so close, you cheek on the edge of his clavicle. With all the intensity, there hadn’t been any room for sweetness, or careful affection.

“Yeah,” he whispers, barely audible. His shapely mouth is ever so slightly parted, and you’re looking up the bridge of his proud Italian nose into his intelligent eyes. His hairline is uneven, and it's endearing because Damiano is so close to perfection. He was letting you see him unsure, shy even. He was letting you in.

“And I strike you as a wilting violet?” He chuckles, eyes forward, in search of the right decision. “It's insane that they gave us the ability for such huge choices so young. I know the pressure on your side is worse.” Damiano nods adamantly, picking at the skin on the edge of his thumb. You lace your fingers through his, bringing his attention back to your face.

“I wanna do right by you, and with each passing day I become even more fucking unsure of making those choices.”

“But, see,” you search for the right tone, so he doesn’t feel chastised. “Okay, just, just look at me.” You turn your body sideways, one leg on the mattress, the other still swinging in the air. Damiano mirrors you, curious and careful of your scraped knees.

“You’ve done all the decision making. Which isn’t your fault, that's not what I mean. Um – okay, like, you found me, watched me, and chose me. You know me, in a way, but I don’t really know you, Damiano.” The expression of shock, and even a bit of offense has you backpedaling like you’re in the Tour de France. “Which is fine! I –”

“You have no idea who I am, and I came into your life and just – fuck,” he groans, hiding his face in mortification.

“And I chose you, don’t get me wrong! I still do! Before I even knew you, you made me feel safe Dami, and I craved your presence. I’d just like to get to know a little more about you in the next 10 months and 19 days.”

“18 days.”

“We’re fucking hopeless” you chuckle, and Damiano lets out a couple puffs of air that become laughter. Albeit, slightly unhinged, which you’ve come to realize is Dami’s manner when he’s stressed.

“Will you help guide me? Not let me cross any of your boundaries accidently?”

“Yes, of course,” you gush, leaning closer without being entirely conscious of it.

“But we’ll still wait on the sex until your birthday?”

“If you insist,” you gripe, making your displeasure obvious. Damiano finds it endearing and smiles fondly, lips trying to cover his teeth, however he can’t help but grin. Seeing his joy makes you feel balanced for the first time since getting the implant, everything returning to equilibrium. There's a pull in your chest and your surge towards him, ignoring the sting from putting weight on your knees. You hold Damiano’s face between your hands and kiss him with fire.

The immediate need for closer, compels you to push your tongue past the seam of his lips, only to find Damiano has beat you to it and is pushing his tongue into your mouth. Your right hand shifts to the back of his head, into those beautiful curls that are silky as they slide between your fingers. Dami tilts his head, to assert dominance, tongue tracing the fragile tissue of your gums. The angle gives him power, forcing you to receive his kiss, give into his will. He rises up, positioning himself higher, getting a grip on your hair that allows him to manipulate the position of your head.

The urge to shrink, to cave, to submit washes over you. It's new, exciting, and adds another realm of sensation. Your body did not just experience pleasure on its own, but in relation to its alpha, to his will. Receiving was not just enjoyable from the stimulation, but from some instinct that was satiated by following trustingly. The thought of his saliva in your mouth, invading even there had a whine ripping from the back of your throat. What Damiano gave you that day at the beach was a kiss, nothing more. You could never have anticipated how much he was holding back.

Instead of resisting the perpetual motion of Dami coming forward, you reposition your body to welcome it. Legs parted, you let him push you downwards, until your back meets the cot. The scent of slick from between your spread legs makes Damiano tense, then growl, really growl. Not like a stubbed toe or a high shelf, but like the reason you bring bear spray when you go camping. Like the dark thing in the night you never shine your flash light directly at, for fear you’ll find it. He growled like that and used his weight to push you into the mattress, pin you down underneath him. The musk from his neck glands was inebriating, and you grappled for more, to the point that the bridge of his nose likely ached from pressing against your cheekbone so firmly.

You couldn’t help yourself. Your groin went searching for what his hips wouldn’t give up. When you lifted your pelvis up just slightly, your soaked underwear found the fly of Damiano’s pants with his hard cock straining underneath. You wrapped both legs around Damiao’s lower back, heels on his tailbone. Using all of the strength in your legs, you pulled him against you and subsequently cried out at the perfect friction. The snarl Damiano released told you that you’d done something bad, against the rules, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Reflexively, as soon as Dami’s groin was brought between your legs, he thrusted forward hard.

The jolt of pleasure went far beyond your cunt, almost reaching your sternum. You needed more urgently and attempted to peel off your underwear. This was interrupted by another thrust, causing the cot to hit the wall. The sound prompted Damiano to look up and gave you a moment to breathe.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” you panted, nodding enthusiastically. When removing your underwear seemed impossible, you started pulling them to the side, fingers covered in your own slick. Damiano ripped his body away from yours, and it was like having the warm comforter pulled off you in the morning, but many times worse.

“Wha – no!” you cried out, reaching for what was already on the other side of the room. Damiano had sequestered himself in the furthest corner. He gave you one excoriated look and turned his face towards the wall.

“Please close your legs.” Damiano’s voice was unrecognizable, wobbly and higher pitched, all bravado gone. Self consciously you crossed your legs, and threw a blanket over your lap. He turned around slowly, swallowing hard. While the majority of your being felt so horny that you could scream, another part saw the conflict on Damiano’s face.

“So, that's not supposed to happen,” you prompt, lamyly. Damiano is chewing on his lips, picking at his nails with much more aggression.

“I need to be in better control of myself.”

“Actually, I think I’m the one that needs to be in better control of myself,” you admit, wincing. “I kissed you. Um, sorry?” The bed is totally mussed from your impassioned embrace so you start to tidy things for when your parents come back. There’s no doubt that your mother will be able to smell the pheromones, but maybe she’ll be merciful enough to skip communicating that information to your father.

You focus meticulously on this task to fill up the silence, but Damiano continues to not say a word. Is he mad? Is he going to put up a wall? Can I still get to know him in person? Have I fucked it all up? Did he cum in his pants and that's why he’s acting so weird?

“We can’t kiss either. That’s another rule,” Damiano decided, fists balled-up. “No physical contact of a sexual nature at all.” You felt desperation like tears about to spill forth.

“But –”

“No kissing, no foreplay, no sexual exploration. No touch with sexual intent or undertones.” Every possibility was disappearing before your eyes.

“Damiano, this was just…I mean we just –”

“Maybe minimizing all physical contact is a good idea. I know that’s what your parents would prefer.”

“Hey! Fuck that, this is our lives. I didn’t go through this,” you gesture to the hospital room and IV “for nothing. I earned this, us,” you proclaim, angry in the place of acknowledging that you felt restrained by Damiano’s rules. This was the barrier you feared, now being built before your eyes.

“Y/n, listen to me,” he hissed, finally making eye contact. “It is way too easy for me to lose control with you. We are in a fucking hospital! We rode in an ambulance. A person with any level of dignity wouldn’t even fantasize about what we just did.”

“How am I supposed to get to know you if you forbid touching? How am I supposed to mate with someone I’ve never touched before? How am I supposed to commit?” Your deadpan finally gets Damiano’s attention, but your parents' voices appear in the background.

“Okay, I know you’re right, but I need to think about this. I don’t have any answers. I don’t –”

“Alright, so the nurse is going to be right in to take out your IV,” your mother announces as they push the door open. Despite her cheery tone, she is directing all her attention to reading the room, trying to discern this obviously complex energy. As per usual, your father is totally clueless.

“The school called your mother, and she’s here to pick you up, Damiano. We truly can’t thank you enough.” Damiano mutters some nicety and hugs her awkwardly. Meanwhile, you’re trying to find your clothes, only to realize that they’re the ones from Fitness. You can’t meet your future mate’s mother in a hospital gown or sweaty, gruby gym shorts. The emergency of making yourself presentable consumes all your attention, finger combing your hair.

“Do you have a hair tie?” you ask, anxiously.

“I’m sure that introductions can wait until another day, sweetheart,” your mother placades. She looks expectantly at Damiano, who immediately agrees.

“Yes, of course, obviously, um…” He trails off while gathering all his belongings, looking like a deer in headlights. “Okay, so, uh, it was lovely seeing you again,” he says to your parents, then turns to you. The pained look on his voice borders on insulting, so when he approaches you freeze. Damiano leans down, pecks on you on the forehead, and you stay completely still relishing in his proximity.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he whispers, before leaving.

Notes: I'm already posting the second chapter of this fic! I'm trying to do better guys. Also how perfect is that gif? If anyone knows the original vid PLEASE gimme the link. Thanks for reading!

-XOXO Eden