#unhinged and deranged ew | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

filthforfriends · 1 year

Text

The Hybrid (Part 2)

deranged Omegaverse Thomas x Damiano

Word count: 7k

I originally thought this was too unhinged and graphic to post on Tumblr, which is it has been exclusive to AO3 until now.

He expected Damiano to be…well Thomas wasn’t sure exactly but he didn’t expect him to be busy with house work. Thomas was cooking one of the few meals he knew how to make well, while Dami marched in and out of the laundry closet with endless piles of blankets, clothes, pillow cases, and bedding. He seemed focused and not to be in much discomfort, so Thomas just let him be. He had dealt with an extremely difficult heat, so if washing every piece of fabric in the house made him content, Thomas wasn’t about to interrupt.

“Dami, cucciolo, it's time for breakfast.” Thomas stopped and listened for oncoming footsteps then tried again. “I’m not going to mate you on a calorie deficit,” he called. When that got no response, he went looking for Daminao and found him in his bedroom closet, extremely concentrated. He was arranging the spare comforter he kept in there, with the only linens he hadn’t washed, their dirty sheets. He kept tucking pieces of clothing in one corner, and Thomas realized they were the clothes he wore yesterday.

“What are you doing with my dirty clothes, cucciolo?” Damiano looked up, hair falling into his face, like he hadn’t heard Thomas come in. For someone crawling around in a closet he didn’t look very self conscious, maybe just apprehensive that he’d been caught.

“You can have them back, but I need them now.” His tone leaves no room for argument, not that Thomas would.

“Whatever helps, sure…but, um, why?”

“Because,” he splutters, incredulously. Damiano sits back on his heels and Thomas can sense the wave of stress that rolls off of him. Maybe all that work was just him trying to quell his anxiety.

“Because they’re the only thing that smells good,” he professed. “In this whole fucking apartment. I woke up and everything smelled wrong, except you. Just, uh ew!” He makes a noise of disgust, face crumpling. “But now this spot smells right, with the sheets, and the clothes. So it’ll be okay after I wash everything.” Damiano takes a few deep breaths, trying to regulate, and Thomas decides that removing him from the only spot in his home that he liked wasn’t a great idea.

“Let me just get breakfast, okay?”

“Breakfast?” he chirps hopefully, looking up from rearranging. He's crouched down in briefs and a big t-shirt, in this nest of blankets. He’s nesting, Thomas realizes. In that moment he wants to wrap Damiano in bubble wrap and go ahead in time to murder anyone that might have a negative thought about his sweet little omega.

“Of course I’m gonna make sure you eat, cara mio.” Damiano bites his lip and his face breaks out in a full smile. “I made omelets and coffee.”

“Okay!” He seems to finally surface from whatever compulsion he’d been tending, surprised that the world had continued on, when his focus was elsewhere. His expression was so open and trusting, enthusiasm so pure. Thomas almost couldn’t stand to leave Dami when he went to the kitchen and loaded everything onto a tray. On the way back that aggression towards outside threats solidified itself, directed at Samuel, and any past mating partner of Dami’s. Thomas almost didn’t have perspective to recognize that this was textbook alpha ideation that should be ignored.

It wasn’t difficult to refocus when he rounded the corner into the bedroom, and found that Damiano had located his jacket and was integrating that into the nest as well. He was using it as a pillow case, scrunched into the same corner as the rest of Thomas’ dirty clothes. Their bedsheets smell like mating, but the scent Dami gave off is far more enticing to Thomas. Why have the two muddled together when he could get an untainted dose directly from his glands? Dami sat back on his heels with a sigh, proudly looking at the rumpled mess of fabric in the bottom of his closet.

“Do you like it?” he asked, obviously pleased with himself. Thomas’ first instinct was to say sure? However, his omega was beaming with so much pride he couldn’t do that.

“Yeah, it's great!” He set the tray down and sat on the bedroom floor, across from Damiano. Thomas knew omega’s were very particular about the scents in their nest, so he was careful not to disrupt anything. He took his coffee off the tray and observed Dami while he sipped. He looked deeply perturbed all of a sudden, and it could only be a reaction to Thomas.

“Is –”

“Get in,” he demanded. Thomas barely set the mug down in time for Dami to grab his arm and try to pull him inside the closet.

“Okay, okay,” he lamented, struggling to fit all his limbs in a nest barely big enough for someone half a foot shorter than him. Dami huffed impatiently until he settled, then somehow managed to fit his body against his like a puzzle piece. Thomas got the short end of the stick, having to eat only with his left hand, while his right was around Damiano’s abdomen. He couldn’t complain though, since he could literally feel the happiness radiating off of Dami. He alternated between taking huge bites, and nuzzling against Thomas, whose senses were so overwhelmed by Damiano’s pheromones that he couldn’t even taste his coffee.

It took him a minute to realize that Dami was scenting him. It felt a bit like smoking way too much THC way too fast. He was high, his sense of depth perception and body awareness fuzzy. Things calmed down after a moment and having the weight and warmth of another body helped. Sure kids fooled around with it, but scenting someone was a greater commitment then having sex with them. He wasn’t even sure if he should mention it. It may have been instinctual, not a completely conscious choice.

“Sorry, too much?” Damiano was looking over his shoulder at Thomas, whose eyes fluttered open then closed.

“Uh…” He really tries to form a sentence, but his tongue feels heavy in his mouth. Damiano leans forward and pulls a bottle of water from under the edge of the nest.

“Drink something,” he suggests, unscrewing the cap. Thomas takes a swig and chuckles.

“Everything tastes like you,” he mumbles, smiling. “Come back, I don’t mind it.” Thomas makes a come hither motion and Damiano sits between his legs, leaning against him, while his head rests on the wall. Thomas rubs Dami’s stomach absent mindedly, his other hand lazily playing with Daminao’s hair.

“You know,” he muses, “I’m realizing how weak my omega instincts are. Like I don’t nest or scent at all.”

“Really?” Damiano has started eating the blueberries brought from the kitchen, washed but still in the box.

“Yeah, my interactions with alphas have always been so,” he searches for a descriptor but ends up with “meh. Underwhelming, I guess. Like I never really cared…but with you,” Thomas squeezes Damiano and starts peppering his head with dramatic kisses. Damiano dissolves into giggles, wiggling infinitesimally closer to his attention.

“It’s different?” he prompts, doe-eyed and rosy.

“Yeah, it feels less unnatural,” he affirms. “I’m not really sure what to do with that realization. I mean, it explains why I can’t keep an alpha. I’m the worst lay of their life,” he chuckles.

“Well you could be the best lay of my life,” Dami counters. Thomas can’t help but laugh incredulously.

“Given I’m not an expert, even though I should be, but, don't omegas build nests because they don’t have an alpha? I am sitting in the evidence of my mediocrity, cucciolo. You shouldn’t need this.”

“That's not why,” Damiano counters, turning around and straddling Thomas to look him in the face.

“Then why?”

“Because, because I wasn’t sure if you were going to leave. I thought maybe this was an experiment for you.” He looks down at his hands, insecure. “There's a level of risk for you, and I know I wasn’t easy to deal with yesterday.”

“Cucciolo, I’m not going to leave,” he croons.

“Because if you’re going to leave, you need to do it now.” Dami’s jaw is so staunchly set that Thomas knows he’s holding back emotions.

“It’s not even an option for me, Damia. You can relax about that.” Daminao nods and rearranges himself back to the original position, but Thomas can feel his breathing is more labored.

“Cara mio, you really thought I’d just leave you after yesterday? I know my rut isn’t what you’re used to, but I’m gonna try my best to keep you satiated and comfortable.” Daminao starts scenting him again, in the place of language. “You should slow down if you want me totally conscious, cucciolo.”

“Oops,” he whispers, sounding small.

“Don’t worry, it's cute,” he affirms, affectionately. Thomas rubs his cheek on Damiano’s head adoringly, admiring how well it fits against his neck. It was so nice to have him tucked away and safe, to be receiving all of his focus. Thomas resumes cuddling and Dami continues munching, finally seeming at peace. A pleasant silence fell over them, and Thomas could never recall a time when he was both hormonal and comfortable with himself. It always felt like his skin was one size too tight, and he wanted to shed it and grow into himself, but there wasn’t anything to grow into. He would always be a hybrid.

“This is perfect,” he gushed. Damiano’s words interrupt Thomas’ spiraling. His instincts agreed with Dami’s sentiment, but his limbs were screaming in protest. His left leg had fallen asleep five minutes in and his right was bent at an awkward angle that had grown sore. Not that he would dream of moving with his mate so content. The fingertips of one hand stroked Damiano’s arm, raising goosebumps, the other on his stomach. His hair was soft against the scuff of Thomas’ cheek, and smelled delicious.

Damiano seemed to hum with satisfaction, letting himself be held so lovingly. It reverberated in Thomas’ chest, almost like Dami was vibrating against him at a very low frequency. The sound went from humming to this constant drone that came from the back of the throat. It was definitely positive, pleasurable, and also primal. The sound came in waves. It wasn’t until he let Damiano nuzzle against his neck, that Thomas realized what was happening.

“Are you purring for me, cara mio?” he marveled, trying to look at Damiano's face while he just nuzzled further in Thomas’ neck.

“No,” he playfully denied. The purring stopped when Dami vocalized, but then started back up again. He snuggled against Thomas, licking at his scent glands.

“Yes you are,” he cooed, voice dripping with affection. Damiano was trying to make his body as small as possible, using Thomas as a shield. “I can feel that you’re smiling, cucciolo, don’t lie to me.” Dami let out a giggle. Thomas massaged his scalp where it was pressed into his neck, leaving kisses.

“I don’t know what you expect, you’re scenting me,” Damiano admits shyly.

“I am?” Thomas exclaims. “They always said my glands were underdeveloped!” He couldn’t hide the excitement in his voice.

“It's not overwhelming, but it's still really nice,” Dami murmured, sleepily. Thomas’ cheeks ached from smiling. He’d never felt this normal.

“So omegas purr when they get scented,” he said to himself, but Dami shook his head.

“No, it's ‘cause you.” Immediately, Thomas wanted to flood him with questions.

“Can you explain –?”

“Mm, mm.” Damiano shook his head, and Thomas realized he was regressing back into omega headspace. As he lost his ability to communicate verbally, his scent evolved, glandular signals taking over. Unfortunately, Thomas struggled to read his pheromones. It would be easier if they were bonded, or if he was an alpha, or if this wasn’t his first time mating someone in heat. He was entirely underqualified and inexperienced. Suddenly, they were speaking two different languages, and Thomas desperately didn’t want to misinterpret.

The question of how to conduct himself in this moment made his heart race. If I don’t understand him, how can I go about this responsibly? Is not doing anything at all irresponsible in and of itself? Does having to ask these questions at all mean I’m failing him? As soon as Thomas had worked himself up, the sensation of a weight pulling him back down to earth settled in every muscle. His heart rate slowed, he remembered to breathe evenly. His body felt heavy, but suddenly calm, and he smelled the sweetness of springtime. For a moment, he was swooning so intensely that he lost sense of personhood, and could feel the body leaning against him more than his own.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled, trying to get his bearings. Lilac. That's what permeated the air: when the lilacs first bloom in June. He could finally pinpoint the scent of Dami’s pheromones, which means this sudden calm came from his glands. If he wasn’t panicking over his biological shortcomings, what Damiano needed was very apparent. He wasn’t using speech so, Dami was more omega than human, and that omega side of him needed to be satiated to bring his biology back to an equilibrium.

Thomas slicked up, even though he wouldn’t be receiving. It was his body’s reaction to arousal and it triggered Damiano to have the same response. This unnatural reaction was the reason alphas and omegas preferred to hook up outside their primary gender. They were the exception, because usually the pheromones just weren’t compelling. Damiano and Thomas’ sexual relationship wasn’t regarded as a red flag necessarily, but definitely seen as odd. They tried to limit it to friendship as much as possible, to perpetuate the idea that they were just a couple of bored, horny omegas. Thomas didn’t have a consistent alpha, Damiano and Samuel were together out of hormonal compatibility, not in a relationship, so Samuel fucked around too. The narrative that they were just a couple of petty omegas worked well, as long as no one found out just how intensely pleasurable and natural their sex lives were.

“Can I touch you?” Thomas' hand ventured lower, playing with the waistband of Dami’s briefs. His scent became oh so inviting, so Thomas started to rub his hard cock over his boxers. He refused to take advantage of the fact that Damiano was non-verbal. He bucked his hips up into Thomas hand and whined in the back of his throat. Thomas dipped his hand into Dami’s boxers and held his cock in a fist, not moving. He waited for some kind of response communicating consent: a yes, a head nod, even a guiding hand. Instead, Damiano, who was feral, horny, and desperate, bit him in retribution for stopping.

“Ow! Hey, no teeth!” Instead of apologizing, Damiano pulled his briefs down, kicking them off with his feet. He grabbed Thomas’ hand, brought it back down to his cock, and held it there in a vice grip. Even as Thomas stroked him, Dami didn’t let his wrist go, thrusting up into his hand. He was holding on so tight that the area became sore, and being in rut was not contributing to Thomas' patience.

“Too tight,” he warned. When Dami didn’t respond, Thomas gave him one more chance. “Too tight Damiano, you’re hurting me.” Damiano ignores him, lips parting in pleasure. As beautiful as the sight may be, Thomas feels a scathing irritation at his omega acting like he gets to control the situation. He rips his hand away and Damiano’s eyes fly open, pelvis jerking as he searches for stimulation. He scrambles to sit up, confused as to why his alpha would suddenly deny him sexual pleasure without communicating. He snaps his jaws at Thomas, who just scowls at him, giving him the silent treatment.

His glandular secretions weren’t strong enough for Damiano to read anything beyond anger. He sat up and pressed his face to Thomas’ neck, teething at his scent glands to get a clearer message.

“Dam, I swear to god if you –” The musk on his taste buds suggested submission, but didn’t demand it. Testing the boundaries, he nipped at Thomas' neck, and was immediately wrenched away from his body.

“Don’t fucking bite me!” Thomas shoved Damiano away, angry that he wasn’t listening. Daminao looked frustrated and confused, which was such an unjustified reaction that words failed Thomas and he let out a growl of frustration. This seemed to have some meaning, and it felt so cathartic he did it again. He had to manually combine the urge to make guttural sounds from the back of his throat and the emotions he wanted to convey. For a real alpha this was all just instinct.

Damiano ducked his head in submission, mouth trembling because this was so unlike Thomas. He’d never gone from nothing to yelling at Dami. At first he was silent, then so enraged the growl ripped from his chest. All Damiano needed was a little direction and now he was getting punished for not being a mind reader.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed you like that.” Daminao watched Thomas’ face soften, and his lips move. Had he been trying to talk to Dami this whole time? “Can you hear me when I speak?” Thomas taps his ears, and Dami shakes his head. He tries his very best to assign meaning to the sounds leaving Thomas’ mouth, but the part of his brain that processes language has taken the back burner.

The guilt settled in the pit of Thomas’ stomach. It was a painful reminder of how limited his experience was. He considered that Damiano was intentionally hurting him before remembering that he could just be unable to interpret spoken words. A real alpha would have never made this mistake. Thomas let out an apologetic whine, and Damiano crawled back onto his lap, scenting him to show that all was forgiven. Thomas scented him back, because it was comforting, and affirming.

Damnaino focused all his attention on saying one word. He could visualize the way the letters looked, but his tongue wasn’t cooperating. Getting it to move and create the fine details necessary for speech was an uphill battle.

“Knot,” he slurred, pronouncing it with two syllables. Thomas nodded, trying to stand up and move to the bed. Damiano needed this to happen in his nest. With no other way to communicate, he bit the back of Thomas' thigh as he moved from a sitting to a kneeling position. Thomas whipped around and used a handful of Dami’s hair to wrench his back. Forcing him to look up as he towered over him, Thomas let a quiet, but vicious growl crawl from his throat, nose scrunched.

There was a beat of silence as Dami realized his mistake and whimpered apologetically, bowing his head in subservience.

Thomas took his time getting in a comfortable sitting position. The space was so tiny that if Damiano wanted them to mate in the corner of his closet, he could do all the work. He gestured to his briefs, as if to say “come do your job, then.” His scent drew Damiano in, welcoming like fresh cut cedar. He pulled the boxers down then crawled back up to be eye level with Thomas’ groin. Feeling the ego boost of rut, he spreads his legs and lets out a huff, waiting for his omega to find a good use for that busy mouth.

Dami’s instincts are happy for an opportunity to pleasure their alpha. Thomas’ slick has already soaked into the fabric of the nest, the scent marking it much to Dami’s approval. Somehow, it carried the smell of an alpha. Not as strong and salty as copious amounts of pre-cum, but extremely attractive. The musk of Thomas’ body made the slick drop down to Dami’s thighs as he took his cock in his mouth. Having an ass full and knotted brought satisfaction like nothing else in the world. However, the stretch of giving an alpha a blowjob was also pleasing to omega instincts.

Thomas doesn’t even try verbally directing his omega. Damiano was plenty proficient at responding to the signals of his body. When he’s had enough, he gently pulls Damiano’s mouth off his cock, and gives a rumbling hum of approval. Dami smiles coyly, pleased with himself while he shifts to straddle Thomas. They almost knotted this way last night, but Dami had changed position. Secretly, Thomas had grieved being able to watch the face of his omega so close. What they were doing felt sacred and he wasn’t taking it for granted.

Damiano was so focused with the task at hand, that he hadn’t even met Thomas’ eyes. His beautiful fingers wrapped around the base of Thomas’ cock, and stroked it a couple times to evenly disperse the pre-cum. Droplet glistened on the winding lines of ink marking his skin. Once he’d done the absolute bare minimum of prep, Dami sunk down onto his alpha’s length.

As soon the tip of his Thomas’ cock pushed into his anus, a rush of slick wetted Damiano’s thighs. His body’s response was so visceral that he trembled before he was even fully seated. His breath caught in his throat, the memory of yesterday’s desperation a bitter taste in his mouth. The idea of still enduring that today made his stomach turn. Thank god for Thomas, in many ways more than just this.

Damiano was shifting his legs to support himself properly as he rode Thomas cock, when a finger hooked under his chin prompting him to look up. There was a commanding stillness in his gaze, like the exhale of a steading breath. All of the beautiful green of his irises had been consumed by the black hunger of his pupil. Still, his eyes were kind and soulful, maybe just because all their years of friendship had impressed this onto Damiano.

Innumerable shitty interactions had left Dami, and all omegas, jaded towards alphas. The problem was Damiano was especially upetty, disruptive of social norms. Many joked that he was placed in the wrong body, but Damiano didn’t feel out of place in his own skin, just in his interactions with the opposite primary gender. There was a maliciousness that lay behind an alphas gaze, rooted in the knowledge of their ultimate power. Looking at Thomas felt like being held, instead of shoved to the ground and ordered to kneel. Damnao knelt before Thomas because he wanted to, when he wanted to.

Right now, the only thing Thomas asked of him was a kiss. He maintained eye contact in a way that communicated reverence, before leaning forward. It was merely a peck, such a stark contrast to where their bodies were joined, fluids causing their skin to stick together in uncomfortable ways. He pulled back, waiting until Dami’s eyes fluttered open to meet his own.Thomas cupped his face in both hands, pushing the hair back with his long fingers. He was so desperate to understand the moment, but all Dami could offer was radical acceptance, and that informed nothing.

Letting out a sharp breath, Thomas pulled Damiano back in, this time the kiss was deep and passionate. Maybe it was like a hurricane: the calm was in the center and he just had to brave the bit that threatened to sweep away his fragile sense of self. Damiano had no such reservations. He kissed Thomas with tongue, raising himself up so he could push open his mouth, testing the boundaries of his dominance. Daminao’s tongue explored the fragile tissue of Thomas gums as he bounced on his cock. He got a hand tangled in his soft, dirty blond hair, pulling a bit too hard on the nape of the neck which earned him a slight growl of warning. He kissed Thomas fiercely, lips molding together while he managed a sporadic pace. Desperate panting turned into moans as the exploration of tongue gave way to gentle nips.

Damiano had learned his lesson, and was very careful not to break the skin. Thomas was probably too trusting, but having his lips nibbled on by the man sitting on his cock was heavenly. Soon Dami’s nails were digging into his back, and his energy demanded a knot. Thomas got a good grip around his torso and met his thrusts. Finally engaging his hips started the process of perpetual motion resulting in a knot. It came quicker each time, and soon Damiano’s moans revolved into a whine, interspersed by grunts as he rode the knot.

Everything became hopelessly tense again, but Thomas was getting used to it, and could almost breathe this time. He felt another rush of slick soak the comforter below at the same time Dami’s stained his thighs. There were moments before orgasam so intensely pleasurable that it was totally unbearable, and yet they had to bear it, and held onto each other desperately, in an effort to survive.

“Relax, relax,” Thomas grunted, lifting his hips to collide with Dami’s.

“I can’t, I just can’t,” he whined. “You gave me a knot, I – uh, please,” he moaned. His nails dug into Thomas’ shoulders hard enough to leave crescent shaped bruises.

“Just try,” Thomas said through clenched teeth, the vein protruding on his forehead.

“No, no, no, no,” he repeats, shaking his head hysterically. Damiano sinks down slowly and an obscene noise rips from the back of his throat that isn’t even vaguely human, more like an injured hyena.

“Don’t make me give up the knot. Please, it's so good. It feels so good.” He babbles against Thomas lips, into what used to be a kiss. Damiano is using up too much air for that now, gasping as he tries to reach orgasam. His growl intends to sound assertive, but comes off as helpless. Thomas shushes him, trying to calm Damiano off of the edge of hysteria with a steady hand rubbing his back, but realizes this isn’t what he needs.

This is a really shitty position to get momentum from, so Thomas braces one forearm against the wall of the closet, and gets a tight grip on Damiano’s glute with the other. He pushes himself up into a kneeling position as Dami clings.

“I won’t. I won’t do it. You can’t make me!”

“Ssh, cucciolo, I’m not going anywhere. Just relax please.” They’ll definitely have to work on communication later. “Get your feet under you,” Thomas coaxes. Doing the horizontally would be so much easier, but there isn’t room and if he tries to transfer them to the bed Damiano will loose his fucking mind. Repositioning at least gives him something to focus on, and can deliver the stimulation he so desperately needs.

Thomas gets a vice grip on his hips and Damiano braces one hand behind himself on Thomas thigh and the other around his waist, frantic fingers digging into muscle. The first thrust makes his eyes roll back. It's a new angle, a deeper angle. Thomas tries to stay grounded, but it's such a small space with so much sensory input and he’s never felt Damiano so completely. The smell of slick, pheromones, pre-cum, and mating. Damiano, glorious as he rides Thomas’ cock, his olive skin seems to glow like an ethereal creature. Every undulation displays his features, every time more beautiful than the moment before. He grunts, putting so much hard work in, and Thomas cums immediately.

He actually closes his eyes. It's too much stimulation otherwise. He has to adjust his grip, the sweat making it difficult to hold onto Damiano, who put total trust in Thomas to support his weight. With his eyes closed, the noises from his omega become all the more impactful. Thomas tries to suppress his own moans so he can hear them. Damiano is enjoying the hot spunk filling him up more than Thomas is ejaculating it. He’s practically singing with pleasure. It's so primal and satiating that he doesn’t even notice when his own orgasam begins. All the overwhelming stimulation just blends together.

Damiano’s cum splatters onto his and Thomas’ chests, while he manically bounces on his cock, no rhythm, all desperation. Each time he bottoms out, Dami lets out a little grunt and Thomas opens his eyes just to watch his omega’s parted lips. He spasms with climax internally, and his alphas head falls back, hitting the wall. Thomas has to put every ounce of focus he can barely muster to support Dami’s upper body. The internal and external orgsams are not simultaneous, but it's close enough that Dami is fighting for consciousness.

Thomas gives him another knot before he has the chance to ask. It's intuitive. He slows the pace down to his own liking. Each thrust starts with his sit bones on his heels, bearing his weight for a moment of rest. Thomas pushes off with as much force as possible, snapping his hips into a plank position. Before Damiano can panic that Thomas has pulled out to the knot, his cock is buried as deep as possible. The slide against his walls is the best part. Thomas gets to feel his velvety muscular walls constrict in pleasure, Damiano gets every inch of pulsating cock, weeping with precum. Thomas' ankles are dripping with his own slick, but contradictory biology isn’t even on his mind. Damiano is.

Thomas mates him with everything he has. Dami tries to thank him, but it comes out as gibberish and devolves into a moan. Even as he struggles for breath, Thomas' chest feels more open, his body more invigorated. He wants to give into instincts, but his omegas comfort is more important. His head has lulled to the side, mouth open. He’s looking at Thomas’ body jolting with each thrust, like watching his alpha fucking him gets him off.

“You want –” Thomas isn’t even sure what to ask. “You okay?” It's such an ill fitting question.

“Heaven,” Dami whispers, corners of his mouth turning up into a smile. A rush of slick hits Thomas’ mid thigh, and Damiano’s hand that rests there slips. He transfers his grip to his lower back, but there's so much sweat they’re both fighting to hand on. Thomas sets into a rhythm only sustainable because he's in rut, a little faster than before, the way Dami likes. He doesn’t have to think about the mating, that part comes so naturally it's not even conscious. The more animalistic he feels, the more things fall into place. A knot, excruciating to produce yesterday, thickens without any effort pulling it forth.

Thomas is hyper aware of the muscles he's using: lower back, glutes, abs. Instead of lactic acid production his body skips to endorphins. The only issue is that things keep slipping. Dami is struggling to hold on and Thomas has to keep readjusting his grip. Damiano has another anal orgasam without warning. He whines all the way through it with his eyes rolling back in his head. There's no message intended, just an expression of pure pleasure. His body starts to tremble and there's so much sweat Thomas’ hand slips and he nearly drops him.

“That's it,” Thomas growls. He pushes the closet door wide open and lays Dami out on the floor halfway in his nest and halfway on top of the breakfast dishes. Thomas pushes them out of the way haphazardly. Something clashes then breaks. Neither of them wince.

For a moment things don’t fit together right. The ground is uneven, there's nothing to prop up Damiano’s hips with. Thomas slips drastically enough that he accidentally pulls out, subsequently losing the knot now that he’s no longer mating an omega. It's like watching Dami’s face in slow motion. One moment he’s focused on adjusting to the new position and the next his face is crumpling in panic, betrayal, loss.

“No, no! Come back, Tommy, please –” he wails. Thomas rectifies the mistake in only a couple seconds, but the knot being ripped away has triggered a fear response. Dami is panicking, even with Thomas’ cock fully seated inside him. He’s trying to force another knot to pacify him. Feeling Damiano’s chest shudder underneath him with a sob makes his own eyes sting, pain shared just as their pleasure is.

“Cucciolo, I’m so sorry,” he croons. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay.” Damiano’s breath catches in his chest violently with each syllable. A shaking hand comes up to wipe his eyes. He brings his legs to his tummy out of habit, and Thomas carefully hooks Dami’s shins over his shoulders. He feels past the point of exhaustion, but also aware he has an indeterminate amount of energy left. His rut had never been this intense before, so Thomas was finding the boundaries as he experienced them.

“I don’t know, ugh,” Thomas growls, struggling with words. “How much I – I have,” he pants. “I can’t…can’t –”

“Everything,” Damiano answers. Give me everything. Okay. Everything turned out to be a knot that took all his focus and a handful of thrusts. Thomas collapsed, pushing Dami’s legs off his shoulders, so they could achieve some level of comfort. The sensation of Thomas' skin shifting against Damiano’s cock was enough to make him cum. There was very little actual spunk, but his entire abdomen spasmed during orgasam.

Thomas outright yelped in pain. He couldn’t cum again, after this level of athleticism there was no way. Yet, the perfectly lubed walls of Damiano’s ass constricted aggressively around his cock, and pulled an orgasam from him like his dying breath. Not only was it way too tight, but Thomas’ cock had been overstimulated 20 minutes ago. Exquisite torture. Instincts kept him in place, and Thomas couldn’t decide if this was the best or worst kind of excruciation.

“God, please relax, please,” he whimpered into Dami’s ear, a couple tears falling. One of Thomas’ hands found a grip on a bed post, trying to channel all the sensation into something, anything. He let out a growl of frustration. This wasn’t sustainable. How could the world expect him to willingly put himself in this situation over and over? It was as if he was having the life force squeezed out of him like a toothpaste tube. Slamming his palm to the ground, Thomas roared in anger. He felt Damiano twitch below him.

His omega was cowering, head tucked against a raised shoulder with his eyes screwed shut. His limbs were still curled around Thomas, but he seemed to be bracing. For what? Where had Damiano learned this behavior?

“Hey, cara mio, I would never hurt you.” Thomas lifts a hand to brush the hair out of Dami’s face, and he winces right before his hand makes contact. “Damiano, baby.” He seems to settle once he realizes the touch is loving, but that doesn’t stop Thomas’s stomach from sinking or the red hot rage that rips up to his throat.

“I’m going to hurt whomever made you scared,” he found himself pledging. “I’m going to make them scared too.” Sober, Thomas would never take on an alpha, but it didn’t matter if this promise was empty. Damiano was too far gone to register words. Which left Thomas to communicate in a language he only spoke accidentally, and never to good effect. Instead, Thomas scented. It seemed the only way to consistently communicate positive intentions.

This function had been much easier to pick up, he just had to focus on Damiano. After a couple gently nudges from his alpha, Dami relaxed and let himself enjoy Thomas’ pheromones. He looked blissed out, mouth hanging open. After getting his bearings, Damiano started scenting Thomas back, and finally relaxed. They both took a deep breath, which left Thomas in a wonderful haze, where all things unpleasant were dulled. It was the sensation of being high, but instead of separating each other as their senses diverged from reality, Thomas and Dami were brought together. Their partner was the only thing stimuli fully realized. At first Thomas struggled for clarity, but his omega ran a hand along his back, soothing. Somehow he knew to give into it.

“I didn’t expect you to do that,” the omega mused. Thomas had lost track of how much time had passed.

“What?” He propped himself up, instead of lazing on Damiano’s chest.

“Bonding. I’m glad though, I feel content now.”

“Right.” Having none of these experiences for himself made it difficult for Thomas to keep them straight in his head. “That's another thing I’ve never done, scented someone back. Makes it hard to bond, y’know.” Actually without mutual scenting and a knot it was impossible to bond, but Thomas used casual language to convince himself this wasn’t important. It was though, everyone else got so much more out of life.

“Yes you have.”

“What?” Thomas asks, bewildered.

“You have scented and bonded someone. Me, just now.”

“Oh, right,” Thomas smiles to himself, then so much that his sexy, little feral teeth are exposed and Daminao starts running his tongue across every one until Thomas closes his mouth and shakes his head.

“Eh! What are you doing?” he makes a noise of disdain, only for Damiano to dissolve into giggles, thoroughly amused with himself.

“So how does it feel to have your cherry popped?”

“Much more fun than the first time, but, em -” Despite Thomas’ best efforts, his expression must change, because Damiano’s face falls. “I didn’t realize the extent of the nonverbal bit, we need to create a system of consent for that. I felt like I kept unintentionally yelling at you in a language I didn’t speak.” Damiano chuckles, but there's no humor in Thomas’ face.

“I never want to yell at you, but especially when we’re mating, cucciolo.” There's so much tenderness in his tone. “Everytime I miscommunicated I felt like I was failing you because I’m not a real alpha. Like the thought that you were just being totally vulnerable with me and I yelled at you…” He trails off and swallows hard, tracing a finger down Dami’s profile who is looking up at him with untainted affection. “You’re not mad.”

“Not even a little bit,” he supplies. “It’s not like alphas are mind readers, that comes with time.” Thomas huffs and grimaces in thought.

“That doesn't matter. I’ll never be an alpha, and this will never work the same.” He sounded dejected, but instead of making Damiano sad, it made him angry. How could Thomas give up so easily?

“We don’t know that until we try,” he defended, attempting to rid his tone of any acidity. Thomas looked like the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. Panic rose in Dami’s chest at the prospect of his mate not being there his next heat. He wanted to demand that Thomas pledge he would knot no one else, ever. On the other hand, Thomas saw himself only as Dami’s last option, not his first choice.

“You’d want to do this again?” he asked, bewildered.

“Yes!” Damiano gushed. “You tried to understand me more than some alphas who’ve been practicing canine dialect since their very first pubic hair.” This would be the time to bring it up. Thomas raised himself up to his elbows, dirty blond hair falling in a curtain around his face. Damiano’s legs squeezed around Thomas' hips, heels digging into his lower back to keep him close.

“Yeah um, I could tell from your reaction,” Thomas is looking at Damiano emphatically, who raises a questioning eyebrow in response. “I mean, just the way you reacted, it seemed…” As much as he tried to read his face, Dami’s expression only communicated confusion.

“It's par for the course,” he brushes off, lightly. Maybe the reaction was subconscious, like so many other things in this state. Thomas didn’t even know what he’d said. Flinching could be an instinctual reaction, like slick or moaning, something not notable enough to recall.

“You can’t just bite me when I do something you don’t like,” he redirects.

“Right, sorry,” Dami winces. “I just get a really strong urge with you, for some reason.” Damiano knew the reason. It was the same reason that there were moments when part of him regretted taking birth control while knotted by Thomas. Damiano didn’t want children, not with Thomas as anyone. It was the same reason he’d washed every scent bearing surface in the apartment of his previous mate. It was the reason he’d called Thomas instead of a different alpha.

He’d been far from celibate before Samuel. There were plenty of options. It was the reason he’d skip his mothers birthday before Thomas’ rut. The reason they had such a close friendship, why every time Thomas asked he would say yes, why he would never spill the hybrid secret even with a knife to his throat.

It was the same reason, that fateful night at 18, just before the tears fell, he wanted to say thank god. Thank god because I’ve been wracking my brain for ways our bodies could fit together. In fact, when you first walked in that door I wanted to propose something so desperately and barely held my tongue. What if I take off all my clothes, and you take off all your clothes and we lay in my bed, then find something that feels right and do it until we’re exhausted. I don’t even care how sex looks between us, as long as it exists.

So when that answer came, when your body said this is how it looks, I cried tears of joy, silently, so you couldn’t see. But if you hadn’t cried I wouldn’t have either. If you said I want to try something, now that I know, I would lay on my stomach, hands clasped like I was praying, slick running down my thighs. For a moment, I was blinded by my own narcissism, and didn't consider isolating how this’d be for you. I thought that here you were, the only omega made for another of their kind, so my instincts weren’t broken. Maybe I was made for you after all.

Notes: Not a new fic! This chapter is about a year old it just seems ridiculous to have “AO3 exclusives.” If this isn’t your thing (immensely understandable) you can opt out of both omegaverse and band member x band member on my taglist.

-Eden XOXO

Masterlist

Taglist (taglist removal)

AO3 (this and most other stories available)

@hiraetheral @iosonoarina @l0standn0tf0und @que--sera--sera @stardustingold @teenyweenynightghost @harryssshouseee @bieberhoodforever @blackberryblossom @butkutee @cuzimitaliano @elvirabelle @iamtashaquinn @idyllicbutterfly @ilwiwbysmv @immrbrightsideeee @gr8rainbowpunk @little-moonbeam-666 @maneslut @mortyandem@weareoddlydrawn @whore4damia @slavicgoddess13 @ursulalurks* @kammerstx

*idk what's going on with your blog name bestie

12 notes · View notes