Work Text:
I groan and roll over in bed. It’s too warm, the sheets uncomfortably scratchy, the blankets uncomfortably hot. I kick them off, but it’s no use; I’m naked, and the air on my skin makes me feel too exposed. There’s something wrong about the texture of the sheets.
Their smell is off, too. We used a different detergent the last time we washed them, and it’s too harsh--too much artificial floral scent. It makes me want to rip into them, just shift a little and shred them with my claws, but I restrain myself. Cybele likes these sheets. Their pattern of stylized roses reminds her of the ones she grew outside the castle, back before her family sold it.
There’s a click and a creak and a draft in the room, and the low rustle of feet on the carpet. “Hazel?” Cybele says, as if she needs to tell me she’s here. As if I didn’t know the second she came in, as if I wouldn’t recognize the sound of her footfalls and the smell of her soap even without the heat-heightened senses. But I appreciate the gesture.
I turn over again to look at her, ignoring the unpleasant friction of movement. She’s carrying an armful of folded blankets and pillows, which she dumps unceremoniously on the side of the bed; I throw myself onto that side to grab the blankets and rub my face into them. These are the soft, fluffy kind, and touching them is heavenly.
“I brought a scented candle.” Cybele holds it out to me, but she doesn’t need to; I can smell it from here. It’s one of my own, one I made to be soothing--lavender, bergamot, and ylang ylang--but I shake my head.
“Thanks,” I say, “but it’s too strong. Could you put it on the patio?”
“Of course, dear,” says Cybele. As soon as she gets up, I wish she hadn’t. I want to reach out for her like a baby asking to be picked up.
Ha. Babies. Yeah, here we go. I spread the blankets and pillows across the bed, making a little nest out of them, covering the sheets and their too-floral smell. These blankets smell good; they smell like me and Cybele. They smell like safety, like home, like affection, like being wanted and loved and kept and bitten and--
I feel a surge of want, so physical and raw it’s hard to breathe for a moment. “Cybele,” I say, and my voice quavers.
“Yeah, babe?” There’s a swoosh and a thud as she shuts the patio door, and the breeze from outside stops.
“Can you come hold me?”
“Of course,” she says. She climbs into bed and wraps me up in her arms, and I’m no feline, but it’s all I can do to keep from purring. I bury my face in her shoulder.
“Thanks,” I say, muffled, and take a deep breath of her. She’s not as warm as another wolf would be, or even a human, and she doesn’t have pheromones or a heartbeat. But she smells warm, or rather she smells like herself, like agarwood and roses and men’s soap.
Her clothes smell like her, too, but they’re the wrong texture. Linen and knits and… “Can you take your clothes off?” I say into her shoulder.
“Yes, but only if you let go of me.” I don’t even need to look at her face to know the fond, indulgent smile she’s wearing.
With a petulant whine and a good amount of effort, I let her pull away enough to remove her sport coat and unbutton her dress shirt. I have to bury my face in the pillows again to endure waiting for her to take off her sports bra, and the sound of her unzipping her pants grates on my ears even as it excites me. I can’t resist turning around again when the rustling has stopped and I know she’s out of her pants, and when I see her there in just her boxers, all red eyes and red lips and that perfect jawline, muscles showing under her silky skin... I can’t keep myself from wrapping my arms around her waist and kissing her stomach.
Cybele laughs and runs her hand through my hair. “I don’t think you’re gonna want me to keep these on,” she teases.
I shake my head against her abs--god, her abs--but don’t let go. “I don’t, but you don’t need me to let go of you to take them off.”
“Touche,” she says, and kisses the top of my head. It’s awkward and inconvenient for her to wriggle out of the boxers while I cling to her, but she does it, and then her arms are around me and she’s rubbing my back and that beautiful, soft, smooth, cool skin is on my body. I can’t snuggle close enough into her.
I could almost fall asleep like this, but the heat is mounting, and everything is too much to fall asleep. Sounds are too detailed, sights are too crisp and bright, she smells too good, and her touch is… overwhelming. I realize I’m pushing my ass up into her hand as it brushes close to my tailbone.
“Cutie,” says Cybele, and kisses my forehead. “You smell nice.”
I whine and press my face into her shoulder. “Please,” I say, because it’s all I can think of.
“Please what, darling?” She drags a finger over my ass so lightly it almost tickles. “Ask for what you want.”
I shove my ass up toward her and say into her shoulder, “Please… touch me. And tell me”--I shudder--“tell me again that I smell nice. And that I’m--that I’m yours--”
“Of course, sweetheart,” Cybele says, very softly, her breath warm against my ear. “Spread your legs for me.”
Hearing an order from her feels so good, and obeying her feels even better. I kneel down with my face in the pillows, and Cybele positions herself above and behind me. She drags her finger from my ass-cheek to my pussy and gently strokes between my labia.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by how wet you are.” Her voice is like silk. “I knew what your heat would be like. But you’re just such a sweet, needy little puppy…” I’m rutting against her hand now, trying to fuck myself on her fingers, but they’re always just out of reach. I make a desperate sound--a cry, almost a sob, pleading.
“You make the prettiest noises,” Cybele croons. She’s leaning over me now, her chest against my back, her mouth right behind my ear. “And look at you presenting. Such a good omega. All sweet and obedient, and so easy.”
“Th--mm,” I say.
“Is that all you can manage? Little slut. It’s barely been a minute, and you’re dripping all over my fingers. I’m hardly doing anything. I just hold my hand here, and you fuck yourself on it like the perfect little whore you are.” She kisses my cheek. “ My perfect little whore. My good girl.”
“Tha--” Her fingers are almost in me again, but not quite. She makes a gentle, teasing circle around the entrance to my pussy and then slides her fingertips against my clit, and my whole body convulses, and she could make me come in an instant. I hate the thought of coming without a knot in me. “Please,” I beg. “Please, ma’am--” That’s not quite right. “Please, alpha--” That is.
“Please what, beautiful?”
“Please,” I say again, but she wants more than that. It’s hard to make words. “Please don’t make me come without your knot,” I manage, and it’s humiliating, but it’s right . I raise my ass a little higher.
“I want--” No. “I need--” Yes. “I need you to fuck me, please. I need you to--to fill me up and… breed me, and claim me… I need to be your--oh!”
Cybele slides her fingers into me, three at once. I make a guttural moaning sound. “Thank you,” I gasp. “Thank you, alpha.”
“Of course, sweetheart,” she says. She kisses my neck. “I love taking care of you.”
I love taking care of you. My eyes roll back in my head.
“It’s so hard not to tease you, you know? I just wanna watch you squirm and beg, all desperate and wet. And you smell so delicious when you’re needy. But it’s your heat, so I’ll be nice .” She curls her fingers as she says it.
I groan. “Please, please…” But her fingers are leaving, she’s pulling them out, and I cry out. “Alpha! Please, I need it, I need you, I--”
“Ssh,” she soothes. “I’m gonna fuck you. I just gotta get the knotting dildo.”
Oh. Yes. Because she’s not a wolf. And there’s the click and jingle of Cybele strapping it on, and now there it is, thicker than her fingers, slick with my own arousal, pressing into me too slowly. I whimper and spread my legs even wider. I’m panting. Her hand is on the back of my head, pushing my face down into the pillow, and I want her so badly it hurts. The dildo bottoms out, and I feel full and owned and perfect.
Cybele starts to move, in and out. “Good girl,” she whispers in my ear. “Good omega. You’re mine .”
“All yours,” I agree, muffled by the pillow.
She tangles her fingers in my hair and pulls tight, still pushing me down. “And don’t you forget it.”
“Never, alpha. All yours.”
Cybele reaches forward with her other hand and fondles my clit. I’m so sensitive it’s almost too much; I could come just from being fucked. But it feels so good I don’t want her to stop.
“Cybele,” I cry. “Cybele, my love, alpha--” She shushes me, soothing, but I can’t stop. “Alpha,” I beg. “Knot me, breed me, mark me--”
“Well, I can do two of those things,” Cybele says, and then there’s pain on the back of my neck, and warmth and wetness and it hurts and it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt. I’m shaking, making noises, but I can’t hear what they are; Cybele is thrusting hard and deep and my whole body is tingling. Her tongue laps over the fang marks in time with her thrusts.
She lifts her mouth from my neck and leans close to my ear. “You taste so good,” she growls. “You’re so fucking horny. It’s delicious.” She bites me again, on the side of my neck, not breaking skin, just reminding me she owns me. I whimper. “Good omega,” she breathes. “My good omega. My perfect little breeding slut.”
She moves back to the back of my neck and licks up the blood that’s welled up there. A tingle goes through my body with every lick. Her tongue is so warm and wet. Her lips are so soft.
“Alpha,” I moan. It’s hard to make words, but I need to, want to. With each thrust-lick-clit-touch I get closer, and I can’t come without permission. I belong to her. I’m trying to ask, to beg, but all that comes out is noises--moans, whimpers, screams, pathetic, blending together. “Please--I--”
Cybele bites down hard on the back of my neck, a proper claiming bite. It hurts, bad, but also good, and also wet with my own blood and there’s her tongue and lips and teeth and I don’t want her to ever stop. There’s a fumble and a click. The knot on the dildo starts to inflate, and I sob. I’m so close, but Cybele likes me to ask, likes me obedient, wants me to know I’m hers--god, I’m hers, I’m hers, and the knot gets bigger and she doesn’t stop rubbing my clit--
“Come for me, Hazel,” Cybele whispers.
I scream.
I come out of the heat haze gradually. The knotting dildo is still inside me, but it’s not attached to Cybele or the harness. I’m sore all over, especially my neck and pussy, but contented in a way that permeates every molecule of my body. I snuggle into Cybele again where she lies beside me. She looks disheveled in the most gorgeous way, her short hair sticking up haphazardly. She strokes my back with feather-light fingertips, and I kiss her shoulder.
“Hey, sweetie,” she says, smiling at me. “How are you doing?”
I nuzzle my face into her neck. “Good. Really good.”
“Want me to take the dildo out?”
“Mm…” She maybe should, but I like it--and besides, I’m tired, and the longer my body thinks I’m knotted, the longer I can sleep without waking up horny again. I shake my head. “I just want to snuggle for a while, and sleep. You should take the opportunity to get some food if you haven’t already.”
Cybele grins, showing me her fangs. “I’m plenty well fed already, remember? I’m definitely getting you some food and some prune juice before you fall asleep again, though. I haven’t yet; I didn’t want to leave and risk you waking up without your alpha.”
It’s not the heat that makes me blush. I squeeze her tight and bury my face in her neck. “Thank you,” I say. “I’m touched. This whole, like… it means a lot to me that you’re helping me through my heat.”
“Of course, darling.” Cybele kisses my forehead.
I tilt my head up so she can kiss me again, and she does, soft and gentle and affectionate. I grab her hand and squeeze it. “You know, babe, you’re not a wolf.”
“Astute observation.”
“Shut up.” I kiss her cheek. “You’re not a wolf, but I couldn’t ask for a better alpha.”