Bloody fucking hell. Oh fuck, no.
James watches as the other alpha moves closer to Albus, their thighs touching as the man rubs a solicitous hand along Albus' back. It's nothing that James hasn't seen before—knotheads trying to stake a claim by scent-marking Albus in an effort to deter others, or leaving little tokens of their affection like a worn jumper or used jockstrap to encourage the start of a bond—but there's something in the way Albus' cheeks flush a delightful pink when Scorpius whispers in his ear that makes James see red.
He can't help the snarl that leaves his throat. Out of all of Albus' potential heat partners to come through their home today, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy is the absolute worst.
And sweet, vulnerable Al… even now, James can smell the hint of arousal in the air, the sweet cinnamon aroma that layers over Al's normal scent, one that's clean and spicy and sharp. It's fitting, in a way, given Albus' personality: smart and irreverent, cheeky and bold, yet surprisingly considerate and innocent. What’s not surprising is that Al is guileless enough to let his emotions bleed through; after all, he hasn't had time to act as a proper omega since everyone had assumed, their parents included, that Al was a beta. Al's tall, nearly as tall as James, with broad shoulders and a sleek physique. He does have a pretty face, with sharp cheekbones, silky locks, and long lashes that frame green eyes that rival their father's. But Al is seventeen, quite past the age when most alphas and omegas present. In fact, James is pretty sure that the Hogwarts' rumour mill pinned Malfoy experiencing his first rut when he was barely fourteen.
Which is a year later than James, who presented as an alpha at thirteen, but still.
James has no idea that his hands are clenched until he feels the pain bleed into his palms from his nails. He should be practising speed runs and lifting weights with the rest of the Beaters on the Wasps (another surprise; everyone had assumed he would be a Seeker like Dad). Instead, he finds himself on chaperone duty while their parents are away, and after four hours of one alpha after another making googly eyes at Al (or worse), James feels the beginnings of a headache coming on.
He shakes his head to clear the fog. Which apparently had been going on for too long, for when his vision clears, he sees Al smiling sweetly up at Scorpius, the pink stain in his cheeks now spreading over his jaw. And then Scorpius does something unforgivable: he smiles, one that's sharp and knowing, leering and all-teeth, the grey of his eyes nearly invisible.
"Time's up," James barks as Albus jumps back.
Scorpius rests his hand on Albus' waist. James leans forward in his chair.
"It hasn't even been half an hour," Scorpius says with a frown. "Courtship interviews are traditionally much longer."
"That's okay, Scorp," Al says gently. James feels the enamel on his teeth crack, he's grinding them so hard. "I've known you forever. I don't need a formal interview to agree to—"
"You're not agreeing to anything. Not without Mum and Dad's okay," James says stubbornly.
"They already know Scorp. Hell, they probably would choose him themselves—"
"You're not signing a heat contract without their say so," James insists, the vein in his temple throbbing.
"No worries," Scorpius says. He stands and puts out a hand to draw Al up, and it's so phoney that James wants to scream. Scorpius has never done anything like this in the six years he's known Al that James doesn't know why Al can't see right through the pretence. "I'll be waiting. And preparing," Scorpius adds, his eyes dropping to the pale expanse of skin visible through the V of Al's shirt. He licks his lips, and James feels the anger pushing out of him in waves as Scorpius squeezes Al's hand and Al visibly shudders.
James' hand is on his wand and a Jelly-Fingers Jinx is cast before he knows it.
"James!" Al cries out, to James' mortification. It's not 'Jamie', which makes James' heart sink further. "What the fuck?" He grabs at Scorpius' fingers, which now dangle limply.
"It'll wear off in a minute," James mutters as his face heats. He almost feels sorry for Scorpius. It's hard for most alphas to control themselves around an omega pre-heat, and Al smells better than most; in fact, the scent is downright dreamy. "Scorpius should know better, especially with your heat just days away. Any unnecessary contact from a potential partner can trigger it."
Scorpius' mouth thins into a straight line. "He's right," he admits to Al, "I got carried away. But don't worry; even if it doesn't wear off in time, my fingers aren't the only things I can use to take care of you through your heat."
Al's surprised squeak gets drowned out in James' roar. "I'm going," Scorpius says, raising his hands. His long fingers flop aimlessly about, much to James' grim satisfaction.
"I'll Floo call you as soon as my parents get home," Al adds. He watches Scorpius' retreating figure with a somewhat glazed expression, one that grows hard and angry once Scorpius is out the door. "Now do you mind telling me what the fuck that was all about?" he asks as he rounds on James angrily. "You've been nothing but rude since Scorpius got here."
"I don't like the way he was looking at you," James says with a sullen tone. "Like he wanted…" He swallows, then forces himself to look into Al's eyes. "Like he wanted to devour you."
The flush on Albus' face climbs even higher. He squares his shoulders, his jaw tensing just like all the other times he'd faced off with James, like when he'd tag along to all of James' Quidditch practices or insist on napping on James' bed, even though his own was perfectly serviceable.
"So what if he does?" Al asks, meeting James' angry glare head-on. "Are you saying that Scorp's different from any of the other alphas who've been paraded in front of me this past week?"
James wants to say 'yes' but the lie gets caught in his throat. The procession of people who've made their way to the Potter residence once the news of Albus' designation broke has been ridiculous. Nearly every single unbonded alpha from Hogwarts, or strangers who were attracted to the idea of fucking a Potter or landing a virgin omega—even kindly Mr I've-helped-three-omegas-through-their-first-heat Pritchard down the street—have been banging on the Potters' door, vying for the honour of being Albus' first.
"No," James admits, his voice sounding like gravel. In fact, Scorpius was practically a saint compared to the female alpha who nearly pulled Al off his chair as she plastered her nose against his neck to 'determine their compatibility'. "But it doesn't mean it's right."
Al stares at James. His eyes have always been a beautiful green, but they're darker today, bottomless emerald pools, swirling and unreadable. Finally, Al's shoulders droop and he sighs.
"Scorpius is my friend. He's been my best friend ever since… well, he's been the person closest to me ever since I've been at Hogwarts."
James knows Al doesn't mean anything by that, that he's just making a statement of fact, but it hurts. Al's always looked up to James for as long as James can remember. He had followed James around like a shadow, but all that changed once Al entered Hogwarts. James presented as an alpha in November of Al's first year, which meant James was more interested in pursuing Gemma Hathaway than hanging out with a persistent younger brother; plus Al was in Slytherin, and needed to make new friends. It wouldn't do for Al to spend the majority of his time in Gryffindor Tower with an older brother who was preoccupied by his new alpha status.
And James knows from personal experience how heady the time surrounding one's presentation can be—how one's mind could be clouded by the pheromones coursing through their veins, how every smell and sound and touch can be heightened into something profound and earth-shattering. It can be difficult to maintain some semblance of control (and even now, he's embarrassed to remember how, during his rut, he was driven to fuck twenty-four-seven) but he'll be damned if he lets Al be taken advantage of by some lust-driven alpha.
"I know we haven't been as close as we used to be," James says as Al's eyes drop noticeably. "But it doesn't mean I care any less. I always want the best for you. Your heat—your first heat, especially—isn't something to be taken lightly."
"You think I'm taking this lightly?" Al's head snaps up, and the air sizzles with the scent of ozone. Al's always been like Dad when it comes to the raw potential of his magic, and the display causes the hairs on James' arm to stand on end. Al's scent is still sweet, but now it's overlaid with something dangerous and sharp, and it almost makes James fall to his knees. "I'm seventeen and I've lived my entire life thinking I was a beta, in a family where Dad and Mum and you are alphas. Fuck, I'm pretty sure Lils is going to present as an alpha any day, too. And if that wasn't enough to deal with, being a Slytherin and not living up to the family name, I discover that I'm an omega, and one of the latest to come into their designation in nearly fifty years. So no, Jamie, nothing about this has been easy, and there's definitely nothing light about this. And I don't see where you come off, after being out of my life for the last couple years, acting as if you're some surrogate for Mum or Dad."
"I'm a professional Quidditch player!" James shouts, guilt and anger swirling around him in a confusing mix. He takes a step forward but of course Al stands his ground. "I can't help it if our season conflicts with your summer hols!"
"Is that supposed to impress me? Seeing you in the rags, with all your adoring fans hanging off your arm? Besides, Scorp's going to play professionally too," Al says.
James wants to wipe the floor with Al's self-satisfied grin. Or with Malfoy's face, even better.
"The only way Malfoy's ever going to get signed is because of his connections. Isn't his dad part-owner of Puddlemere?"
"Scorp's the best Keeper Hogwarts has seen in years. He's already been scouted by the Kestrels and the Catapults."
"Yeah. 'Cause he's got years of experience, dodging balls to the face," James snorts.
Al sneers. "Fuck you, Mr Unoriginal. Scorp is smart and funny, plus he's ridiculously gorgeous."
"He's smug and vain and he's just so… so Malfoy."
"Oh my god. Now you sound just like Dad when he complains about Mr Malfoy."
"But Scorpius is like that. Plus, he's been out as an alpha for years. Who knows how many places his knot has been? Is that someone you want to spend your first heat with?"
Al's jaw drops. "Really? Knot-shaming? You, of all people?"
The accusation stings, not the least because it's just not true. Sure, James has a reputation that he might have encouraged when he was younger, one that played into the alpha stereotypes of insatiable and stongerbiggerbetter, but the truth is that the initial thrill of getting his dick wet and knotting a delicious omega is long gone. James has some friends on stand-by when he goes into a rut or, if they're not available, he'll book a service that's clean and discrete. It's not that he can't get a partner, especially since Quidditch has amplified his recognisability and star power. He wants the other things that go with knotting an omega: the love, the caring, the possibility of a future, the bond.
"He's too young. There's more to a heat than fucking." James finds himself taking a step closer, desperation rising inside when Al rolls his eyes at him. He needs to make Al understand, needs to make sure Al isn't taken advantage of. "An older and more experienced alpha would be better. One who can take care of all the aspects of your heat. Who can make sure both your physical and emotional needs are met."
Al's face screws up in a comical mix of shock and horror. "Ew, like Mr Pritchard? I'd rather spend the week with my right hand and my biggest dildo."
The idea of Al locked in his room, spending his heat alone, trying to sate his needs by fucking himself desperately with a toy, has James whining in his throat.
"That's not what I mean. I mean, heats can be an amazing experience" —at least, that's what magazines like Witches' Bazaar say— "but you need to share it with the right person." The latter is probably true; in fact, James wishes he could find that person himself.
To James' surprise, the fight seems to go out of Albus immediately. His entire body slumps, and the fire in his eyes dull until they're the colour of a pond in the dead of summer, still beautiful but murky. "That's not fair, Jamie," he says softly, and James has to stretch on the front of his feet to hear. "You can't possibly know what it feels like to be in my shoes. It's hard enough to find someone who genuinely cares about me outside of my name, and now my omega status has fucked that up even more. I know where I stand with Scorp, though. We've been the best of friends forever, and if someone has to see me at my most needy and vulnerable, I'd want it to be him."
Merlin; if this is the way Al feels, he could initiate a more permanent bond with Malfoy without even realising it.
"I understand. Just… not him." James is dangerously close to begging. He wonders if Al will tear off his head if he suggests a professional heat-partnering service instead.
"You've chased away everyone else I could possibly be interested in." Al takes a step back, fixes James with his gaze, and tilts his chin mutinously. "I don't care what you say. I've made my decision, and I know I'll have Mum and Dad's support. Not only do I trust Scorp to take care of me, but do I need to remind you that I'm going into heat? I'm going to want to be fucked. To have him fuck me hard, and knot me over and over—"
The muscle in James' jaw twitches. The idea of Malfoy touching Al in that way, of bending him over and taking, taking, taking makes everything blur into a background of white noise. Before he knows it, James is stalking into Al's space and pushing him up against the wall.
"Not with him!" he shouts. "You need the right alpha. An alpha like… like… " Up this close, James can see the faint line of sweat that forms over Al's brow.
"Like who?" Al asks. He turns his head, the movement baring the pale and graceful line of his neck for James to see. "Like you?"
Al sounds furious but there's also a strange glint in his eyes as if he's baiting James, challenging his authority. It does strange things to James' stomach; it swoops dangerously even as his breath catches in his throat, and then Al leans right in against James so the space between them is erased. Al's chest is puffed out so it brushes against James with his every inhale, the scent of anger and arousal wafting from him as his accusation lingers between them.
"Maybe." James grabs Al by the belt loops and tugs him close. He only does it to try to shake some sense into Al—to show him that yes, there are alphas like James who can be kind and considerate, and who can satisfy an omega's urges and are definitely not Malfoy—but then Al lets out a long, delicious whine and attacks James with his mouth.
James' lips part in surprise—he's not exactly sure what happened, how they got to this point, or what's going through Albus' mind—but any coherent thought falls quickly by the wayside when Al's pink tongue darts out, licking along the seams before sliding into the heat of James' mouth. It's a reflex that has James sucking on Al's tongue in return, teasing and tasting as his fingers grip the fabric of Al's jeans, all while Al shudders and rocks against him.
The beautiful, hard line of Al's cock drags against the fabric of James' trousers, and fuck, if the delicious friction alone wasn't tempting enough to spark James' alpha into action then the breathy moans his baby brother's emitting makes James' paper-thin resistance go down in flames.
"Al," James groans. He lowers his head and rests it on Al's in an effort to regain his bearings but realises in that second that it's an utter mistake because he breathes in Al's skin, smells the intoxicating combination of honey and sweet and spice and musk that's part of Al's omega's siren call. His hips stutter, and he lets out a nearly inhuman groan as he nuzzles the crook of Al's neck.
"Jamie," Al whispers into James' hair. He sounds awestruck, and James is over the moon because it's no longer James, but Jamie, Jamie, Jamie. Something else begins to permeate the air, and by now James' cock is rock-hard and trapped painfully beneath his trousers. It's the undeniable smell of omega slick, one that's more potent and beautiful than any James has ever known, and it makes his nostrils flare and pulse race as Al rubs up against him. "I'm so empty, Jamie."
There's a very small part of James, one that's disappearing by the second, that knows this is so very wrong. That it's Al's first time with an alpha—that it's Al, the person who clung to James for years in some form of hero-worship, even as he pushed James' buttons with his annoying, sarcastic, brilliant self. But his objections are quickly overruled by his hindbrain when Al grabs his wrist and draws it to his crotch, the air thick with the scent of his arousal.
"Want your dick," Al pants as James' nostrils flare; with Albus practically climbing him like a tree, it's all James can do to hold them up, especially with the sweet smell of slick driving him crazy. "Want you to hold me down and fuck me, need you to tie me with your knot."
The proximity to all the alphas must have triggered Al's heat, several days early. "Al, baby, it's your heat talking." James swallows, suppressing the urge to bend Al over the dining room table and give him exactly what he's begging for. "Let's get you to your room."
Albus juts out his chin. "It may be my heat but it doesn't change who I want to share it with. If you don't want to, I could find another alpha" —James growls at the idea— "I mean, I'm sure Scorp would come back in a second if I—"
James backs Albus against the wall. He pins Albus' hands above his head, his eyes darting down at the way it makes the hem of Albus' shirt ride up, exposing Al's narrow waist, the smooth and pale skin begging to be marked. He slants his mouth over Albus' and kisses him fiercely in an effort to shut him up. It's full of teeth and tongue; James' lips rove angrily until both their mouths are wet and swollen and bruised, and as he deepens the kiss Al lets out a breathy and triumphant sound.
Albus' mouth is moving under his. James prays it's not in protest or, Merlin-forbid, whispering Scorpius Malfoy's name, especially when Al's hips are bucking against James' leg, his intoxicating scent turning James' head upside down. But James would never take anyone against their will—no one, but especially not Al—so he pulls back a fraction and holds his breath, even as his hands grip Al's hips more tighter.
"Tell me you want this," James says. Tell me you want me.
"Yes." Al sighs, the word causing James' heart to beat faster. "God, Jamie, yes." He pushes himself against the wall and clambers on James like a monkey, wrapping his arms around James' shoulders and his legs around James' waist. Although Al's more delicate than James he's still tall, just several inches shorter than James. James stumbles; he may be in prime shape from Quidditch, but bench pressing two-hundred and fifty pounds in the gym is not the same as holding up a hundred and fifty pounds of a wriggling omega in heat.
Despite that, James' body responds as if it's the most normal thing in the world, especially when Al slots against him so perfectly in a sinewy tangle of limbs and lust. When Al meets his gaze his lashes are damp, his bee-stung lips parted and cheeks flushed, looking just so fucking pretty.
Not pretty, James thinks. Beautiful.
Something fierce and protective wells up from James' belly. He slots a hand under Al's delectable arse as his alpha preens, Look at me, look how strong, then takes his other hand and traces his thumb along the line of Al's mouth.
"Merlin, Al… " Al's eyes are the darkest green, unfathomably deep, and James can't think, can hardly breathe, especially when Al parts his lips and takes the tip of James' thumb in his mouth. "Fuck," James groans as Al makes a sound that seems happy and pleased. "You're desperate for it, aren't you baby?" he grits out once his lungs start working.
"Mmmm." Al hums, his cheeks hollowing as he swirls his tongue.
"Bed," James croaks out. He's better than just a knothead, he's also Al's older brother, and besides, he's pretty sure he'll never be able to set foot in this room again if he defiles it in all the ways he wants to.
Al lets loose of James' fingers. They slide out of his mouth with a slippery pop. "Lead the way, alpha," he says, his voice husky and filled with promise.
James hoists Al off the wall; he practically hauls Al out of the room, but at least he doesn't throw him over his shoulder. Several things crash onto the ground, and James hopes to Merlin it's not some priceless family heirloom, though he has a feeling it's something he'll have to apologise for later, especially when Al huffs out a laugh against the crook of his neck.
"Fuck." James shudders as he feels Al's slick seep through the layers of their clothing. His own prick is so hard it feels like it's going to burst through the zipper of his jeans. He makes it into his bedroom somehow and slams the door shut as he drops Al onto the bed, face up. It's probably not the most graceful thing he could do, but Al doesn't seem to mind as he scrambles to tear off his shirt, his eyes nearly black and hands shaking.
"Need you Jamie," Al whines as he arches towards James, as if being apart from him for even one second physically hurts. James shucks off his tee-shirt and stumbles over his feet as he pulls off his jeans, having forgotten about his trainers in his haste. Al laughs, because even in the throes of his first heat he manages to be a bit of an arsehole, but then he mutters a spell and the next thing James knows, he's completely starkers.
It turns out Al's inherited more than just their dad's striking looks. And though the show of latent power might be intimidating for some alphas, it just makes James' cock even harder.
"Your turn," James growls. He clambers onto the bed and curls his fingers against the waistband of Albus' boxers, pulling it off. Al's cock springs out; it's beautifully shaped, its head flushed a gorgeous pink and dribbling pearly drops of precome from its slit. It's larger than the typical omega's, but nothing Al ever does is typical.
James can't wait to get it in his mouth.
"Want to taste you," he says as he leans down, crowding into Albus' space. Something pings in the back of his brain, the fact that his sheets smell different but familiar. That his bed has always smelled of them but never this deeply, never so right.
Al curls his fingers in James' hair, as if torn between soothing James' alpha and spurring him on. "Do it, Jamie," he says, the gorgeous lines of his body displayed like a feast for James' eyes. "Wanna feel your mouth all over me." He pulls James down by the nape of the neck, turning his head to the side as he bares his throat, the omega scent gland situated at the base beckoning to James to BiteClaimMate.
James shakes his head to clear the fog. He's already toeing the line—hell, he's not only crossed it but stomped all over it, ten times over—but he won't take Albus' choice of a mate away from him, not like this. He licks a wet line along the cords and tendons of Al's neck, careful not to breathe in too deeply the intoxicating pheromones that Al's putting out, that beg James to sink his teeth into the tender flesh and make their bond permanent. He presses his teeth along the bond gland for a brief moment, careful not to break skin, all while holding his jealousy at bay over the person who gets to take that last step.
Al whines when James lifts his head, but his protests are silenced as James slowly sucks a trail down Albus' chest and belly until he reaches the soft, downy hairs that surround Al's weeping cock. There's a trail of bruises scattered over Al's fair skin, and the alpha in James struts at the sight of his omega marked by his teeth and tongue. He thinks of laying some more along the inside of Al's thighs when Al pulls on James' hair.
"C'mon Jamie, suck me." Al grabs a hold of his poor cock, now flushed an angry red.
James knows his brother inside and out; he hears the tremble of need in the command even when Al's face is challenging and defiant.
"I will," James replies, his voice thick with promise. "But not there." At least, not first.
"Arsehole," Al says. He pouts, but his twitching prick gives him away, as does the breathy noise that escapes him when James slides his hands, palms up, under the globes of Albus' arse and squeezes.
"Such a needy brat," James says fondly as Al moans. He squeezes again, digging his fingers into the hot flesh until he's sure they're going to leave crescent-shaped moons as slick spills between the cleft of Al's arse and onto James' skin.
"Fuck." James feels an urgency to fuck and own and take, along with the desire to make Al roll back, belly up, and submit. He shifts onto his elbows and knees and hooks both of Albus' legs over his shoulders. James pulls Al close, grabs his bum and squeezes; he slides his thumbs down the cleft, slippery with slick, and spreads Al's cheeks apart until his hole is exposed to Jame's hungry gaze—pink, inviting, and glistening.
"Look at you, with your gorgeous omega cunt." James traces the circle of the velvety, furled tissue, inhaling deeply as Al lets out another burst of omega slick, smelling honey sweet and spiced with cinnamon and the grassy earth. "So fucking wet. Is this all for me, baby?"
Albus doesn't rage at the endearment; in fact, it seems to spur him on as a low keening noise leaves his body and more slick dribbles onto James' fingers and the sheets.
James grins. He rarely gets to see Al like this, almost biddable and pliant. He leans to nose the dusky, forbidden space, mouth-watering as his tongue darts out to taste. The taste is like a lightning rod from his mouth to his cock, and it takes a moment for James to realise that the guttural moans punctuating their heavy breathing and the slap of skin on slicked skin are coming from him.
Al's hole is petal-soft. He tastes of honey and cinnamon at first, the duskiness more prominent once James pushes past the ring of muscle that's snug against his tongue. Al gasps in response; it's a high-pitched, breathy sound that punches out of him as if unbidden. James hums in pleasure as slick spills onto his tongue, sucking Al's omega essence and nipping gently around the loosening rim.
Al tugs down, heels digging into James' back as he tries to drive James deeper.
"Oh fuck. Fuck, Jamie," he cries, the phrase sounding like alpha, mine. His knees fall open as he swivels his hips, and James revels in the ambrosia of Al's taste that coats him from his nose down to his chin. Al's making these incredible sounds, mewling like he's starring in the filthiest alpha-omega holoporn, but there's no artifice about it. There's a gorgeous flush that spreads from his chest to his neck, along with the faint line of sweat that beads above his upper lip, and he's thrashing against the bed, hips bucking as James spears him with his tongue.
Al's body is a trembling mess after a thorough tongue-fucking and James pulls back, reluctantly. He laps at the mixture of saliva and slick that dribbles along the curve of Al's buttocks then kisses the soft, sensitive skin of Al's thighs in apology.
"Nooo." Al thrashes as he lets out a moan, his eyes glazed and delirious. "Please, Jamie. Need you. So empty."
"I know, baby. Going to blow you first, take the edge off a bit, yeah? Gonna make you come."
Al's brows draw down, his displeasure evident. "Want your knot. Need you to fuck me," he says with an almost-growl.
James ducks his head down to hide his grin. Albus' impatience is adorable, but he thinks that assessment will earn him a swift hex to the bollocks. "I'm going to," James promises, his voice dropping low. "But it's my job as your alpha to take care of you, and right now you need to come before you overheat."
The 'your' slips out before James can take it back, but if anything, it seems to please Al, if the slow grin that spreads across his face is any indication.
"'Kay," Al says, half-blissed out and half-smugly, leaning back on the bed as James bends down to take his cock in his mouth.
James has sucked cock before, has even taken Lorcan's Scamander's alpha prick down his throat in a drunken dare, but it's always seemed perfunctory, a prelude to the main event. Like everything else about Al, his cock couldn't be more perfect for James. Al's dick is beautifully shaped, and just long and thick enough not to make James gag. It sits on his tongue, weighty enough for James to feel the pleasant stretch in his jaw, the skin smooth and delightfully ridged from base to tip. The head of Al's cock is especially velvety soft, and James loses himself in the way it pushes against his throat, how it fills the space behind the back of his teeth, and the delicious taste of the precome it spurts when he tongues the base.
Al's fingers tighten against his shoulders in a death-grip.
"Jamie," he gasps, hips bucking wildly as James gives a particularly hard suck. "Jamie, Merlin, I'm going to come—"
James doesn't pull back; instead, he adjusts his breathing, relaxes his jaw and takes Al's cock all the way down to the root, encasing its entire length in his mouth as Al shudders and spills, hot and tangy and perfect down James' throat. When Al finishes James pulls back; the alpha in him is pleased to discover the glazed look on Al's face, how Al's lush lips are swollen and parted as he gazes at James with open adoration.
Mine, James thinks, his heart in his chest. There's a part of his brain that protests, No, wait, but it's harder to hear especially as the alpha in him fills him with the urge to fuck and claim and mate.
"So good," Al slurs as he draws James in for a kiss. He moans, deep and filthy, as he licks the taste of his come from James' mouth. He leans back, the momentary bliss on his face fading quickly as his skin begins to flush, his satisfaction sliding into something uncomfortable and needy. "I—" A spasm of pain crosses Al's face as he gasps, rocketing his body forward. He reaches for James' cock as his other hand slides towards his hole. "It's not enough, Jamie," Al sobs. "I need you to knot me."
The desperation on Al's face as he begins to finger himself rips the last threads of James' control. He snarls, his vision blanking from the need to prove himself as a worthy alpha as he grips Al's hips and flips him over onto his belly, much to Al's delighted squeak.
"Gonna fuck you now," James grits out as Al keens. "Gonna fill you up and knot your wet omega pussy so you'll remember it for days." He grabs a hold of his prick; it's harder than he's ever remembered, his balls heavy and swollen and bursting with his seed.
Al leans further onto his elbows and tilts his arse up, wiggling his hips invitingly. "Do it, Jamie. Fuck me." His voice drops down, husky and challenging. "Claim me, alpha."
James grabs Al's hips, pulling him close. Al's skin is fevered-hot, and as he presents himself in blatant invitation James' thumb slips into the space between his cheeks, aided by the mixture of slick and spit and sweat. The tip gets sucked into Al's arsehole, down to the knuckle, the circle of muscle already loosened and greedy and wet.
James' dick is throbbing and harder than it's ever been, and he's been more than patient, really. He lines up his cock with Al's hole and pushes; there's a wet sound as he slides in, and the noise and the feel of Al's walls rippling along his engorged cock causes his eyes to flutter.
"Fuck," James says as he pushes deeper. He takes a deep breath and wills himself not to come right there, but it's a mistake because he inhales the mixture of their scents. It's glorious, musky and sweet and intense, and altogether perfect. "Merlin, fuck."
Al rocks himself back on James' cock. James squeezes and pulls Al's cheeks apart, his breath catching as Al's hole flutters around his girth. He caresses the flesh, and the possessive yet tender gesture causes another glob of slick to trickle out. James can't hold back his growl; he can't wait to knot Albus, to plug him full of come and slick.
James slides a finger into the liquid, painting Al's skin before bringing it to Al's mouth, who suckles on it with abandon. He's taken James' finger into his mouth before, has suckled the cuts and wounds James suffered as a child in an effort to make it better. James wonders if that's part of Al's omega nature, the urge to nurture and heal, but Al doesn't do it for Lily so there might be a part of it that's because it's AlbusandJames. The realisation fills James with a need to reciprocate, to take care of his omega, so he grinds into Albus' arse with a grunt, driving himself deeper, filling him up.
Al's making these gorgeous noises—high-pitched exaltations and breathless moans as wave after wave of heat pheromones fills the room. He clutches the sheets, his pink prick jutting out in front of him as if he hadn't come just minutes ago, his body begging to be filled and taken.
James places his hand between Al's shoulder blades and pushes him down, the change in the angle driving him deeper. Al squirms, each rotation of his hip, every push causing his arse to clutch around James with just the right amount of friction. James rears back then pistons his hips forward, slamming into the heat. Slick pours down the back of Al's thighs with each savage thrust, coating James' balls which are now pulled high and tight. Al's back is arched beautifully, his spine displayed in a graceful and tempting line, and James finds himself curving over Al's body in a protective embrace as the base of his prick pulsates, a sign that his knot is starting to swell.
Al twists and kisses James on the corner of his mouth, baring his neck enticingly. It's sloppy and desperate, and James finds himself drawn to the crook of Al's neck, to the place where Al's scent is the strongest, spicy-sweet and laden with forbidden promise.
James is aware of the repercussions if he were to give in, to bite down on the mating gland and claim Albus for his own. Though he doesn't care about the damage to his own reputation, he can't bring shame and scrutiny to his family and, most of all, Al. But he presses his mouth against the gland, not letting his teeth break the fragile skin, and allows himself to believe, if just for a moment.
The imitation of a mating bond is all it takes for James' knot to catch on Al's rim, locking them in.
"Going to plug you, baby," James says. He shuffles closer; he can't hammer Al's gorgeous arse the way he did before, not with his knot inflated, so he grips Al's hips and pulls him into his lap, sitting back as Al writhes on his knot. He drives upward, his cock rubbing against Al's prostate as Al curses and shouts. "Going to fill you up, baby. Make it so your belly's full and swollen with my come."
Everything is amplified, the sensation tenfold at the place where they're tied. "I knew you'd be perfect. Fuck, you feel so good," Al moans. Al's movements grow rougher, his body jerking in James' grasp, and when James reaches around to grasp the base of Al's dick with his fist, Al cries out. "I'm so close, Jamie. Fuck, I'm going to—"
Everything goes fuzzy at the edges as Al bounces on squirms on James' knot. James feels his orgasm build, a white heat that spreads from the base of his spine to his groin and up through his dick. Al tenses in James' grasp, his back arching as he cries and spills into James' fist, and it's not the clench of Al's arse but the beautiful and grateful sound Al makes that causes James to unload his spunk with a shout. He wraps his arm around Al's waist, keeping them upright as he continues to come, profound pleasure and the chant of MateMineHome coursing through him.
Finally, his knot shrinks enough so James can manoeuver them onto the bed. It'll be a while until it completely deflates, so they lie together in a sticky mess as James spoons Al, his hands rubbing soothing circles along Al's sensitive belly, his arms, his legs.
Al's skin has cooled and his cheeks have lost some of their intense flush. James knows that the edge has been taken off, that Al's no longer in the deepest throes of his heat.
James feels a prickle of unease. "Al, I… " He swallows; he doesn't want to apologise for what just happened between them, to turn it into something dirtywrong when it felt so right, but he's not sure what Al wants, going forward. He brushes the back of his hand against the ridges of Al's stomach, and Al shivers. "If you want me to help you out through the rest of your heat in a different way… I mean, with toys, or—"
The smack that lands on his arm surprises him.
"What's wrong with you?" Al asks, his voice pitched high with indignation. "We're still tied together, and you're talking about leaving me with some toys for the next round?"
"I just…" James sighs, suddenly awkward and vulnerable. "I feel like I took advantage," he mumbles. "You should've been given a choice. To make a decision about your partner when your logic wasn't clouded by your heat."
"You mean, to choose a partner like Scorp?" Al asks, batting his eyes innocently.
James can't help it. He knows what he just said, but at the mention of Scorpius Malfoy, he tightens his grip around Al's waist and lets loose a rumbling growl.
"That's what I thought," Al says with a small laugh, a bit smugly.
Okay, perhaps Malfoy wasn't the best example, but still. "You've never been with an alpha before."
"I'd never been with anyone before," Al corrects.
Fuck. James blows out a low breath and nods, his voice thick. "So you were saving yourself for someone? Someone special?"
"Yeah. I was." The definitive way in which Al answers, along with his tone, so wistful and reminiscent, fills James with enough guilt that his knot deflates further, allowing him to slip out.
It hurts to know that he stole Al's first time with the person he truly cared about. It hurts just as much as to know this would be James' last time with Al. He puts on his big boy pants and makes a vow that he'll put his feelings aside, doing everything to ensure Al gets his happy ending with his intended mate.
Al turns around and faces James, fixing him with an exasperated glare.
"Jamie," he says, rolling his gorgeous eyes. "I was a Prefect for Slytherin. There was a reason I wanted you here with me today." He looks up at James from beneath his lashes, and there's a new wash of pink across his cheeks.
"Yeah?" James asks, holding his breath as Al lifts his hand to cup James' face.
"Yeah. I've been charting my temperature and pheromone levels and was pretty sure my heat would hit this afternoon. That's why I asked Scorpius to come, so I could make my mate understand what he's been too blind to see." He rolls his eyes again at James' hurt expression. "Not Scorp. You."
"Mate? Wait… me?"
"You," Al says, his voice soft and fond. He grips James and pulls him closer; their cocks rub together, and the mere brush is enough to cause James' prick to twitch. Al smiles as he leans into James, allaying his worries with a kiss. "You're the one for me, Jamie. Scorp may be hot, but there could be a hundred of him and it wouldn't matter. There's no other alpha but you."