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“This cannot go on.”
Maximilien Robespierre glared up at Danton from his prone position on his bed. Without his layers of cotton, silk and powder, it wasn’t very effective.
Georges crossed his arms and looked down at the sorry looking figure. Maximilien was soaked in his own sweat. His eyes were circled so deeply that it looked like someone had beaten him. His flesh was chalk pale, except for his cheeks were two angry splashes of red were appearing.
“Get out of my house, Danton,” Maximilien spat at him, voice hoarse. His sea green eyes crackled with anger.
Georges nearly smiled. Feisty little omega. So was Gabrielle.
He sat down, simply to incense Robespierre a little more. “It’s not your house. It’s Maurice Duplay’s and he allowed me in. And I’m not leaving here without you. So you can either come gently, or I can carry you out kicking and screaming.” He shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “Your choice.”
Maximilien sneered, unknowingly lifting his chin slightly and Georges caught the scent of an omega in the full of their heat. He growled, low in his throat and Maximilien froze, lowering himself back slightly, instinctually.
“I’m not going with you. I have a speech-” Maximilien started but Georges laughed, clapping a hand to his thigh.
“If you think you’ll be able to go anywhere in the state you’re in without getting accosted, you’re out of your mind. Even if you do get to your beloved Jacobins without getting groped, they will be too busy thinking about fucking you to listen.”
He leaned forward, tilting his neck towards the omega so he could smell Georges Danton’s own Alpha pheromones that were beginning to stir in interest. He placed his hand on the outside of Robespierre’s hip, caging him in.
“You’ve been distracting every Alpha and Beta representative since Versailles since you refuse to take a partner and sooth your own hormones. Enough is enough. You’ll come with me and I will swear to be gentle,” he grinned and saw Maximilien shudder slightly. “As of the other two… Well I can’t make promises for either of them.”
Maximilien lurched up. “Other two what?!”
Before Georges could answer there was a sharp rap on the door and Camille stuck his head in.
“The carriage is waiting. I thought you said that this was going to be easy? Oh.”
Camille flushed at Robespierre’s glare. He waved sheepishly and ducked back, as if nervous that the heated glare could physically hurt him.
“We’re not leaving without you M-m-maxime. Just let us take you!” He yelled out.
Georges quirked an eyebrow.
Maxime?
Adorable.
Danton stood up and looked down at him. Maximilien glared.
“Don’t you dare.”
He sighed and in one swift move hooked an arm under his legs and one behind his back. Maxime (Georges was endeared to the name now) squawked. He quickly wrapped the quilt around him, stopping the flailing figure.
“Put me down! I swear I’ll-”
“I’ll drop you on your Jacobin behind if you kick me. Hush, Maxime .”
The omega looked ready to combust in fury as Georges edged his way down the stairs. The eldest Duplay daughter was standing on the bottom landing and she frowned at him as he carried Robespierre out the door.
“He’ll come back in one piece, mademoiselle,” he assured her over his shoulder.
To her benefit, she didn’t say anything.
In the street Camille and Saint-Just stood next to each other, studiously avoiding looking at each other. Both insisted on being involved. If they killed the other in the process, no one could say that Georges didn’t warn them.
“Antoine!” Maximilien called out, betrayed. Danton raised an eyebrow. When did they get so close?
Saint-Just flushed slightly and opened the carriage door so Danton could shove him inside. Saint-Just glared, following Maximilien and speaking in hushed tones, trying to placate him.
Camille shot Georges a look he couldn’t decipher and climbed in after them. He smirked and paid the driver.
XXX
Maxime wasn’t sulking.
He was rightly furious about being kidnapped from his bedroom. He was extremely disappointed both in his oldest friend and newest young ally.
Danton’s brutish behavior hardly surprised him, however.
He stayed silent even as Antoine quietly hissed into his ear. Camille touched his quilt covered knee and Maxime jerked away from him. Camille sighed as if it was Maxime who was being unreasonable. Danton loomed in his corner and smirked as if he was nothing more than amused.
Maxime noticed he was uncomfortably aware of the overwhelming smell of Alpha in the carriage. He could pick out the undertones of individual profiles: Camille’s oaky, nutty smell, Danton’s wild river water and Antoine’s musky leather scent. A frighteningly large and instinctual part of Maxime demanded he tilt his head back and bare his neck in supplication. The desire to part his legs so one of them or all of them could take him was nearly overwhelming. Maximilien clutched his legs together even tighter and buried his chin in his collarbone and stared sullenly out the window.
The carriage rocked it’s way through the streets. They passed out of Maxime’s quarter, further and further away. The streets became ever darker and more crowded. Garbage piled on the corners and people hardly raised their heads to look at them as they rolled past.
A dark fear unrolled in his belly. What exactly was Danton’s plan? To drop him here and wait until Maxime was overtaken by an unknown Alpha, or shoved into a house of ill repute to wait out his heat in the arms of strangers?
The carriage gradually came to a stop and Danton opened the door, waving Camille and Antoine out of the door before firmly grabbing Maxime and dragging him out on the street as well. Without another word the carriage departed and Maximilien stared after it, half considering calling it back. Before he could however, he was led into the house with Danton on one side, Camille on the other and Antoine marching behind him.
He was led through the house, up the stairs and Danton pushed him into a room. He turned to Antoine and Camille.
“See if you can’t ask the Madame for some bread or wine or both? I’ll take care of him,” he jerked his head to indicate Maxime, who bristled. Someone must have consented because Danton shut the door and turned to him.
Maxime took a step back as Danton approached him. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he could always smell his pheromones clearer over any others of Maxime’s other aquentiences. The smell of the Seine in summer, wet river rocks, rain over Arras.
Without ceremony Georges Danton pulled Maximilien into his arms, smothering him in his scent. Maxime moved his face away, only for Danton to cup the back of his head and press his scarred mouth to Maxime’s. His tongue pushed its way into Maxime’s mouth, as if it lived there. It twined with his, sending shivers down Maxime’s spine.
Maxime pushed against his chest, twisting, but the hormones in Danton’s saliva, the pheromones in the air and Maximilien’s own weakening constitution resulted in him finally slumping against the Alpha with a small moan.
Danton broke the kiss, pushing Maxime’s bangs back to stare at his face.
“I surrender. Do as you will,” he said quietly.
Danton pushed his face against Maxime’s, looking into his eyes.
“I won’t harm you, Maximilien. You know I respect you,” he swore. “I’m not doing this to shame you.”
Maxime looked down, to where his hands were clenched in the fabric of Danton’s coat.
“Others have.”
Dantons’ rough hand grasped his chin, forcing his gaze back up.
“Then they didn’t know what value was when they saw it. Now take that thing off,” he ordered, grabbing at the night shirt Maxime was still wearing.
He dropped his quilt and slowly pulled the shirt off, hiding his expression for the moment. By the time he let that also drop to the floor, Danton was without his coat, vest and was busy unwinding the cravat from around his throat. He glanced over and stopped when he saw Maxime standing bare.
Danton took his time looking him over, holding the strip of silk in his hand. Maxime stubbornly raised his head up, throat exposed. He saw Danton’s eyes darken before the larger Alpha was pressed against him.
Danton took his mouth again, harsher this time. His hands clamped down on his waist pulling him close enough to feel the Alpha beginning to harden. In response Maxime’s sex twitched and he could feel slick beginning to drip onto the inside of his thighs.
Georges clearly scented him and groaned, pulling his knee up to hook around his hip, rolling his pelvis into Maxime’s. Maximilien gasped and gripped his shoulders, a long ignored heat coursing through his body.
They stumbled backwards, knocking Maxime down onto the large bed. He peered up at Danton, chest rising and falling rapidly. The large Alpha smiled down at him, grabbing his thighs and parting them to move closer to Maxime’s body.
“Sit up, Maximilien,” he growled. “Give me your wrists.”
Maxime was in true heat now, helpless to refuse anything an Alpha asked. His head had become fuzzy and fire was spreading through his blood. There was an ache building between his legs. He let out a slightly groan as Danton rubbed his thumb along his jaw, before his hands disappeared behind Maxime. His lips attached themselves to Maxime’s throat and he obligingly tipped his head back.
The door opened.
Maxime looked around Danton, eyes wide. Camille and Saint-Just both hesitated on the threshold before entering and shutting the door with a definitive slam. Antoine was holding two bottles of wine and Camille placed a loaf of bread onto the small table.
“Well, I see you got him started, Georges,” Camille said lightly. Maxime could see that he was blushing slightly.
“He just needed a little push.” Danton shrugged. Maximilien went to move himself up and realized that Danton’s cravat had ended up around his wrists, binding them together. He laid back down, his head spinning.
Danton moved him further back onto the bed and Maxime parted his legs, impatient now that he’d made up his mind to give into his biology. Camille let out a little laugh and Maxime looked up at him as he seated himself on the edge of the bed. He leaned over and pecked him on the cheek, in a manner that could have been considered chaste if they both hadn’t reeked of arousal and Maxime wasn’t lying naked and prostrated before him.
Camille leaned in closer. “Have you had an Alpha before?” Maxime shook his head slightly. “I’ll make sure Georges doesn’t hurt you.” He touched Maximilien’s shoulder lightly.
Maximilien shuddered slightly. The floorboards creaked and he rolled his head to see Antoine looming over the bed, holding the open bottle of wine.
“Here, it will help you relax,” the young Alpha said hoarsely and lifted Maxime’s head so he could drink from the bottle. The wine made his head spin and he dropped back to the bed right as Georges started petting his thighs and legs. Maxime shut his eyes, listening to the sounds of clothes rustling and dropping to the floor. A pair of lips attached themselves to his throat, right over where his scent gland was. He moaned and arched back.
Hands were on his chest, smoothing down his heated skin. The touches blurred into each other, Maxime’s mouth was captured again and again by lips that he hadn’t known so intimately before. He kept his eyes shut tight, preferring to feel like he was living in a dream. Antoine moaned softly in his ear, hot breath ghosting past his cheek.
“You smell so good Maxime. So fertile and fresh,” he whispered. A hot wet tongue traced his neck and he arched back, mind fuzzing out. He gripped the sheets under his body, anchoring himself, lest he fly off into the ether.
“Open your eyes Maximilien, look at us,” Danton’s voice came from a far off place and Maxime whimpered, helpless to refuse and pried his eyelids open.
All three Alphas had crowded onto the bed with him. Without his glasses their faces blurred but his nose told him everything he needed to know. The air seemed to be saturated now with their combined scents and every gulping breath he took made the heat and need inside of him build higher and higher, till Maxime could nothing but writhe on the bed, every breath ending in a moan.
Someone swore. Three pairs of hands moved over his hot skin. It was like a divine agony, a recursive sensation that doubled, tripled, quadrupled the desperation that boiled inside of him.
His legs were parted and Maxime flushed as he realized he could smell his own arousal, like the smell of citrus.
His embarrassment was short lived however because then a mouth was on his cock and the world went dark.
XXX
Georges Danton realized that he may have underestimated what a virgin omega would do to Camille when he swiftly worked his way down Maximilien’s body and took his small shaft into his mouth, suckling eagerly.
Maximilien let out a wounded sound, nearly arching off the bed. His lips had flushed red and his skin was soaked in sweat. His russet hair, normally covered by his wig and powder was damp and tangled, curls going everywhere.
Antoine Saint-Just threaded his fingers through Maxime’s hair, lips slightly parted as he watched the omega writhe. Danton smirked at him, leaning over Maxime, who gasped.
“Every had an omega Saint-Just?” He asked, before nipping sharply at Maximilien’s neck. Saint-Just didn’t answer, simply meeting his eyes, gaze dark and unreadable. “There’s nothing quite like seeing them in heat for the first time. So sensitive, look.”
Danton reached down and harshly pinched at Maxime’s nipples. The effect was instantaneous as the omega arched up with a choked gasp before letting out little whimpers or either pain or lust as Georges twisted and tugged. Between his legs Camille groaned.
“You’re going to make him come before we’re ever inside of him,” Camille said breathlessly, pulling himself off Maximilien’s organ. Danton smiled.
“You haven’t had an omega either, Camille?” He reached down and picked up where Camille left off, stroking his hard member. Maximilien let out a desperate cry, fractured pleas falling out of his mouth.
“They are like Alphas. We can’t come without knotting, they can’t come without a knot.” Georges let out a laugh. “Dear Maximilien isn’t going to climax without one of us.” The omega let out a tiny sob as Georges continued to stroke him, almost absent mindedly.
It was incredible what change came over the other man as his heat seemed to swallow him whole. Maxime’s eyes had taken on a glassy appearance, making them refract strangely in the light. Sweat glistened along his sides and pooled in the hollows of his hips. His normally chalky skin was flushed, from the ruby red of his cheeks to the very light pink up his chest. The more aroused the omega became the harder and more pronounced his nipples became, making it easy for Georges to lean down and take one in his mouth and suckle at it. He nipped at the swollen flesh with blunted teeth.
Maximilien keened, whipping his head back and forth. He babbled in his Artoise ridden French, begging and pleading, please please, oh god I can’t stand it, I’m dying I need it, please please .
Georges glanced up at Camille who was beginning to look completely overwhelmed. It was only through a soused Camille and few bottles of wine that Georges even knew about Robespierre’s omega status. However because Camille had never been around a heated omega before now, he was staring, mouth agape and eyes ravenous, as his school-yard friend begged like a whore for a knot. Georges smirked, leaving off Maximilien’s tender bud. He sucked in breath and slumped back on the mattress with a whimper.
“Try him, Camille. I know you want to.”
XXX
God damn Georges Danton , Camille thought wildly, even as he leaned down to breath over Maxime’s overheated skin. He ignored the low growl that Saint-Just was emitting, the acrid scent of the younger Alpha burning his nose.
Camille had never known what Maxime could do, what he could sound like, smell like, look like in heat. He’d imagined during their school days and the other boys whispered about the stuck up omega in their midst. When Maxime had been stolen away once every few months to be locked in convalescence where nothing untoward could happen, Camille had laid in bed and tried to imagine what his friend was feeling, what he might have been thinking about. If he was thinking about Camille.
Then they’d graduated and Camille had come to Paris and met Lucile and it was as if he’d never had a thought about anyone else. It had never mattered to him that Lucile was Beta, it simply made her more of what Camille wanted. But when Maxime had rematerialized in Versailles, calling down the clergy for their indulgences and setting the nation on fire, Camille was back to wondering.
“Why don’t you ask him?” Georges asked.
Camille laughed. “Maxime would never accept. He’s too proud.”
But now, Maxime looked anything but proud. He looked desperate, feverish and when Camille finally kissed his way down his chest to his nipples he cried out, long and low as if Camille had permanently harmed him.
He drew the point of his tongue around the firm surface, memories of doing this Lucile flashing through his mind and encouraging him to take it into his mouth and and firmly lave his tongue over it. Maxime was shaking under him and cried out again. Camille looked up and saw that Georges had taken his other breast in his mouth, leaving dark red marks where he bit at the fragile skin.
Saint-Just had moved up the bed to kneel behind Maxime’s head, cradling it, whispering gentle nothings, but Maxime was past the point of placation, heels digging into the sheets and sobbing, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t as he bucked desperately. Camille shifted his own hips sympathy as he was hard, throbbing, wanting.
That unbearable tension, the sensation of drowning in flames as your body cried out for release only to build you higher and higher. It seemed to be killing Maxime as his breathing took a ragged turn and finally Georges and Camille broke their attack.
“Please, please, for the love of Christ. I need a knot, please god, Georges, Camille, Antoine. Take me, I need it, I need it, ” Maxime begged. As Camille watched the desperation in his eyes gave way to tears and they spilled over his lashes, trailing down his face till they met the already soaked mattress. He bucked again, body desperate to soothe his own agony. He rubbed his flushed face against Saint-Just’s leg, moaning and sighing.
Camille glanced up at Georges who was staring at Maxime with a sort of satisfaction. There , it seemed to say, I’ve finally proven you are just a human like the rest of us. You need release as badly as you’ve needed the Nation to be free and equal, for men to live as brothers in the eyes of the Supreme Being.
Saint-Just, however, was staring at Maxime with an absolute hunger, eyes dark and fingers clenched into his shoulders. He looked as if Maxime was a large meal of pheasant and veal with fine wine after a lifetime of eating stale bread and brackish water.
So before either of them could ruin his friend Camille leaned down and took Maxime’s mouth to whisper against it.
“Shhh. I’ll help you Maxime.”
XXX
Antoine continued to weave his fingers through Maximilien’s sweat soaked hair as Desmoulins made his way down the bed. Danton glanced at him, eyebrows raised, as if waiting for him to challenge Desmoulin’s claim.
Antoine looked down, into Maximilien’s glassy gaze. His cupid bow lips had fallen open and thickened the further he dropped into his own lust, panting desperately.
He stroked his fingers along the high flushed cheekbone. Maxime twisted his head and caught the pad of his thumb in between his lips, sucking it into his warm mouth, groaning as if Antoine had provided him with all the sustenance he needed in life.
Antoine’s heart leapt into his throat, breath quickening.
He kept his eyes locked with Maximilien as Desmoulins moved between his parted legs, with a helping hand from Danton, who clamped one hand around the meat of Maxime’s thigh and pulled it back into his lap. All three Alphas sighed at the smell of omega.
Glancing down his body Antoine saw that the inside of Maxime’s thighs were covered in slick. Desmoulins slid his ink spotted fingers through the mess and then with a coquettish look, glanced at Antoine.
“D-d-do you want some of him, Antoine?” He held out his slippery fingers.
Heat, lust and wrath intertwined, leapt up into his jaw and Antoine had the impulse to bite Camille, hard. But his sight was drawn to the slick and before he realized what he was doing, he’d leaned forward and took the journalists fingers into his mouth.
He moaned at the taste, the thick saltiness sliding down his throat. It was the flavor of fertility, Persephone, Eros and all the good things of the earth.
Antoine was brought back to himself by Danton’s laughter, like the bray of an ass. The Alpha was laughing at them, eyes covered.
“The two of you are right out of Fabre’s imagination. Jesus, between him and David I would be a rich man to sell images of you.”
Antoine spat Desmoulins fingers out, a bitter taste lingering in the back of his throat. Desmoulins looked annoyed as well blushing and compulsively clawing at Maximilien’s calves. The omega’s breathing had taken on a raspy quality. Antoine brushed his hand down his ribs and Maxime twitched violently, eyes snapping open. The sea green had been swallowed whole by the dark of the iris and Antoine could see himself reflected.
“Please. Please,” Maximilien mumbled hoarsely. “Take me, take me.” He rolled his hips towards Desmoulins who cursed and moved close, hands trembling on Maximilien’s waist.
XXX
The only thing Maxime could concentrate on was the spots of heat around his body, the smells of the Alphas surrounding him. He was shaking, body overwhelmed and mind melting. He’d never been as aroused as he was right now.
Colors and sounds blended together. Maxime could hear a heartbeat echoing in his head and his breath rasping across his eardrums. He whimpered when a cock-head nudged at his sex and splayed his legs farther in invitation. A hand pinned his hips to the bed when he tried to buck. He was trapped, contained, imprisoned by his own biology and he wanted to scream.
Something hard and hot was pressing into him, making Maxime burn even more and he cried out. Deeper and deeper until he was sure he was being torn in half. It finally ended and a dull throb emanated from his groin. Someone was panting in his ear. He moaned.
Maximilien was dimly aware that he was being fucked, the thick glide of a hot cock inside of him. His mouth fell open but he could no longer tell if he was gasping or screaming. Every breath filled his lungs with another dose of Alpha pheromones. He’d never been more heated than he was as he was pinned and writhing to that mattress. He’d always heard that omega heats were gentled by their Alphas, not made to feel as if they were losing their mind. Faster now and he longed to raise his hips to meet each thrust. Maximilien was shaking, when suddenly the friction became more intense and slower. He felt the base of the Alpha’s cock began to expand, gradually locking it into his body.
He flung his head back and screamed.
XXX
Georges would not have admitted the following on pain of death, but he was shocked by the display before him. He’d had omegas before. He’d taken Gabrielle through many of her heats, but never had he seen one who seemed to be melting down before his very eyes like Maximilien Robespierre was. It was taking him and Saint-Just to hold him still enough for Camille to fuck him. Maximilien was babbling nonsense, thrashing wildly and screaming. He arched his back, gasping and clawing at the sheets. Saint-Just was holding tightly to his thin wrists, still just barely tied by Georges cravat, trying to contain him.
“He’s tight,” Camille said, voice strangled and eyes screwed shut. His hands kept slipping on Maximilien’s slick hips. He was nearly bending the overwrought omega in half trying to get his leverage.
Georges nodded absently, grabbing at Maxime’s thigh and feeling the muscle tremble unsteadily. “He’s probably close, Camille. Pick up your pace,” he said roughly. Camille grunted, eyes opening a sliver.
“Hold him still and I will Georges,” he snapped back. He withdrew and Maxime let out a sound like he’d been mortally wounded when Georges pinned his hips to the bed. His heels slipped on the bedding as he tried to buck.
Camille leapt back on top of him, fingers digging into his soft curves and beginning to put his full weight behind each thrust as Maxime continued to cry out. Georges found himself panting breathlessly, rutting gently against the soft skin of Maximilien’s thigh, fighting his impulse to push Camille away and take his place inside that tight hot omega. Somehow Georges thought it would all the sweeter for being it Maximilien Robespierre he was fucking.
Saint-Just was shaking, eyes wide, cheeks flushed and looking for all the world as if he was the one who was about to lose his mind, not Maxime. Georges didn’t know how he could bear to watch as Camille’s thrusting gradually slowed and became rougher.
“Christ. I’m going to, ah, my knot, ah fuck, Maxime!” Camille cried out before pushing himself all the way in.
Maxime howled, a primal sound that yesterday, Georges would have claimed the man couldn’t make, back forming a perfect bow before slumping back. He twitched, once, then twice and was finally still, his big green eyes half lidded and glassy. His lips were open and the bottom was slightly red with a smear of blood from where he’d bitten too hard in his distress. Georges had never seen a more perfect picture of a ruined omega.
Saint-Just let go of his death grip. Maxime’s thin wrists were red and purple from where he’d been held. They were both panting hard, the instinct to knot coursing wildly through their blood. Georges avoided eye contact as he stumbled off the bed and grabbed the wine. He tilted it back and took a few rough drinks. He handed it over to Saint-Just who was absorbed in watching the intertwined figures.
“It’ll be a few minutes before they can uncouple,” he whispered, voice hoarse. Saint-Just nodded absently, drinking from the bottle, wine staining his lips. The younger Alpha glanced quickly at him.
“Do you come the entire time?” He asked softly, gesturing with his pointed chin.
Camille was moaning softly, moving his hips gently to continue fucking the sated omega. His dark curls were soaked in sweat and hiding his face, from where it was buried in Maxime’s neck, likely sucking on the skin over the scent gland. Maximilien’s fingers twitched and his eyelids fluttered but he seemed to be totally exhausted. After the show he’d given them, Danton was not surprised.
“It’s unlike anything else.” He grinned, scars pulling at his lips. “Gabrielle tells me it’s good for the omega as well.”
From his prone position Maxime gave a weak moan, as if in agreement.
Saint-Just swallowed compulsively, clawing at the rumpled bed. “I want him,” he muttered.
Georges rolled his eyes. “What a stunning confession from the man who follows him like a wife,” he said dryly.
Saint-Just sent him a dark glare. “You’re the one who was determined to fuck him,” he retorted.
Georges didn’t respond, simply grabbing the wine back.
He did not know why he wanted Maximilien, only that he did. The little bastard had a fire inside of him that Danton could not have guessed the Revolution and the Nation would need. The Candle of Arras was a more fitting nomenclature than anyone could have known. And Danton could admit: the omega beguiled, slinking through Paris in layers of silk that did nothing to hide his scent. The form fitting stockings, the colored glasses so you could never see his eyes, the curls of hair that escaped from under his wig. Something about him both invited a tenderness, the desire to carefully cradle his small frame, but also inspired a savage sort of frustration to push him down over the tribune and take him with the whole of the Riding School watching.
Georges shook his head like a beast and shrugged. Between his legs, his cock throbbed hard.
“Then you take him next,” he grunted.
XXX
Camille came back to himself very slowly. First he was aware of his labored breathing, then of his painfully tight grip in the sheets, then of the warm perfect body beneath his.
“Ah, Lolotte,” he groaned.
“You had better not let your wife know you’ve just confused her with Robespierre. I know the three of you are close, but that might be a touch far,” Georges voice rumbled close to his ear.
Camille blinked. The memories came back as one vicious blow and he reeled, gasping. As if to punctuate his mortification, his knot dramatically receded. Maxime whimpered, eyes shut and cheeks wet with sweat or saliva or tears.
With effort Camille propped himself up and rolled off of Maxime, nearly on top of Antoine Saint-Just, who let out a hasty curse. The bed was now well and truly soaked. Camille pushed a hand through his bangs.
“Jesus christ.”
Georges smirked. “It’s good, oui?”
Good did not even begin to cover it. Omegas were simply a different experience from Betas. Maxime had been slick and tight as a clamp around him, milking his orgasm.
Maxime whimpered again, eyes flicking open. He stared around, Georges on one side, Saint-Just and Camille on the other. He flailed, seeming as coordinated as a newborn chick. Georges wrapped a surprisingly tender arm around him and hauled him up, where Maxime swayed like he was drunk, pupils blown and hair in complete disarray. He slumped bonelessly against the pillows.
“Wine?” he asked hoarsely.
Saint-Just handed over a half empty bottle. Maxime snatched it and took a few long hard drags, wine running down the corner of his lips and down his throat. Georges leaned down and licked it off the pale flesh.
Maxime moaned and shuddered, clenching his thighs together. He pushed at Georges shoulder. “Just-just give me a moment,” he said breathlessly.
Georges grabbed at his waist, pulling Maxime closer. “Was it good? Did Camille serve you well?” He pushed Maxime’s thighs apart, heedless of the omega’s quiet squeak. Georges ran two of his fingers through the combined mess on the pale upper thigh. He slipped them into Maxime who gasped and grabbed Georges arm.
“Oh god, please,” he squirmed slightly. “It’s too much.” He moaned when Georges continued to thrust into him, kissing and nipping at his neck.
Saint-Just was panting in Camille’s ear. He was hard and hot, pressed into Camille’s back. He smirked and turned over, grabbing Antoine’s cock before he could react.
“He was so good, inside. You won’t believe it, Antoine. So tight and hot,” he muttered, arching to whisper into his ear. Antoine stiffened. Camille stroked from base to head. Behind him Maxime was panting heavily, squirming as Georges groped at him.
“You want to knot him, oui? Feel it right here?” He grabbed at where Antoine’s knot would expand. “It’s good. He’s good. Better than you can imagine,” he whispered.
Antoine growled and grabbed Camille’s face.
“Arrêtez,” he snarled before slamming their mouths together, hips bucking into Camille’s hand.
Camille moaned, grinning viciously. He shoved his tongue into Antoine’s mouth. Sharp teeth ground into his bottom lip.
“Maxime look. Aren’t they a picture?” Georges growled and Maxime let out a choked sob.
“A-antoine,” he moaned. Camille pulled away and looked over his shoulder to be met with an intense green gaze. Georges had twisted him over onto his side, one massive hand clamped on his hip and the other one still in two fingers deep into the omega.
“You want our Adonis, Maxime?” Camille asked. He sat up and moved over Antoine so the younger Alpha was pressed against Maxime. “Have him.”
XXX
Antoine was in no state to refuse anymore and quickly flung Danton’s hands off of Maxime with a vicious snarl. He grabbed Maximilien’s head, fingers weaving tightly into his hair to crush their mouths together. He thrusted his tongue into Maxime’s mouth where it belonged, where he had always belonged in Maxime’s life. Not Desmoulins, not Danton.
Maxime squirmed against him, hips flexing.
“Antoine, ” he gasped when he finally released him. “Please .”
Antoine didn’t know what he was begging for, but he nodded anyway, smoothing Maxime’s hair away.
“Oui Maxime. I’m here. Open for me.” He nudged Maxime’s thighs apart to get close. Antoine groaned. He was pressed against Maxime’s entrance, hot and wet. He panted into the delicate shell of Maxime’s ear. “I’m going to knot you,” he growled and was rewarded by a desperate whimper.
Antoine slid into him, groaning as Maxime clamped down on him. He cursed and began to thrust gently. Desmoulins was at his back, moaning. He raised his eyes to Danton who was holding Maxime’s hip as Antoine rocked into him. The older man’s dark eyes were inscrutable but the arousal that rolled off him in waves made the back of Antoine’s neck prickle.
He wasn’t going to last, he could already feel his knot expanding, the delicate tremors that spread through his legs but tried to hang onto the edges of his reason, to please Maxime. Antoine worked his hand between them and tightened it around Maxime’s still hard cock. The omega cried out, grabbing his shoulders.
They rocked against each other, Antoine breathing harshly through his teeth as he tried to beat back his own climax until Maxime suddenly cried out again and then he was like a vice around Antoine.
He had just enough time to gasp before he was yanked over the precarious edge of his orgasm, knot locking Antoine in place, buried deep inside of Maximilien. It was like someone spilled an entire bottle of ink over the page of Antoine’s mind. He was lost in a depth that had no other room for anything other than the omega he was inside of. He was panting heavily, drooling, eyes half lidded as he curled tighter and closer, trying to crush Maxime into him, protecting him from the rest of the world.
XXX
Camille shivered, glancing up at Georges. The other Alpha was still stroking the skin of Maxime’s hip, staring at him with an absent look. It struck him for the first time that for all their differences, Georges and Maxime did genuinely admire one another, which was more than he’d hoped for when he originally introduced one to the other.
Perhaps more, Camille thought, seeing the almost tenderness in Georges expression.
He looked at Saint-Just’s face, flushed with high color and messy with sweat and saliva. A far cry from his typical marble countenance. Camille smirked and ran his finger along one high cheekbone.
Maybe Georges wasn’t the only one with bizarrely conflicted feelings for their fellow Republicans.
XXX
Maxime came back to himself with Antoine still knotted inside of him. He tried to breathe steadily but his chest was tight and the other man on top of him was crushing the air from him. He flexed his hips and groaned softly. The knot was pressing right against the spot within him that made his vision spark and darken so every time he shifted it threatened to send him into his orgasm again.
Maximilien was still hard and the pressure from Antoine’s hips made him squirm restlessly. He bit his lip and tried to shift slightly. Antoine growled and held him tightly, somehow burying himself even deeper.
Maxime panted. It was just too much, the smells and heat and pressure was going to drive him insane.
“Enjoying your first proper heat?” Georges’s voice was in his ear. “It’s good, no?” He interlaced their fingers, thumb tracing over hills and valleys of Maxime’s knuckles.
Their faces were close enough that Maxime could see the specks of gold in his eyes. “Georges…” Maxime’s voice trembled. “It’s too much, I’m coming apart.”
“It’s beautiful,” Georges reassured him. “I can’t wait to be inside of you, watch as you take all of me into you, I want to watch you writhe Maximilien. I want to see you shout my name to God above as I fuck you till there isn’t a thought in your head.” His rough voice was like a strong brandy being poured into Maxime’s ear, soaking his brain in desire.
Maximilien squirmed desperately, feeling like he was torn in two. He wanted, oh God did he want. As overwhelming as it was to be pinned and filled it was also infinitely preferable to the agony of the cramping emptiness when he was alone. Sweating out a fever for days at a time, unable to eat or sleep or soothe his own desires.
But nor could he be defined by his sex alone, Maxime couldn’t abide by that, he never would.
“Please Georges,” he whispered. “Please. I need…”
“Is this easier Maxime? When we carry you off in Roman style? If we bind you and tell you accept it?” Georges whispered. “Does it make it sweeter for your pride to swallow?”
“I can’t just be an omega, Georges. I’m not meant to be kept pretty and quiet,” Maxime said.
“You could be our omega,” Georges suggested, pouring the words into Maximilien like cold honey. “Camille and I. Camille couldn’t control you if he tried and I have no desire to.” He slid his hand over Maxime’s abdomen, rubbing firmly over the spot where Antoine was inside of him so Maxime gasped and bucked. “I’d even convince Camille to stop nipping at the heels of your Apollo here.”
“G-georges, I can’t, oh god, please!” Maximilien was tightening again, squirming and writhing against Antoine’s weight and Georges hand. He was being tugged closer to another mind-breaking orgasm. “Please, please!” His words came in desperate gasps.
Georges nipped at him and that pushed Maxime right up to the very edge. “You could just let go, mon Maxime.”
Antoine was growling in one ear, Georges whispering endearments in the other, Camille’s hands on his over sensitive skin. He was panting, clawing at the bedding. Maximilien threw his head back and cried out as he came, again.
“Oh god!”
XXX
Georges clenched his jaw to the point of feeling his teeth creak. His pulse was absolutely deafening and his cock was a rod of molten heat between his legs. Everything in him wanted to rip Saint-Just away.
Perhaps this is why Alphas rarely share omegas.
“Alright?” Camille asked, mouth twisting puckishly. He’d wound a dark curl around his finger, mouth bruised red. He was half leaning over Saint-Just, one hand flat on the young man’s back, feeling the flex of his muscles.
Georges let out a harsh laugh. He ran a hand over his face and grinned ruefully.
“Do you think I dug us in too deep?” He asked.
Camille smiled shakily. “Well…” He scratched lightly at Saint-Just’s back, leaving faint marks. “I don’t think this will be as easy as you thought it was going to be.”
Georges snorted. “We could say that since ‘89, my dear Camille.” He looked him over critically, Camille’s legs intertwined with Maxime’s and Saint-Just’s, the bite marks over his neck. “Be honest, will this affect you and Lucile?”
Camille pursed his lips, shaking his hair back. “She’s always known… she’s asked me about Maxime before, if I ever,” he gestured to the whole prone figure of Maxime. “But she likes him.” He cast a look over Danton. “And you? Would Gabrielle approve?”
Georges shrugged. “As you said, she likes him.”
But as a third, I have no idea .
Camille leaned forward, sweet breath brushing over George’s face.
“Are we planning on making a habit of this? Be honest with me Georges. If we do we’ll need to be on guard for the inevitable.”
“The decadency.”
“The conspiracy.”
“The indulgence.”
“We’ll be accused of forming a triumvirate and using him as our breeding stock,” Georges said, beginning to grin. “Sharpen your pen, my dear Camille. We’ll need it, if we do keep this up.”
Camille rolled his eyes. “You’re going to get us all killed.” His tone was soft and mild. Georges manhandled his chin up and kissed him on the mouth.
“No. No I won’t. I think this will work,” he said and something inside his chest ignited at Camille’s dark doe eyed stare. “Let’s make a triumvirate, Camille.”
XXX
Antoine was able to come back to himself as his knot reduced, leaning back to look at a thoroughly dazed Maxime. His eyelids fluttered as Antoine pulled out, sighing breathly. He appeared drugged or drunk.
“Alright, mon cher?” he whispered, trying to meet Maximilien’s eyes. He nodded, unsteadily. His green eyes had gone glassy.
Danton grabbed his face, twisting Maxime to look at him. “Can you manage one more? For me?”
Maxime moaned. “Oui.” He tilted his head back. “Oui, Georges.”
Danton grinned. “I so hoped,” he rumbled. “Budge over, Saint-Just.”
It took a moment of rearranging themselves but Danton stole the middle, propped back on the scant pillows with Antoine on one side of him and Camille on the other. Maxime ended up on Danton’s lap, his hands braced on the Alpha’s shoulders, trembling slightly.
“Come on Maxime. I’ve been waiting for you all day. Allons y.” With very little apparent effort, Danton gripped his waist and lifted Maximilien up to hover just over the Alpha’s cock. “I want to watch you. I want to see your face as you take all of me, right down to the knot.”
Maxime threw his head back, keening. “Georges, please. Mercy.” He squirmed and clutched at Danton’s wrists, desperate. Antoine could feel his arousal rushing back over him. Danton was panting heavily, slowly letting Maxime down.
Now that Maximilien was above him, Antoine could focus on watching his face.
His expression went slack, mouth dropping open and eyes half lidded. He was flushed brightly, the whole of his neck and chest going a fevered red.
Danton breathed out hard, his large blunt hands groping Maxime all over. “Sweet Jesus, look at you. You were made for this, Maxime.” He slid his fingers over Maxime’s face, into his mouth and Maxime took them, seeming to snap into focus for a moment, looking down onto Danton and sucking his fingers.
Antoine’s heart was racing, making him feel hot as Maxime began to rock unsteadily, rising up and then leaning back on Danton’s cock, each time slipping more of it into him. It was grotesque. It was erotic. Each beat of his heart and Antoine couldn’t decide on one.
On Danton’s other side Desmoulins was whispering, too low for Antoine to hear him. He was running his ink stained hands over Maxime’s hips, teasing him, stroking him, raking his nails over his thighs.
Like a pilgrim Antoine reached out as well, touching the omega. Maximilien’s skin was overheated but smooth, like stone in summer before it rained. All three of the Alphas were encouraging his motions now, gripping his waist and pulling on his spine to encourage his increasing frantic rocking. Maxime, bloodied lip tucked between his teeth, let out a muffled keen. He whipped his head back and forth, rolling it back to pant at the ceiling. Even though he was spent Antoine rolled his hips up, cock twitching.
“Let me, let me,” he gasped out, hanging onto Danton’s wrists. “I want it. ”
Danton growled, a purely animal sound and he bucked up, burying himself. “Then take it , Maximilien.”
Maxime let out a high ragged scream as Danton knotted him, eyes shut and body rigid as he began to ride out his orgasm. He left long scratches down Danton’s arms before falling limp onto the Alpha.
Desmoulins leaned over, pressing his nose into Maxime’s hair, eyes bright and mouth quirked.
“What a disaster,” he muttered, smiling.
Antoine looked over. “You regret it?” He demanded.
Desmoulins laughed. “I don’t know how I lived without it!” He leaned far over, pressing Maxime farther into Danton, who had clamped a hand over the back of Maxime’s neck. “I just think we should use a bigger bed next time, is all,” he breathed into Antoine’s lips.
“Next time?” Antoine asked, looking into Camille’s eyes. The dark gaze reflected him back.
“Don’t you think?” He asked, trailing his mouth over Antoine’s cheek. “Besides, we’ll need you to marry him for us, since I’m assuredly not divorcing my wife for him and neither will Georges.”
“Why should I?” Antoine demanded, words breathy.
Camille looked at him, then deliberately rolled his eyes before flopping back onto his side.
“What a romantic,” he muttered.
XXX
Maxime woke slowly, brought back by the unnatural warmth of being smothered in bodies. He blinked blearily and shifted, only to immediately regret it when all of his back muscles protested.
He groaned softly. One of the arms close to his face shifted and curled closer, hanging onto his shoulder. Maxime breathed slowly, trying not to think.
He did not want to consider the consequences of the actions that had taken place. No matter what Danton might say, Maxime did not see how it couldn’t affect their relationship. He did not know what he would say when he would meet Lucile or Gabrielle and they would smell their husbands on him, or when he returned to the Duplays and they saw the bite marks on either side of his neck.
Maximilien had tried for so long to not be omega. He’d presented during school, which had been its own nightmare and then in his professional life he had always been second guessed. It was best to shove it away and when his nature raised its head, he would barricade himself in his rooms and wait it out.
It had become more difficult the older he became, the aches lasting longer, the nausea and headaches keeping him up late into the night. If he had sometimes moaned names into his pillow while he tried to soothe his own lust, no one would ever know.
Maxime slowly sat up and gently moved Antoine’s arm off of his waist and edged around Camille. He shakily stood up, head spinning. He took a deep breath and looked down at himself.
He was marked. His skin was dotted by bite marks and scratched red by fingernails down his ribs and over his calves. The inside of his legs were tacky and flaking. Maxime gasped softly, hands trembling over his torso.
“You look beautiful.”
Maxime jumped, looking up.
Georges Danton was sitting next to the fireplace, watching him with a bottle of wine in hand. For some reason, Maximilien was reminded of Bacchus even as the firelight flickered over Danton’s scarred face, his thinning hair, his thickened belly and waist.
“I…” He couldn’t formulate a sentence, mind blank. Georges gestured for him to come closer. Feeling as if he was in a dense fog, Maxime slowly walked forward. When he was within arms reach, he was yanked onto Georges's lap.
A broad scarred hand roamed over his chest and legs, examining each mark minutely. Maxime had frozen, loosely grasping his wrist.
Georges cupped the back of his neck and kissed him. It was sweet and short, so unlike Georges that Maximilien’s head spun. He tasted of bad wine.
“Do you remember everything?” Georges asked when he pulled away.
Maximilien starred. He swallowed, glancing over to the table, only to have Georges grab his face and make him meet his eyes.
He slowly nodded.
“Good, that’s very good.” The Alpha purred. “You were magnificent.”
Maximilien stiffened. “What is magnificent about turning into a base animal quarterly?” He snapped.
Georges was tracing a trio of marks over his ribs. “Seeing you lose all those inhibitions. Camille has told me about you shouting down the Archbishop of Nimes, bringing the room to a halt.” He cupped Maximilien’s face. “You could do well with more spontaneity in you. It’s a lovely look.”
Maxime snorted but didn’t move away. He was still shaky and exhausted and Georges let off heat like a furnace. “Flatterer. I do not. I work with facts. Reason. Logic should work in tandem with the heart, for things to be peaceful. One simply looks childish when you run around dropping diatribes everywhere.”
Georges had taken his hand and was tracing the bones of his fingers and wrist, smirking. “Do you ever turn your mind off, Maxime?”
He turned his head away. “Why on earth would I?”
Georges laughter made him tremble. “Of course not.” He sighed and eyed Maxime. “Alright then. We’ll discuss this with the logic and reason you hold so dear. You are an omega. Your heats are taking a toll on you, forcing you away from your beloved clubs de Jacobins for days. If you had an Alpha or several to help you, you could resolve yourself much faster.”
Maximilien reluctantly nodded: the argument was sound.
“Alright. My proposal is thus. Marry Saint-Just. He gets into Paris like he wants, you get an Alpha you picked.”
“Marry Saint-Just?” Maxime muttered. Georges held up a finger.
“I was not finished. Marry him. Become Camille and I’s lover. We invite Saint-Just to our circle and when Capet’s cabinet inevitable bungles the war efforts, we move in.”
“You suggest conspiracy,” Maxime said. He leaned closer, hands braced on George’s shoulders. “You suggest-”
“A triumvirate. We all get the authority we need to save the Republic. Camille and I get you as an omega. Saint-Just gets you as his spouse and you get the influance you want to make all the changes you desire,” Georges finished, running his fingers along the dip of Maxime’s spine.
Something was crystalizing in Maxime’s mind. Like some holy mania, a vision was occuring to him. Blossoms in the trees with green grass under a blanket. He leaned against Antoine’s shoulder as a small boy muddied himself a puddle. Camille and Lucile laughing on the green with Horace between them and the Danton’s sprawled along. Around them, Paris flourished.
He shuddered as the vision ended, heart racing
“Maxime?” Georges asked. “Are you cold?”
Maxime leaned forward, his knees braced on the chair and pressing his whole body into Georges, letting the hollow spaces between his thighs, in his hips, above his ribs fill up with Georges bulk.
“I’m agreeing.” He muttered into George’s lips. “You’ll only hear me say this once, but you are right and I am agreeing.”
Georges wrapped his arms around his waist. He smirked dangerously, although it wasn’t so threatening without his powder and silk. “My dear Robespierre. I knew you’d come to see it my way.”
FIN.