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la petite mort

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When Pat smelled the sweet sticky smell of jasmine rice, and tacky mangoes wafting through the halls of his new dorm, he thought he was imagining it.

But he’d know that smell anywhere—he’d been smelling it next door every day for the last eighteen years.

It was second-nature to cross the hall crowded with unpacking freshman and their overly loud parents, his feet following Pran’s sweet scent without thinking until he was standing outside an open door.

I didn’t even know they let omegas room in the same dorms as alphas.

Most universities segregated their students based on presentation, but the University of Bangkok was supposed to be the most progressive school in the country.

The dorm was crowded with students and parents but Pat still thought, he shouldn’t leave his door open in a co-ed dorm. Any alpha could walk right in. Alphas that weren’t Pat.

The door suddenly swung open, and a disgruntled Pran stared back at him, crossing his arms over a crisp, new University of Bangkok sweater.

Fuck. Pat's shoulders stiffened, and he stepped back unconsciously.

He hadn’t smelled Pran this closely in years. Pran always stayed beyond the pink painted border between their houses, forever glued to his mother’s side when he did leave, his gaze demure and at his feet, as if just accidentally looking upon Pat would cause the both of them to burst in flames. For any other omega it might’ve been normal, even expected, to avoid the gaze of a young alpha, but Pran wasn’t like that, so Pat hated it. He knew it was all Pran’s mother.

“What are you doing here?” Pran asked.

“What are you doing here?” Pat parroted back.

When Pran gave him a dry look, Pat rolled his eyes.

“What do you think, Pran? I’m a freshman here, just like you. He gave Pran a twirl, showing off his navy uniform. “Faculty of Engineering, baby.”

Some colour left Pran’s face.

“But...your parents didn’t brag about it to my parents.”

Some people’s parents are humble,” Pat said, with a pointed grin, “I’m surprised your Mom didn’t though.”

“She’s not exactly...” Pran shut his mouth and didn’t elaborate, successfully piking Pat’s interest. “Nevermind. Just get out of here before someone sees you.”

“Come on, Pran,” Pat said, almost leering as he leaned into the doorway, making Pran back up. 

“We’re both adults now. Who cares if we talk? Is your Mom lurking around the corner?” Pat made a show of looking up and down the hall.

Pran faltered and shook his head.

“Well no, but—”

“I care,” a foreign voice resounded from behind Pran. From inside his room.

The intertwined scents of all the new students was the only reason Pat hadn’t scented him. That, and the fact that he was a measly excuse of an alpha with small shoulders and a weak scent. He almost smelled like a beta.

Pat smiled wide and leaned forward, purposely hooking his chin over Pran’s shoulder so his scent seeped into him. Pran shivered at the contact and pressed his hand to his chest to stop him from getting any closer, but Pat’s eyes were fixed on the unfamiliar alpha interloper. 

It was the first day of the semester and Pran already had an alpha in his room.

“And just who the hell are you?”

“Pat,” Pran snapped, digging his dull nails into his shoulder.

Pat looked down at him indignantly.

“You’re worried about your Mom seeing me talking to you when you’re—”

“I’m not doing anything inappropriate,” Pran said, his ears going red, “Get your head out of the gutter. Wai is my friend.”

“Alphas aren’t friends with omegas.”

Pran raised an eyebrow, his face going cool, and Pat knew he’d said the wrong thing.

“Maybe you can’t imagine why an alpha would want to be friends with me for reasons besides fucking—”

Pran was almost spitting at him in his cold fury, but Pat’s dick still jerked in his pants despite himself. He’d never heard such crude words in Pran’s mouth before.

“—but not all alphas are like that. Wai isn’t like that. And it’s none of your business, anyway.”

It is my business, Pat wanted to yell. Pran wasn’t his omega. They weren’t even friends. But he still felt a sense of childish ownership over the omega—the only other one he’d known since his boyhood, besides Pa.

“Maybe it’s your Mom’s business,” Pat said, because he didn’t know when to shut up. As an unmated omega, Pran’s mother was his alpha, something Pat often resented her for.

Pran smiled and leaned forward, slow enough that Pat could greedily inhale his neck—before he shoved him out of his doorway.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Pran hissed, calling his bluff. The door slammed in Pat’s face.

“Hey, Pran!” Pat punched the door, but it stubbornly stayed shut.

Pat sighed in frustration before retreating to his own room. If he stayed up peeping through his door hole to make sure Wai left Pran’s dorm that night, nobody had to know.



They only saw each other in the halls over the next two weeks. 

Pat learned that Pran liked to go jogging at six in the morning, and he never stayed up past midnight. He was a responsible student, unlike Pat who slept at odd hours, and often came back late red-faced from drinking. Wai’s scent came and went, but lucky (for him), Pat never came face to face with him again.

At least until the student body elections, which caused everything.

Despite Pran’s cool personality, he quickly amassed a group of friends. Not omegas like himself, but betas and alphas who wore matching red Architecture uniforms. It made sense to Pat, because Pran wasn’t anything like other omegas. That didn’t make it any less annoying to see Pran hanging all over his new friends around campus.

Especially Wai. The skinny alpha had become a permanent fixture next to Pran, sometimes laughing with him, other times glowering at Pat from across the school courtyard. It made Pat’s skin crawl, but he’d made his own friends.

It was less surprising than Pran’s sudden popularity. He was a handsome alpha from a good family, and a lot more light-hearted than Pran. He had friends in every faculty, while Pran stuck to his small group.

That didn’t mean he expected to get elected for President of the Faculty of Engineering, or for the same thing to happen to Pran in Architecture.

They were dragged up onto the school stage during lunch while the freshmen clapped, hollered, and threw rice at them. 

“Pat,” Pran hissed under his breath as they shook hands, “behave.”

Pat smiled and tugged Pran closer when he almost slipped off the stage. It forced Pran to lean into him, otherwise he’d fall.

He saw Pran’s friends tense up from the corner of his eye. They were strewn out over a lunch table, and Wai was carrying a silver bat. Pat knew he didn’t play baseball.

“Why wouldn’t I behave?” he asked, peering down at Pran.

He squeezed his soft hand and pulled him away from the edge.

“Congratulations, President,” Pat said.

Pran didn’t get a chance to return his words, because they were being ushered off the stage for the next electees. 



After that, it was constant chaos.

Not because of Pat or Pran, but because of the historic rivalry between their faculties that had started decades before they’d been born.

As much as Pat wanted to pound Wai’s face in, he thought it was all ridiculous. Mostly because it had led to the current situation.

Pran was crouched down on the ground, and his friends were fighting with Pat’s friends. And they were all so idiotic, they were having their little war in the middle of campus right before classes were about to let out.

Pat scrambled to pull them apart, but he stilled when he saw Pran finally stand. He stood with a limp, and his chin was scuffed with the flush of red that could only come from a fist.

Somebody had punched Pran.

Pat dragged Korn off of Wai, startling the whole fight into stillness, because he was going after one of his own.

“That’s enough!” Pat yelled, “We are not getting suspended right before midterms. Not after all the work we’ve done.” He had to make it seem like he was doing it for their benefit. It seemed to work because his friends relaxed, and even Pran’s Architecture buddies suddenly looked nervous.

Pat helped Korn to his feet, but his eyes stayed fixed on Pran who leaned on Wai’s shoulder, because they’d scrapped his knee raw.

“Korn,” Pat said, “Who hit him?”

“What?” Korn asked, cocking his head. “Who?”

“Pran, jackass.”

Korn was playing dumb, and that answered Pat’s question. He shoved Korn back to his feet, and pressed his foot to the delicate juncture between his calve and his thigh. Korn yelped and Pat saw Pran hobble toward him.

“I’m the only one who can hit him,” Pat said. “I told you that.”

He pressed down on Korn’s leg sharply before letting him go. Korn cursed and climbed to his feet but Pat only had eyes for Pran, who grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away from the crowd of freshmen.

“Pran, I don’t think—” Wai tried to stop them from leaving.

“Move, Wai.”

“Yeah, Wai. Who the hell do you—”

Pran clasped a hand over his mouth so he couldn’t curse at Wai. It was decidedly less appealing to Pat when he could inhale the palm of Pran’s sweet palm instead.

Luckily, Wai didn’t follow them. If he had, he would have seen Pat shove Pran up against the wall. He grabbed Pran’s cheek gently so he didn’t pinch his swollen jaw. Pran was relaxed when he tilted his cheek outward so he could inspect the damage.

“What happened?”

What happened?“ Pran repeated, “What do you mean, what happened? This is normal for us, isn’t it?”

“This isn’t normal,” Pat said sourly, stroking his thumb over the red skin. “I’s never gotten this bad.”

“Because you won’t tell your pals to leave us alone.”

“You think I haven’t?” Pat asked, jerking Pran’s chin toward him. “I told them to back off. They’re the ones who won’t listen.”

Some of the anger in Pran’s eyes dissipated.

“I told everyone to leave you guys alone too.”

They both sighed, and Pat forced himself to release Pran and step back. He knew he was overstepping, even though every cell in his body was urging him to scent Pran, and cage him in his arms. He didn’t like seeing Pran hurt. He looked uncharacteristically small and pale, but worst of all, he smelled sickly sweet—the repulsive smell of an injured or scared omega. He was sure it affected the other alpha freshmen as well, but it was worse for Pat because of their relationship.

What is our relationship? Pat wondered. A few weeks ago, Pat would have been satisfied with just friendship. Now, he wasn’t so sure. He knew he’d rather eat his own arm than let Wai sniff around Pran, and there wasn’t anything friendly about that.

“I’ll talk to them again,” Pat said, “This—” He waved at Pran’s injured visage, “—won’t happen again.”

He wrapped an arm around Pran’s waist and very heroically said, “Do you want me to help you walk or do you want me to carry you?”

“If you even try to lift my feet off the ground, I will kick your knees out.”

“Okay,” Pat said with a cheeky drawl. He drew Pran’s arm around him, so Pran was leaning on his strong shoulder. “Walking it is then.”

Pran relaxed, because this was familiar. This he could do.

Pat helped Pran walk back to their shared dorm and lifted him up on every third step.



Pat couldn’t sleep that night.

His ears were too focused on the sound of Pran breathing across the hall. His nose was zeroed in on the scent of the scalding green tea he was sipping. The noises and scents were muffled by the asphalt and drywall between them.

Pat logically knew that Pran was safe. His friends weren’t crazy enough to go after Pran after Pat had threatened Korn. It was also nearly two in the morning, so half of their campus was asleep. Those facts did nothing to qualm Pat’s triggered alpha instincts, which urged him to seek Pran out and see that he was okay with his own eyes. He wanted to feel Pran’s warm skin under his hands.

Temporarily abated of shame by his instincts, Pat slipped out of his room and knocked on Pran’s door. He huffed and inhaled against the wood because his scent was soaked into it. That embarrassment was cut short by Pran opening the door.

“Pat?” he asked.

Pat sunk into his arms and wrapped his own around Pran’s waist.

“Can I sleep here tonight?”

“What—are you drunk!?”

“You think the only reason I’d ask to stay the night is alcohol?” Pat whined, a little offended, “I’m worried about you.”

“You can go be worried about me in your own room,” Pran hissed, squirming in his arms.

“I really can’t,” Pat said, vaguely. Luckily, his omega was observant.

Fuck. Pat screwed his eyes shut when Pran brushed his hair away from his sweaty brow so he could press his palm to his forehead. Pran isn’t my omega, Pat reminded himself. Those were just crazy hormonal alpha thoughts.

“You’re burning up,” Pran said, gently.

“That’s why I need to stay with you. My hormones are all messed up because of you—”

“Do not go blaming your alpha shit on me—you’re the one who got yourself all worked up.”

“And now I won’t be able to sleep unless I do what my ‘alpha shit’ is telling me to do,” Pat said, "Come on—we both took biology. I know because we were in the same class for three years."

It was a pretty well-known phenomenon—alphas and omegas becoming almost animalistic when their base instincts were triggered by threats to their pack. It rarely happened in civilized society anymore, beyond threats to one’s mate or child, because people didn’t have packs anymore. But to Pat, Pran had been a member of his pack since he’d saved his sister at twelve years old.

“What do you need me to do?” Pran asked carefully and Pat suddenly became very aware of how this could feel from Pran’s perspective. An alpha from a rivalling family coming to his room in the middle of the night, and after rescuing him from two packs of warring alphas and betas no less. A lesser alpha would ask for a reward from Pran. 

“I just need you to sleep next to me,” Pat said, very honestly. “I want to hear you breathe.”

Pran’s breath hitched, which was the opposite of what Pat wanted.

“Forget it—”

Luckily, Pran took pity on him and dragged him inside. He shut the door behind him with a click and Pat took the chance to admire his room, and inhale his unique concentrated scent. The room reeked of jasmine rice and mango, but he doubted he’d find evidence of either in Pran’s pristine dorm.

“I have an extra mattress under my bed.”

Pran chucked a pillow and a throw blanket at Pat’s head, and he caught both with grace. “You can sleep on it, as long as you stay on it.”

“Not a problem, President,” Pat said.

He dragged the mattress out and made a makeshift bed for himself. He pulled his T-shirt off last, folding his bare arms behind his head in a perfect centre fold.

When he turned his head to look at Pran in the dark, he was peachy pink.

“What are you doing?”

“Uh, sleeping shirtless? I’m boiling over here!”

“Shirt! On!” Pran ordered.

“If you want me to wear a shirt, you’ll have to put it on me yourself,” Pat said, with a smug smirk.

That put an end to Pran’s complaints.

Without either of them talking, Pat could hear Pran’s heart beating loud and clear. The only other noise was the steady click of the clock that hung on the wall.

Both calmed down Pat’s feverish head.

“This,” Pat said, reaching across the bedded berth between them. The tips of his fingers skimmed against Pran’s chin, and then over his dimples. “This is all I needed.”

“Shut up and go to sleep,” Pran said.

Pat was out within minutes with Pran’s warmth beside him.



A cloying sugary smell that Pat had never smelled before was what woke him from his dream. 

Or is this the dream? Pat couldn’t be sure because the smell was like a drug. It made his cock chub up in his basketball shorts within seconds and made his blood pump hot and fast in his ears.

“What the fuck?” he grumbled, half-asleep. He pawed around in the dark until he hit the light switch. Pran was writhing amongst the sheets. When Pran approached, he quickly retreated into a corner and wrapped himself into a ball.

“Go away, Pat!”

Pran was definitely not in his right mind, because they both knew that was the one thing Pran could say that would always ensure the opposite.

“What’s wrong!?” Pat asked, concerned. He was usually careful not to cross lines with Pran. He knew he was bigger and stronger, and that meant their fights weren’t always fair. He knew Pran resented how much harder he needed to fight to be equal in fighting prowess to the other boys, and he tried not to exacerbate that.

All of that went out the window when Pat thought Pran could be hurt.

He wrestled Pran onto his back, ignoring his yelps and curses as Pat pinned his wrists and wrenched his legs apart so he was straddling Pat.

Fuck.” Pat had found the source of the smell. Pran’s cotton shorts were soaked along the seam. They were soaked because he was in heat. Because he was leaking slick. Pat felt the wetness start to slip against his stomach as Pran sobbed against his neck.

“I’m sorry,” Pran gasped, “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I’m disgusting.”

“What?” Pat said, aghast and suddenly very confused. He nuzzled his nose against Pran’s cheek to comfort him. “Pran, what are you talking about? We both took biology, remember, stupid?”

Pran flinched at the insult, and Pat paused.

“I don’t know what shit your Mom has been telling you but heats are natural, Pran.”

“I’ve never had one before, stupid,” Pran sniffled. “I was never supposed to have one. Not for at least a couple more years—”

“Wait, what!? What!?” Pat was at a loss. Pran was eighteen. All genders hit puberty around fourteen, and Pran didn’t have any medical issues that would delay his heats. Pat would know if he did.

But would you? His brain whispered. Pran had been lost to him for so many years.

“My mother...” Pran trailed off, “...she thought they would be a distraction. That they’d make me weaker. And I couldn’t be weak, couldn’t be lesser than, and omegean when I needed...”

When I needed to compete with you, went unsaid.

That meant she’d been forcing Pran to drink suppressant cocktails since puberty. That was over four years ago.

Pat didn’t hate anyone, but he could hate Pran’s mother. He just might, if Pran kept talking.

“What happens in a few years?” Pat asked stiffly. His fingers sunk into the hair at the base of Pran’s skull. He tugged and twisted the strands until Pran’s eyes fluttered, and he finally answered.

“It was our agreement for me to attend this school,” Pran said quietly, “I get to study architecture...and then when I graduate I mate the alpha of her choice.”

A snarl rumbled in Pat’s chest without intent, his body instinctively reacting to the word mate.

“You would do that?” Pat asked, his voice raspy, “You’d mate with some highborn alpha that you don’t even know? Just because Mommy said so?”

Pran’s eyes swelled with tears and Pat felt like a piece of shit.

“You say it like I have a choice, Pat,” Pran hissed, “In case you’ve forgotten, she’s my mother. And my alpha. I’m not like you, I can’t just—”

Pran moaned, a shudder of pleasure running through him when Pat kissed him. He pressed his hands against Pat’s chest but it did little to hold back the beast who was nipping at his lips urging him to open his mouth and his thighs. 

Within seconds, he gave it as good as he got, pawing at Pat’s shoulders and tugging on his hair.

“The solution is obvious, isn’t it?” Pat asked when their kiss broke. Both of their chests were heaving, and Pran’s lips were swollen and red. Pran also looked devastated, like Pat had done something truly horrible.

“It isn’t,” Pran said breathlessly, “Not even a little bit.”

Pran could play dumb all he wanted. Pat could be brave enough for the both of them, if it meant saving Pran from his mother.

“Let me be your alpha,” Pat said. Pran stared at him with wide eyes and didn’t make a sound, but he didn’t have to. The throbbing wetness between his thighs said enough. Pat wanted to bury his head against the source and slurp at it like an animal.

“Stop talking crazy, Pat,” Pran said. Always lying, and doing what he was supposed to do. Pat understood it even less now that he knew the extent of his mother’s mistreatment.

Pat hiked Pran’s calves higher and slipped his thumb under the soaked stringy fabric between Pran’s legs. It stopped him from really sinking into his clenching hole, but it was enough to press right next to it.

Pran shivered and whined, his eyes fluttering shut at the contact. Pat smirked before he pulled the fingers back, rubbing the wetness between them.

“It doesn’t feel that crazy, Pran. It mostly just feels wet.” He scooped Pran up and hoisted him up onto the bed, looming over him so he was laid out on his back.

Pran had never looked so beautiful, or so vulnerable.

Putting a name to the claim Pat had felt for so many years felt like seeing Pran’s face for the very first time.

“Come on, Pran,” Pat coaxed. He ground his hard cock up against Pran’s stomach, letting him feel how hard he was for him. “You know I can make you feel good.”

Pran stared down at him, unimpressed.

“Lots of alphas can make an omega feel good,” Pran said pretentiously. 

God, Pat wanted to fold him in half and pound at that tight little cherry between his legs until he stopped talking about other alphas with Pat on top of him.

Instead, Pat said, “You won’t have to listen to your Mom anymore. Or marry some old stodgy alpha when you graduate. Because you’ll be mine.”

Pran perked up but didn’t agree or disagree.

Would you really rather let some rich fuck breed you to keep your Mom happy?

“How about this?” Pat said, his irritation gaining teeth, “If you’re sweet and beg me really nicely, I’ll fuck you until you cry and come inside you. Is that more appealing?”

Pran gasped before thwacking him. Pat knew it would have been a punch if he had more strength.


“What?” Pat asked, tongue salivating at Pran’s shyness. “You think I won’t? Or can’t?”

“I think you’re crazy if you think I’ll beg you for anything,” Pran said, like he wasn’t soaked and trembling against Pat’s thigh.

“If you won’t ask for it, then maybe I’ll just go,” Pat said, annoyed with Pran’s petulance, even when he was basically wetting his panties on Pat’s lap. “Maybe I’ll let you ride out your first heat alone, like your dear old mother intended.”

Pat wanted him to beg for his cock, but Pran nodded, “Yeah, get out. I told you, my mother already promised my first heat to my alpha.”

Later on, Pat would realize Pran was fucking with him.

At that moment, he ripped Pran’s shorts down to his knees and flipped him onto his stomach, and over Pat’s knees. His ass was pale and soft when Pat grabbed a handful and gave it a punishing squeeze and a shake.

He’d never wished true ill upon Pran, but in that moment he wanted to humiliate him.

Pran keened at the sudden manhandling and squirmed under Pat’s hands, but went still when he wrenched his cheeks apart and dragged his thick fingers between his glossy cheeks.

“You’re this wet for me and you’re talking about other alphas,” Pat snarled. “There are no other alphas, Pran. As if I would let another one near you after getting a taste.” He licked his wet fingers and he saw Pran’s ears go bright red. He spat on them for good measure—just because he knew the vulgarity would shock prim Pran—before he sunk them back into his tight body. It went in easily because Pran was so wet, but Pran still cried out like he’d been shocked.

“Do you think the alpha your mother chose could fuck you this good?” he asked in a low voice, as his hand squelched against the meat of Pran’s ass. He fed his fingers into his tight hole without concern, any tenderness sucked out of him by Pran’s baiting.

Pran must have had a death wish because he twisted his neck to make eye contact with Pat and nodded. “Yeah, I think he could.”

Fingers weren’t enough for Pran if he was still coherent enough to troll Pat like this.

Pat wrenched them out of him, shoving down the pang of sympathy he felt when Pran made an anguished noise. He was still in heat and that meant he was craving something inside of him, regardless of what or who it was.

Pran didn’t deserve his sympathy right now. Not when he was being such a little shit.

Pran looked at him with heavy-lidded eyes, his head lolling to the side as Pat grunted and hoisted Pran’s legs over his shoulders.

“Take it back.”

“Fuck me well enough, and I will take it back.”

Pran was such a fucker. He couldn’t even be a good, obedient omega when he was about to get fucked.

Changing that would be a fun challenge.

He pushed the cap of his cock past the tight ring of throbbing wet muscle, and let out a gasp when it finally popped inside.

It felt amazing around Pat’s dick, but he couldn’t help but worry about Pran. Minutes ago his first heat, and now his first cock.

“Fuck, Pran...” Pat hissed, “you’re alright, right?” He didn’t want to hurt him. He’d never want to hurt him.

“I’m...okay,” Pran gasped, “can you just hurry up already?”

His attempt to save face, even when he was in such a vulnerable position, pissed Pat off.

Pat pressed forward and took pleasure in the way that Pran’s mouth fell open and his eyes struggled not to cross. Proud little Pran finally brought down a few pegs by Pat’s cock.

“You don’t have anything else to say?” Pat asked meanly, as Pran squealed and moaned with each thrust. “But you were so talkative before. Come on.” He bobbed him on his lap, nuzzling and kissing Pran’s hot neck like a lover even as he fucked him like a slut. “I’m listening, honey. You can tell me anything.”

Pran didn’t say a word, and Pat relished in the surrender behind it. Pran was finally quiet because Pat was stuffing him so good. He was going to ruin him for anything else.

When Pran started to cry and hold on to Pat's neck like he was scared, Pat felt merciful. He kissed Pran’s wet cheeks and whispered, honey, and baby, and love, even as his hips continued to relentlessly pound into him. Because Pran was a little shit, but he was also all of those other things. 

Pat knew he’d been had when Pran slurred something against his collarbone.

“What was that, baby?” Pat asked, shoving his ear towards Pran’s lips. Pran had mostly been incoherent since Pat had started fucking him.

“I knew you’d be good at this,” Pran moaned.

“Yeah?” Pat asked, smug. He couldn’t be angry at Pran for manipulating him when his balls were nestled against Pran’s ass, and his hard cock was buried inside.

“I mean, I don’t disappoint, but what was the logic behind your theory?” Pat asked, his hips pounding against Pran a little more forcefully. He wanted him fucked stupid, and it worked for a few minutes, as Pran screwed his eyes shut and huffed against Pat’s lips, struggling to focus on anything besides Pat inside of him. 

“You’re big,” Pran said simply."And strong. And stupid."

“You started so well,” Pat said, but he’d already started to fuck Pran harder, his balls slapping against his ass and burying his dick so quickly inside of Pran that his hips were a blur. Pat wanted to fill him with his come. He wanted everyone to smell him leaking out of Pran tomorrow in class, and know that Pran was his omega. Especially Wai and Pran’s mother. “Tell me again.”

“My alpha—,” Pran started, but that was all Pat needed. Honestly, he was surprised he’d even lasted that long. He grunted and swore as he suddenly came inside Pran. Pran let out an overwhelmed and scared moan at the sensation, and Pat felt the wrecked clutch of his hole start to flutter around his cock, successfully giving Pat the biggest ego-booster he’d ever experienced in his life—Pran coming purely from the feeling of Pat emptying his come inside of him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Pat gasped with each pulse of come that left him. His hips rolled unconsciously, his body working to burrow his seed as deeply as he could inside of Pran. He wanted Pran to feel it all week, to feel a small twinge inside of him and know that it was because he’d let Pat between his legs. The first, and the only alpha to ever do so, because Pat would kill anyone that tried after this. 

“Yeah, I’m your fucking alpha,” He slapped Pran’s ass, making him jump.

Pat heard Pran snort before he kissed his heated brow and wrapped his legs more securely around Pat’s waist. It allowed Pat to nestle inside him more fully, but nothing could replicate the snug flared base of a mating knot.

“I feel like I have to reiterate that I said you are stupid too. Don’t get a big head.”

“My big head is warranted,” Pat said with a grin. “You called me your alpha. You said I was big and strong too,” he sang and gnawed at Pran’s shoulders until Pran snorted and tried to wriggle away from him. Of course, he couldn’t because he was pinned by Pat’s cock.

“Where are you going?” Pat asked, grinding his cock into Pran’s oversensitive insides. Pran’s eyes closed from the pleasure and Prat smirked, at least until self-consciousness returned to those brown eyes.

Did he seriously need to fuck Pran stupid every time he wanted him to stay still? 

“To clean up,” Pran said. “Get out of me.”

“The come’s still warm, sweetheart. Relax. What ever happened to spooning?”

“Spooning is for mates. Maybe friends. We’re neither.”

“Your ass is full of my come. I’m pretty sure we’re something.”

Pat’s afterglow was quickly being replaced with anger. Only Pran could manipulate him into giving him dick one minute, and then try to kick him out the next.

“We’re not friends, because our friends want to kill each other. And we’re certainly not mates because my neck is bare. So what is there left to say, Pat?” Pran’s words were calm and logical, but Pat could hear an underlying jab he wasn’t getting.

“You think I don’t want to mate with you?” Pat asked, his brain struggling to piece together what Pran was upset about. If he was tic-tac-toe, then Pran’s mind was chess. “Have I been talking to myself the entire time? I asked to be your alpha, Pran! You’re the one who told me I was crazy and baited me into fucking you instead. You never said yes. Besides, it’s your first heat and...I didn’t want to take advantage.”

Pran looked just as confused as Pat felt.

“I called you my alpha,” Pran said, tightening his insides around Pat’s cock and successfully making him hard again. Pat bit his lip and Pran smirked, at least until Pat started rocking his hips back inside of him.

Do you think I’d say that to anyone?” Pran whined as Pat picked up the pace, and fuck, were they terrible. They couldn’t do anything without pushing and pulling, always clawing at each other. Even sex, apparently.

“Do you think I’d let just anyone inside of me?” Pran asked, and fuck, he was right. 

His Pran wasn’t like other omegas. He was serious and disciplined and responsible. And he would have ripped off Pat’s dick himself if he didn’t want Pat to mate him. He wouldn’t have just rolled over and taken it.

“I chose you, Pat,” Pran said, “I want it to be you, I always wanted it to be you.” Pran’s voice broke and there was so much unspoken pain in his voice, Pat seared forward to kiss him, fucking him securely in his embrace and drinking the tones of pain from his lips.

“It’s okay,” Pat said, even though he didn’t know what had suddenly made Pran feel like he would float away. “I’m here, Pran. You have me.”

“You promise?”

“Of course,” Pat said, confused but adamant about quelling Pran’s fears. “I don’t know what happened in the past, but it’s not going to happen again, okay?” He kissed Pran’s eyelids and made love to him for the first time. It wasn’t the heat-frenzied fucking of before, but a lover’s embrace.

When they both finally came, it was with Pran moaning into Pat’s shoulder, and Pat digging his teeth into his neck. Not breaking skin like a true mating mark—but the imitation of one. Pat learned that when he sunk his teeth in a little deeper, Pran’s body would bloom around his cock like he wanted to suck him inside and keep him there, to make Pat plant his seed inside of him, along with his teeth.

With Pran as delirious as he was, it would have to wait for another day. Pat pushed down his disappointment, and pulled his teeth out of Pran’s neck, before rolling him onto his stomach.

They made love until the next day, which was then followed by two more days of Pran’s heat.