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This is easily Aemond's favourite part of the day. Out of anything, any of the unforeseen changes to his once-solitary life — the smell of dinner waiting at the end of a long day, the little row of succulents along the windowsill that Lucerys tends to with nearly as much care as he does Aemond — this is it, hands down. The thing he lives for. Buried deep in his nephew, every complication of the world set aside in favour of the simplest thing nature ever intended. Just loving.
About damn time, too. Ever since presenting, Lucerys' heats have been sporadic, unpredictable things. Disappearing for weeks on end only to come on hard: sudden and wild as a summer storm. Aemond does his best to reassure him — “I'm a cop, baby, I like anticipation” — tries to keep the omega’s mind from dwelling on the unfortunate circumstances in their past that likely caused the inconsistency in his cycle. And he loves these little surprises: the way a ripening note in his boyfriend's scent, or an unexpected midnight moan as he shifts, deep in dream, can have the power to set Aemond alight. To burn him awake, as though he were only half alive in the meantime, simply dormant and waiting to answer a need he was designed to meet. That's how it was the first time he smelled Luke, first clapped eyes on him — exactly that. He knew then that his whole life had been nothing but waiting, and here, finally, was the reason he'd kept on breathing.
Almost six months of pleasant surprises together, and this afternoon was shaping up to be one of the best of them all. Around one o’clock his phone had rung, and in an echo of their first fateful mating, Lucerys had been there at the end of the line, breathing hard and sending liquid heat down the base of Aemond’s spine. “It’s time,” he'd panted, his voice bordering on anxious in his urgency. “I'm leaving class right now.”
When Aemond had pulled up to the curb, Lucerys had nearly hauled the door off its hinges in his eagerness, chucking his bag onto the backseat without a glance, eyes fever-bright and black curls clinging damp against his sweating brow. They'd barely cleared the block before the omega's trembling hands were busy at Aemond’s groin, tugging his belt buckle in between greedy caresses, each hungry grope drawing a hiss through gritted teeth. “Lucy, we're right in the middle of traffic here.” Marvelling, Aemond had filed away the sight of that bitten lip, the frown of concentration setting features in youthful stubbornness. ”I know, but I just want to see…”
Now the day has found Aemond here: pants around his ankles in the passenger seat, parked in some hidden ass-crack of an alley with his arms full of grinding, whining, torrential heat. The car's become a capsule of pure, hormone-stinking sin: a rocking vacuum full of nothing but slick, wet noises and the perfume of untempered lust. Aemond has got one fist twisted up in the hair at the base of Lucerys's skull, the other palm pressed flat over his sweat-sliding tailbone — just devouring that ripe, groaning mouth as he push-pulls Luke down onto his driving cock. He wants — needs — to fuck Lucerys so hard he's almost angry with it; let fate send some asshole challenger just so he can fight them off and victory-knot his love in front of the entire world. Lucerys is gripping white-knuckled on the headrest of Aemond's shuddering seat, moaning nonsense into the steaming closeness of the car as he rides his alpha within an inch of both their lives. God, he's glorious, Aemond thinks, a Pre-Raphaelite prince turned whore just for him. “Yeah, get it, baby,” he's urging out between ragged breaths, “get that fuckin’ dick, that's yours.”
The omega's eyes have honest-to-god rolled back in his head as he crests what's got to be his third orgasm in as many minutes and christ, it's never been like this, never been so desperate, not since that first time. “Yesyesyes,” his omega’s words are mostly sobs, full of the tears Aemond knows are coming on the heels of his release.
"Do you want this?"
Lucerys can only keen, wordless in his rapture, hips swivelling for more, for deeper, like a fallen coin spinning on the pavement before the final tilt.
"You want this knot, baby? Want what's coming for you?" A jolting thrust, all business. "Huh?"
“Oh fuck, Aem, giveittome, I want it….”
Aemond can't deny his angel a goddamn thing, this least of all: he's lifting them both off the seat with the force of it as he cums, arching and grinding his knot in deep as it can go, chest heaving. The growl that escapes him is the rumble of the earth itself, tectonic plates shifting, rearranging themselves around the limp, sighing creature currently wilting in his lap.
Of course it's only fair the outside world should come knocking barely a minute after he's emptied himself out. Aemond is humming against Lucerys' hair in post-coital satisfaction, savouring the slow glide of his own spend dripping down his inner thigh when the sound of what he instantly recognizes as a police baton raps against the glass next to his head. A thoroughly fucked-out Lucerys barely lifts his head at the sound, but Aemond is already smiling ruefully as he rolls the window down an inch or two. The autumn air outside swiftly trickles in, a sudden exchange that both cools their sweat and surrounds the unfamiliar greenhorn in a pale cloud of steaming heat-scent, mellowed only by the light note of Lucerys' lemon-lime shampoo. Before anyone gets a first word in, Aemond is handing out his Detective's badge, fat beads of condensation rolling down the windshield like rain below his extended wrist. “Omega-related emergency, officer,” he drawls out, feeling Lucerys huff a tiny laugh against his shoulder. “Couldn't be helped.” And lord above, after a pause the young beat cop actually grins, handing Aemond's badge back to him with an amused little shake of his head. “Understood, detective. I've got one of my own at home, with a couple of twins due any day.”
Aemond can't help himself
—
he tosses his head back and laughs. He smooths a soothing hand over the ridges of the boy’s spine, relishing the rise and fall of his breathing beneath the thin cotton of his band t-shirt. The waiting was worth it.
“You're going want to keep up the good work, then,” he answers back, reaching to roll the window up again. “Twins on a beat salary? That's got to be tough.” He hears the other alpha chuckle softly as he turns away and then the window’s shut, outside world be damned. The only sounds are the soft, satisfied cadence of their mingled breath, the distant traffic moving past in a city that doesn't concern them just now.
Lucerys shifts minutely, face nuzzling into the crook of Aemond’s neck. “Can we get pancakes after this?” he mumbles directly against his slowing pulse, breath ghosting along overheated skin. Oh yeah, Lucerys is always worth the wait. Aemond smiles a secret smile, catching his own eye in the tilted rearview. “Of course we can.”