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The tortoiseshell kitten was small enough to fit in the palm of Simon’s hand, which was saying something—he didn’t exactly have delicate fingers. It sat hunched on the cracked pavement, fur patchy with dirt, one ear notched from some past scrape. It blinked up at him with round, amber eyes, and let out a sound so pitiful it might as well have been a knife to the ribs.
Simon crouched, balancing his grocery bags against his thigh. "You’re not supposed to be here," he muttered, glancing around the alley like the cat’s owner might materialize. No such luck. Just damp brick walls and the distant hum of city traffic. The kitten mewed again, pressing its forehead against his boot.
Simon exhaled sharply through his nose. He should walk away. He would walk away. He straightened, adjusted the grocery bags, and took two purposeful steps toward the mouth of the alley. A tiny, frantic skittering sound followed him. He turned and found the kitten trotting after him, stubby tail flicking, its little ribs heaving under filthy fur.
"Christ," Simon muttered. He crouched again, letting the kitten bump its head against his knuckles. Its purr was louder than its body had any right to produce. One of his grocery bags tipped, spilling oranges onto the pavement. The kitten pounced on one, tiny claws flexing into the rind. Simon watched, torn between irritation and something dangerously soft as his omega perked with interest.
Simon scooped the kitten up before it could puncture the orange entirely, tucking it against his chest with one hand while he gathered the scattered groceries with the other. The kitten squirmed, then settled, its purr vibrating against his sternum. "You're a menace," he muttered, but his fingers curled instinctively around its small body, shielding it from the chill. He hesitated, then unzipped his jacket just enough to tuck the kitten inside. It wriggled deeper, a warm, living weight against his ribs, and Simon felt something in his chest tighten—a slow building possessiveness.
The walk home was slower than usual, partly because Simon kept pausing to adjust the kitten when it shifted, partly because he was mentally rehearsing how to explain this to Johnny. Found it in an alley. Was going to leave it. It followed me. None of it sounded convincing, even to him. The kitten nipped playfully at his thumb through the fabric of his glove, and Simon scowled down at it. "You're not helping," he grumbled.
The flat door clicked shut behind Simon with a finality that made his shoulders tense. The kitten, still tucked inside his jacket, squirmed against his ribs as if sensing his unease. Simon exhaled, slow and controlled, and set the grocery bags down on the kitchen counter with deliberate quiet. The kitten wriggled free of his jacket, scrambling onto the countertop with a clumsy hop, its tail flicking as it sniffed at the bags with shameless curiosity.
Johnny’s voice drifted from the bedroom, amused and warm. "That ye, bonnie? Took ye long enough—did ye stop for a pint without me? What’s that I smell?" The sound of his footsteps followed, growing closer, and Simon braced himself, fingers twitching at his sides. Johnny rounded the corner, grinning, and then froze as scent and sight both found the source at the same moment. His gaze flicked from Simon’s face to the kitten currently batting at a loose string on the grocery bag.
Johnny’s eyebrows shot up, and for a second, Simon’s pulse kicked hard enough that he could feel it in his throat. Then Johnny’s mouth curved into a slow, delighted grin. “Well,” he said, folding his arms. “Looks like ye brought home more than groceries.”
The kitten, utterly unbothered, chose that moment to plant both paws on a loaf of bread and sink its tiny teeth into the plastic. Simon snatched it up by the scruff before it could puncture the bag, and it dangled from his grip, limbs splayed, purring like a faulty engine. Johnny snorted. “Christ, it’s half feral.”
Simon held the kitten at arm's length, watching as it twisted in his grip to try to gnaw at his thumb. "Not feral," he muttered. "Just... young." The words tasted defensive even to him. He could already see the way Johnny's eyes crinkled at the corners—that particular blend of amusement and fondness that meant Simon was being predictable.
The kitten squirmed in Simon’s grip, twisting to bat at his wrist with tiny, needle-sharp claws. Johnny stepped closer, his scent—sun warmed concrete and something unmistakably Johnny—washing over Simon in a familiar wave. Simon’s shoulders loosened instinctively, his omega responding to the proximity of his alpha even as his mind raced for excuses.
Johnny reached out, his calloused fingers brushing Simon’s as he took the kitten from him. The little creature went limp in Johnny’s hands, blinking up at him with wide, trusting eyes. Johnny chuckled, cradling it against his chest. "Young, aye," he murmured, lilt thickening as he rumbled deep in his chest and scratched behind the kitten’s notched ear. "And clever. Knew exactly who tae follow, didnae ye?" His gaze flicked to Simon, teasing and knowing. Simon scowled, but his scent betrayed him—relief bleeding through the usual mix of earth and gun oil that was Simon.
Johnny pressed his nose to Simon’s temple, inhaling deeply. "Ye were worried, darlin’," he murmured, nuzzling into Simon’s hair. Not a question—a statement. Simon grunted, leaning into the touch despite himself. Johnny’s free hand settled on the small of his back, grounding him. "Dinnae fret, love. She’s welcome here."
Simon blinked. "She?"
Johnny grinned, holding the kitten up. "Aye, look at her. Proper little lady. Got that tortoiseshell attitude already." The kitten dangled, unbothered, her stubby tail curling less than halfway around Johnny’s wrist. Simon exhaled, the tension in his chest unraveling further as the bitterness of unease (mostly) ebbed from his scent. Johnny’s acceptance was effortless, as natural as breathing—no hesitation, no questions. Just warmth.
The kitten squirmed, and Johnny set her down on the counter. She immediately pounced on a stray grocery bag, her tiny claws snagging the plastic. Johnny laughed, scooping her up again before she could topple the entire bag. "Right, ye wee menace. Let’s get ye fed." He glanced at Simon. "Assumin’ ye did think tae grab her somethin’?"
Simon scowled, rummaging through the Tesco bag shoved in with the groceries. "Course I did." He pulled out a tin of kitten food, the label garishly bright. Johnny’s grin widened, his pleased scent thickening around them, and Simon shoved the tin at him. "Don’t look so smug."
"Wouldnae dream of it," Johnny lied, already peeling the lid off. The kitten’s ears perked at the sound, her whole body vibrating with excitement. Johnny set first the kitten and then the tin down on the floor, and she practically dove into it, her little face disappearing into the mush.
Simon watched, arms crossed, his scent still thick with lingering worry had gone sharp at the edges. Johnny nudged him with his elbow. "Oi. Breathe, Simon. It’s just a wee cat."
Simon’s jaw tightened. "We’re not—we don’t have pets. We’re deployed half the time—"
"And the other half, we’re here or on base," Johnny said, voice low and steady. He squatted and wiped a smear of food from the kitten’s chin with his thumb. "She’s small. Easy tae manage. And if we’re gone, Price or Gaz’ll look after her. Ye know they will." He smirked. "They’ve got a soft spot for strays, too."
Simon’s gaze flicked to the kitten, now licking her paws with meticulous care. She looked absurdly small against the expanse of the floor, her ribs no longer heaving, her fur already fluffing up with the promise of warmth and regular meals. Something in his chest ached. "Didn’t plan this," he muttered.
Johnny huffed a laugh. "Aye, I gathered." He stepped closer, pressing his forehead to Simon’s temple. His scent deepened as he chuffed low in his chest, sunshine wrapping around Simon like a blanket. "Ye never do. But ye always end up with strays anyway." His thumb brushed Simon’s hipbone, a silent soothing gesture.
Simon exhaled sharply, but the tension in his shoulders bled out. Johnny’s hand slid up his spine, fingers pressing into the knots there until Simon’s head tipped forward, his forehead resting against Johnny’s shoulder. The kitten chirped from the floor, her tiny paws kneading the ground as she watched them. Johnny chuckled. "See? The wee lass approves."
Simon lifted his head just enough to glare without any heat. "She’s a cat. She doesn’t give a damn."
Johnny’s grin was all teeth, canines flashing. "Oh, she does. Cats ken." He tugged Simon closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. "Just like I ken you’re still wound tighter than a spring. Let me fix that, mo ghràidh."
Simon’s breath hitched. Johnny’s hands slid down to cup the back of his thighs, hoisting him up onto the counter in one smooth motion. The kitten chirruped indignantly and bolted, her tiny claws skittering across the linoleum as she was then instantly distracted by a loose grocery bag. Simon barely had time to grip Johnny’s shoulders before Johnny’s mouth was on his, hot and demanding. Simon groaned into the kiss, his body responding before his brain could catch up—muscle memory, instinct, need. Johnny’s teeth grazed his lower lip, and Simon’s hips jerked forward, his thighs clamping around Johnny’s waist.
Johnny pulled back just enough to smirk. "There ye are." His hands were already working Simon’s belt open, his touch sure and familiar. Simon’s skin burned where Johnny’s fingers brushed, his scent spiking thick and sweet. Johnny inhaled sharply, his pupils blowing wide. "Fuck, Simon—"
Simon whined, grabbing a fistful of Johnny’s shirt and yanking him closer. The countertop dug into the back of his thighs, but he didn’t care, not when Johnny was pressing him down, his weight a solid, grounding force. Johnny’s mouth found Simon’s throat, his teeth scraping over the sensitive skin where Simon’s scent gland throbbed. Simon’s head thunked back against the cabinet, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. "Johnny—"
"Aye, I’ve got ye," Johnny murmured against his skin, his hands dragging Simon’s pants down his hips. The kitten chirped from somewhere near their feet, her tiny paws batting at a discarded sock she’d found somewhere. Johnny laughed, breathless, and pressed a kiss to Simon’s collarbone.
Simon groaned, dragging Johnny back up to kiss him properly, his fingers tangling in his mate’s hair. Johnny’s hands slid under Simon’s thighs, lifting him effortlessly, and Simon wrapped his legs around his waist, clinging like he’d drown if he let go. Johnny carried him to the couch, barely breaking the kiss, his steps sure despite the way Simon was grinding against him, desperate for friction as the heady scent of slick began to permeate the air. The kitten yowled in protest as they passed, and Johnny chuckled into Simon’s mouth. "Wee blaigeard."
Simon whined desperately as he fumbled with Johnny’s belt, his fingers clumsy with urgency. Johnny’s hands covered his, steadying them, and Simon whimpered again, nipping at Johnny’s jaw. Simon’s breath hitched, his grip tightening. "Easy, omega," he murmured, his voice rough. "I’ve got ye."
Simon shuddered at the words, at the way Johnny said them—like a promise, like a claim. Johnny’s hands were everywhere, stripping first Simon bare with practiced efficiency, his touch leaving fire in its wake. Simon arched into him, his skin prickling with sweat, his scent thick enough to taste as he grew wetter and wetter with slick. Johnny’s mouth trailed down his chest, his teeth scraping over Simon’s nipple, and Simon gasped, his hips jerking up. Johnny’s chuckle was dark, satisfied. "That’s it. Let me hear ye, beautiful."
Simon’s fingers clenched in the couch cushions, his thighs trembling. Johnny’s tongue traced the line of his hipbone, and Simon’s breath stuttered, slick beginning to flow steadily enough to wet the cushion beneath him, pre beading and trailing down his length. The kitten chirped from somewhere near the coffee table, her tiny paws batting at Johnny’s discarded shirt. Johnny lifted his head, grinning. "Dinnae fash, love. She’ll learn tae share."
Simon groaned, throwing an arm over his face. "Christ, Johnny—"
Johnny’s mouth closed over the head of Simon’s cock, tongue twirling around his slit and tasting everything Simon—earth, gun oil, salt, and sweat. The alpha thrummed deep in his chest as he swallowed Simon down and Simon’s back bowed off the couch, his toes curling. Johnny hummed, pleased, and Simon’s thighs shook, his hips stuttering upward. Johnny’s hands pinned him down, his grip firm, his scent wrapping around Simon like a vice. Simon’s head thrashed against the cushions, brows knitting and his breath coming in ragged pants. "Fuck—Johnny—*please*—“
Johnny pulled off with a wet sound, his lips slick and swollen. "Tell me what ye need, darlin’,” he murmured, his thumb stroking Simon’s hip.
Simon’s chest heaved. "You," he rasped. "Now."
Johnny’s grin was all teeth. "Demandin’." But he was already reaching for the lube shoved into the couch cushions, slicking his fingers with practiced ease. Simon’s legs fell open, his body arching toward Johnny’s touch, his omega preening under the attention. Johnny’s pressed a finger inside aided by Simon’s own slick and the lube, slow and deliberate as he eased past the ring of muscle, and Simon hissed, his nails digging into Johnny’s shoulders. Johnny kissed the sound from his mouth, his tongue hot and insistent as he pressed a second one inward almost immediately.
Simon groaned, arching into Johnny’s fingers, his hips rolling. Johnny’s free hand cupped Simon’s cheek, his thumb brushing over Simon’s bottom lip. "Look at ye," he murmured, his voice rough. "Pretty omega."
Simon’s skin burned, the scent of his desire thick and sweet around them. Johnny inhaled sharply, his pupils dilating, his grip tightening. "Fuck, Simon—" He withdrew his fingers, pressing Simon’s thighs wider before shucking his jeans and briefs down over his hips. Simon’s breath hitched, his body bracing as Johnny’s cock slid home in one smooth thrust—assisted by Simon’s slick and a roll of his hips—and Simon cried out, his fingers scrabbling at Johnny’s back.
Johnny groaned, his forehead dropping to Simon’s shoulder, his breath hot against Simon’s skin. "Christ, you’re perfect," he muttered, his hips rolling slow and deep. “Gonna breed ye… get ye fat with my pups, aye?” Simon’s legs locked around Johnny’s waist, his heels digging into the small of Johnny’s back. Johnny’s teeth scraped over Simon’s mating mark, and Simon shuddered, his scent flaring as he eased the sting with a sweep of his tongue.
Simon whimpered, arching up into Johnny’s next thrust, his nails biting into Johnny’s shoulders. Johnny groaned, his hips snapping forward, driving Simon deeper into the couch. Simon’s head fell back against the cushions, his breath coming in ragged pants. Johnny’s hand slid between them, wrapping around Simon’s cock, and Simon’s back bowed off the couch, his toes curling. "Johnny—"
"Aye, darlin’," Johnny murmured, his thumb swiping over the head and smearing around the precome at his slit. "Let go. I’ve got ye." His knot had begun to swell, pressing at the tight ring of muscle with every roll of his hips. “Gonna knot ye, gorgeous… that what ye want?”
Simon came with a choked cry, his body clenching around Johnny, slick pressing out with each thrust and leaking down the cleft of his ass as Johnny continued to grind his cock and knot into and against him. Johnny growled, his hips stuttering as he pressed forward with one final snap, knot pressing past and swelling further as he locked into place. His fingers dug just shy of painfully into Simon’s hips as he followed him over the edge and the omega knew he’d bear the bruises of their grip. Simon’s legs trembled around the alpha’s waist, his breath hot against Johnny’s neck.
Johnny pressed a kiss to Simon’s gland before wetly laving his tongue across it. He sucked and nipped, Simon clutching and keening beneath him.
Simon groaned, his limbs heavy, his body boneless against the couch. Johnny shifted, knot tugging against the omega’s deliciously abused hole as he pulled Simon into his arms and rolled back so the larger man was pillowed atop him. Simon nuzzled into Johnny’s neck, breath hot and heavy against his mate’s own gland, his scent warm and content as the alpha chuffed beneath him. Johnny’s fingers traced idle patterns down Simon’s spine, his breath slow and even against Simon’s hair.
The kitten chirped again, louder this time, her tiny paws tapping against the floor. Johnny sighed, turning his head. "Aye, aye, we hear ye." He shifted, pulling Simon closer, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Give us a mo’, ye impatient beastie." It’s several minutes before his knot has shrunk enough to pull free, a stream of cum and slick following the release.
Simon grunted, his fingers tightening around Johnny’s wrist and the Scot chuckled, pressing another kiss to his temple. "Dinnae fash, love. Wee beastie likely needs the loo… Ah’ll be right back." He disentangled himself, stretching as he stood, his muscles flexing under the dim light of the flat as he located and tugged on his briefs. The kitten chirped, her stubby tail flicking as she watched him.
"You’re a noisy wee thing," he murmured, dropping a hand and scratching behind her ear before scooping her up. The kitten purred, her tiny paws kneading his wrist.
Simon watched from the couch, his body still loose with pleasure, his omega preening at the sight of his alpha caring for their unexpected addition. Johnny rummaged through the bag, locating the small pan and pellets Simon had grabbed. The kitten chirped, weaving around his bare ankles as Johnny set her to the floor and prepped the pan.
Simon exhaled, his scent softening—warm and content. Johnny glanced at him as he set the filled pan onto the floor, the kitten digging messily around the pellets, scattering them across the kitchen floor, his grin softening. "Better?"
Simon nodded, his fingers tracing idle patterns on the couch cushions. Johnny crossed the room, sinking onto the couch beside him. Simon leaned into him instinctively, his head resting against Johnny’s shoulder. Johnny’s arm wrapped around him, his fingers tracing circles on Simon’s bare hip.
The kitten chirped from the kitchen, her tiny paws batting at the scattered pellets as she smacked and chased them across the kitchen floor. Johnny laughed. "Christ, she *is* relentless."
Simon hummed, his eyelids heavy. "Told you.."
Johnny pressed a kiss to Simon’s temple. "Aye, persistent, just like her da."
Simon scoffed, but his scent gave him away—the sharp edges of worry wholly smoothed out. Johnny’s arm tightened around him, his fingers tracing the curve of Simon’s hip. The kitten trotted into the living room, her stubbed tail flicking, and leapt onto the couch with surprising grace. She padded across Simon’s bare thighs, her claws pricking his skin, and settled in the dip between his legs and Johnny’s lap. Johnny chuckled. "Makin’ herself at home."
Simon eyed her. "Bold."
Johnny scratched behind her ear, earning a loud purr. "Got good taste." His fingers drifted to Simon’s thigh, squeezing lightly. Simon’s breath hitched, his omega responding instinctively to his alpha’s touch—his skin still oversensitive, his scent glands tingling. Johnny’s grin turned wicked. "Easy, darlin’. Give yourself a minute."
Simon huffed softly, but the effect was ruined by the way his body leaned into Johnny’s, his instincts still thrumming with the need to stay close. The kitten kneaded Simon’s thigh, her tiny claws flexing, and Simon sighed as he already foresaw an issue. "She’s going to ruin my pants."
Johnny shrugged. "Ye’ll buy new ones."
Simon glared, but Johnny just laughed, pressing a kiss to Simon’s temple. His scent wrapped around Simon, warm and familiar, and Simon’s omega preened, his shoulders loosening. Johnny’s fingers traced idle patterns across Simon’s hip, his touch feather-light, and Simon’s breath slowed, his eyelids growing heavy.
The kitten stretched, her tiny paws pressing into Simon’s stomach, and yawned. Johnny chuckled. "Tired herself out." He scooped her up, cradling her against his chest. She blinked up at him, her amber eyes half-lidded, and Johnny grinned. "Christ, she’s cute."
Simon watched them, something in his chest tightening. Johnny looked absurdly soft holding the kitten, his big hands gentle, his expression fond. Simon’s omega purred at the sight—his alpha, strong and capable, caring for something small and defenseless. Johnny glanced at him, his grin softening. "What?"
Simon shook his head, but his scent gave him away as it went thick and warm, permeating the air around them. Johnny’s eyebrows shot up, his grin widening. "Oh?" He leaned in, nuzzling Simon’s temple. "Like this, do ye?"
Simon grunted, but he didn’t pull away, his omega preening under Johnny’s attention. Johnny chuckled, pressing a kiss to Simon’s jaw. "Sweet omega." His hand slid up Simon’s back, fingers tracing his spine, and Simon shivered, his skin prickling. The kitten chirped, squirming in Johnny’s grip, and Johnny sighed. "A’right, a’right. Nap time."
——————
Simon’s bare feet scuffed against the hardwood as Johnny herded him toward the bedroom, his alpha’s broad palm warm against the small of his back. The kitten trilled softly from where she pressed against the alpha’s chest, supported in one palm, chirping tiredly.
“Nest, omega,” Johnny murmured, his breath hot against Simon’s mating mark. Simon shivered as he stumbled forward, still loose-limbed and pliant from the couch. The sheets were cool against his skin when he collapsed onto the mattress, his muscles sighing in relief. Johnny’s briefs brushed his thigh as the alpha climbed in behind him, his chest a furnace against Simon’s spine.
The kitten launched herself from Johnny’s hold onto the bed, her tiny claws pricking the duvet as she marched up the length of Simon’s body. Johnny chuckled, his breath stirring the hair at Simon’s nape as he settled in next to him. “Wee tyrant,” he muttered, but didn’t protest when she settled atop Simon, her nose pressed to his collarbone.
Simon’s fingers found her fur automatically, his omega trilling at the contact. Her purr was a rusty engine starting up, vibrating against his skin like a second heartbeat. Johnny’s arm curled around them both, his palm splayed possessively over Simon’s hip. “Christ, you’re both clingy,” Johnny teased, but his scent gave him away—alpha satisfaction thick as syrup.
The kitten stretched, her tiny paws kneading Simon’s sternum like dough. He exhaled through his nose, his eyelids already heavy. Johnny’s thumb traced idle circles over his hipbone, the touch just shy of ticklish. “Sleep, mo ghràidh,” Johnny murmured, his lips brushing Simon’s shoulder.
Simon drifted in that hazy space between wakefulness and sleep, his body heavy with satisfaction, his limbs tangled with Johnny’s in their nest. The kitten—small and warm—curled on his chest, her tiny paws kneading as she settled. Her purr was a quiet rumble against his sternum, syncopated with the steady thump of his heartbeat. Simon exhaled, his fingers twitching against Johnny’s side where they rested, his omega preening at the proximity of his alpha, the safety of their shared space.
And then—without thinking, without meaning to—Simon purred.
The sound surprised even him, a deep, resonant vibration that started low in his chest and rolled up his throat, unbidden. It wasn’t the soft, controlled hum of contentment he sometimes allowed himself in private moments with Johnny. This was loud, unabashed, his omega trilling with delight, his scent glands pulsing his content thickly into the air. The kitten’s ears perked up, her amber eyes blinking open to peer at him curiously before she stretched and settled again, her own purr doubling in volume as if in answer.
Johnny went utterly still beside him.
Simon tensed, the purr stuttering in his throat. He hadn’t—Christ, he hadn’t meant to do that. Purring was for omegas who didn’t have half their face scarred, for omegas who didn’t carry knives in their boots and blood under their nails. Purring was for soft things, and Simon Riley was anything but. He braced for Johnny’s laughter, for the teasing lilt of “Aww, omega” that would make his skin crawl.
It never came.
Instead, Johnny’s breath hitched—a sharp, audible intake of air—and then his fingers were brushing Simon’s wrist, feather-light, like he was afraid any sudden movement might startle him into stopping. Simon turned his head just enough to see Johnny’s face: his pupils blown wide, his lips slightly parted, his expression caught somewhere between awe and hunger. “Simon,” he breathed, his voice rough, like he’d been punched in the gut.
The purr stuttered again, Simon’s pulse kicking hard behind his ribs. He should stop. He *would* stop. But then Johnny’s thumb traced the inside of his wrist, pressing gently over his secondary scent gland, and the purr surged back louder, his omega preening under the attention. Johnny made a sound low in his throat, something between a groan and a growl, and pressed his forehead to Simon’s shoulder, his breath hot against Simon’s skin. “Fuck,” he muttered, his fingers tightening around Simon’s wrist. “Fuck.”
The kitten chirped, her tail flicking against Simon’s collarbone, and Johnny laughed—a shaky, breathless thing. He lifted his head, his grin lopsided, his eyes bright. “Dinnae stop on my account,” he murmured, his thumb still stroking Simon’s wrist. “Sounds fuckin’ gorgeous.”
Simon scowled, but his omega purred harder, his scent glands pulsing honey-sweet. Johnny’s grin widened, his free hand drifting up to brush Simon’s cheek, his fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Christ, omega,” he murmured, his voice thick. “Dinnae know ye could do that.”
Simon grumbled a growl—or tried to. It came out half purr, the vibration rattling his teeth, and Johnny’s laugh was warm against his throat. “Aye, scary,” he teased, pressing a kiss to Simon’s temple. The kitten stretched, her tiny claws pricking Simon’s chest, and Johnny scratched behind her ear, earning a loud purr of her own. “Look at that,” he murmured, his grin softening. “Two of ye.”
Simon huffed, but his fingers curled instinctively around the kitten’s small body, shielding her from the chill. Johnny watched them, his expression unreadable for a long moment before he exhaled sharply and pressed his nose to Simon’s hair, inhaling deeply. “Fuck,” he muttered again, his arms tightening around Simon. “Love ye.”
Simon’s breath hitched. Johnny didn’t say it often—not like this, raw and unguarded, his voice rough with emotion. Simon turned his head just enough to press his forehead to Johnny’s, his purr stuttering again. Johnny’s thumb brushed his cheekbone, his touch unbearably gentle. “Easy, omega,” he murmured. “Just rest.”
Simon exhaled, his body sinking deeper into the nest, his limbs heavy with warmth. The kitten kneaded his chest, her purr syncing with his, and Johnny’s fingers traced idle patterns down his side and chest, his touch feather-light. Simon’s eyelids fluttered, his purr softening to a quiet rumble, his omega content in the circle of his alpha’s arms.
Johnny pressed a kiss to his temple, his breath warm against Simon’s skin. “Sleep, love,” he murmured. “I’ve got ye.”
Simon’s last conscious thought was of Johnny’s hand cupping the back of the kitten’s tiny head, his thumb stroking between her ears, his scent wrapping around them both like a promise.
---
Johnny set the carrier down first, then the bags, methodically unpacking their contents with the precision of a man who’d spent years assembling gear in the dark: a collapsible playpen, a plush bed shaped like a doughnut, a mountain of toys (Price would never let him live it down if he saw the feather wand), and an obnoxiously expensive scratching post that had taken up half the aisle. The vet’s card was tucked into his pocket, along with a scribbled list of vaccinations and a stern warning about "kitten-proofing" their flat. Johnny snorted. As if Simon hadn’t already mentally catalogued every potential hazard within ten minutes of bringing her home.
He stepped into the doorway of their bedroom and paused, glancing at the nest. Simon’s face was half-buried in the pillows, his scars softened by sleep, his breathing slow and even. The kitten sprawled atop his chest, one paw outstretched as if claiming him. Johnny’s chest ached. Christ, he was gone for them both.
A floorboard creaked as he stepped closer, and Simon’s nostrils flared—alpha scent, cedar and sunshine, close and familiar. His brow furrowed, but he didn’t wake. The kitten, however, lifted her head with a sleepy chirp, her amber eyes blinking owlishly at Johnny. He grinned, crouching to scratch under her chin. "Mornin’, wee beastie," he murmured. Her purr kicked up instantly, vibrating through Simon’s sternum. Simon exhaled sharply, his fingers twitching against the sheets.
Johnny’s grin widened. "Aye, you’re loud," he told the kitten, tapping her tiny pink nose. She batted at his finger, her claws catching his callouses. Johnny chuckled, scooping her up with one hand. Simon’s brow furrowed deeper, his omega instinctively protesting the loss of warmth. Johnny pressed a kiss to his temple. "Easy, love. Just stealin’ her for a minute." Simon grunted, rolling onto his side, his scent thick in the morning light.
The kitten squirmed in Johnny’s grip, twisting to bat at his wrist. "Feisty," he murmured, carrying her to the kitchen. She chirped, her ears perking at the crinkle of the food bag. Johnny set her down on the counter—far enough from the edge that she couldn’t topple—and pulled the bag open. Her tail fluffed up, her tiny paws kneading the air. "Hungry, aye?" Johnny smirked, pouring some of the soft kibble into her new bowl and setting both it and the squirmy kitten on the floor. She dove in, chewing sounds mixing with her endless purr.
Simon’s footsteps were silent, but Johnny felt him before he heard him—the shift in the air, the warmth at his back. Simon’s arms slid around Johnny’s waist, his chin hooking over Johnny’s shoulder. "Bastard," Simon muttered, his voice rough with sleep. "Left without waking me."
Johnny leaned back into him, his hands still busy with the kitten’s kibble bag. "Ye were purring," he said, like it was answer enough. Simon stiffened, his scent spiking sharp with embarrassment. Johnny smirked, turning his head to nuzzle Simon’s temple. "Dinnae ever stop, bonnie. Sounded fuckin’ perfect."
Simon growled, but his omega preened, his arms tightening around Johnny’s waist. The kitten lifted her head, her tiny muzzle covered in kibble bits, and chirped at Simon. Johnny chuckled. "See? She agrees."
Simon scowled, but he leaned enough so his fingers brushed the kitten’s head, scritching behind her ears. Her purr kicked up instantly, vibrating through the omega’s fingertips. Simon exhaled, his breath warm against Johnny’s neck. "You bought out the pet store," he observed, nodding at the pile of supplies still half-unpacked on the counter.
Johnny shrugged. "Wee beastie needs things." He didn’t mention the way his chest had clenched in the store, staring at the rows of toys and beds, the sudden, gut-deep certainty that he’d buy every damn thing if it meant Simon would keep purring like that.
Simon’s fingers traced Johnny’s hip, his touch feather-light. "Vet?" he asked, voice low.
"Three o’clock," Johnny said. "She’s got a clean bill from the look of her, but best to be sure." He wiped the kitten’s face with his thumb, earning an indignant squeak. Simon’s chuckle was a warm puff against his skin.
The kitten stretched, her tiny claws pricking Johnny’s palm, and Simon’s arms tightened fractionally around him. Johnny turned in his grip, pressing Simon back against the counter in a repeat of that morning. Simon’s breath hitched, his pupils dilating—omega instincts flaring at the sudden proximity of his alpha. Johnny grinned, slow and knowing, and brushed his thumb over Simon’s bottom lip. "Missed me, omega?"
Simon growled, but his hips rolled forward instinctively, seeking contact. The kitten chirped from the floor, batting at a loose piece of kibble before looking up at the pair of them. Johnny laughed, pressing a kiss to Simon’s temple. "Dinnae worry, wee beastie. Your da’s just needy."
Simon’s scowl was ruined by the way his scent spiked with happiness and content. Johnny inhaled deeply, his grin widening. "Christ, Si," he murmured, nuzzling Simon’s scent gland. "You’re fuckin’ delicious."
Simon’s fingers tangled in Johnny’s hair, tugging sharply. "Shut up," he muttered, but his omega preened under the attention, his body arching into Johnny’s touch. The kitten chirped again, louder this time, her tiny paws tapping against the floor. Johnny sighed, pressing a final kiss to Simon’s jaw before stepping back.
"Right," he said, scooping the kitten up with one hand. "Let’s get ye sorted." He carried her to the living room, Simon trailing after him like a shadow. The kitten squirmed in his grip, her tail flicking as she took in the new surroundings—the plush bed, the feather wand, the scratching post that took up half the corner. She chirped, her ears perking up, and Johnny chuckled. "Aye, that’s yours," he told her, setting her down gently.
The kitten hesitated for all of three seconds before pouncing on the nearest toy—a crinkly mouse that skittered across the floor when she batted it. Simon huffed a laugh, leaning back into Johnny’s chest. "You’re spoiling her," he said, but his voice was warm.
Johnny nipped Simon’s mating mark in retaliation, grinning when his omega shuddered against him. “Aye, well... wee beastie deserves a bit of spoilin’.” Simon’s scoff was undercut by the way his fingers twitched toward the feather wand, his omega instincts piqued despite his grumbling as he picked it up.
Johnny seized the advantage. He palmed Simon’s hip, steering him backward toward the couch while toeing off his boots. Simon went willingly, his chest curving into Johnny’s chest like they were magnetized. “Gonna spoil her rotten as she should be,” Johnny murmured against Simon’s temple, his free hand already tearing open the feather wand packaging. The kitten’s pupils dilated to saucers, her chirp piercing the air like a tactical alert as she watched from nearby.
Simon’s protest died when Johnny swiped the wand past his leg—not for the kitten, but to trace the inseam of Simon’s knee. The omega’s breath hitched, his hips jerking forward on instinct. Johnny chuckled darkly, exploiting the distraction to further herd Simon backward. “Thought we were playin’ with the cat,” Simon growled, but the effect was ruined by how his scent glands pulsed, sweetening the air between them.
The kitten launched herself across the floor, skittering at the dangling feathers with a noise like a broken squeaky toy, her tiny body a blur of tortoiseshell fur. Johnny let her snag the toy, his other hand busy gripping at the back of Simon’s briefs. “Multitaskin’, omega,” Johnny breathed against Simon’s nape, grinning when Simon’s knees hit the couch cushions. The kitten’s victorious chirp echoed as she dragged her prize into the doughnut bed, her tail flicking like a metronome set to smug.
Simon's breath hitched as Johnny's fingers tightened around his hips, the alpha's grip bordering on painful—just how he liked it. Johnny's teeth grazed Simon's mating mark, and Simon arched into the touch, his omega preening under the attention even as his body trembled with anticipation.
Simon barely resisted as Johnny manhandled him onto his back, his omega purr kicking up when Johnny’s teeth scraped his gland. The kitten chirped from her nest, her tiny paws kneading the feather wand like a traitorous little mercenary. Johnny nipped Simon’s earlobe. “She’s learnin’ from ye,” he murmured, palming Simon’s cock through his briefs, already dripping. Simon arched into the touch, his hips stuttering when the kitten’s purr synced with Johnny’s husky chuckle.
Johnny made quick work of Simon’s briefs, the fabric joining his own quickly discarded clothes in a haphazard pile. The kitten, having thoroughly disemboweled the feather wand, turned her attention to Johnny’s abandoned sweatpants—battling the waistband string. Simon’s breath stuttered when Johnny’s fingers found his rim, slick and ready for him already. “Christ, Simon,” Johnny groaned, curling two fingers inside him. “Still so greedy for me.”
The kitten chirped her agreement, pouncing on Johnny’s discarded sock with lethal precision. Simon choked on a moan, his hips canting into Johnny’s touch. “Fuckin’ hell—both of ye,” he managed, though the effect was ruined by how his omega trilled at Johnny’s possessive grip on his thigh. Johnny didn’t bother hiding his smirk as he lined up. “Team effort, aye?”
Johnny didn’t bother with finesse—not when Simon’s thighs were already trembling, his omega scent spiking thick with want. He pulled his fingers free after another moment, lined himself up and drove into him with a single, punishing thrust, grinning against Simon’s shoulder when the omega’s back arched off the couch, a broken noise tearing from his throat. Johnny hooked Simon’s knee over his elbow, angling deeper, and Simon’s growl dissolved into a whimper, the stretch drawing his omega instincts to the surface.
“Quiet, omega,” Johnny murmured, though his own breath was ragged. “Don’t wanna scare the wee beastie.” Simon’s teeth sank into his own wrist, muffling a moan as Johnny’s hips snapped forward again. The kitten chirped once, head tilted, before dismissing them as irrelevant to her mission—namely, burrowing into the plush depths of her doughnut bed with a satisfied wiggle.
Johnny’s palm slid up Simon’s chest, calluses catching on his nipple, and Simon’s hips jerked. “Fuck— Johnny—” The alpha swallowed the rest of his protest with a kiss, licking into his mouth as his thrusts turned shallow and relentless. Simon’s fingers scrabbled at Johnny’s shoulders, blunt nails digging in, but Johnny didn’t relent. He could feel Simon’s thighs tightening around him, racing toward the building peak.
Simon’s moan, caught against a Johnny’s mouth, was undercut by the way his hips rolled up, desperate. Johnny rewarded him with a sharp grind, his knot catching at Simon’s rim, and Simon’s breath punched out in a silent cry.
"John—Johnny—" Simon's voice cracked as Johnny snapped his hips forward, the angle and pace punishing and perfect. Simon's fingers grabbed near frantically at the couch cushions, his thighs shaking where they bracketed Johnny's waist. Johnny's growl vibrated against his throat, his scent gone sharp with alpha intent—thick enough to taste. Simon came unexpectedly with a choked gasp, his body clenching around Johnny's cock, his vision whiting out at the edges as he spilled across his stomach.
Johnny didn't stop.
Simon whimpered, oversensitive and raw, as Johnny pinned him deeper into the couch, his thrusts never slowing. "Alpha—" Simon's protest was half-hearted at best, his omega keening at the stretch, at the way Johnny's knot was continuing to swell. Johnny's hand slid between them, wrapping around Simon's spent cock, and Simon's back bowed off the couch, a broken noise tearing from his throat. "Too much—"
Johnny's laugh was dark, satisfied. "Aye, bonnie?" His thumb swiped over Simon's slit, smearing the mess between them. "Tell me tae stop."
Simon couldn't. Wouldn't. His fingers dug into Johnny's shoulders, his legs trembling where they were now both clutched in Johnny’s arms, elbows at the knees and body bent sharply in a mating press. Johnny's scent was thick in the air—alpha musk and possession—and Simon's omega purred despite the overstimulation, preening under the attention. Johnny's teeth scraped over Simon's mating mark, and Simon shuddered, his cock twitching weakly in Johnny's grip. "Christ—"
Johnny groaned, his hips stuttering. "Fuck, Simon—" His knot caught at the rim and pressed inward, swelling fully, and Simon gasped, his body clamping down instinctively. Johnny came with a ragged groan, his forehead dropping to Simon's shoulder, his breath hot against Simon's skin. Simon's omega trilled, satisfied, his fingers tracing idle patterns on Johnny's scratched and sweat-slick back.
They stayed like that for long moments, breathing ragged, sweat cooling on their skin before Johnny gently eased his hold on Simon’s knees, allowing them to fall limply at his sides. The kitten chirped sleepily from her bed, her tail flicking, and Johnny chuckled breathlessly. "Nosy wee thing," he murmured, pressing a kiss to Simon's temple. Simon grunted, his body still thrumming with aftershocks, his omega content in the circle of Johnny's arms.
Johnny shifted carefully, his knot still locking them together, and Simon hissed at the tug. Johnny's fingers traced Simon's hipbone, feather-light. "A’right, love?"
Simon shivered, but his scent gave away the content bliss he was floating in. Johnny grinned, nuzzling Simon's scent gland. "That's it," he murmured, his voice rough. "Perfect omega."
The kitten's purrs had long since faded into the soft rhythm of sleep, her tiny body curled into a tight ball in the plush bed. Johnny watched her for a moment—ears twitching, tail tucked neatly over her nose—before turning his attention back to Simon. His omega was sprawled bonelessly across the couch beneath him, sweat glistening on his chest, his scent surrounding them in the aftermath. Johnny's knot had barely softened when Simon's fingers flexed against his back, a silent demand.
Johnny grinned. "Greedy omega," he murmured, pressing a kiss to Simon's damp temple. Simon growled—or tried to—but the sound dissolved into a gasp as Johnny shifted, his knot finally sliding free with a slick sound. Simon trembled, his skin oversensitive and flushed. Johnny traced the curve of Simon's hipbone with his thumb, watching the way Simon's breath hitched at the touch. "Still with me, love?"
Simon's response was a low, wordless noise—part protest, part plea—his omega thrumming beneath his skin. Johnny chuckled, curling his hands under Simon's thighs and hauling him upright in one smooth motion. Simon's arms wound around Johnny's neck on instinct, his face pressing into the crook of Johnny's shoulder as he was carried toward their nest. The kitten didn't stir, her tiny paws twitching in some feline dream.
Johnny deposited Simon onto the rumpled blankets, his omega immediately curling into the scent-soaked fabric with a quiet sigh. Johnny paused, dragging his gaze over Simon's body—the bite marks littering his collarbones, the way his thighs were still parted, slick gleaming between them. Simon scowled up at him, his scent spiking with impatience. "The fuck are you waiting for?" he rasped, voice wrecked.
Johnny's grin was all teeth. "Just admirin’ the view, darlin’." He knelt between Simon's thighs, hands sliding up Simon's hips, thumbs brushing the delicate skin there. Simon shuddered, his toes curling against the blankets. Johnny leaned down, pressing a kiss to the inside of Simon's knee. "Pretty thing," he murmured, lips trailing higher. Simon's breath stuttered, his fingers tangling in Johnny's hair.
Johnny's tongue dragged up Simon's thigh with deliberate slowness, his teeth grazing and sinking into the sensitive skin just below his hipbone. Simon hissed, his fingers tightening in Johnny's hair—half warning, half plea. Johnny grinned against his flesh, his breath hot against Simon's oversensitive cock. "Fuckin' greedy," he murmured, nuzzling the crease of Simon's thigh. Simon growled—or tried to—but the sound dissolved into a ragged moan as Johnny's tongue flicked over the head of his cock, teasing the slit where he was still leaking.
Simon's hips jerked, his thighs trembling where they bracketed Johnny's head. Johnny hummed, his lips wrapping around Simon's cock in one smooth motion, his tongue pressing flat against the underside. Simon's back arched off the nest, a broken noise tearing from his throat as Johnny swallowed him down, his nose pressing into Simon's pelvis. Johnny's fingers dug into Simon's hips, holding him still as he worked him over with ruthless precision—sucking hard on the upstroke, tongue swirling around the head, his throat fluttering around Simon's cock on every downstroke.
Simon's breath came in ragged pants, his fingers scrabbling at the blankets. Johnny pulled off with a filthy sound, his grin wicked as he pressed a kiss to Simon's inner thigh. "Christ, Simon," he murmured, his breath hot against Simon's skin. "Taste fuckin’ divine." Simon groaned, his cock twitching against his stomach, already hard again despite the overstimulation.
Johnny's fingers traced Simon's rim, slick with his own spend, and Simon shuddered, his omega keening at the touch. Johnny's thumb pressed in, circling slowly, and Simon's breath hitched, his hips rolling instinctively. Johnny chuckled, pressing a kiss to Simon's hipbone. "Easy, love," he murmured, his thumb pushing in just enough to tease. "Just cleanin’ ye up."
Simon growled, his fingers reaching for and tightening in Johnny's hair. "Bastard," he muttered, his voice rough. Johnny laughed, his breath hot against Simon's skin, and then his mouth was on Simon again—tongue laving over his rim, teasing the sensitive flesh. Simon gasped, his back bowing off the nest, his toes curling against the blankets. Johnny's tongue pressed in, slow and deliberate, and Simon whimpered, his fingers twisting in Johnny's hair.
Johnny groaned against Simon's skin, his tongue working him open with ruthless precision—flicking against Simon's rim, pressing in deep, curling just so. Simon's breath came in ragged pants, his hips rocking against Johnny's mouth, chasing the sensation. Johnny's hands gripped Simon's thighs, holding him still as he feasted on him, his tongue dragging over Simon's rim in long, slow strokes.
Simon whimpered, his omega preening under the attention, his scent thick in the air. Johnny's fingers traced Simon's rim again, pressing in just enough to tease, and Simon groaned, his cock twitching against his stomach. Johnny chuckled, pressing a kiss to Simon's thigh. "So greedy," he murmured, his breath hot against Simon's skin. Simon scowled, but his hips rocked forward, seeking more.
Johnny pressed two fingers in deeply, curling just so, and Simon gasped, his back arching off the nest. Johnny grinned against Simon's skin, his tongue dragging over Simon's rim again, his fingers working him with practiced ease. Simon's breath came in ragged pants, his fingers twisting in Johnny's hair, his omega keening at the sensation.
Johnny's fingers curled again, pressing against Simon's prostate, and Simon cried out, his back bowing off the nest, his cock twitching against his stomach. Johnny groaned, his fingers pressing deeper, his tongue laving over Simon's rim as he feasted on their combined tastes. Simon whimpered, his hips rocking against Johnny's mouth, his omega purring despite the overstimulation.
Johnny pulled back just enough to press a kiss to Simon's inner thigh, his fingers still working Simon over. "Christ, omega," he murmured, his voice rough. "Taste so fuckin’ good… could make a meal of ye." Simon groaned, his fingers tightening again in Johnny's hair, his omega preening under the praise. Johnny's fingers pressed deeper, curling against that spot again, and Simon gasped, his back arching off the nest.
Simon's thighs trembled as Johnny's fingers curled inside him, pressing relentlessly against his prostate. The overstimulation was a live wire under his skin, his cock twitching pathetically against his stomach, still slick with spend. "Fuck—Johnny—" Simon's voice cracked, his fingers twisting in Johnny's hair. "Too much—"
Johnny grinned against Simon's thigh, his fingers twisting just so. "Aye, omega?" His voice was rough with amusement, his breath hot against Simon's oversensitive skin. "Tell me tae stop." He demanded once more.
Simon growled—or tried to—but the sound dissolved into a ragged moan as Johnny's fingers pressed deeper, rubbing against his prostate with ruthless precision just as his teeth sank into the meat of his inner thigh. Simon's back arched off the nest, his omega keening at the sensation, slick pooling and squelching around the probing fingers. Johnny chuckled, his fingers never slowing. "Dinnae sound like a 'no,' love."
Simon's breath hitched, his hips rocking forward instinctively, chasing the pressure. Johnny's fingers curled again, and Simon whimpered, his cock twitching and weeping against his stomach. "Bastard," he muttered, his voice wrecked.
Johnny laughed, pressing a kiss to Simon's inner thigh. "I can stop, if ye prefer," he murmured, his fingers dragging against Simon's prostate again. Simon’s growl choked as he instead gasped, his toes curling against the blankets. Johnny's grin was wicked as he leaned in, his breath hot against Simon's thigh. "Can ye come again, love?"
Simon shuddered, his fingers twisting sharply in Johnny's hair. "Fuck—"
Johnny's fingers twisted inside him, pressing just *so*, and Simon's back bowed off the nest, a broken noise tearing from his throat. Johnny hummed, his thumb brushing Simon's rim. "That a yes?"
Simon's hips jerked forward, his omega preening under the attention. "Yes—fuck—Johnny—"
Johnny pushed up Simon’s body and kissed him, swallowing Simon's moan as he withdrew his fingers and lined himself up. Simon gasped at the loss, his omega whining, but Johnny didn't make him wait—he pressed in with one smooth thrust, his cock dragging against Simon's prostate on the way in. Simon cried out, his fingers scrabbling at Johnny's back, his legs locking around Johnny's waist. Johnny groaned, his hips snapping forward, burying himself to the hilt. "Christ, omega—fuck—"
Simon's breath came in ragged pants, his omega purring at the stretch, at the way Johnny's cock pressed against his prostate with every thrust. Johnny's grip on Simon's hips was bruising, his thrusts relentless, his knot already beginning to swell. Simon gasped, his back arching off the nest, his cock twitching against his stomach. "Johnny—please—"
Johnny's teeth scraped Simon's mating mark—a slow, deliberate drag that sent sparks down Simon's spine—just as his cock speared deep inside him, pressing against Simon's prostate with brutal precision. Simon's vision whited out, his back arching up into the alpha, his fingers scrambling for purchase against Johnny's shoulders. "Fuck—Johnny—" The plea tore from his throat raw and broken, his omega keening at the dual assault of teeth and cock.
Johnny growled against Simon's skin, his hips snapping forward, his knot catching on Simon's rim. "Aye, omega?" His voice was rough with alpha intent, his breath hot against Simon's scent gland. "Gonna come for me again?" He punctuated the question with a sharp thrust, his teeth pressing into Simon's gland just shy of breaking skin. Simon sobbed, his thighs trembling where they locked around Johnny's waist, his cock twitching pathetically against his stomach.
Simon's entire body was alight—oversensitive, wrung out, desperate—but his omega purred beneath his skin, preening under Johnny's dominance. "Alpha—" Simon's voice cracked, his fingers digging into Johnny's back. "Please—need it—" The words spilled out unbidden, his omega overriding his usual restraint, his scent glands pulsing his desperation between them.
Johnny's answering snarl vibrated through Simon's chest as he sank his teeth into Simon's gland hard, his hips driving forward in one final, punishing thrust. His knot swelled fully, locking them together, and Simon came with a shattered cry, his body clamping down around Johnny's cock in rhythmic pulses. Johnny groaned against Simon's throat, his hips stuttering as he spilled inside him, his teeth still buried in Simon's gland.
Simon floated in the aftermath, his limbs liquid, his omega trilling with satisfaction as Johnny lapped at his gland, his tongue soothing the fresh bite. Johnny's knot kept them locked together, his cock twitching inside Simon as he nuzzled his jaw. "Christ, Simon," he murmured, his voice wrecked. "Look at ye." His thumb brushed Simon's cheekbone, smearing the tear tracks there. Simon huffed weakly, but his omega purred louder, pressing into Johnny's touch.
Johnny’s knot had barely softened when he finally pulled away, the drag of his cock drawing a hiss from Simon’s throat. Before Simon could protest the loss, Johnny’s thumb was pressing back against his rim, coaxing the mess of his spend deeper into Simon’s hole with a possessiveness that made Simon’s omega purr wantonly. Johnny’s subharmonics rumbled through the nest, a satisfied alpha’s promise woven into the sound—mine, mine, mine. Simon’s eyelids fluttered, his body lax and pliant beneath Johnny’s hands.
"Gonna clean ye up, omega," Johnny murmured, pressing a kiss to Simon’s sweat-damp temple before rising. Simon made a half-hearted noise of protest, his fingers twitching against the blankets, but exhaustion had him sinking deeper into the nest before Johnny had even reached the bathroom. The kitten chirped sleepily from her bed, blinking amber eyes at Johnny as she caught sight of him as he passed. "Aye, ye stay put," he told her.The washcloth was warm when he returned, the scent of mild soap cutting through the musk of sex and omega contentment. Simon barely stirred as Johnny wiped him down—thighs, stomach, the delicate skin of his rim—his omega only trilling softly at the attention. Johnny’s touch lingered at Simon’s mating mark, his thumb brushing the fresh bite. Simon sighed, his scent content, and Johnny pressed a kiss to the mark before tucking the blankets securely around him and moving to get himself cleaned up and dressed.
The kitten chirped again as he reappeared in the living room, louder this time, her stubby tail flicking. Johnny moved to her and scooped her up, her tiny body warm against his palm. "Right, wee beastie," he murmured, scratching under her chin. "Your turn." The carrier he’d purchased that morning was by the door, the vet’s card tucked into his pocket. Johnny hesitated, glancing back through the bedroom door at Simon—sleeping soundly, his face slack with exhaustion—before carefully settling the kitten into the carrier. She mewed once, indignant, but settled when Johnny rubbed her ears through the mesh.
The vet’s office was a short drive away, the kitten’s carrier balanced on the passenger seat. She chirped at every red light, her tiny paws batting at the mesh. Johnny chuckled, slipping her a treat through the opening. "Noisy beastie," he muttered, but his chest ached with something he couldn’t name every time she blinked up at him.
The vet—a brisk woman with a gentle touch—examined the kitten with practiced ease. "Healthy little thing," she pronounced, scratching between the kitten’s ears. Johnny’s shoulders relaxed—he hadn’t realized they’d been tense—and the kitten purred, pressing into the vet’s fingers. "Just needs her shots and a microchip." Johnny nodded, his fingers tapping against his thigh as the vet administered the vaccinations. The kitten squeaked once, but didn’t struggle, her tiny body limp with trust. Johnny’s throat tightened.
The vet handed him a pamphlet on kitten care—as if he hadn’t already memorized every detail while he’d been waiting—and a bag of specialized food. "She’ll sleep a lot today," she warned. Johnny nodded again, tucking the kitten carefully back into her carrier. Her purrs were already slowing, her eyes drooping. "Aye, wee beastie," he murmured, pressing a finger to the mesh. "Just rest."
He stopped at Simon’s favorite chippy on the way home, balancing the carrier and the takeout with practiced ease. The scent of fried cod and vinegar filled the car, mingling with the kitten’s sleepy musk. Johnny glanced at her on the passenger seat—curled into a tight ball in the carrier, her nose tucked under her tail—and something in his chest shifted.
Simon was awake when he returned, sprawled across the couch with a blanket draped over his waist. His nostrils flared—alpha scent, takeout, kitten—and his omega purred before he’d fully registered Johnny’s presence. "You’re back," he muttered, his voice rough with sleep.
Johnny grinned, setting the carrier down carefully. "Aye, mo ghràidh." He peeled open the takeout container, the scent of fried fish filling the flat. Simon’s stomach growled audibly, and Johnny laughed. "Hungry?"
Simon smiled and his fingers twitched toward the food. Johnny handed him a fork, pressing a kiss to his temple. The kitten chirped from her carrier, her ears perking at the sound of rustling paper. Simon’s gaze flicked to her, his scent softening. "She okay?"
"Healthy as a wee horse," Johnny said, scooping her out gently. She stretched in his palm, her tiny claws pricking his skin, before curling into Simon’s lap with a contented sigh. Simon’s fingers brushed her fur absently, his omega purring louder.
Johnny settled beside him, their thighs pressed together, and stole a chip from Simon’s container. Simon growled—half-hearted—but didn’t protest when Johnny stole another. The kitten chirped again, her nose twitching at the scent of fish. Johnny chuckled, breaking off a tiny piece of cod and offering it to her. She sniffed it delicately before devouring it in one bite.
Simon’s lips twitched. "Spoiled."
Johnny grinned, stealing another chip. "Aye, well. She’s ours." The words settled between them, heavy with meaning. Simon’s fingers stilled on the kitten’s back, his scent spiking—honey-sweet and something deeper, warmer. Johnny nudged him with his knee, a warmth to his tone. "Eat, omega. Ye need it."
——The kitten had claimed her place in their morning routine with imperial efficiency—pouncing on Simon's toes at dawn, chirping for breakfast the second Johnny stirred, and curling herself into Simon's hoodie pocket whenever they left the flat. Now, sprawled across Simon's duffel like a tiny, furry despot, she blinked up at Johnny with the unbothered arrogance of a creature who knew she'd already won.
"Christ, beastie," Johnny muttered, scratching between her ears as he nudged her aside to zip the bag. She headbutted his wrist in protest, her tail flicking imperiously. Simon snorted from the doorway, already dressed in his fatigues, the kitten's favorite (and newly replaced) feather wand tucked under his arm like contraband. "She's got you trained."
Johnny flipped him off without heat, his fingers lingering on the kitten's spine as she stretched across their packed bags. Two weeks of leave had evaporated—swallowed by vet visits, makeshift play sessions with Simon's knife sheaths as toys, and the kitten's increasingly bold attempts to infiltrate their nest. Now, with their duffels by the door and her carrier waiting beside a box of absurdly expensive supplies (including the doughnut bed Price would *definitely* mock him for), Johnny's chest ached with something he refused to name.
Simon crossed the room in two strides, his scent wrapping around Johnny like a physical touch. The kitten chirped, wiggling between them to butt her head against Simon's knuckles. Simon's fingers flexed, his omega purr rumbling faintly as he scratched under her chin. "She'll be fine," he muttered, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.
Johnny pressed a kiss to Simon's temple, his lips lingering against the pulse point there. "Aye, love. She's tough." The kitten chose that moment to flop onto her back, belly-up, her paws kneading the air with shameless demand. Johnny chuckled, rubbing her stomach with one finger. "And spoiled rotten."
The carrier Johnny had purchased was approved by the vet, but the kitten still protested when Simon lifted her inside. Her mew was pitiful, her amber eyes wide and accusing. Simon's scent spiked—omega distress sharpening—and Johnny stepped in before Simon could cave. "She's fine," he repeated, pressing Simon's wrist to his scent gland. "And you're worse than she is."
Simon huffed, but his omega settled at the contact, his purr kicking up when Johnny nipped his mating mark. The kitten chirped from her carrier, her tail flicking against the mesh. Johnny grinned. "See? Even she thinks you're ridiculous."
—————Price's reaction was exactly what Johnny expected—one raised eyebrow, a slow sip of whiskey, and a dry, "You've gone soft, MacTavish." But when the kitten chirped from her carrier, her tiny paws batting at the mesh, even Price's scent softened. He reached in, scratching between her ears with surprising gentleness. "She stays out of my office," he warned, but the way his fingers lingered on her fur betrayed him. Gaz was there immediately, his own omega scent flaring with excitement as he cooed at the kitten inside her carrier.
The kitten’s (now named Chili to better reflect her spicy tortitude) ascent to Task Force 141's unofficial mascot was swift and absolute. By the third week, Price had caved and installed a scratching post beside his desk, muttering about "structural integrity" as Chili perched on his shoulder during mission briefings, her stubby tail flicking against his cap. Gaz, the traitor, had already smuggled her a custom-made vest—tiny Kevlar with her name stitched across the back in obnoxious pink thread. Johnny caught Simon sewing velcro patches onto it at 3AM, his omega purring as he carefully aligned the 141 insignia.
She joined their hikes with a queen’s entitlement, trotting ahead like a scout until her stubby legs tired, at which point she'd chirp imperiously until someone carried her. Price pretended to grumble, but Johnny had photographic evidence of the man using his scarf as a makeshift sling for her. Chili repaid him by leaving decapitated lizards in his boots—a gift, Simon insisted, though Price's face when he shook one out suggested otherwise.
Whoever remained behind on base became Chili’s temporary guardian, a duty taken as seriously as any mission briefing. Gaz had the routine down to a science—fresh water by 0600, the premium wet food Simon insisted on at precisely 1830, and absolutely no treats after 2100 unless she deployed the lethal combination of head tilts and pitiful chirps. (She always won.) Price’s turn usually coincided with paperwork days, which meant Chili commandeered his desk as her throne, batting pens off the edges while he dictated reports with the long-suffering tone of a man who’d once commanded entire battalions but now negotiated with a six-pound dictator.
They were all well and truly compromised by the newest member of Taskforce 141–a six pound cat named Chili.