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It was, as things tended to be, Cipher’s fault.
No, well, it was actually Phainon and Mydeimos’; blaming Cipher was a matter of principle. Arguably, it wasn’t their fault either, and Castorice probably should have showered more thoroughly. Or she should have run away at the first sign of disturbance to her routine. But it also couldn’t really be her fault, because that would be victim-blaming, and that was bad.
Never mind that she didn’t consider herself a victim in this scenario— she was a bottom, and thus, her opinion was automatically void.
So it was Phainon and Mydeimos’ fault, for not wearing suppressant patches even though only children needed those, and more than that, letting loose their pheromones because of physical strain.
(That one was totally on them and absolutely something Castorice was in full right to blame them for, unlike all the fingers pointing everywhere in the first ninety-five words of this opening. Ignoring that they had no control over their physiological reactions and how this actually had very little bearing on the events that followed, of course.)
Carrying the faint scent of her two alpha friends wasn’t usually a problem, and it kept creeps away at the gym, and Phainon had had the bright idea today to see if Castorice could lift them both at the same time (yes) — which definitely contributed to how they got their pheromones on her —, and Aglaea didn’t tend to crash at her place unannounced. It was a series of events so coincidental that she nearly started to believe the Ao3 author curse had finally caught up with her.
The first sign that something was off was, probably, when Aglaea didn’t respond to her daily “Good morning” text message. Castorice didn’t mind. Aglaea was a busy woman. Or maybe she’d finally slept in for once.
The second sign was when Aglaea continued to not answer her messages. But maybe that was just the first sign, stretched out ? Especially since Castorice reasoned it out the same way.
The real second sign was when she got back from the gym and unlocked her door, only to find that it unlocked after only a quarter-turn of her key. Someone was home. Maybe Polyxia was visiting ?
The door opened and the third sign essentially slapped her in the face. She flushed and hurried inside, fumbling as she tried to both take off her gym bag and close the door at the same time. A deep breath in, saturated with the scent of honey, heated the back of her neck.
She slid off her coat and shoes and left her bag in the entryway before walking deeper into her apartment, following her instincts. The bathroom lights were on, but it was empty. Her bedroom door was ajar. She could tell Aglaea was behind it.
She still called her name when she pushed the door open.
“Aglaea ?”
Well— okay, she expected Aglaea, to some extent, but not the... everything else. Her room was a mess. Clothes were strewn everywhere. It looked like a rabid cyclone had swept through her wardrobe. She stepped over the mess, pushing the door closed behind her, and approached the bed, where Aglaea was nested in a bundle of... ah, so that was why the bathroom’s light was on. Aglaea had... dug through her laundry. Yes. The mental image was so surreal that it startled her more than amused her.
Her heart was beating really, really hard. Aglaea had been staring at her ever since she entered. Her expression was dazed, but her eyes were intense.
“Cas,” she rasped huskily— like crackling fire.
Castorice swallowed, sitting on the edge of the bed before answering. “I’m here. Are you.. in heat ?”
“Hmm.”
Aglaea hummed, the world refocusing around Castorice’s presence. She pushed herself up to drape over Castorice’s shoulders.
“That’s early. I guess you couldn’t take an inhibitor, either.”
Aglaea didn’t respond, nuzzling into the exposed skin beneath her collar. She was warm to the point of burning. Castorice placed a hand upon Aglaea’s, leaning into her loose embrace.
Then Aglaea let out an angry sniff and frustrated grunt, scent turning saccharine. It was cloying and sticky on Castorice’s tongue. She tensed, making a noise that was more animal hindbrain than human.
Aglaea pulled her down onto the bed then flipped her onto her back. In the same movement, she locked their lips together, kissing Castorice as though possessed. It didn’t take long for Aglaea to tire of only her lips, possessiveness burning through her arteries and veins to the end of every capillary. She bit Castorice and tangled their tongues. Her saliva was overly sweet, like biting into candy.
Castorice panted, hot and dizzy (partly from being spun a total of 270° and tactically assaulted before she could recover, partly because she was choking on dense and aggressive omega pheromones), when Aglaea rose to take a look at her. The beginning of Aglaea’s name formed on her tongue before the other set upon her neck, teeth harsh on the infinitely soft flesh.
Castorice whimpered, clutching at her shoulders.
“Aglaea…”
“Cas,” Aglaea called back. Her name was always soft on her lips. Castorice made a sound of acknowledgement, tinged with inexplicable seductiveness, instinctively tilting her head to give more access to Aglaea.
She’d calmed down a little now, with Castorice putty underneath her. More clear-minded, she recognized the mix of charcoal and cinnamon alpha pheromones on Castorice as Phainon and Mydeimos. It happened. Sometimes proximity just left a little trace of them on her Cas. It happened.
Logic and friendship didn’t make the fact of alpha pheromones on her partner any less irritating. Nor did it help that omega pheromones couldn’t drive alpha pheromones away, no matter how aggressive or hostile. Or that alpha pheromones couldn’t drive omega pheromones away either. Imagining two alphas — though friends to Castorice and Aglaea as they were, even being a same-sex couple themselves — carrying Castorice’s scent only doubled her irritation.
She licked the spot she’d bitten, feeling addicted to the mix of salty sweat and traces of flowery sweetness on Castorice’s skin.
Aglaea got it. She understood, really— why alphas would need omegas so desperately.
Castorice flushed, squirming in her hold. She was responding to Aglaea, the clean smell of lilies of the valley emerging through the thick wall of honey that Aglaea had spent two hours stewing in alone.
She wanted her. She needed her. To be hers. Castorice should be hers. Aglaea groaned, feeling parched.
She searched with her mouth, seeking Castorice even though she was already held between her teeth.
Alphas could mark omegas. Omegas could reverse-mark alphas— the biological mechanism was different from normal marking, the effects not as intense or long-lasting. Alphas could even mark other alphas, a historically aggressive phenomenon where one party dominated the other which happened to also be quite gay. Natural same-sex rejection usually made these marks short-lasting.
Omegas could, technically, mark* other omegas. The asterisk was very important, omega marks and alpha marks were aesthetically similar yet wholly different and served different purposes. The specifics weren’t as important as the fact that they were possible to perform on another omega and yet nearly completely useless— not potent enough in the first place due to their nature, made less so because of same-sex pheromone incompatibility, not to mention the piteous amount of time they lasted: half a day at most, if performed properly.
Aglaea could smell herself on Castorice, but it wasn’t like heterosexual couples, where their scents mingled harmoniously. She was like a perfume layered on top of the other most of the time, and the same went for Castorice to her. Usually she didn’t mind, but when she was in heat, it was the most offensive thing in the world. Being exposed to alpha scents during this time didn’t help. Physiological reaction, or an aggravation of subconscious insecurities ? It was hard to say. Maybe both.
Aglaea bit into Castorice’s nape, close to her pheromone gland. She was rough, forceful, not even as gentle as a sleazy alpha playboy. Castorice gasped, half in pain, half in some other, nameless emotion: something like submission, or pleasure, or maybe love. She felt both sorry and unbelievably turned on. Her heat was opening up her veins, sending blood rushing through her body, but it alone couldn’t fill the depth of feeling she held in her chest. Castorice’s flesh was too soft, gave all too easily to her teeth. Lilies swirled in a fog around Aglaea, disorienting, like the feeling of free-falling. She let go, retreating only far enough to admire Castorice’s reddened, indented skin. For just a small moment their scents mingled, mixed, became one.
That made her feel a little better, so when she bit Castorice again, she was gentler.
The moan Castorice gave for it was beautiful enough to go to war for.
She ground against Castorice’s thigh, the friction soothing the heat just as much as it fed it.
“Cas,” she started breathlessly, pressing fleeting kisses to her jaw. “I want you. A lot.”
It wasn’t exactly eloquent — Aglaea’s brain was a bit too occupied with being fried by her own arousal — but Castorice got the message. The hand that was caressing her other thigh under her skirt was likely helping with that.
She tugged on the hem of Aglaea’s oversized T-shirt— a piece stolen directly from the top of her laundry basket. Castorice flushed with embarrassment as she sat up and helped Aglaea out of it, leaving the other omega wholly naked. Her own clothes were pulled and pawed at until her cardigan, shirt, and skirt were off. They were discarded on top of the pile of clothes on the bed— a shameful mix of dirty and clean laundry that Castorice could already tell was going to be a nightmare to wash and reorganize.
Aglaea took a moment to admire her decidedly unsexy underwear, which Castorice took to breathe in deep and reorient herself. And feel embarrassed over her mismatched underwear.
Aglaea thought the bear pattern on her boxers was cute, but she was too busy to vocalize that. She tugged on the plain white bra, watching a shiver run through Castorice. Pupils dilated, she looked at Castorice like a starved lion would look at a stumbling, lone fawn.
Castorice groaned, pulling Aglaea into a slow, fiery kiss. Her suppressants were wearing off, and though as two omegas Aglaea couldn’t trigger an early heat in Castorice, the state of arousal saw her release risky amounts of her pheromones. She restrained herself, taking shallow breaths and nibbling on Aglaea’s neck lightly. Aglaea unhooked her bra but didn’t let Castorice pull away to remove it, pressing a hand against the back of her head.
She slid the other under the loosely draped cup of her underwear, groping at the fatty flesh. Castorice sighed against Aglaea’s neck, arching into her touch.
“Bite me harder.”
Castorice shook her head.
Aglaea let her fingers fall to the back of her neck. “Cas,” she called, voice deep with desire and authority. She was caressing the patch of skin just over her gland, drawing lazy circles into it. Castorice shivered under her touch, mouth opening to let out a whimper. Directly stimulated, the scent of lilies of the valley thickened. It was poisonous— figuratively, literally.
Aglaea licked her lips, resisting the urge to dig her nails into the omega’s most sensitive and fragile place.
“Bite me,” she whispered, pressing a finger into Castorice. Her thumb found a nipple and teased it. Castorice’s breath hitched. “Mark me.”
It was the most pointless thing in the world. The mark would last barely a few seconds, infinitely short and disappointing. It would leave her feeling emptier than she'd started. Thirstier than the Atacama desert. Nerves burnt, brain addled.
Castorice shook her head.
“Aglaea,” she tried, desperate, “— Aglaea...” hoping her voice could convey the reluctant refusal, hoping Aglaea could hear how much she wanted and couldn’t.
The little fleeting kisses Castorice left on Aglaea’s skin were nice, tickling her heart, but she really needed— more. She groaned. She looped her arms around Castorice to finally pull her bra off completely. Castorice cooperated obediently, relieved. It too joined the pile.
When Aglaea leant down, reaching for Castorice’s neck once again, Castorice stopped her with a hand. “You— you can’t” she stuttered hurriedly.
Two refusals in a row. She was so close, could almost see the straining of Castorice’s veins as they supplied blood to her glands. This must have been the color of the forbidden fruit in God's garden. It must not have been so tempting— or perhaps Eve was a stronger woman than Aglaea: she needed no convincing, the sight alone had her teeth itching. This close she could tell Phainon and Mydeimos’ pheromones were gone, which was gratifying yet didn’t help to abate her frustration any. She tilted her head up to take the tip of Castorice’s fingers in her mouth — feeling the way her breathing became hot and wet — and bit down hard.
Castorice hissed in a breath, face scrunching with pain. Nevertheless, she did not complain, simply looking into Aglaea’s eyes.
Beautiful.
Lips pinched, jaw clenched. Eyes crinkled, brows furrowed. Aching blush. Breath held. Pupils a deep dark. Scent rich, flowers in full bloom.
Aglaea’s.
Absolutely fucking breathtaking.
She licked Castorice’s fingers as she let go, forcing herself still to enjoy the slightly shaky exhale that accompanied her relieved expression. But it felt like she would die if she weren’t maximizing their body contact, so it took her approximately 0.37 seconds to find herself on Castorice’s bare breast, her height over the more petite woman meaning she was pushing her back down to the messy bed.
Castorice’s fingers on her shoulder were wet with Aglaea’s saliva. It didn’t take her very long to get them tangled up with her hair, reacting to every touch of Aglaea’s lips on her skin with a tiny twitch.
She circled the stiff peak, matching her breaths to the rise and fall of Castorice’s chest. Her heart was beating hard, partly from her heat, partly a result of intaking the mild toxin in Castorice’s pheromones. She couldn’t match their breaths for long, feeling dizzy and breathless after a mere few seconds. Castorice sighed her name, tugging softly at her hair.
Her own saliva felt overly sweet in her mouth.
The weak little sound Castorice made when Aglaea sucked on her nipple sent a shiver through her spine, so she seeked it out again. And again, lightly pinching the base of Castorice’s other nipple.
But it wasn’t enough, because Aglaea wanted more. She bit Castorice, appreciating the way Castorice’s chest jumped in time with her sharp intake of breath. Her free hand slid down the curves of Castorice’s abs, hooking a finger on the band of her boxers.
“Lift your hips.”
Castorice obliged. The pair of boxers joined the rest of her clothes.
That left them both fully naked.
Aglaea paused for a moment, wearing a soft, considering frown. Her right hand caressed Castorice’s thigh, thumb brushing close to where her thigh connected to her center. Castorice shuddered. She sat up to pull Aglaea into a kiss.
Aglaea melted into her, melding, fusing. Her palms were hot as they roved over Castorice’s skin, up the curve of her waist to the dip of her spine. She left trails of heat in Castorice’s flesh; when she brought their bodies flush, Castorice felt feverish and like she’d been dumped in a pot of boiling honey. She could feel Aglaea’s dripping heat on her thigh— Aglaea groaned nasally, hips pushing down into the firm muscles of her quads.
“Cas,” Aglaea whispered against her lips, breaths erratic. Her eyes were cloudy with lust, unseeing as she focused on the feeling of grinding on Castorice’s thigh.
She held back a moan, pecking Aglaea’s lips reassuringly. “I’m here.” Her hands grabbed onto Aglaea’s hips. “I’m yours.”
Aglaea sang something between a keen and a moan as Castorice pushed her thigh up into her core. She pulled her closer, lips falling onto Castorice’s face in fleeting brushes.
Biologically, Aglaea’s omega pheromones couldn’t trigger Castorice’s heat. Physically, she wasn’t touching her sensitive places anymore. Psychologically, the waves of frenzied want spilling out of her had Castorice overflowing like a broken faucet. She could taste herself on her own tongue— soapy, slightly sweet like vanilla, and a hint of bitterness; nauseating, dizzying; she hated it.
But when Aglaea captured her mouth in another kiss, all tangled tongues and exchange of desire, the thought of stopping her was brief and quickly forgotten. Aglaea’s eyes were dark as she pulled away.
“You’re mi—ne” she sighed in the middle of a word, eyes flickering. It was hot on Castorice’s face, even though the latter was already at melting temperature. She nudged Castorice’s head to the side, setting her lips on her jaw. “And—” a shallow gasp, “I’m yours.”
She was too close to her jugular. Castorice was lifting her hand, ready to physically pry Aglaea off her neck, when Aglaea made her move. Her canines, fortunately not sharp enough to pierce skin like an alpha's, sank firmly into her for the fourth time today. Castorice lost strength, fingers brushing Aglaea’s chin weakly enough to be considered amorous. A low whine made its way to two of Aglaea’s senses— she had the illusion she could taste it too, not just hear and feel.
She made sure to leave a mark, sucking Castorice’s pulse into her mouth. It was fast and erratic. Aglaea licked the reddened skin, satisfied to find it hot with blood.
“Mm..” Castorice sighed, eyes falling closed. Her hand slipped down Aglaea’s neck, weakly pushing against her collarbone. “You’re biting me too much.”
“I’m not biting you enough.”
Aglaea rubbed her thumb into the skin on the other side of her neck, fingers pushing into her as though she wanted to stitch their flesh together. Castorice’s eyes flickered as she pressed into her carotid artery; one arm unconsciously pulled the other woman closer when she pinched her skin.
“I really... want to mark you as mine.”
Castorice moaned softly as Aglaea’s movements brought a knee into her core. She grabbed the other’s thigh, instinctively pushing down.
Aglaea sang.
“Cas,” she called, pressing hard into her, “Cas...” nuzzling into her, mouthing at her skin. “Touch me more...”
Castorice swallowed, palms hot, fingertips burning. She brought her hands to Aglaea’s hips, steadying her and helping her ride her thigh. She could feel Aglaea’s honeypot clench and overflow against her, hardened nub salient amidst the tender and malleable rest of her.
She wetted her lips and circled a thumb around it. Aglaea moaned again, canorous.
She was scalding against her face, breaths heaving. Castorice inhaled deeply. The scent of honey was nearly thick enough to condensate, sticky and viscous on her tongue.
“You’re killing me,” she muttered mildly, “drowning me, suffocating me.”
Aglaea’s arms around her shoulders tightened. The hand lightly resting on the back of her neck clenched slightly. Castorice exhaled shakily, flicking Aglaea’s clit. The sound that came out of her drowned out the rest of her words— already muffled by Aglaea’s chest, against which Aglaea held her as her body contracted under the waves of an orgasm."
“Like my own personal rapture.”
She rubbed Aglaea slowly, letting her ride out the high. Aglaea’s heavy breaths made way for a deep sigh. Her left hand came up to cup Castorice’s cheek while the other slipped to her front, resting on her collarbone.
Freed from Aglaea’s embrace, Castorice looked up at her. She leaned into the other’s palm. Aglaea’s eyes were misty with pleasure and heat. She brought their mouths together in a languid kiss.
“Cas,” she said, seeking out her lips; half-babbling in a confused haze, primal and instinctual. “Cas, mine. Mine.”
Aglaea caught her bottom lip in her teeth, biting gently. Castorice’s heart was pounding, veins flush with heat expanding in her ears.
“Hmm, that’s right, yours.”
Mine, mine, Aglaea repeated incoherently— obsessed with possessing her, hands roaming over her skin like examining and admiring a prize. Castorice could barely breathe, smothered by her mouth. She melted into Aglaea’s touch, a thawed snowfield in the light of Spring; surrendering herself easily, wishing for Aglaea to do anything and everything to her.
Aglaea pulled away. Castorice held back a pitiful whine.
She couldn’t recenter herself, flesh searing and sizzling where Aglaea hung off of her. She leaned back to support her, swallowing— Aglaea stuck to her mouth, like real honey.
Aglaea.
Castorice mouthed her name. She liked the feeling of Aglaea filling her, taking up all her space, being everywhere. So she did it again, carefully flicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth like savoring the taste of Aglaea. Calling, just the same way Aglaea called her, looking for someone who was already in her arms.
Aglaea reacted, burying down from her shoulder to her collarbone, fingers languidly traveling down the length of the arm supporting their weight to loosely rest over her wrist. Then, down from her collarbone, she dragged her head to her solar plexus, feeling Castorice’s warmth, her breaths, her heartbeat.
Burning, erratic, and frantic.
“You’re beautiful,” she mumbled. “You smell so good. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Castorice answered immediately, not fully conscious of her utterance; as though it had come not from her mind but something deeper, more primal, inscribed in her blood.
Aglaea hummed, pleased. She pressed a kiss to Castorice’s skin. One hand idly rubbed Castorice’s knee. “I can’t think straight.”
“Because you’re gay.”
Aglaea paused, a little stunned.
... Stelle was a terrible influence. Castorice groaned, three parts exasperation at herself, one part shame, and four parts fire. She temporarily shifted her weight off her arm to lace her fingers with Aglaea’s. “Me too. I’m gay and can’t think straight.”
Aglaea softened, sobered. She fidgeted with Castorice’s fingers affectionately. The skin under her lips was warm. She really... loved her.
“You’re an idiot.” She smiled. “A cute idiot. My cute idiot.”
“Hmm...”
Aglaea’s breaths were hot on Castorice’s flushed skin. Her hand on her knee ascended the length of her thigh and half-circled its circumference, stopping below the femoral triangle. She kissed down Castorice’s sternum as her thumb rubbed the soft flesh between her thigh and her core. Then further down, until Castorice’s mound was brushing against her chin.
She pushed Castorice’s leg open. Castorice cooperated, spreading the other as well.
“Good girl,” Aglaea rewarded, muttering a little absentmindedly.
Castorice flushed. Aglaea had pushed her back just enough to give her the perfect angle to watch the way she stared at her, intoxicated. Aglaea licked her teeth; Castorice squeezed the fingers interlaced with hers. Aglaea didn’t glance up as she squeezed back, and began to plant fleeting kisses on her inner thigh. Her eyes were cloudy and dark— half heat-induced fever, half pure, unadulterated lust. When they gazes met, Aglaea’s was a bit unfocused, pupils blown; at the same time, unbearably intense.
She bit her lip, choking back a pitiful noise.
Aglaea’s eyes narrowed with something between mischief and malice. Castorice brushed a stray lock of hair behind Aglaea’s ear. Her hand followed Aglaea as she leant down.
She spread Castorice’s folds with her thumb, lips a fleeting, near accidental touch on her clit as she ran her tongue over her slick.
Castorice trembled, moaning softly. She tangled up her fingers in Aglaea’s hair encouragingly.
“I love you,” she said, a phrase that came out as easy and natural as breathing.
Aglaea responded with a low noise in her throat, before wordlessly starting to eat Castorice out. She felt a little desperate, wanting Castorice closer, inside her— she lapped at Castorice, starved of her taste. Lilies of the valley. Slightly sweet, clean. Faint, not nearly as satisfying as directly biting her.
And also, mildly poisonous. That was so sexy of her. She would be a lot sexier with Aglaea’s teeth all over her neck. The stream of noises slipping out of her lips was a fine replacement, though.
She turned her head, right hand sliding down to replace her.
“Mnn..”
She glanced at Castorice's flushed face. Moist eyes and slack jaw, nostrils flaring slightly with each labored breath, soft voice leaking into her sighs as her hips moved against her hand; she was delectably adorable. Aglaea sucked the flesh of her thigh into her mouth, closing her teeth around it. Maybe it was an illusion, she could almost feel the artery pushing against her as hot blood rushed through it.
“Ah ! Mn...” Castorice’s voice pitched high, hand bunching around a fistful of Aglaea’s hair on and off, her instincts for pain avoidance and submission warring for a moment.
Aglaea let go with a soothing lick. The loose, strengthless fingers on her scalp aroused some destructive urge in her— to stamp herself upon Castorice like a cattle brand, mark her, make her mine. Even though Castorice already belonged to her. Even though they were both omegas. Even though it would poison her.
Aglaea counted her heartbeats. Though short of breath, she stayed patient and exhaled slowly.
She curled her fingers inwards, digging into the rugged part of Castorice’s inner walls. Her omega whimpered (hers — something deep in Aglaea’s stomach purred), softly pulling Aglaea’s head closer to her core.
“Aglaea,” Castorice panted, “I want you.. mm, please...”
Aglaea held back a feral growl. “You don’t know what you do to me,” she half-lamented.
Castorice stroked her hair, thumb brushing lightly over her ear. “Maybe I know exactly what I’m doing to you,” she murmured lowly, a single thoughtless sigh.
Aglaea actually growled, this time. She gave Castorice’s sex a harsh lick, spreading her fingers apart inside of her.
Castorice whined, back arching. Her legs trembled, twitched— not knowing whether to close or open wider. She was close. Aglaea pumped her fingers faster, harder.
“‘Laea, I’m— hm !” Castorice threw her head back, coming generously around Aglaea’s curled fingers. Aglaea’s lips let go of her clit to lap up her juices. Castorice’s chest heaved, breasts shaking with every labored breath. Her eyes fixed on the exposed slope of Castorice’s neck, creamy smooth and fragile compared to the rest of her body.
She made her feel like less than a wild beast and more than a human— like a god, fallen to depravity for the flesh of their divine offering. Any faith would call that feeling heretic, Castorice utterly sinful.
She swallowed her saliva, mixed in with Castorice’s juices, sweat, pheromones— not enough, she wanted her closer, everywhere, everywhere.
Aglaea suddenly reached over the side of the bed, groping at her bag until she got what she wanted from it. Castorice took the opportunity to grab the water bottle on her bedside table, the cool liquid a soothing balm on her throat. Aglaea rose, throwing a bottle on the mattress. The pouch in her other hand caught Castorice’s attention before she could figure out the bottle, but both items were familiar.
“Um.”
Aglaea pulled out a strap-on dildo from the sterilizer pouch. The one that was really big. 18cm across a 4.5cm diameter. The one that Aglaea had shown her “just in case” the first time they’d discussed strap-ons. Which she had very probably bought on impulse while she was drunk off her ass at one of Cerydra’s home parties because literally none of them remembered exactly why or how it had landed in her mail. Well, Hysilens did, but she refused to actually say anything so it was her fault until proven otherwise.
Castorice handed Aglaea the water bottle, exchanging it for the dildo. Running her hand over the silicon confirmed its size. It was as thick as her wrist.
Aglaea finished rehydrating. Castorice exchanged their items again, putting the water bottle back onto the bedside table while Aglaea fiddled with the toy. The water seemed to have, thankfully, cooled her down a little. Castorice knew from experience the relative sobriety wouldn’t last long.
She chewed on her lip, eyeing the fake penis apprehensively. “It’s really... big.”
“Mm... Sorry. Hyacine must have grabbed it at random.”
Aglaea didn’t say any more. She didn’t move to throw it away or put it on, but the way she gripped it indicated a reluctance to let go, and more than that, how much she wanted to fuck Castorice with it.
I’m going to regret this, Castorice thought, knowing full well she wouldn’t because she had never regretted anything in regards to Aglaea.
“I can... I can take it.”
Aglaea stared. She searched Castorice’s flushed face dazedly— hesitant, but not reluctant. Oh.
She nosed Castorice’s cheek, taking slow, deep breaths. The air was stuffy with their immiscible scents. “Do you remember the safe word ?”
“Pegasus... no, oatmeal.”
“Oatmeal.” Aglaea repeated. They were on the same page, that was good. She pulled away.
Her heart hadn’t stopped pounding, she felt lightheaded and vertiginous. She struggled to secure the harness, biting her lip with a frustrated frown. Castorice swallowed, tearing her eyes away from the dildo and reaching out to help with a steadier, more patient touch. Aglaea sighed with relief and pulled her up into a gentle, grateful kiss. The dildo was poking Castorice’s stomach, cool against her. Distracted by the sensation, it took her a moment to realize Aglaea was nuzzling into her neck affectionately, nibbling on her skin.
“Wait, wait.” She was starting to think maybe they’d need to look into a muzzle for Aglaea. “If you want to bite me so much, let me get my suppressants.”
Aglaea stilled. “I’m going to die.” She had the solemnity of someone going to war.
“We are not going to the hospital again. Hyacine is still teasing me about it.”
Aglaea stared at her, long and hard. Her melting neurons established connections, synapses fired. She opened her mouth.
“Cope.”
... What.
Castorice gaped, speechless. Her brain refused to process.
“Who taught you memes ???” she blurted out, shocked. Then she considered it. “It was Cipher, wasn’t it ?”
“Hmm,” Aglaea neither denied nor confirmed. Her lips brushed over Castorice, like leaves falling on water, stirring gentle ripples across the surface. “You know them too.”
Castorice sighed, fondly exasperated, with a trace of pleasure. “That’s because Stelle keeps sending me the most perplexing pieces of Internet culture.”
Aglaea hummed thoughtfully— or maybe not, the presence of thoughts in her head at that moment was doubtful. “I’ll stop meme-ing if you don’t take your suppressants.”
“Please never say meme-ing again.”
Aglaea licked her pulse. “Sure.” She smiled, splaying her hands over Castorice’s tight abs. “I can behave myself.”
Castorice made a low noise in her throat. “I really don’t think you can. You’ve been breathing too heavily all this time. You can’t, hm...” She interrupted herself with a soft moan. Aglaea was groping her boob with one hand. The other drew the edges of her muscle definition. “Aglaea,” Castorice complained softly. “You’re distracting me.”
“I know.”
“I think you lose IQ points when you’re in heat.”
“It can’t be helped.” Aglaea kissed up her neck to her jaw. “You’re a drug.”
“That is not a compliment.”
Aglaea captured her lips— soft at first, but quickly growing heated. The temperature rose once more. Aglaea swallowed her sighs, voracious for her.
She reached for the lubricant while Castorice was distracted, briefly fumbling to open it without disconnecting them, and blindly poured half of the bottle in her palm. Of course, most of it ended up slipping through her fingers, dripping onto the toy and drenching their thighs and the bedsheets.
Aglaea pushed her down, drinking in the sight of her, flushed and ripe. As she worked to spread the lubricant across the dildo, she once again realized how big it was— and how, most importantly, it was going into Castorice. She followed Castorice down, pulling them together again, unwilling to be separated for too long.
She ground the toy against Castorice’s cunt. Her omega whimpered unsteadily, with a mix of anticipation and unease. Her legs closed around Aglaea’s hips, arms pulling her closer. Aglaea’s kiss turned soothing, slow and shallow to reassure her. She gently caressed Castorice’s thighs, inviting them to part.
Castorice complied, spreading her legs like she spread honey on toast in the morning.
“Aglaea,” she called, breathless. Her violet eyes shone with the color of lust, hips wriggling partly to seek friction, partly to find a comfortable position to take Aglaea in.
Aglaea planted a peck on her nose as she lifted herself up, angling herself with a steady hand on Castorice’s hip.
Gently, patiently, she lowered herself inside of her.
“Fuck,” Castorice swore softly, like a butterfly landing on a flower. “It’s so big...”
Only the tip had sunk into her, stretching her entrance uncomfortably. Aglaea reached up for one of Castorice’s hands looped around her back, interlacing their fingers. She gave a reassuring squeeze, which Castorice returned after a distracted second.
“Relax.”
“Mmh.. Kiss me ?”
Her eyes glistened with faint wetness, half-lidded with her focus elsewhere. Aglaea more or less threw herself onto her, taking her lips ravenously. Castorice rose to meet her, pressing their bodies together, melding the soft parts of them into a pool of molten lava. Slowly, subtly, she worked the toy deeper inside. Her grip on Aglaea’s hand was almost bruising.
Before long, the strap was as deep as it could go. Two thirds had disappeared between Castorice’s folds.
Aglaea tried small, rhythmic thrusts, letting both of them get used to the feeling of the toy— she committed how far she could go to memory; just how much Castorice could take.
Castorice pulled her closer, burying herself into Aglaea’s neck, nuzzling the skin and breathing in deeply.
Aglaea took a moment to readjust, holding herself back. “How are you feeling, Cas ?”
“Mmm... it hurts.”
Castorice’s lips and hot breath brushed over her skin fleetingly, ticklish. She stopped moving; hesitating, conflicted. Silence settled over them, a pause in the history of the world. Her heartbeat was loud and insistent.
Castorice could feel Aglaea’s pulse beneath her lips. She pressed her lips to it delicately, a spell to thaw the frozen time. “It’s okay.” Her tongue slipped out and licked up the sweat on her skin. Aglaea was panting raggedly.
Castorice tilted Aglaea’s head, murmuring against her mouth. “You don’t have to hold back for me.” Aglaea’s chest and stomach burned, like Georios’ furnace. She groaned.
She adjusted the weight on her arms, gripping Castorice’s hand firmly. Castorice was right there, but Aglaea still looked for her, brushing their noses together, locking emerald-gold into violet. She found the other’s mouth, pressing their lips together, seeking out her tongue. Castorice tasted— beautiful. Like distilled joy on her palate.
She began to move again, in and out. She could feel Castorice’s plushness just underneath her, moulding against her with every move. She loved her.
She loved her.
She drank up Castorice’s moan greedily. Then, because it wasn’t enough, she drove into Castorice hard, angling for her G-spot. Castorice cried out, throwing her head back and breaking apart. Aglaea grunted, a little displeased at the loss of contact. But that was fine.
She sat back, letting go of Castorice’s hand to grab the back of her knees. Like this, she could see the way the (very expensive) silicon cock sank into Castorice’s wetness. Her whole body shook with each forceful intrusion— she gasped, whimpered, cried. But her eyes on Aglaea were dark and hot, demanding.
She’d never told Castorice before, but she’d imagined it countless times, stretching Castorice out with this thing, pounding her cunt until she was crying, begging her to stop. Castorice didn’t beg, didn’t want her to stop. Her eyes were wet with tears, struggling to keep her in her sight, whole body flushed, but she reached out her hand and dug her fingers into the back of Aglaea’s.
Suddenly, unbidden, Aglaea thought— If destiny had a child, her name would be Castorice. She redoubled her efforts, burying herself deeper, faster, harder. Castorice’s brow furrowed with discomfort, but at this point she knew she was hurting her without needing to be told.
“‘Laea,” she gasped, blinking tears from her eyes, looking wholly like a fallen mythical goddess. “I want to,” a whimper, “I want to hold you.”
Aglaea took a second to process the request, then acquiesced, lowering herself onto her elbows without breaking pace. Castorice grabbed onto her immediately, running her hands over her back. She moaned into Aglaea’s shoulder, dragging her teeth over her skin; finding a softer piece of flesh to bite into. Aglaea shuddered, jerking, and went too deep. Arms pulled her down. Castorice whined, pained. Her nails dug into Aglaea’s back.
“Don’t,” she gasped, huffed, “don’t stop, don’t stop...”
Aglaea moaned, both from physical pleasure and Castorice’s words. She changed her angle to hit Castorice’s sensitive spots, hearing the shift in the other’s pitch as she did.
“I’m gonna—” Castorice whined, clutching Aglaea desperately. “I’m close, Aglaea—”
Aglaea kissed her tears. “Come for me, love.”
Castorice threw her head back and cried out, probably loud enough to alert the neighbours, arching into Aglaea. Through the slight numbing effect of the poison in Castorice’s pheromones, she could feel her back burn with the omega’s clawing.
She was stunning. Pulchritudinous. Divine.
Aglaea sat back, grabbing one leg and lifting it over her shoulder, slamming deeper into her.
“Aglaea— wait— I’m coming— wait, please—”
“Did you know that I hid my suppressants from Cifera on purpose ?”
Despite a valiant effort, Castorice couldn’t reply to Aglaea’s unexpected words. Her voice kept tapering off into sharp, whiny moans. Physiological tears formed and beaded on her eyelashes. Aglaea wasn’t slowing, hips hitting her with the momentum of a freight train.
Then, suddenly, she stopped.
Castorice mumbled incoherently, confused.
Aglaea let go and slid out of her. “Turn over.”
Dazed, Castorice obeyed, rolling onto her belly.
Aglaea grabbed her shoulder, steadying them. A thumb rubbed the soft delicate skin of her nape, teasing the edges of the omega’s most sensitive place. Castorice whimpered weakly, unable to muster any strength to heed her primal instinct— fear mixed with arousal; joy, submission, pain, desire, her grey matter devoured itself and dissolved into a slushie of primitive emotions.
The strap-on found her entrance again. If Castorice was Aglaea’s home, she didn’t bother knocking before coming in— because she belonged to Aglaea, so Aglaea could do whatever. Even if she came in with a sledgehammer, determined to take down a wall or two or all of them, Castorice was fine with that.
“‘Laea, shit, ‘Laea— it’s too much— don’t stop—”
“Cas,” Aglaea called back between pants. She pressed herself to Castorice, breaths hot on the back of her neck. A fleeting kiss fell over her gland.
“I love you. I want to be closer to you, close enough that no one could tell us apart,” Aglaea mumbled into her nape.
Castorice babbled back, unable to form a coherent thought. Aglaea was practically drilling into her— she pulled at her sheets so hard that they tore, the mattress cover ripping horizontally at the halfway point between her hand and the headboard. She sobbed, fully crying.
“Aglaea, Aglaea...” she called, disoriented with pleasure and close again.
Aglaea pressed her tongue against Castorice, tasting her, searching for her scent gland. Castorice moaned shakily, soft sobs escaping her lips. Aglaea’s teeth grazed her skin as she lined them over the omega’s most sensitive place.
The world blasted white.
Aglaea held Castorice down as she thrashed and howled, keeping her teeth firmly in her flesh. She’d pierced the skin and was performing a proper mark— fleeting as it would be, maybe not even lasting long enough to still be there by morning.
Castorice’s blood was sweet with Aglaea’s honey scent, and the elegant floral fragrance of her own. She slowly came to a stop, turning into jelly as her muscles relaxed. The concentration of pheromones was high enough to nearly eclipse the natural coppery taste of blood. Aglaea pulled her teeth out carefully, followed by the dildo. Castorice shuddered as she slid out of her.
For a while, they caught their breaths. Lungs filled with sweetened air, where their pheromones came together in harmony, mixed, melded. Tension eased, pleasure waned. Electrical signals re-established connections. Exhaustion set in.
Aglaea’s body was on overdrive, she could barely breathe around the buzzing of her chest. She felt fuzzy, as though she were flying through clouds.
The back of Castorice’s neck was red, like ripe fruit. She pressed an open-mouthed kiss to it.
Castorice whimpered. She was still too checked-out to properly react, mind muddled and body weak.
Aglaea reached around her neck, tilting her chin to the side so she could plant a kiss her cheek. When Castorice barely moved, she planted another to the corner of her eye, then the corner of her mouth. Castorice made a sound somewhere between a light hum and a raspy moan, blinking herself awake.
“Are you alright, Cas ?”
“I think I should be asking you that.”
Castorice attempted a glare, but she looked inviting, like a flower blooming while bathed in morning dew. Aglaea captured her lips without resistance. Castorice melted instantly, moving to her rhythm.
Then Aglaea went still.
“Aglaea ? Aglaea ?!”
Later, Hyacine gifted Castorice an anti-bite collar. It was apparently covered by insurance, by some Hyacinthia-made miracle.
As it turned out, Cipher had called her upon realizing Aglaea was in heat. She’d been the one to drive Aglaea (in Cipher’s car, without a license (there was a story there that no one curious was brave enough to ask about)) to Castorice’s house. And Hyacine couldn’t really tell as a beta, but Cipher’s car was of course full of her pheromones and she hadn’t turned on the ventilation, which, of course, meant they affected Aglaea.
... So it was Cipher’s fault, after all. And Hyacine’s.