Archive of Our Own

Claire gratefully slinks into the shade of the motel, uncomfortably warm and eager to be out of the sun. Alice follows behind, the older woman trailing her slowly. She’s still hesitant around the caravan it seems, unused to being surrounded by so many people and smells. 

Most of the Crew is already waiting: Carlos, LJ, Betty, and Mikey stand in a half-circle in front of the motel. Otto is still in the bus, but that’s not unusual—he’s a talker— and Chase is making his way over. 

Claire leans against the wall of the motel next to Carlos, who sniffs at her oddly.

“You smell-”

“Weird, I know, K-Mart politely informed me,” Claire interrupts. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

“I was actually going to say you, uh,” He shifts awkwardly on his feet. “You smell really good.”

“Oh.” She's always known Carlos was an alpha, and while it’s never been an issue for their friendship, she’s never been so aware of it until now, what with the way he’s pointedly not looking at her. 

She glances around the circle; Chase, LJ, and Mikey are the only other alphas in her crew. LJ, being enamored with Betty but not yet a couple, is politely ignoring the elephant in the room. Chase is mated, though she had died before the outbreak. He squints curiously at Claire as he approaches but otherwise appears unbothered by her scent. Mikey, on the other hand, decidedly more single, is having a difficult time hiding the half-hard erection beneath his cargo pants. He keeps shooting confused glances at her, sniffing the air with all the subtlety he can manage— which is to say, almost none. 

She crosses her arms over her chest, feeling acutely defensive and already dreading the conversation to come.

Otto finally breaks away from the bus and jogs towards them. He blinks in surprise as he approaches; even though he’s a beta, panting as he is, he can’t avoid registering her smell. 

“Alright, the folks should be settled for a minute,” he says, eager to break the growing awkward tension. “What’s this about an emergency situation?”

Several sets of eyes slide over to Claire, unwilling to answer. She clears her throat and braces herself.

“This morning, I believe that- well, I’m-” She can feel the flush rising up her neck. “Somehow, I just started my heat.”

Nobody shouts or gasps, but they all blanch to some degree, jaws dropping slightly before their manners catch up. 

“I thought you were a beta?” Mikey squeaks.

“I was on suppressants until my cycle stopped, about two years ago. Not enough food, too much stress.”

Betty shakes her head. “This is crazy. There’s no reason for your heat to come in— I mean, the conditions we’re under keep getting worse .” 

Claire shrugs. “I’m happy to get a check-up, but I’m pretty sure about this. The, ah, signs are all here.”

“Nausea, sweating, discomfort, and cramps?”

She nods. 

“Plus, even I can smell you, loud and clear, and I’m a beta,” Betty muses. “Any discharge?”

The blush crawls over her cheeks with a vengeance. “No, not yet,” she grits out. “Look, let’s not dwell on it. The bottom line is, I’m in heat, and it’s going to be a danger to the caravan in a couple of hours. What are we going to do?”

The undead are drawn inexorably to the living, but they tracked down smells, particularly pheromones, faster than sharks to blood. Combine that with the fact that the strongest human pheromones are produced by omegas in heat, and if Claire already smells attractive to a bunch of betas , not just alphas, then in a few hours, the scent will be all but irresistible to any undead within a few miles of her. It’s why so few omegas remain nowadays, why Claire had been so relentless in managing her heats; slipping up could literally kill not just her but the entire caravan.

“Well, we can’t wait it out,” Carlos says. “It could last for an entire week, and we can’t risk staying still for that long. We don’t have the resources to feed or defend ourselves without moving to scavenge.”

“So our options are…”

“You’re gonna have to break th’ heat,'' Chase drawls, appearing unconcerned despite the gravity of his words. “Nothin’ else is gonna cut it.”

Claire freezes. “No. Absolutely not.” Even with her senses ramping up and the sweat at her back not entirely coming from the weather, just the thought of letting one of the caravan’s alphas touch her— not even considering anything further, which would be necessary to break the heat— was disgusting . The scent of alpha is growing stronger around her, a combination of her expanding senses and their unconscious reaction to her own aroma. But unlike her usual heats, suppressed as they were, the smell isn’t desirable in the slightest; it’s only making her more nauseous. She tries to breathe through her mouth and wills her stomach to settle. 

Betty sighs, her hands coming to rest on her hips while Chase shrugs nonchalantly. The rest of the alphas shuffle in place, staring at their feet, the sky, anywhere but Claire. 

“I’m not- There’s got to be another way,” Claire says, trying to keep the anxiety out of her voice. There’s no point in hoping it won’t carry in her scent, but she can try. 

“I don’t think there is,” Betty replies. “Our last dose of suppressants expired a month ago, but even if we had some, they won’t work if the heat’s already started.”

Claire gapes at her. “So there’s nothing I can do except let an alpha fuck me and hope it goes away?”

A few of the guys choke, desperately trying not to cough in shock and surprise, but Claire just keeps staring at the woman, and Betty’s guilty shrug is all the answer she needs.

There’s no other option. 

“Oh my god,” she whispers. “This is really happening. Fucking- of course. Of course .” She sighs, but it comes out like a frustrated growl. Another moment to hate being born an omega. “Okay, fine.” she throws her hands up in surrender. “So I hole up in the motel with someone for, say, two days, and after that we just have to keep moving?”

“Why don’t you just... do it … in the Hummer so we don't have to stop?” Otto frowns. 

“It’ll take several hours, at least, and it’s better if she can nest,” Betty explains. Claire can’t decide if she wants to tear out the medic’s tongue or kiss her for stepping in. “This motel is actually a pretty good setting for this.”

“So that means you have to— pick someone?” Mickey’s tone is disgustingly hopeful. Claire kicks herself once again for not shutting him down earlier— his crush on her wasn’t going to hit gold anytime soon, but regardless, now it was digging with renewed fervor. 

“Who’s an alpha here?” She already knows, everyone already knows, but she needs the few seconds it takes to respond in order to think. Sure, the sex would be good and the caravan will literally be torn apart if she doesn’t satisfy the heat, but still . She’s about to hand herself over, at her most vulnerable state, to an alpha who hasn’t seen a lick of action for months, if not years. It’s not a comfortable choice. 

Mikey, LJ, Carlos, and Chase obligingly raise their hands, with varying levels of enthusiasm. Claire grits her teeth, weighing her options. LJ is committed and Carlos is practically a brother to her. Chase is old, and once lovingly mated. And Mikey is— she grimaces. Eager , to put it lightly. Furtively, she wishes Betty wasn’t a beta, or would at least offer to help, if only so she wouldn’t have to weather this heat underneath a male alpha. 

She groans, opens her mouth to make her decision— and pauses.

Alice’s hand is up.

Tentatively, only half-raised, but still up .

Claire turns to her. “You’re an alpha?”

“I think so,” she replies. At the Crew--and Claire’s— confused expressions, she elaborates, “As I told you all, I’m infected, but bonded with the virus. I was an alpha before I was infected and, to my knowledge, I still am.”

Claire can’t help herself from sniffing curiously at the woman, now that she knows she’s another prospect, but strangely, she can’t catch much of a scent from the blonde— though it does explain why Claire hadn’t scented and recognized her status when they met. 

“Is that even safe?” Carlos asks, stepping forward, and Claire finds herself shying away from him and (conveniently) towards Alice. “The virus spreads through bodily fluids. And not to be blunt, but if you two,” he makes a vague, innuendo-ish gesture, “then Claire could easily get infected.”

“I’m not contagious,” Alice states firmly. “She’d be fine. Besides,” she adds, slightly hesitant, “this might even be my fault.”

“ What !?” Claire spins towards her, lips curling back into a snarl.

She raises her hands placatingly, but looks guilty all the same. “I don’t know everything the virus mutated in me. I mean, it gave me mental powers— for all I know, it may have changed my pheromones in a way that, well, set off your heat.” 

“But Claire’s not the only omega in the caravan,” Otto interjects. “There’s also Stephen. Why isn’t he in heat?”

“Yeah, but Stephen’s mated to Anthony,” Chase drawls. “He’s not going to react to another alpha’s pheromones, even if they are special virus ones.”

“So maybe it’s best if Claire goes with Alice. If she triggered the heat.” Betty’s voice is cautious but approving. And god, it’s an awful idea, a terrible idea, to hop into bed— into a sudden heat no less— with a complete stranger, but the longer Claire looks at Alice, the less bad it seems. Alice is undeniably beautiful; her features are handsome despite the dirt and grit covering them. Her voice is deliciously raspy, and Claire can see enough definition in her arms to surmise that there was real strength in them. She just knows there’s a lithe, athletic body hidden beneath the tan monstrosity Alice calls a coat; though it obscures most of her form, the slip of a white tank-top underneath her other layers is tight to her skin, teasing at the soft swell of her chest and the tone of her abdomen. 

As if to prove her subconscious’s point, she feels a warm, wet trickle between her legs. She blushes immediately, mortified, as Alice’s gaze instantly snaps to her, the other alphas following suit a few seconds later as a fresh wave of needy omega scent wafts towards them. 

“Claire, honey, you need to decide soon,” Betty says, as gently as she can. She puts a hand on her shoulder; a supportive touch, her beta scent not entirely unpleasant to Claire’s heat-enhanced senses. 

“Um.” She looks around the circle, at Carlos’s resolved set, Mikey’s barely-hidden desire, Alice’s cool, unreadable expression. There’s something in her eyes, something Claire can’t quite parse— she’s not close enough to see it. Her feet take an involuntary half-step forward before she can think, and Alice’s eyes widen just the slightest bit, the pupils dilating, and Claire catches a sliver of Alice’s scent, as if it had slipped through the blonde’s fingers. 

 It’s indescribable. Something earthy and musk-like, with a sharp, spicy tang as well— and something else . Something good. Something that immediately sends another rush of slick dripping down her thigh. 

“Claire-”

“Alice!” She blurts. “I wa- I pick Alice.” She stares at the woman, entranced by the way her throat bobs in surprise. Then she looks back to the group and at their shocked expressions, immediately begins to backpedal. “Since she might have started it, of course,” she finds herself saying, though she hears none of the words leaving her lips. “I mean, if I pick someone else and the heat doesn’t break even after a day or two, then we’d be in trouble, and-” she licks her lips nervously, and fuck , Alice is staring at her now, staring at her lips and-

“Alright!” Chase grins, clapping a hand on each of their shoulders. “Now, why don’t you two ladies pick out a room an’ we’ll help you get settled? Bring some extra pillows, blankets ‘n such.” He gives them a shove towards the room doors as the rest of the crew gapes at them. 

“Yes!” Betty immediately brightens, and she steps up in Chase’s place, hurrying the two women towards the closest suite. “And some water, you’ll be needing that. Oh, and we’ll of course make sure y’all eat tonight too.”

Betty keeps talking, but Claire’s world is a blur broken only by the warmth of Alice at her side; she blinks, and suddenly, she’s standing in a bedroom, keys in her hand, and Alice sitting dazed in an armchair to her right. 

Claire looks up from the keys just in time to see Betty wink at her and close the door with an emphatic thud . She stares at the white wood for a moment, coming back to her senses, before turning to the room to gain her bearings. 

It’s a nice, if typical, motel bedroom; one desk with a (defunct) TV, a dresser with a few water bottles on top, two armchairs bracketing a large window—the curtains blessedly closed— and finally, two large, queen-sized beds, freshly made, with a mountain of extra linens piled on top. 

She starts towards the door, raising the keys, then thinks better of it, and sets them on the desk. As much as she wanted to keep the others out and hide her shame, she wasn’t quite comfortable with being locked in with an unfamiliar alpha. 

“So,” Claire starts, hesitant. What the hell is she supposed to say? Alright, let’s get fucking before I lure in our inevitable death!  

“So,” Alice repeats, sounding much calmer than Claire felt. “Why don’t you go ahead and make your nest? It’ll help you relax.”

Claire nods, focusing on the task set to her and pointedly avoiding any other thoughts. Right. Nest. Let’s go. Both the beds are made, so she starts by stripping the loose sheets and pushing the mattresses together. With the beds combined to create a larger platform, she shucks her boots to the side and climbs on top, arranging the pillows against the headboards and piling the blankets into a rough semi-circle around them. It’s been ages since she’s done this, particularly creating such a proper nest, but instinct is a confident guide; her hands practically move on their own to arrange the comforters and pillows just so. She feels a little childish; she’s a grown woman crawling around making a pillow fort   after all, but she can’t deny that with each pull and tuck of the blankets, her nerves start to settle, innately calmed by the rapidly forming nest. 

She can feel Alice’s eyes on her as she works, adding to the warmth that quickly suffuses her skin, and in place of nervousness, a familiar sense of want and neediness starts to claw at her gut. She can smell more of Alice’s scent now; nothing yet of the intoxicating, otherworldly spice, but the chemical, emotional indicators are much clearer, informing Claire of her calm, attentive mood. 

“Have you ever helped an omega through their heat?” she asks, trying to break the silence but also genuinely curious.

“I have,” Alice replies, “Just not a female one. Before the infection, my job—” she hesitates for a moment. “I worked security, at a high level, and I had to pose as the wife of my partner. We lived together, and he was an omega, so. It came up.” 

Claire whistles slightly. “Sounds above my pay grade,” she says. “Your partner, is he still—?” she trails off, trying to be a little delicate.

Alice shakes her head. “No, he’s dead. And good riddance.”

“Mm.”

“He deserved it,” Alice grins, though there’s a bit of shadow in her eyes. “And I never really liked him. But anyway, have you ever been helped by an alpha?”

Hot and slick as she is, caught up in the rote movements of primping her nest, Claire had almost forgotten about the entire situation. “Um. A few times,” she says. “I’ve dated a couple of alphas.” Idly she kneads at a pillow; she’s just about arranged the nest as perfectly as she can get it, but she feels awkward without something to focus on. 

“Okay,” Alice says, rising to her feet, and oh —  there’s her heat, curling low and insistent in her belly at the sight. “We can work with that.”

She watches, mouth dry, as Alice peels off her boots and outer layers, shedding her coat and holsters and depositing them onto the chair. It reveals a thin, toned body, with straight hips and broad shoulders, and a predatory grace in the way she holds herself. As an alpha should , Claire thinks, feeling another bolt of desire slink down her spine and soak into her underwear. Lastly, Alice unbuttons her brown overshirt, leaving the thin white tank top underneath to betray every curve of her breasts and stomach. She’s not even wearing a bra; Claire can clearly see Alice’s nipples through the thin cotton. She doesn’t bother trying to hide her wandering gaze— the woman is about to help her through her damn heat; it’s not like they’ll be strangers for long. 

Free of much of her clothes, Alice slowly approaches Claire in her nest, giving her time to adjust to the alpha coming into her newly-created space. She bites back the urge to defend her territory, instead trying to lean into her growing desire as Alice perches on the edge of the bed, not quite touching the rim of the nest. 

“If we want to break the heat,” Alice begins, “The best thing to do would be to knot right away, before it starts in earnest. But,” she continues, as Claire’s scent flashes with panic, “I only want to do what you’re okay with. I’m not going to Command you. You’re setting the pace here. If you want to— work yourself through this, or I can just touch you, nothing else, or-”

“That’s fine,” Claire blurts. “Touching me, I mean.” She blushes and looks away, but forces her gaze back to Alice. No sense in turning away from it now. The alpha’s new proximity stokes the burning in her skin, between her legs, makes her feel even emptier than before. She doesn’t just want Alice’s hands on her, she needs them; the omega in the back of her mind is starting to scream for it, muffled though it is. 

“Can I take off your-” She gestures at the harness around Claire’s shoulders, which clips into her belt. “Thing?”

“Yes,” Claire says, trying not to pant the word out. 

Alice reaches forward— gently, making herself as least-threatening as possible— and hooks her fingers under the suspenders at her shoulders, slowly dragging the leather straps down her arms. The back of her knuckles brush against Claire’s skin and she holds back a shudder. Then she moves for the buckle at Claire’s front, tantalizingly close to the aching burn in her core. The clasp undone, she unclips the harness from her belt, tossing it over the side of the bed, and tugs on the end of the belt, pulling it through the loops of her cargos like a snake. Like a caress. 

Divested of support, the waistband of her pants falls ever so slightly, exposing millimeters more skin of the strip that her top doesn’t quite cover; Alice’s eyes dart over the milky skin for only a split second before she pulls back to Claire’s gaze, but her pupils are undeniably bigger, black overtaking brilliant blue. Claire feels another rush of slick run between her folds at the sight, and Alice’s jaw clenches for an instant, but she doesn’t look down. 

Claire can smell herself at this point, can practically taste her desperate, hormonal need to be fucked and knotted. Alice is doing a remarkable job of holding herself back, considering that everything about Claire— her smell, her flushed skin, even the way she’s breathing— is begging for an alpha to comfort her. To press her against the nest and fuck her senseless. 

She scoots back, leaning into the pillows she’d just arranged for this precise purpose. Alice follows, and something about letting her past the threshold of the nest unwinds some of the tension in her stomach, though the throbbing emptiness rushes up to fill the space. Alice tries not to crowd her, but she ends up leaning over her slightly, one hand planted on the other side of her hips so she’s facing Claire square-on. It makes her shoulders roll forward, and suddenly all Claire can think about is holding onto the slope of them as Alice thrusts into her, clinging to the alpha by her nails, by her teeth, fuck— She keens helplessly, softly, slightly, and Alice lurches forward before she can stop herself, her lips skimming over Claire’s neck. Claire tilts her head back immediately, eager to present more skin. Alice groans and leans into her, pressing her down into the pillows to scrape her teeth across her neck, her tongue licking broad stripes along the scent glands just underneath the skin. It’s heavenly, it’s divine , starbursts of pleasure radiating out from the wet strokes, but it’s still far, far, too little, and she squirms impatiently underneath the alpha, rocking her hips up into her to find some friction and alleviate the ache for even a second. Alice groans a second time, but it’s a frustrated sound, and a strong hand pins Claire’s hips to the mattress as Alice lifts herself off of the omega. 

She whines at the loss, clenching around nothing but hot air and feeling the emptiness inside her double in intensity, raking hot claws through her gut. 

“Claire,” Alice rasps and she sounds so good, her name so perfect on her lips— alpha, alpha, please — and Claire sighs back, ready to do whatever she asked. Instead, she says, “ Calm down.” There’s the faintest bit of Command to her voice, not nearly enough to truly order her, but just enough to quiet her inner omega from screaming over any other coherent thought in her brain. 

“Take it slow,” She continues, leaning back and out of Claire’s space. “You’re out of practice, but you can handle this.”

Claire blinks, the heat-haze shattered, then buries her face in her hands and groans loudly into them. Her lack of control is embarrassing— she’s acting like it’s her first heat, young and needy, shamelessly impatient. It’s ridiculous, she knows, to act this way, but the ache in her bones is insistent like never before, strong and heady whenever she looks at the alpha before her. 

“I’m sorry,” she sighs. “We should slow down. But can you-” she brings her hands back to the sheets, twisting the linen between her fingers. “Can you please touch me?”

Her skin is taut and her breasts ache, the peaks tender and chafing even against her bra. Alice’s hand at her waist is the only part of her that doesn’t feel like a livewire, sparking with pent-up energy. 

“Please,” she insists. “I’m not just-” she huffs, breathing through another trembling wave of desire. “It hurts.”

At that, Alice finally relents. She pushes down on Claire’s hip, once— stay there — and lets go. She runs her hands along Claire’s calves, bare and feverish even out of her boots. Her palms come to rest on her knees and then tug, gently pressing her legs up and bending her knees against her chest so Alice can kneel where Claire’s legs had just lain. As she pulls Claire's legs back out, settling them on either side of her thighs, Claire is suddenly, keenly reminded of just how fucking wet she is. She knows she’s soaked through her underwear— that was never in question—but her thighs stick together in such a way that she doesn’t even have to look down to recognize that her pants are slick-stained down to the knees. 

“Eager, aren’t we?” Alice grins, and Claire’s cheeks flush violently in response. 

“I-”

“It’s okay,” Alice laughs, rubbing at her thighs apologetically. “I’ll take it as a compliment.” 

“Great,” Claire mutters, but her reticence lasts as long as it takes for Alice’s hands to slide under her shirt and over her stomach. 

She gasps gratefully into the touch, her focus narrowing down to the scrape of Alice’s calloused fingers over her skin. Her hands move steadily, hiking her shirt up and over her breasts. A whimper slips out when Alice brushes over them, the skin tender to the touch like it’s raw. Alice makes a comforting noise in her throat as she finishes rolling her shirt up. Once satisfied that it’ll stay, she turns her attention to Claire’s breasts, swollen and thankfully supported by her bra. The first touch is sensitive, almost painful; Claire hisses and Alice pauses immediately, waiting for the discomfort to pass. 

When she moves again, she presses more confidently against Claire, the increased pressure sinking past the uncomfortable feather-light threshold and into satisfaction. She massages the soft flesh, squeezing and kneading until Claire is gasping beneath her. 

“Get it off,” she pleads, plucking at the band of her bra. “Now.”

Alice obeys without a word, drawing her bunched-up shirt over her head and arms, then unclasps the offending garment and pulls it away from her chest, the straps dragging over her shoulders. Even the warm desert air is blessedly cool against her skin; she bites back a moan of relief as the heat lessens a little bit. Alice bends to lave her tongue against one stiff nipple and Claire cries out, but Alice doesn’t stop this time, just lavishes attention on the redhead’s chest, one breast and then the other until she’s trembling, her body’s demand too strong to be denied. 

“Alice, please,” she mewls. “Don’t tease— I need- I need you inside me, please-”

Alice doesn’t hesitate, lowering a hand to her pants and in one fluid movement, pops the button of her cargos and drags the fly down, flattening the heel of her palm to her drenched boxers and right against Claire’s clit. 

She nearly screams it feels so good; the first real ounce of relief she’s had all day. Her hips buck raggedly against her hand, chasing the white-hot pleasure, and Alice meets her, bringing the hand at her breast down to pin her hips, but moving her left against Claire, grinding her palm against her clit and pressing her knuckles into the soaked material to feel her folds. Slick rushes out with every touch, enough to drench her a second time; she can feel it pooling beneath her back. 

“God, you’re so wet,” Alice breathes, voice low and praising. “So good.”

So good, so good, so wet for you, whispers the omega. So ready for you .

Alice’s fingers glide down, fingers searching for her entrance and, finding it, squeeze inwards despite the fabric separating them. It’s maddening; her very blood is boiling with the need to be filled as soon as fucking possible, and Alice’s fingers are amazing inside her, just the beginning of a delicious stretch, but they’re held back by her briefs, the material straining before Alice’s inquiry. Control be damned; her body knew what it wanted, and it was going to get it.  

She growls and whines at the woman, tugging at the waistband of her underwear but unable to pull it down over Alice’s arm. 

“Shh, I’ve got you,” she croons, pulling her hands back to help Claire shed the last of her clothes. Claire fumbles when her pants tangle around her ankles, too addled with need to coordinate herself, and Alice has to pin her to the mattress in order to get a hold of her legs. After a scrambling moment, she peels the last bit of fabric from her damp skin and tosses it out of the nest. 

Now entirely bare before the other woman, Claire abruptly feels self-conscious, overexposed; she can’t believe she’s already this wrecked, so needy and quivering for this handsome stranger. Then, just as quickly, a sharp pride takes the place of her embarrassment, and she’s honored to be on display for the alpha. 

“Beautiful,” Alice murmurs, staring down at the omega spread across her lap. “You’re so beautiful, Claire, fuck-” she groans, leaning over to bury her head in the crook of Claire’s neck.

Yes, fuck! Fuck me ! Please!

Claire whines again, soft but insistent, and Alice immediately moves her hand back to Claire’s folds. Her thumb nestles against her throbbing clit and two fingers sink effortlessly inside her, so wet there’s not even a dream of friction between them, and Claire almost sobs in relief. 

Then Alice begins to move, stroking her clit but more importantly pumping her fingers in and out of Claire, a steady but firm pace that has her mewling in just minutes. It’s so good, it’s too much and yet so little, not nearly enough to sate her; but even so, she can feel herself rising to her peak, and her inner walls flex in anticipation, clenching around Alice’s fingers. They feel small inside her, too small, but Alice seems to sense this and squeezes in a third finger on her next stroke. She redoubles her efforts, driving Claire relentlessly towards the edge, her right hand fondling at her breasts as her teeth scrape across her neck. 

Claire moans into her, her hands having long since come up around Alice’s shoulders to anchor herself against the onslaught. She buries a hand in Alice’s shaggy blonde hair and pants against her neck, searching for a hint of that strange spice she’d sniffed earlier, but there’s hardly a trace of it on her now. She huffs in disappointment; she needs, yearns for the scent of the alpha, but no matter how she licks and nuzzles at her, nothing comes. Annoyed, she nips at the skin over the gland— not a bite, just squeezes the skin between her teeth— but Alice withdraws before she can blink, yanking her hand from Claire’s cunt with a wet noise, thin ribbons of slick hanging in the air between her fingers and Claire’s folds.  

An indignant yowl rips out of Claire’s throat, her fingers tightening their grip on the blonde, but Alice silences her with the slightest growl, her lips barely pulling back over her teeth. 

“No biting,” she hisses. “You’re better than that.”

“I’m not biting ,” Claire snaps, her anger cutting through the heat-haze. “I’m trying to smell you, jesus-”

“There’s a reason I’m not presenting,” Alice says sternly. “Don’t ask for it.”

Claire gapes at her, incredulous. “You’re going to try and break a life-or-death heat without scenting at all? Maybe I should have taken the bullet and picked-”

Without warning, tangy, earthen musk hits her senses like a sledgehammer, overwhelming, and the world expands around her. 

Every object in her vision is suddenly overwrought with new, detailed clarity; the colors more vivid, the shadows deeper and richer. Her senses are instantly turned on to maximum; she can hear every brush of the blankets as they shift, taste the grit and faint salt she’d licked from Alice, feel every muscle shift as she draws breath— god, she could feel . Everything was thrown into sharp relief; the barest change in texture between the pillows and the blankets, the rough denim of Alice’s shorts against her thighs, every fold and overlap of her swollen lips and the drops of slick trapped between. 

She has hardly a moment to process it all, her senses all unfurling so magnificently, before Alice roughly shoves her fingers back into Claire, thumb swiping once, harsh , against her clit, and Claire dimly registers that she can differentiate each individual wrinkle and callous on Alice’s knuckles before her orgasm rips through her.

 Her nerves light up, flooded with ecstasy like lightning, arcing from Alice’s hand to the very tips of Claire’s own fingers. It’s instant, without preamble; one second, nothing but her heat and the next, pleasure overwhelming. Her muscles seize in tandem with her nerves, and her inner walls clamp so hard around Alice’s fingers she can feel the joints grind. She wants to scream, tries to, but it breaks in her throat as soon as it starts, leaving her jaw strained wide open but soundless.

She has no idea how long her climax lasts, her body pulled tight as a bowstring and pulsing around Alice’s fingers, but she knows when it ends ; her grip on Alice’s knuckles loosens enough that she can slip them out, leaving her empty and fluttering on nothing but her own slick, and the wonderful, exquisite sense-smell begins to fade. The world blurs and dims around her, her senses losing their unnatural clarity as Alice’s projected scent subsides. The string snaps, its tension spent, and Claire falls, gasping, back into the pillows, choking back a sob at the sudden loss of sensation. 

A moment later, warm hands brush over her thighs, palm over her shoulders, cup at the swell of her breasts. Lips trace the shell of her ear, warm breath spilling over her cheeks. Gentle, placating touches wander all over her, never following the same path twice. Little by little, touch by touch, Claire shudders back to her body, her breathing slowing in time with the last contractions of her inner walls. 

When at last she blinks and actually sees the woman in front of her, leaned in close, wide-eyed and attentive, Claire feels her mouth spread into a smile, small but true.

Alice grins back, propping herself over Claire’s chest with one hand, the other coming to rest on her waist, settling onto the curve with a strange familiarity. 

“Hey,” she rasps. “You back with me?”

“Yeah,” Claire murmurs, wincing at her sore jaw. “I think so.” 

“Good.” Her thumb strokes across her hip, running along the ridge of the bone underneath. “I wasn’t expecting you to react like that,” she says, glancing at the soaked sheets beneath them, then back up to meet Claire’s eyes. “But I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“What did you think would happen?”

Alice shrugs. “Usually people pass out. Or it’s painful for them. It seems to be worse for omegas.”

“Wait, so you were—” her mind must still be foggy from her orgasm, because Alice doesn’t make sense at all. “You were going to knock me out?” 

“I was trying to prove my point,” Alice says. “About why I don’t present my scent.” Her nonchalant tone makes Claire bristle, and Alice squeezes her hip in a way that’s probably supposed to be comforting, but it just feels patronizing. “You were— are — deep in your heat. Even if I explained it as a logical argument, your omega wasn’t going to accept it.” her scent flares, just slightly, and Claire’s eyes momentarily roll back in her head. “A practical warning was necessary.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that would have really helped the situation,” Claire scowls at her. “You’re just lucky.” 

“I am,” Alice agrees, arrogant but not unreasonable. “You are too, apparently.”

Claire scoffs at the alpha’s attitude, but in the privacy of her mind, she concedes that she might have a point. As soon as Alice’s hands are on her, rational thought completely exits her brain. Still, it’s pretty disconcerting that Alice was expecting— counting on — her pheromones to knock out Claire, or even hurt her. 

“Well, if you’re not going to apologize for intended harm, can you at least warn me whether it’ll happen again?”

“What, flaring pheromones or your— reaction ? I hadn’t planned on doing it again, but if you really want it...” Her voice trails up and off, her tangy aroma growing stronger around them, sneaking around the reeking taste of arousal.  

Claire glares up at Alice’s knowing smirk, curses the incriminating blush crawling over her cheeks. 

“--yes,” Claire grunts, gritting her teeth. 

“Sorry, could you repeat that?” Alice leans closer, grinning like a Cheshire cat and impossible to avoid. “I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes!” Claire spits. “ Yes , I want you, I want that agai-”

She’s interrupted by Alice crushing their lips together, mouths half-open and teeth clashing. They jostle for a long moment before Claire tilts slightly and instead they slot together perfectly. Alice bites at her lip, squeezing the flesh just so and Claire moans and then Alice’s tongue is tangled with her own, swallowing the rest of the sound. 

Claire hadn’t realized just how quiet her heat had become until it returns with a vengeance, roaring in her ears and burning through her blood. Her body throbs with need, attuned so tightly to its demand that it entirely eclipses the temporary satiation her climax had lent her. She twists her tongue over Alice’s, urgent and demanding, clawing at the hem of her tanktop. Alice breaks their liplock to yank it over her shoulders; just a second, but it’s long enough that the screaming in Claire’s mind reaches a fever-pitch. The thought that Alice is not fully sheathed inside her is suddenly revolting , an insult to the very fiber of her being. 

“Alice—” Her desire is past the point of words, but she tries anyway. “I need you inside me, right now, please- ”

“ Yes, ” Alice gasps back, unbuckling her belts as fast as her shaking hands can manage. She shoves them down her hips, nearly tearing her stocking-garter in her haste. Underneath, the outline of her shaft is starkly clear beneath her boxers, straining against the white cotton and already leaking in anticipation. Claire reaches for her, pulling her cock free from its restraints. Alice is thick and hard in her palm. She’s not the largest Claire’s ever taken— although she’s pretty close— but what makes her walls clench in excitement is the already-hinting swell of the knot at its base. She can just imagine it inside her, filling her up, hot and deep and right . 

She strokes her, a long pass up and down; it was Alice’s turn to whine. 

“Claire,” she pants, “let me-”

“Please.” she hooks her fingers under the elastic and drags them down to her knees, baring Alice’s hips and thighs to her. Alice’s hands scoop under her legs, propping her further up on her lap, and Claire lays a shaking hand against Alice’s tip to guide her to her entrance. 

Alice’s eyes glance up to meet hers, one last, wordless question burning within, and Claire can only nod her permission before Alice plunges inside her with a strangled howl. 

The stretch sends pure bliss washing over her, but heat chases after it like whiskey-burn. She rolls her hips and a low moan rumbles out of Alice, bracing her hands around Claire’s waist as she slowly presses in. Claire takes her greedily, inch by glorious inch, until Alice is buried inside her to the hilt, stretching her walls as far as they’ll go and Claire could cry it feels so good. It’s everything her body’s demanding, everything she’s been desperate for all day. 

Alice’s hips twitch, her shaft jumping inside Claire. She reflexively squeezes back to keep her from slipping out even a centimeter, making the alpha gasp against her, hands clutching at her hips, her nails digging bluntly into the flesh. 

They pant for a moment more before Alice begins to move. The first few strokes are jerky, strained, skin clinging to skin until Alice adjusts her grip and more slick surges out of Claire, firmly coating Alice’s length. Aptly prepared, she thrusts in earnest, sliding a few inches at a time, then more, urged on by Claire’s cries of approval, becoming full, pounding strokes. The base of her shaft grinds deliciously at her budding clit, bottoming out with each thrust, striking deep enough that for split-second instants the yawning void inside her is filled. But as quickly as Alice learns to move inside her, so too does her need grow, demanding more. Claire rocks back against her, meeting her stroke for stroke, taking her as far as she can to chase the edge of ecstasy. She doesn’t feel real ; she’s a creature of sweat and need, sprinting towards an endless cliff and begging to fling herself from the edge. Her second climax is rising up to catch her, making her quiver around Alice’s shaft, but instead of anticipation, it brings a panicked urgency to Claire’s movements. She can’t- she can’t come yet, she needs Alice to crest with her. Needs to be filled with her seed, pinned and knotted and claimed-

As if in answer to her prayer, Alice’s knot, now full, begins to batter against her front wall, seeking entrance. Claire looks down to where they’re joined and- god, she’s huge . Claire could die happily once she held it inside her, but until then, she has no idea how she’s going to take it in. Luckily, Alice starts the process for her, snapping her hips forward and forcing the edge of her knot inside. Claire cries out hoarsely; it’s stretching her and it hurts but it’s nearly enough , and her body begins, slowly, achingly slowly, to yield.

But she needs more, now ; her heat demands it, so she mewls, drags her nails across Alice’s shoulders. It earns her another sharp thrust, but the knot doesn’t budge any deeper. 

“Alice, please,” she doesn’t know, doesn't care what words fly from her lips. “Just fuck me, knot me, please- ” 

With a snarl, Alice lifts onto her knees, raising Claire’s hips with her, changing the angle just enough that she can thrust with her full strength. She bucks into Claire at a punishing pace, pulling out almost completely before slamming her hips forward, with each stroke driving her knot further into the omega. Claire yells out each time, shouting with delirious pleasure, winding Alice up further and further, until with a final, feral roar, Alice’s hips snap flush to Claire’s, her knot splitting through the last of her body’s resistance and lodging firmly within. Her lower lips seal fast behind Alice’s knot, which seems to swell even larger , stretching Claire’s walls burning tight— but Claire welcomes the flame, relishes in knowing that not one single drop of Alice’s come would escape her. She’s filled, finally fucking filled , all of Alice clutched tight within her. Her body’s demand is sated, having reached the end of its frenzied rush to be joined with her chosen alpha. And as if being knotted wasn’t its own reward, Claire claims her second orgasm like a prize, vicious and glorious. She seizes tight around Alice’s shaft as her climax ripples through her, wrenching gasps from both of them. 

Alice’s hips buck erratically, trying to thrust but unable to move, shuddering under the pressure of Claire’s aftershocks until finally the tense strain along her cock bursts. Thick, hot ropes of come surge into Claire, flooding into the deepest parts of her. Jet after jet, spilling more and more until Claire’s certain she cannot take another ounce, and yet inevitably, some further barrier in her body gives way. It makes her walls clench and squeeze around Alice in response, prompting another round of come to pour from her knot. They loop like that, pulling and pressing each other to the limit, and Claire thinks at some point she herself peaks a third time, but the sensations are all blurred together into an excruciating haze of ecstasy, too difficult to pull apart into individual pieces. 

Minutes or hours later, Alice pumps her hips one last time, as if for emphasis, then sinks on top of Claire, utterly spent. Her knees collapse and slide under her, letting her lay fully over Claire, but the hasty position strains the angle of their hips; her knot tugs against the taut seal of her cunt, and she yelps in pain. 

Alice swiftly jerks away, bracing her hands on either side of Claire in order to lift herself up. Her arms tremble but refuse to falter, and together the two adjust their joined hips until they can lay together comfortably. Alice rests her head to the side of Claire’s, burying her face in the pillows for a long moment before resurfacing and turning towards the omega, licking and nuzzling into her neck. Satisfaction rolls off of the alpha in waves, along with something that Claire can only comprehend as a sense of possession, a fervent mine mine mine that makes her omega instinct whimper and shiver with— delight? Honor? It makes her want to burrow into Alice’s arms and never come out; assures her that she’s protected and cared for. Her neck throbs under Alice’s touch, a gentle ache where she longs for Alice’s teeth to mark her, but the moment for it is passed now. She knows it should make her upset, but the pleased alpha pheromones calm her. Alice’s weight on top of her, the slick heat of their union, the stretch of Alice filling her, knot, shaft, and seed— Claire is content. She’s exactly where she’s supposed to be. Alice’s arms are meant to hold her, but Claire was made to fit within them; meant to be kissed and knotted and claimed by her, meant to bear her pups and—

Wait. Shit. Pups?

She can’t see anything but the long line of Alice’s back and the curve of her butt, draped over Claire as she is, so Claire focuses herself to the press of their stomachs. Does she feel any different? Well, yeah, duh , she’s stuffed with come and alpha, but other than that, not really. (Except the encompassing feeling of being home .) But— is she really okay? Would she feel anything, if- if she was pregnant? Would it— could it have even happened already? Surely not, they’d only been joined minutes ago. She cants her hips down, testing the strength of their link. It doesn’t budge, of course, just makes Alice’s breath hitch against her throat. 

Claire knows her biology; she, like every other anxious omega, had paid close attention to the warnings of highschool sex ed. Knotting without protection always had a slight risk, but in heat ? A near guarantee. Heat, quite literally, is the omega’s way of advertising its fertility. Claire’s always been careful, maybe too careful, pinching and anxious during heat sex, even though she was usually both suppressed to hell and on the strongest birth control she could get. But now she has neither of those; nor, apparently, even enough self-control to prevent this situation in the first place. And although ostensibly she’d stopped cycling because her body had determined it couldn’t support the strain of bearing a child, who knew how well that fact would hold up against this mystery heat? 

“I can hear you thinking,” Alice rumbles, startling her out of her thoughts. “And smell your— alarm.”

She pushes up onto her forearms, braced to the sides of Claire. It affords her a peek between their bodies; though their stomachs squish together, past the valley of her breasts, her belly is clearly swollen. Her womb, glutted with come, expanded within her. 

“Hey.” Alice brings a hand to her cheek. The touch is tender, grounding, but it requires her to shift her weight onto her other arm, and Claire can feel her belly slide under Alice as she moves. “What’s wrong?” 

She bites her lip. “We shouldn’t have knotted.” 

Alice raises an eyebrow and rolls her hips, drawing out a little gasp. “Bit late for that now,” she remarks dryly. 

“But I could-” she swallows, tries to remain serious and not belie her growing worry. “I’m in heat. We knotted. By all accounts, I’ll get pregnant.”

“You won’t,” Alice replies easily. There’s not an ounce of concern in her scent. 

“You don’t know !” she stares imploringly at the woman. “Being in heat is the height of fertility! It’s my body begging to be fucked for the express purpose of producing a child.” 

“It’s fine ,” Alice says, ducking her head to her breast, but Claire pushes her away by her cheeks.

“I’m serious, Alice. We have no idea whether the heat’s enough for me to get pregnant. Even if I haven’t been cycling, that doesn’t mean this heat isn‘t real and I might-”

“Claire. I’m sterile.”

The rest of her panicked train of thought comes to a screeching halt. 

“What?”

“I’m sterile,” she repeats. “I can’t get you pregnant.”

“How- how do you know? Is it the virus, or?”

Alice’s gaze is even and calm, almost... tired.

“It’s the virus,” she confirms. “My sperm, it can’t- the egg won’t accept it anymore, or something.”

“Or something? ” 

“I wasn’t exactly told the details,” Alice says, bristling slightly. “It’s just what I overheard in the labs.”

Claire’s heart stills in her chest. Labs?  

The question must be clear on her face, because Alice sighs, turning away. “Umbrella tested me for everything when they recaptured me. Trying to understand the mutation. One day they-” her hands clench at the sheets, pain flickering across her face. Claire smooths her palms over Alice’s, and the blonde lets out a ragged breath. 

“They forced my rut,” she continues, biting out the words. “Chemicals, hormones, pumped into me until I couldn’t hold back. They brought in omegas to me, even a beta or two, and I-” pause, a shuddering half-sob. “I couldn’t stop myself. I wasn’t even human at that point. And afterward, I was terrified that they were- that I’d-” Claire squeezes her knuckles, reassuring pressure. “But nothing came of it. Of me. And once Umbrella determined it wasn’t going to work, they moved on.” 

Claire stares at her, mute with horror. To think that Umbrella would not only force Alice to breed for the sake of scientific curiosity, but risk the safety of the omegas, trapped with a dangerous, out of control, rutting alpha— it’s despicable. And she can only imagine the strain on Alice’s will; even the scant time she’s known her has affirmed her relentlessly caring and protective nature. And yet Umbrella had broken her. Even if only for a short time, through manipulating her body’s inherent weaknesses and not her mind; but she’d been broken nonetheless. 

“I’m so sorry,” Claire whispers. It’s a pathetic response; she wants to comfort the other woman, but she has no idea what to say. 

Alice shrugs, and somehow that stings even more. “Carlos and LJ rescued me just a little later. Umbrella didn’t manage to do anything worse before then.”

“Still,” Claire breathes. “That’s awful. I can’t believe…”

And she’s no better. 

“What is it?” Alice’s eyes are so blue, so curious, so sad. “I’m fine now.”

“I didn’t give you a choice either,” Claire realizes. “I just blurted your name, and then everything happened so fast, and I made you-”

“No.” Alice pins her by the wrists, lifting further off of her but staring her dead in the eye. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I made you fuck me! There was no chance for you to refuse, nor a good reason, not unless you told everybody-”

“Nobody can make me do anything,” Alice interrupts, voice hard. “And if I’d refused, I wouldn’t owe them an explanation either.”

Claire pauses, mouth open, caught midway through her next denial. She doesn’t doubt it, believes without question that Alice could rip through anyone who stood in her way. 

“So why’d you agree?”

Her voice sounds so small, and yet it seems enough to hold Alice spellbound; she stares at Claire for a long minute, jaw working back and forth as she considers her response. 

“I don’t know,” she finally replies. “You seemed so upset. Uncomfortable. I guess… I wanted to try and help.” 

Oh.

This woman had stumbled out of the desert after five years, immediately saved the caravan from certain death, and then turned around and offered to— did— it again the next morning. But she’d done it not just for all of them, she’d done it for Claire . Because Claire was distressed. Because Alice cared, inexplicably, about a woman she’d just met.  

And fuck , apparently Claire does too, because tears well up in her eyes and spill over her cheeks before she can blink them back. 

Alice immediately releases her wrists, lowering back to Claire so she can cradle her cheeks and wipe her tears with her thumbs. 

“I’m sorry,” Claire sniffles. She’s not entirely certain what for; there's a lot of different reasons, and she also just feels like she should anyway. 

Alice shushes her gently. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“I know.” And yet. And yet . “I just-”

“Shhh.” Alice leans forward, presses her lips to Claire’s cheeks and kisses away the salt. “You’re okay. It’s alright, I’ve got you.” 

For the thousandth time, she curses her heat for making her so sappy and emotional. It’s irrational, stupid and unseemly. She’d been glad to find her cycle broken, even if it was another sign that the world—and herself—was dying, because it was one less thing for Claire to hate about being an omega. No more week-long, sniveling sensitivity. No more feeling vulnerable like a prey animal.  

Alice, however, seems insistent on changing her conception of how her heats can go. First the wild, untamed passion (whose consequences she'd admittedly avoided by the skin of her teeth), and now this unexpected gentleness towards her mood swings. It just pricks new tears to her eyes, but Alice is already there, kisses and thumbs to take them away. Claire wraps her arms around her, clinging to the broad planes of Alice’s back while half-muffled sobs send tremors throughout her. 

**

By the time the shards of light spilling from the curtains have tracked down the bed and partway across the floor, Claire’s eyes finally run dry and her shaking comes to a rest. Alice runs her hands along her face once more, then presses a kiss to her temple and leans back. 

“You alright?”

Claire nods mutely, tongue thick in her mouth. 

Alice glances towards the bedside. “Do you want some water? You’re probably a little dehydrated by now.”

She nods again, so Alice reaches for one of the water bottles Betty had thoughtfully left them. She stretches out over Claire, restrained by their joined hips. Despite her long arms, she can’t avoid tugging; Claire’s nest is situated in the middle of the two beds, and the distance to the nightstand is just out of Alice’s reach. She leans forward a little more, extending herself as far as she can, and Claire wriggles beneath her, the awkward angle of their hips putting uncomfortable pressure on her entrance. Alice glances down guiltily as she tugs forward one more time, hand closing around the bottle but sending a grating pain through her walls and she gasps, flinching, as a final sharp, stinging throb pierces through her before Alice’s knot squeezes out with a lewd pop . 

Alice flails above her, knocked off-balance by the loss of the tether, but Claire’s more distracted by the torrents of come that squirt out around Alice’s cock and drench her thighs, resoaking the sheets below her. The pressure in her gut lowers noticeably, and she takes a deep breath, appreciating the ease of tension. 

Having regained her footing, Alice draws back and completely pulls out of Claire, her limp shaft sliding out without complaint. It’s accompanied by another gush of come, spilling over her lap. 

“Jesus Christ, just how much of that did you get in me?” Claire gripes, incredulous. “I look like a fucking Thanksgiving turkey.”

A lout cackle bursts out of Alice before she can stifle it, and Claire grins despite herself. 

“If your turkey stuffing looks like this ,” she gestures to Claire’s dripping lap, still laughing, “then I have some serious concerns about your cooking ability.”

Claire rolls her eyes. “Never claimed to be a homemaker,” she shrugged. Then, “Look, it’s still coming! What the hell!”

“That’s what she said.”

The burning rage of a thousand suns could not compare to the look Claire turns on the smirking alpha. 

The only thing that prevents Alice’s instant and utter demise at Claire’s hand is the water bottle she waves in front of her face. Claire snatches it, grumbling, but she is thirsty, now that she thinks about it. She pops the cap and easily guzzles half, uncaring when some of it drips down her throat. She’s already covered in sweat and semen, what’s a little more liquid?

She pauses gulping to take a breath, and makes the mistake of looking up at Alice. 

Alice, who’s absolutely enraptured by the beads of water clinging to her throat. Claire swallows, and Alice’s eyes follow the movement, pupils blown wide and hungry . 

Now who’s horny?

Claire raises the bottle and takes a messy swig, letting another rivulet of water run over her chin and down her neck, winding along the swell of her breast until it loses momentum above her belly button. She recaps the water, sets it aside past the ridge of the nest, and sits up further against the pillows. The change in angle gives the droplet enough of a boost to crest the swell of her stomach and dip into the seam of her thighs, mixing with the thick wetness already there. Alice tracks it like it’s the last drop in the whole damn desert. 

“You want some more?” 

She nods, gaze unmoving. Her hands clench around Claire’s calves as the sweet, muggy scent of arousal begins to pour off of her. 

Claire finds that her own heat is burning as well, easily stoked by the alpha’s scent. But this time she’s ready, in control. She looks up at Alice, implores her to meet her heady gaze. 

“Come get it.” She tilts her thighs out and spreads her legs further, slick already starting to gather between her folds, washing away the come trapped between.

Alice dives in, beelining for her throat and Claire bares it in anticipation, but at the last second, she swerves, instead sealing her lips to Claire’s. Claire freezes for a second, surprised, but just as quickly presses back into it, and their lips slot together again without hesitation. They just kiss , mouths moving over one another for a small age before Alice bites at her lip in silent question. Claire immediately opens for her, and Alice’s tongue slides into the space like it belongs there. She moans softly, and Alice greedily swallows it up, licks through her mouth and across her teeth to get more noises out of her. Claire happily obliges, past the point of embarrassment and now simply aroused beyond belief. The edge of her heat had been dulled, but it was still roaring in her ears, not nearly satisfied yet and eager to make this fact known. 

Alice’s hands roam over her, trying to touch everything at once while also lavishing attention on each individual part. Claire reaches out as well, finally feeling up the alpha’s toned body, and Alice groans her approval into Claire’s mouth. She fondles at her breasts, tweaking pert nipples and squeezing at their swell. Claire shudders and moans, pressing herself into the alpha’s hands. Her own return to their stations behind Alice’s neck, having touched her a tolerable amount before needing to hang on to something. 

Alice rolls and pinches at her for another minute before her hands move lower, and her mouth breaks from Claire’s with a wet noise. Claire whimpers, chasing after her, but Alice ducks to her neck, open-mouthed and lapping at the skin. She gathers up the droplets of water, licks the entirety of her throat clean before moving further down to suck bruises onto her breasts, pinching a nipple between her teeth and flicking her tongue across it. 

“F-fuck.” Her boobs are so unexpectedly sensitive ; already she can sense a slight, tense coil in her gut. 

Observant as ever, Alice renews her efforts, and Claire only has the warning of a pricking bite and a meaningful look before Alice’s musk hits her senses again. 

“ FUCK!”

She breaks on Alice’s fingers a second time; it was a near thing not to peak from just her hands on her chest, but she’d held on, barely. Then Alice takes her apart with her tongue, and manages to wring two out of her for her trouble, one right after the other, Claire screaming herself hoarse above her. 

In fact, she almost comes then and there when Alice finally slides her length inside her. She sees spots, curses vehemently, and immediately begins to rock into the alpha, eager to make her pleasure once more. It takes hardly a moment longer than their first union for Alice to press her knot inside; despite their efforts to drag out their lovemaking, Claire is already stretched and ready, and Alice too turned on to deny the call of her clinging heat. Alice’s second climax is, if possible, even stronger than the first, pushing Claire’s already swollen womb to the absolute, straining limit, but she can’t even bring herself to care about the near-painful pressure when Alice looks at her, satisfied and proud, and that feeling of pure bliss rushes through her. 

When Alice is at last spent, she rolls the pair onto their side, avoiding laying on top of the omega to help ease the pressure on her belly. They kiss languidly while they wait for the knot to soften, hands moving slowly over each other while they trade lips. All the while, Alice’s musk courses through the air around them, heightening each sensation to near-overwhelming. Claire just keeps clenching around Alice, trying not to bite off her lip each time, until eventually a ragged weariness crawls behind her eyelids and drags her, mostly willingly, into the dark. The last thing she feels is Alice wrapping her in a hug, careful not to clutch her too close, and pressing a kiss to her temple, breath whistling through her lips in an indistinguishable whisper. 

**

Claire awakens to knocking at the door, two hesitant taps against the wood. She doesn’t move, doesn’t even open her eyes; her entire body feels boneless and immoveable, heavier than stone. Besides, Alice is curled around her, her musky scent clinging thick and reassuring to the sheets. Though the sound seems to also have woken her up, if the faint, annoyed rumbling in her chest is anything to go by. Pressed against Claire’s back, it reverberates through her, and even though it's a displeased noise, hearing the alpha comforts her on an instinctive level. 

Someone knocks again, louder this time, three sharp retorts. Alice’s rumbling deepens, the noise in her throat consolidating into a true growl as she lifts onto an elbow. 

“What.” She asks, though her lilt is hardly questioning. 

“We’ve got dinner, if you want it?” comes the reply, muffled through the walls. “It’s getting late, so we figured we’d-”

“Leave it,” Alice rasps, already resettling behind Claire. 

The door creaks open with a squeal and light spills into the room, blinding despite her closed eyes. She flinches away, curling over and into Alice’s chest. 

“Is Claire alr-”

Alice snarls at the voice, raw and furious at the intrusion; at the disturbance of her omega no less. She lunges forward, plants a hand in front of Claire, and the bed shakes as her body swings around to crouch protectively over her prone form. 

“Hey, it’s okay, I just-”

Carlos doesn’t get to finish his sentence; Alice cuts him off with a fearsome roar.

“Get out!” she thunders, voice dripping with Command.

Carlos must hesitate in the doorway, because a second later, Alice’s scent flares, so strong it seems to physically lash out around them. Claire hears Carlos gasp and stumble, then a rustle, a metallic clank, and finally the door slams shut, restoring the room to blissful darkness. Alice remains crouched over her for a tense minute, no doubt burning holes in the door with the strength of her glare, before she at last draws back. 

Despite how leaden her arms feel, Claire paws at her, trying to entice the alpha to lay back down, but Alice just presses a kiss to her shoulder before slipping out of her grasp entirely. A pitiful mewl crawls out of her chest as she feels the mattress dip under Alice’s weight, maneuvering over the edge of the nest and off the bed. She keens, a high and reedy note, already feeling bereft without her alpha’s warmth around her. 

Her abandonment is only temporary, however; moments later, the mattress dips again, and then firm hands are guiding her to sit propped against the pillows. Something cool presses against her lips and Claire opens her mouth without hesitation, biting into whatever Alice’s slender fingers offered her. 

Sweet, saccharine nectar spills over her tongue and she nearly chokes on a moan. She chews, swallows, and eagerly accepts the other half of the peach slice when Alice offers it, flicking her tongue gratefully across the pads of Alice’s fingertips while she takes the fruit between her teeth. One by one, Alice feeds her the slices, slowly and carefully, dutifully holding out each piece for Claire to bite into. Her eyes peek open partway through, and even though there’s barely enough light coming through the curtains to see, she stares at Alice, each of them watching the other, half-lidded, eyes wide and darkened by more than nighttime adjustment. When the peach slices run out, Alice tips the edge of the can against her lips, and Claire tilts her head to swallow the remaining juice, licking inside to try and capture every last drop. Finally, Alice pulls the can away, instead leaning to press her own lips against the redhead. Her tongue darts out and licks at the corner of Claire’s mouth, catching a stray trail of peach juice before it can dribble down her chin. She kisses Claire, long and languid, so much that she starts to lose the distinction between the tastes of fruit and alpha. 

Claire sighs against her, pleasantly full; although a single can wasn’t usually enough to sate her hunger, with the way her womb is swollen with come, the peaches alone make her feel stuffed. 

“Thank you,” she murmurs, and though the words are slurred by her uncooperative jaw, she knows it’s suffused throughout her scent; gratitude overwhelming, and not just for dinner. 

“Of course,” Alice replies, smoothing a hand over her hair and kissing her temple. “Anything for you.”

Claire leans into the touch, too tired to fight the innate omega urge to be as close as possible to her alpha. Nor can she ignore the way her heart flutters at Alice’s words, or her protective hunch over Claire. 

“Come here,” she murmurs, fingers dancing languidly across Alice’s hips. The blonde bends down eagerly, slotting her body along Claire’s side without a second thought. Her stomach, however, now pressed against Claire’s, is an uncomfortable pressure, and Claire whimpers when her upset womb sends a bolt of slick and come gushing out of her. 

“Sorry, sorry!” Alice gasps, sucking in her tummy and arching away. 

“It’s alright,” Claire reassures her, though she winces one last time before the trickle between her legs comes to a stop. “I’ve just never- I’ve never been so full before.”

Alice brushes careful, featherlight fingers over the noticeable swell. “You know, you look perfect like this.” She whispers it like it’s a confession. 

Claire hides her definitely completely omega-instinct-induced smile in Alice’s neck. “Perfect for you,” she agrees. Usually she hates this part; painfully waiting for her body to absorb or expel enough come until she can go for another round. No matter how close her partner, it always makes her feel dirty and used, like an object; just a warmer and more inviting alternative to a sock. But here in Alice’s arms, for the first time, she can’t find any reason to complain about the stretch; in fact, when she glances down to see Alice’s fingers splayed across her stomach, all she feels is grateful and proud to be holding so much of the alpha inside herself. 

Content to lay still for a while, she watches Alice’s hand idly wander across the planes of milky skin bared to her. She traces the curves and valleys of her body, connecting lines between each freckle, as if her entire body was a single constellation, sometimes drawing nonsensical patterns across her skin. Long minutes pass like that, a near-meditative calm settling over her as Alice’s touch maps her body. At length, her hand crests the ridge of her hips and lingers over the mound at the apex of her thighs, carding gentle fingers through the thick red curls on top. 

“Can I touch you now?” she breathes, lips pressed to the crown of Claire’s head.

Claire shifts tentatively, slowly spreading her thighs apart, but her gut clenches in protest, contracting around her womb and forcing more come to drip out. 

“Not yet,” she sighs, though the corners of her mouth turn up wryly. “This is your fault, you know.”

Alice snorts. “You asked for it. But either way, I’d never dream of leaving my omega unsatisfied.”

Your omega. Yours, yours, yours . Claire squeezes her eyes shut—it was just a slip of the tongue, she didn't mean it—but the thought reverberates throughout her core, and she’s helpless against it. She buries her face further into Alice’s neck, shivering from more than just the rapidly chilling evening. 

Alice, attentive as always, notices and rubs her arms, her palms delightfully warm, then reaches for the pile of blankets that Claire had intentionally set aside from the nest. She picks a fluffy comforter and lays it across their entwined forms, making sure to tuck it in below Claire’s chin. Once she’s confident that Claire is fully enveloped, she drapes a protective arm across the omega, mindful of her belly, and sinks back into the pillows at her side. It sets a feeling too big to name sitting in Claire’s chest, a stone that weighs like destiny. Like they’re two halves of a broken whole, drawn back together by an inevitable magnetic pull. 

She shakes her head and chalks it up to being heat-addled. 

(Tries to. She can’t deny that it feels more than just right when the alpha—when Alice — is taking care of her.)

“Go back to sleep,” Alice says, low and raspy. “You’ll wake up when you’re ready again.”

There’s not even a trace of Command in her voice, but Claire’s eyes still slide shut immediately, and she slips back into a dreamless bliss faster than Alice can blink.