Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“I think most omegas should be lucky to experience their alpha’s rut so early after being wed,” Michaela said, “so they know what they’re getting into.”

Francesca looked up at her. “And what do you think you’re getting into?”

Michaela smiled as she came toward her, wrapping her hair up for the night. “Well, that’s a wonderful question, but…” She gave a small shrug. “I think it’s best not to have any expectations.”

Francesca sat on their bed with her arms wrapped around her legs. She swallowed. “So you won’t be disappointed?”

Michaela’s eyes widened. “That is a laugh! I merely meant that it’s presumably your first rut with an omega.”

Francesca’s eyes widened now, too. “Of course.”

Michaela hummed. “See? So if I were to say I think you’ll be sweet and accommodating, and then you aren’t… well, you might feel guilty afterward.” She finally dropped her arms and crawled up to where Francesca sat. “Don’t worry,” she murmured. “I’ll be gentle.”

Francesca gave a small smile, but she still had that strained expression on her face. She bowed her head. “Do you think I’ll hurt you?”

Michaela hummed, amused. “I’m not sure there’s anything you could do to me that I wouldn’t like.”

Francesca looked up to see a smug smile on her wife’s face. She rolled her eyes. “I’m being serious.”

Michaela leaned in. “Oh, so am I.” She pressed a kiss to Francesca’s cheek. “Now, let’s sleep. We have to leave tomorrow before your rut starts.”

Francesca sighed and pulled back the sheets so they could crawl under. Michaela snuggled closer, and Francesca brought a hand up, tracing her jaw. “I love you,” she whispered.

Michaela smiled. “I love you too.” She took a slow breath in, then whispered, “We might not make it to the country tomorrow.”

Francesca was grateful for the darkness, so Michaela couldn’t see her blush. She slipped her arm around her and asked, “But do you?”

Michaela was quiet for a moment, then said, “I think you’re going to knot me… maybe twice… and sleep the day away.”

Francesca gulped in the darkness, and Michaela laughed softly. “Let’s not picture that quite yet.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t think you’ll be as restrained as you usually are.”

Francesca nodded at that and let out a slow breath. Michaela pushed out calming pheromones, and Francesca felt the tightness in her shoulders ease. She sagged slightly and mumbled, “Thank you.”

Michaela didn’t answer, and it didn’t take long for her to fall asleep.

Despite Michaela’s pheromones surrounding her, Francesca remained restless. Maybe it was because she was on the cusp of her rut and Michaela was pressed against her, or maybe it was just the underlying worry brought on by all the horror stories she’d heard of alphas in rut. Francesca was not an alpha prone to such displays, and she would hate for that to change.

She brought a leg over Michaela, holding her tight, and somehow managed to drift off like that. Her slumber was as peaceful as could be.

She was woken up by a knock on the door. She blinked her eyes open and looked down to find Michaela still asleep, using her hand as a pillow. Francesca afforded herself a small smile before slowly pulling her hand back. When Michaela didn’t stir, Francesca got up from the bed, swinging her legs over the side. She reached for a robe as she made her way to the door. She slipped it on, opened the door slightly, and found John the footman standing there.

He smiled politely. “The carriage is ready for when you and Mrs. Stirling are ready to leave.”

Francesca nodded. “Thank you.”

He nodded in return and turned away.

Francesca closed the door, stretched slightly, and turned back toward their bed. The sun wasn’t even up yet. “How early is it?” she mumbled.

She stripped off the robe and sat on the edge of the bed, glancing back at Michaela, who was still asleep. Francesca clenched her teeth—they were in for it today.

They left just as the sun began peeking through the windows. Michaela was grumbly—she was not a morning person at all, partially because she liked staying up late, something Francesca was still getting used to.

In the carriage, Michaela sat beside her, still halfway asleep, and Francesca reached for her hand, interlocking their fingers. Michaela squeezed back. Francesca looked over at her, and Michaela smiled.

“Are you excited?”

Francesca swallowed and gave a jerky nod. “I’d like to think so. I mean, obviously… but also a tad bit scared.”

Michaela smiled. “I imagine that apprehensiveness will fade away.”

Francesca took a deep breath and looked back out at the passing buildings. Michaela’s thumb rubbed across the back of her hand, slow and grounding. Francesca glanced over again, and this time she couldn’t help pausing on Michaela’s neckline. She breathed in and quickly looked away, but Michaela had caught her.

She hummed loudly. Francesca clenched her eyes, her skin burning.

“It’s a bit early to start ogling me, isn’t it?” Michaela teased.

Francesca opened her eyes but didn’t look over. “Unless it’s started a day early,” she mumbled.

Michaela laughed. “I doubt it.”

Francesca looked over at the tone she said it in, and Michaela smiled, pleased with herself. “I am quite irresistible.”

Francesca smiled and shook her head. “You are.” She leaned down for a small kiss, and Michaela met her halfway, pressing in.

Francesca was the first to pull back, murmuring, “We have to pace ourselves.”

Michaela rolled her eyes. “Do not fight your biology. Actually, you should give in.”

Francesca laughed at that and leaned down to kiss her cheek instead. When she sat back, she slouched a bit and said, “I’ve always hated these long rides—”

Michaela cut her off. “I know a way for us to stay busy.”

Francesca cleared her throat and stuttered, “A—all the noise and commotion from everyone…” She squeezed Michaela’s hand.

Michaela let out a small, surprised “Oh.”

Francesca smiled. “Where did you think I was going with that?”

“I thought perhaps you were going to say something romantic, like… ‘but now that I have good company, it’s quite enjoyable,’” Michaela shrugged.

Francesca chuckled. “My love, we have not even left Mayfair yet, but I won’t deny that the company is… enjoyable.”

Michaela cocked her head, turning to look out at their surroundings, and Francesca couldn’t help it—she traced the dip of Michaela’s neck, and somehow her eyes drifted to Michaela’s neckline again.

She let out a small breath and murmured, almost to herself, “A bit more than enjoyable, I’d say.”

Michaela glanced over, eyebrows raised. Francesca only looked back out the window.

Michaela braced a hand on the carriage window sill and shifted to the other side, sitting opposite from Francesca. Francesca’s lips turned downwards, almost a pout.

“We must pace ourselves.”

Francesca nodded as if that made perfect sense and tried to look out the window again, but her eyes flicked right back to Michaela.

Michaela let her head drop to the side, her expression softening. “I must admit… I am rather happy that it was your rut that’s happening first.”

Francesca clasped her hands together. “Why do you say that?”

Michaela smiled, kicking a foot out to nudge Francesca’s. “I can be quite feral in heat.”

Francesca laughed, the word catching her off guard. “Feral?”

She tried to rein in her curiosity, but Michaela only looked away with a cheeky smile and said, far too casually, “I have fucked myself into oblivion on occasion.”

Francesca’s eyebrows shot up. She nodded once, mouth opening as if she had something to say, then closing again as she decided silence was safer.

Michaela smiled at her. “I imagine you’ll be saying worse by the time we even leave this carriage.”

Francesca blushed. “I hope not—for the sake of the… for the coachmen,” she managed.

Michaela smirked, and Francesca decided it would be better not to speak ever again after that. Unfortunately, her wife had never been one to leave her alone with her own thoughts.

“So,” Michaela continued, unbothered, “how long do your knots usually last?”

Francesca sat up. “Please—can we talk about anything other than my rut? We have a long way ahead of us, and the whole point of leaving Mayfair is privacy.”

Michaela cut in smoothly, “And if we continue, we might not enjoy such privacy before your rut starts?”

Francesca glared at her, but her wife only smiled.

With a sigh, Francesca leaned back and shifted her legs to bracket Michaela’s. Michaela’s smile lingered; she was silent for a moment before raising a hand as if making a reasonable point. “I think it’s a fair question. You’ve talked about your ruts before, and that knot will be in me, so—”

Francesca felt her back tense. “I have not… measured,” she said in a clipped voice. “I’m usually not in a state where I think of anything but it forming.”

Michaela hummed at that, and Francesca glanced up at her to find her twisting her fingers. She shifted, suddenly unsure—wondering if it was her tone that had caused the change in her demeanor.

“What is it?” Francesca asked quietly.

Michaela looked up at her and said, “It is nothing.” She smiled after, but Francesca knew she was withholding something. Francesca stared into her eyes, and eventually Michaela rolled her eyes. “It’s nothing,” she repeated.

Francesca nodded, then said slowly, “All this talk of my knot… is it—”

Michaela fought against a smile as she looked back up. “I don’t let small things worry me.”

Francesca sat up at once. Michaela laughed, and Francesca shot back, “It’s not too late to spend my rut by myself, you know.”

Michaela only laughed again and shifted, coming back to sit properly on her side of the carriage. “And deprive me of your knot? Hmm.” She tilted her head, voice sweet. “Wouldn’t you like to show me just how big it is?”

Michaela looked up at her, but she didn’t wait for a response. She turned away, musing aloud, “I imagine it’ll be quite the adjustment. You already are more often than not—”

Francesca was going to die. Her wife wanted to kill her. She cleared her throat.

“Too much?” Michaela asked, tilting her head, she reached for Francesca’s hand, pulling it into her lap. “I’m a little excited. Can you tell?”

Francesca nodded quickly.

“It would be nice for you to express some enthusiasm,” Michaela added.

Francesca glanced over and found Michaela’s eyes boring into her. Now she understood what that earlier shift had been about. She swallowed.

“I am very enthusiastic,” Francesca said quickly, then sighed. “I just… I’m trying to restrain myself. I would not want to hurt you. I couldn’t forgive myself, and that’s why I don’t appreciate you riling me up.”

Michaela mumbled, “So it’s working.”

Francesca started to react, but Michaela reached out and grabbed her upper arm. “I’m joking, I’m joking,” she said, smiling. Then, softer, she said, “I know that, Fran, but it’s your rut. You’re supposed to let loose, and waiting until it is respectable to give in must be exhausting.”

Francesca stayed silent at that, pulling away and facing forward.

Michaela clicked her tongue. “I don’t like that I have to prod things like this out of you.”

Francesca glanced over, and Michaela pushed out soothing pheromones as she continued, “You know I do not care for respectability. I would let you take me in front of all of London if it would please you.”

Francesca winced at the idea, her mind scrambling to avoid picturing it. She blushed and looked away again.

Michaela let out a small laugh. “There is a very real possibility that your rut will trigger my heat, and I do not want to spend it with an alpha who is holding back.”

“I very much doubt I will be able to in the moment, but—” Francesca began.

“You doubt?” Michaela cut in.

“Yes! I doubt!” Francesca snapped, then took a deep breath. “I… I am sorry.”

She looked over to see Michaela watching her with a familiar expression—head lowered so she could peer up through her lashes, her tongue pressing briefly to the corner of her mouth.

Francesca pressed her eyes shut. “You deserve no apology when you provoked the outburst in the first place.”

“Perhaps,” Michaela replied with a smirk, “but I’m sure it felt good, did it not?”

Francesca didn’t respond.

Michaela smiled faintly. “Ignoring the omega you have to spend your rut with—has there been a more foolish alpha?”

Francesca held her tongue. She would not give in.

After a moment, Michaela said, almost approvingly, “Finally building some resolve.”

Francesca smiled faintly at that, but quickly looked away so Michaela wouldn’t see it.

Michaela said, “I will stop teasing you, because I find I’m still not wide awake.” She shifted closer, and Francesca didn’t hesitate to lift an arm around her.

“You will get to do all manners of indulging,” Francesca murmured. “Is it such torture to let me stay clear-headed for the time being?”

Michaela smiled against her. “Who teases who now?”

Francesca chuckled and leaned down to kiss her forehead. She was content to let her sleep, though after her rut she would have to see to enforcing a proper sleep schedule for her wife. Michaela always seemed off-center in the morning after retiring late—it was only as the day progressed that it came back to bite her.

Francesca smoothed her fingers along Michaela’s arm before turning to look out the window. The farther they traveled, the more her stomach seemed to tie itself into knots.

The sun was low when she found herself blushing once more.

“And is the jigsaw collection at Aubrey Hall organized numerically as well?” Michaela asked.

“If you must know…” Francesca said, “they are.”

Michaela laughed. “You do love to give the maids work, do you not?”

Francesca let her head fall back. “The collection at Aubrey Hall isn’t big—it’s mostly landscapes! They take up most of my time, so I don’t need a lot.”

Michaela smiled. “Oh, I know! Sixty-three pieces, all blue. It’s like you’re microdosing torture.”

Francesca laughed. “You always seem to enjoy yourself when we do one.”

“That’s because I do enjoy myself,” Michaela said. “How could I not, when it is such fun and merriment and—”

Francesca cut her off, eyebrows raised. “Are you being sarcastic?”

Michaela doubled over a little, chuckling. “Yes,” she admitted, “but I truly do have fun with you. I wouldn’t give it up for anything.”

Francesca hummed. “Well, perhaps we can do one at Aubrey Hall.”

Michaela let out a sharp laugh, bringing a hand to her mouth.

Francesca frowned. “What?”

“My sweet, sweet alpha,” Michaela said, “you will only be doing one thing at Aubrey Hall, and I can assure you it will not be those puzzles.”

Francesca felt a tingle race down her arm. “Well… I guess so.”

Michaela smiled. “It’s as if you’ve forgotten why we’re going in the first place. At least now I know how much of a weak spot your collection is.”

Francesca smiled faintly. “I should be fearful when you stop plotting against me.”

Michaela laughed and tilted her head, studying her. “I imagine the only thing that will stop me from doing so would be old age?”

Francesca couldn’t help the dopey smile that spread across her face. Michaela’s smile widened tenfold in response.

“And unlike your puzzles, you don’t even have to wait until we’re at Aubrey Hall to do me.” She smirked knowingly.

Francesca cleared her throat. “I believe that is a matter of opinion.”

“Is it?” Michaela hummed. “Perhaps we should test it, then.”

Before Francesca could rebut, Michaela shifted to sit beside her again and said, “We’d be quick, of course,” leaning in close enough to speak right into Francesca’s ear. “And quiet.”

Francesca breathed in sharply. “You can be quiet?”

Michaela grinned, and Francesca knew immediately that her wife had caught the lack of a direct refusal.

Michaela leaned back and said, “Would you like to put it to the test?”

Francesca opened her mouth—“I…”—but she found herself lacking the conviction she’d possessed mere hours ago at the start of their ride. Instead, she settled for, “I don’t need to. I’m aware of how vocal you are.”

Michaela gasped, her hand sliding to Francesca’s arm as she pulled her closer. “How vocal I am?”

Francesca took a breath, then nodded. “There is reason we left London.” She leaned in, lowering her voice. “It’s because the neighbors would complain.”

Michaela laughed at that, her grip easing as she gave Francesca’s arm a light slap. “That is a laugh.”

Francesca smiled, looking down at her as she laughed, and found herself feeling quite hot. She swallowed and shifted slightly.

“Well,” Michaela said, voice turning sweet again, “there are no neighbors around for miles.”

Francesca hummed in agreement.

“No one to complain,” Michaela added.

“That is… true,” Francesca agreed.

“And…” Michaela started, then trailed off.

Francesca looked over at the sudden pause, and Michaela—just a touch sheepish—asked, “How far are we?”

Francesca smiled. “I’d say within an hour or two. I can’t really see any landmarks, but it’s almost nightfall.”

Michaela nodded. “Before long, we will be at Aubrey Hall.”

She shifted, turning toward Francesca. Instinctively, Francesca let her hand drop to Michaela’s leg, and Michaela cocked her head, watching her closely. Francesca held her gaze for a heartbeat before leaning in to kiss her.

Michaela gasped into it, and Francesca sat up, bracing a knee on the seat as she leaned over her.

Francesca brought a hand to Michaela’s cheek as she pulled back and said, “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You want me to abandon my respectability.”

Michaela couldn’t even pretend to be chastised—she was just grinning.

Francesca scoffed, then leaned back down and kissed her again, pressing her tongue into Michaela’s mouth. Michaela let out a soft gasp, and Francesca leaned in further, sliding a foot under her as they pressed closer together. Michaela reached up and pushed at her shoulder, and Francesca fell back with a breathy laugh.

Michaela smiled and swung a leg over her, settling into her lap. Francesca wrapped her arms around her to steady her as the carriage swayed, and Michaela leaned down to continue their kiss, only to pull away with a laugh, dropping her head to Francesca’s shoulder.

“I can’t stop smiling,” Michaela murmured.

Francesca laughed, letting out a shaky breath.

“I did not expect you to give in, truly,” Michaela explained. “I thought I’d be trying to convince you up until your rut started.”

Francesca turned her head, nuzzling against her. “I was convinced from the moment we entered the carriage,” she confessed, “but I’m an honorable alpha.”

Michaela hummed. “It seems your honor is nowhere to be found, Mrs. Stirling.” She punctuated her words by grinding down. “It seems there is something else to be found that is far more interesting.”

Francesca let out a small gasp.

Michaela smiled against her. “How long have you been hard? God, I can feel you through all these layers.”

She shifted as if to get up, her hands already grabbing at Francesca’s dress.

“Micki, please,” Francesca murmured, breathless, caught between desire and restraint.

Michaela bit her lip, then said, “Alright.” She settled again, shifting comfortably in Francesca’s lap. “We can stay like this… or maybe I can bend over and you can—”

“I just want you here,” Francesca cut in, voice low.

Michaela hummed and said, “And what else does my alpha want?”

Francesca swallowed at that and looked up at her wife. The light was fading, and they would have to light a lantern soon. She swallowed again and said, “There will be a lot of what I want, so why don’t you tell me what you want, honey?”

Michaela breathed hard at that. She spread her legs a little more so she was not hovering over her, and she said, “I want you to touch me.” She leaned in, voice dropping into something sharper. “Before these hands are rough and demanding, I just want you to touch me… like the needy little alpha you are.”

Francesca smiled faintly. “Can you blame me?”

Her eyes drifted down to Michaela’s chest, to the way her corset pushed her breasts up just so, and Francesca found herself unable to catch her breath. She leaned in, pressing her face against Michaela’s breast, nuzzling between them. She heard a small laugh from above her but paid it no mind.

She dragged her tongue up before sucking, then reached up and eased one breast free from the corset and dress so she could have unrestricted access. Michaela’s breasts were so full and perky, and Francesca wrapped her mouth around a hardened nipple, biting down and tugging.

Michaela gasped—her nipples were sensitive—and Francesca murmured against her skin, “Do you think you could finish just from stimulation to your nipples?”

Michaela smiled, tossing her head back with a little gasp as she began grinding down. “We can find out, if you like.”

Francesca smiled at that and let her hands fall away, curling them around the edge of the seat as she let out a small gasp. “Seems you don’t even need my help.”

Michaela looked down at her, a small crease forming between her brows, and said, “But where’s the fun in that?”

She stilled for a moment, and Francesca thrust up at the lack of pressure. Michaela smiled at that. She reached down and adjusted her skirts so they didn’t hinder her movements, spreading the fabric around them and leaving herself freer to grind against Francesca, save for her undergarments. She continued grinding down, and she could feel just how hard Francesca was—almost as if she already had a knot formed.

Michaela gasped at the sensation, then breathed, “Your fingers… please.”

Francesca slipped a hand under her dress, but instead of giving her what she wanted, she only curled her fingers around Michaela’s thighs.

Michaela squeezed her eyes shut. “No.”

Francesca’s voice went soft. “Micki, come on.”

Michaela opened her eyes, glaring down at her. “You would have me beg you now? Have I not been begging all day?”

Francesca smiled, trying to hold her ground. “Well, I—there’s a difference. That’s what you always tell me. Between being desperate and begging… and between begging and asking.”

Michaela smiled at that before catching herself. She took a breath, pushed up a little, and looked directly at her wife. “I need you inside of me. Do you understand that? Whether it is your fingers or your dick, I don’t care—but please.”

Francesca heaved a breath, gave a shaky nod, and managed, “Yes… well, I think—”

“Don’t think,” Michaela cut in. “Just do!”

And surely enough, Michaela felt fingers move against her, tugging her underwear aside. She stilled for a moment, and then two long, slender fingers pressed against her clit. Michaela gasped and mumbled, “Inside, please.”

Francesca let out a small purr as she pressed those two fingers into Michaela slowly, murmuring, “You’re so wet.” She punctuated it by pushing them in all the way, and Michaela moaned right into her ear.

Francesca smirked. “I thought you said you could be quiet.”

Michaela huffed, but there was no quip this time. She canted her hips down, searching for more friction, and Francesca curled her fingers as she pulled them out and pushed them back in.

“I can’t wait to be inside of you,” Francesca breathed. “God.”

Michaela let out a small whine, pressing into her neck. “This is the first time you’ve talked about what you want to do during your rut.”

Francesca said, “Because I’m more an alpha of action.”

Michaela let out a soft laugh, which tapered off into moans as she pressed her hips down—little, high-pitched sounds that started on an inhale and ended on an exhale. It was a good thing they’d left London, because if this was how she sounded from two fingers…

Michaela gasped, “Pardon me—”

Francesca blinked. “What?” She swallowed. “Did I say that out loud?”

Michaela tried to speak again. “I don’t appreciate being—” she gasped, and Francesca plunged her fingers deeper, hoping she wouldn’t be able to finish her sentence. She wasn’t that lucky.

Michaela sucked in a breath. “You act as if—ugh—you are—ugh—not louder than me—ugh—fuck.”

Francesca said, “I can—well, I’m quiet when it counts.”

Michaela’s lips quirked up as she murmured, “Is that why your mother—”

“Enough talking,” Francesca cut in. “Enough.”

Michaela laughed softly. “Yes, alpha.” She brought her hands to Francesca’s shoulders and breathed, “I’m close.”

Francesca hummed. “I know.” She let out a small sigh. “I can feel you squeezing my fingers.”

Michaela let out another whine at that, and Francesca let her head fall back, content to simply watch her, Michaela’s scent surrounding her. She smelled so good. Francesca felt as though she could feel everything Michaela felt—or maybe it was just seeing her like this, caught in the throes of pleasure.

“Come,” Francesca said.

Michaela looked down, her eyes hazy.

“Come.” Francesca repeated.

Michaela’s mouth parted, and she let out a sharp moan, her fingers digging into Francesca’s shoulders as her body shook. She slouched against Francesca, moaning as she squeezed around her fingers, her walls pulsing in tight waves.

“Wow,” Michaela breathed as she sagged against her.

Francesca kept curling her fingers as Michaela’s hips pressed down, and then Francesca slammed her fingers up again.

Michaela gasped, “Ah—wait, Fran—”

Francesca slowed only a fraction but kept pressing her fingers against that sensitive spot inside Michaela until Michaela shuddered again and murmured, half-dazed, “I think…” She let out a breath. “I’m pretty sure I just came because you told me to. I know I was close, but…” She exhaled shakily.

Francesca smiled a little and murmured, “Maybe you should do what I say more often.”

Michaela chuckled. “Maybe if you say it like that, I would be inclined to.”

Francesca hummed—she hadn’t expected that reaction. She opened her mouth, closed it, then finally found the words. “So you want a more commanding tone?”

Michaela hummed. “You did as I asked, and I did as you asked.” She pressed her lips to Francesca’s neck, and her fingers found the nape of her neck.

“You don’t always do as I ask, though,” Francesca said, voice low.

Michaela smiled. “And next time, maybe you’ll do something about it.” She laughed after she said it.

Francesca blushed and turned her head, nuzzling into her as Michaela’s exposed breast pressed against her. “You smell good,” Francesca murmured.

Michaela hummed, dragging her tongue up the side of Francesca’s neck. “And you taste even better.”

Francesca let out a sharp breath.

“I imagine I’ll be tasting a lot in the days to come.”

“Michaela,” Francesca murmured, the name coming out like a small whine.

Michaela laughed and reached down to pull at Francesca’s hand. Francesca hesitated, resisting for a moment before finally letting her hand come free. Michaela guided her fingers to her mouth, and slowly dragged her tongue up between them. Francesca curled her fingers, pressing them into her mouth. Michaela smiled and slowly wrapped her lips around the two digits that had just been inside her, sucking them clean.

Francesca let out a small whine as she did so, and Michaela smiled around her fingers before bobbing her head and sucking. Francesca finally pulled her hand back, breathing hard. “Please.”

Michaela closed the distance again. “Please what, alpha?” she asked, smiling as she pressed her lips to Francesca’s ear. “Do you want my mouth wrapped around something else?”

Francesca didn’t answer. She just breathed in, her chest rising.

Michaela smiled, kissed her cheek hard, then pulled back. “Ugh, such merriment indeed! I can’t wait.” She pressed one more kiss to Francesca’s cheek before pulling back, standing to fix her skirts. Then she sat back down across from her and said, “I do think, anyhow, I shall enjoy myself.”

Francesca swallowed. “You think so?”

Michaela tilted her head, then nodded. “I know so.” She held Francesca’s gaze for a moment, then softened. “And I know you worry, but I am open to anything that comes my way as your mate.” She nudged Francesca’s leg with her foot. “As your wife, you will not hurt me. I don’t think you are capable.” She smiled gently. “Whenever you need me, I am yours to use,” she said, swallowing once. “However you see fit.”

Francesca blinked. “I—that is not…” She floundered for a moment, then finished, “…necessary.”

Michaela hummed and said, “Well, I’m just letting you know… giving you consent, if you will.”

Francesca nodded, and Michaela continued, “During my heats, I tend to be insatiable.”

Francesca felt herself flush hot and asked, “More than usual?”

Michaela laughed and nudged her leg. “It’s like my omega wants to be plugged and filled.”

Francesca scooted forward.

Michaela mumbled, “…In every place that could possibly be filled.”

Francesca stared at her for a moment. She opened her mouth, then closed it, before finally falling back, covering her face with her hands. “I need a shot.”