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The heavy wooden door to Maekar’s chambers slam into the wall with a deafening crack as he storms in, face a thundercloud and righteous indignity coloring every line of sinew in his figure.
His husband follows, only slightly more sedately, hands held up in an infuriatingly placating manner.
“Maekar, you know very well the political situation we find ourselves in,” Baelor’s voice is taut, the alpha restraining his frustration with an ironclad grip. “Lord Dondarrion is already angered that Father refused to marry one of his children to one of us. We hold the Stormlands only by a thread and cannot afford –”
“Do not,” Maekar interrupts, whirling back to face Baelor, “explain to me the minutiae of this kingdom’s politics as though I am stupid, brother. I am well aware of the implications. I received the same education as you, Aerys, and Rhaegal despite my inferior presentation.”
The blonde turns away once more and stalks to his wardrobe, yanking open drawers and slamming them shut. One he closes too quickly, and the nightgown he had selected catches and tears with a violent ripping. Baelor winces, but continues.
“Then why do you offer him insult at our table? You know better. I have taught you better than to cause a situation when what we need is tempers level.”
“I offer him insult because he offers it first. And my supposed mate not only allows it, but thanks him!” Maekar strips as he talks, layers of fine silk and velvet torn off without care for their value.
“I-” Baelor is interrupted before he can counter.
“And not only am I mocked with the full, apparent permission of my mate, you allow him to imply that it is my fault when we both know the blame lies entirely with you. How dare you let that wretch imply that I cannot –” Maekar chokes on a sob, “cannot give you children when it is you who has refused to lay with me even once. I am yours only in name, and every day you leave my neck unmarked, you demonstrate to the Lord Dondarrions of this realm that I am so undesirable and useless that they are encouraged to offer their own daughters to you.”
The omega stands trembling with fury or sorrow, Baelor cannot rightly tell. Maekar has never been one to allow his scent out, even when it is only his alpha in the room with him. Baelor watches the long curve of his mate’s body as it is bared to him for perhaps the first time since the bedding ceremony on their wedding night.
“I might not deserve an alpha that respects me. I know my own faults. But at the very least, I deserve one who does not let others disrespect me.”
Silence falls heavily over the room, interrupted only by Maekar’s grunts of effort as he struggles to don his nightclothes with shaking arms. The omega eventually succeeds in pulling the garment over his hips, hiding the pale flesh Baelor had been admiring. He is disappointed for a moment before shaking the feeling off and stepping closer to his brother.
Heat radiates off of Maekar, and Baelor is close enough to both feel it and sense the omega’s oncoming heat.
“You were fifteen, Maekar.”
“And you were twenty four. Why are we stating the obvious?” Maekar’s voice is as tight as the tension in his bare shoulders, the shift’s lace dipping low beneath his shoulderblades.
The tension doesn’t dissipate, rather it winds tighter when Baelor snakes an arm around Maekar. A hand presses tight over the omega’s stomach, fingers splaying from the outward curve of ribs to just above the slight pouch of fat that protects Maekar’s womb. Baelor uses the grip to pull Maekar flush against the hard line of his own body, right hand rising to grip a hip when the omega moves to squirm away.
“You were fifteen, and terrified,” Baelor says. Maekar opens his mouth to protest, but Baelor continues before he can be interrupted. “You tried to hide it behind bravado and a clenched jaw, but your eyes held the truth of it. So I did not bed you that night, or the night after, or any of the nights following until you stopped freezing every time I so much as looked at you.”
Maekar is unmoved, Baelor can see it in the way his fists are clenched, nails digging into his own palms viciously.
“And then you disappeared. You withdrew from me entirely. I lost you to the training yard and whatever else you occupied yourself with. I am many things, Maekar, but I will not bed someone who doesn’t display even a drop of interest in me.”
Silence reigns for a long moment. This close, Baelor can smell indecision warring with the honey-sweet heat scent seeping from the gland in Maekar's neck. His nose brushes lightly against it before he can stop himself, and the puff of air that leaves his nostrils ruffles the hair lying damp with sweat along the omega’s nape. A full body shiver wracks Maekar, the oscillation pressing him further into Baelor’s hold. The alpha tightens his grip infinitesimally before it eases deliberately.
“Fourteen,” Maekar says softly. The non sequitur confuses Baelor, and he remains quiet so that his husband may continue.
“I spent fourteen miserable heats calling for you, so don’t tell me you didn’t know I wanted you.”
Baelor’s spine stiffens. This is news to him, and he says as much. Maekar scoffs, and makes to turn. This time, Baelor allows the movement, but keeps Maekar close, the alpha’s thigh practically pressing into the crux of the omega’s legs. Maekar’s eyes are glistening, though the rest of his face is ruddy with anger and distress.
“I called for you every time. I sent my ladies to fetch you, and not once did you deign to help me. Do you know what an unfulfilled heat is like, husband?”
Baelor shakes his head mutely, the implications of Maekar’s claims washing over him.
“It is agony. Your bones feel as though they are splintering into a thousand pieces each, and the cramping alone,” Maekar shudders, “I thought my womb might turn itself inside out. Nothing satisfies the need without medication or an alpha, and I would know. I tried the bedpost once, and only got splinters for my efforts.”
Baelor’s eyes flit to the bed across the room and winces despite the heat gathering low in his belly.
“Nor was I permitted medications to ease the pain for the negligible chance that they could prevent future conception. Despite the fact that you had not once joined me. Fourteen heats, Baelor. I could have birthed three of your children in that time and had another in my belly right now if you had answered my summons.”
The heat wafting off of Maekar’s neck clouds Baelor’s mind, but he retains enough awareness to reply.
“I didn’t get a message, Maekar. Not once.”
The omega stiffens, and his head tilts in consideration before cold realization enters his eyes.
“Jena”
“Your lady-in-waiting?” Baelor questions, trying to catch up. He didn’t know much about the woman, save that she was pretty enough and seemed intelligent, a trait that had kept her in Maekar’s favor and service. Until now.
“And a Dondarrion. Father had considered her for you before I presented. The bitch had the nerve to comfort me in your absence.” Maekar moves as if to stalk out of the room and hunt the lady down, but Baelor’s grip on his wrist is unwavering. The alpha backs Maekar up against the wall, using the pressure of his strong thigh against Maekar’s cunt to his advantage.
Maekar hisses, both in protest and pleasure, sensation heightening in preparation for his heat. The grind of Baelor’s woolen breeches against his bare flesh is almost too much, and his nightgown is too short to offer any defense.
“She can wait. I have years to make up to my mate.” Fangs scrape down Maekar’s neck and he moans aloud in response, eyes fogging over slightly. “Three children and another on the way, you said? I have no intention of letting you out of these rooms until at least the first is in you.”
He sucks a dark mark over Maekar’s gland, lapping up the fragrant oil spilling from the firm spot. They both know this will make the bonding bite more painful later. Neither cares.
Maekar hitches his leg up and around Baelor’s side, and the alpha lifts him up slightly at the prompting, hand drifting between the omega’s legs to stroke lightly at the damp fabric clinging to every crevice, thick middle finger pressing lightly into Maekar and palm brushing over his small cock. The silk prevents him from getting very far, but the suggestion is enough to have Maekar moaning aloud.
The new position lifts Maekar’s neck out of reach of Baelor’s mouth, so the alpha redirects down the collarbone to the soft curve of Maekar’s chest. He lands on the younger man’s nipple and stays there, alternating licks with gentle bites.
The stimulation has Maekar squirming, grinding himself down into Baelor’s constricted thumb and pressing forward into his mouth simultaneously. The uncontrolled movement nearly causes him to tip out of Baelor’s arms until the man adjusts his grip, seemingly holding Maekar off of the ground with one hand by his cunt, freeing the other to land a loud, stinging smack on the outside of the omega’s thigh.
“Stay still,” he growls into Maekar without releasing his nipple from between sharp teeth. Maekar sobs at the combined admonition and vibration coursing through his chest and directly to his pussy. He feels a gush of fluid, and his legs kick out stiffly on either side of Baelor as he crests over the peak of something.
The alpha seems to take that as a signal of sorts, and pulls the shaking omega away from the wall, crossing the floor briskly to toss him gently atop the plush bed.
Maekar bounces lightly as he lands, dizzy and muddled with his orgasm. Before he can recover his wits, Baelor has ducked between his legs, shifting Maekar’s legs to sit over his shoulders. A hot breath ghosting over his heated sex is the only warning he gets before a mouth seals over his overstimulated cock.
Maekar’s thighs snap together, effectively pinning Baelor’s head in place despite the hand he uses to weakly push his husband away. Baelor is undeterred, instead bobbing his head lower to take Maekar to the root. One hand sneaks between Maekar’s legs to press a long finger deep into his cunt, curling toward his bellybutton with each teasing stroke.
It’s too much for Maekar to handle. It’s not enough, either. Pain and pleasure and want mix together in a swirling eddy, and Maekar hears a pathetic whining from somewhere in the room. It takes him too long to realize that it is coming from his own throat.
Baelor, infuriatingly, laughs around his mouthful. It sends another jolt up Maekar’s spine, and he twitches in his brother‘s hold. Maekar feels the finger slide out of himself, and hisses out a short spit of protest. Thankfully, it comes back, this time with another to accompany it.
Baelor’s other hand busies itself by gripping a single one of Maekar’s teats in a bruising hold.
The stretch teases perfectly along the edges of his mind. He’s taken more, the bedpost had been about the width of his pinky finger at it’s widest before it tapered off into a rounded point. But something about it being Baelor doing the stretching makes this so much sweeter
While the left hammers into his cunt, the right moves devastatingly slow, pulling at the sore flesh with practiced leisure.
‘It’s as though he’s milking a goat’ Makear thinks wildly. It’s a ridiculous thought; between his training and the lack of children that got them into this bed in the first place, there is very little for the alpha to grab, let alone milk anything from. A fierce tug on his nipple promptly destroys any of the omega’s remaining ability to think, let alone compose metaphor.
Maekar realizes that he’s fallen headfirst into his heat. Time seems to blur for the omega, and he is only distantly aware as Baelor adds a third, then a fourth finger before deeming him relaxed enough.
The alpha rearranges him, flipping Maekar over onto his hands and knees. His elbows promptly give out, leaving his hips propped up obscenely. Baelor doesn’t seem disappointed though, if the way he presses one broad palm between Maekar’s shoulders to deepen the arch of his spine is any indication.
Maekar turns his head to the side, avoiding death from virginity-loss-induced-suffocation, and he blows white wisps of hair from his eyes. His bangs move just in time for him to watch Baelor as the alpha undoes the ties on his own breeches, tugging his cock free of their confines. Maekar’s mouth waters.
His brother is long and thick, the likes of which he has never seen before. Maekar had snuck down to the knight’s bathhouse before — despite training with them, he was never allowed to bathe with them. The alphas had been many sizes, and their cocks were too, but none had seemed as perfect to Maekar as the one before him now.
Baelor sees Maekar’s pupils widen, eclipsing their purple irises near completely and smells the slight hint of apprehension tinging Maekar’s scent. He strokes soothingly along the omega’s flank. A rumbling croon fills the air, and Maekar’s muscles all automatically untense, causing him to slump further into the sheets, pelvis titling up invitingly. His folds seem to bloom open with the motion, and Baelor gets hit with a whiff of fresh slick as their entrance winks at him.
“I would make you beg,” Baelor says pensively, still petting Maekar in long elliptical motions. His hand drifts closer to the omega’s ass with each turn, digging in slightly every time.
Maekar opens his mouth to protest, but before he can, Baelor grinds his cock against the sopping wet display, prompting a garbled noise instead of whatever the omega had intended to say. Baelor’s hand finally grips the cheek he’d been teasing and pulls it to the side, brushing a thumb gently over the space between his cunt and arse
“But I recognize that you have been begging for far too long, raqnos. Perhaps another time.”
Without waiting for response, the alpha lines his cock up and pushes into Maekar’s cunt. The penetration is smooth, lubricated from their frotting. He pushes in about halfway, then retreats near fully, Mekar’s clenching the only thing keeping the crown from slipping out.
Baelor pauses for a long moment until Maekar whines, high and loud enough to be heard throughout the entire wing of the castle. A smirk crooks the corner of the alpha’s mouth as he leans over Maekar, mouth brushing the shell of his ear.
“It doesn’t mean I will not tease my brother, though.”
With that final rib, Baelor latches onto Maekar’s shoulder with his teeth, and drives himself fully into Maekar’s sex. The breath is forced from Maekar’s lungs and his hands scrabble at the bed coverings, trying and failing to brace himself against the onslaught.
Baelor thrusts unrelentingly, using one hand to grip Maekar’s hip and hold him in place. Eventually, his teeth unlock from their position a few inches away from Maekar’s bonding gland, and he rises, using the other hand to grasp at the other side of the omega’s ass. Baelor squashes the two globes tight to watch his cock disappear between them before stretching them almost uncomfortably far apart.
Despite his ragged breathing, or perhaps because of it, the alpha allows a long string of saliva to drip from his mouth until it lands directly on Maekar’s arsehole. The now glistening ring winks lewdly up at him, and surprisingly, this is what triggers the alpha’s orgasm. The alpha’s thrusting speeds up to a near blur, forcing his burgeoning knot in and out of his brother’s drenched pussy until it catches into place, both men groaning out their finish, though Maekar’s sounds more like a screech of satisfaction.
Baelor doesn’t quite stop his movement, instead grinding deep against Maekar’s cervix. He ignores the sting of overstimulation and forces Maekar’s knees further underneath himself. This forces the omega’s arch to deepen even further, pointing his arse to the ceiling and, therefore, Baelor’s direct line of sight.
It leaves a throbbing pain within Maekar, but the ache transcends into pleasure within moments, the grinding stirring up the mixture of cum and his own slick pooling in his cunt and womb. The knot drags over a particularly sensitive spot just inside his entrance, and Maekar shudders through another, smaller orgasm.
Baelor remains transfixed upon Maekar’s arse. Despite Maekar’s wriggling complaint (the omega has long since lost the capability for verbal communication), Baelor does not ease the pressure from his brother’s cervix.
Instead, he presses his thumb against Maekar’s arse, massaging in firm, smooth circles. When his thumb catches on a bit of dry skin, the alpha forces two fingers inside of Maekar’s overflowing pussy, scooping out what he deems to be enough of their collective fluids to lubricate his omega’s other hole.
Maekar moans, the sound low and guttural, as Baelor transitions from the unobtrusive rubbing from before to true penetration.
Baelor keeps up a steady stream of filthy invectives all the while, but next to none of it sticks in Maekar’s head. Pleasure and the desire to be bred prevent thought, but one particular phrase catches him firmly.
“Could breed you here too,” Baelor murmurs, almost breathless with it, “I could fuck you here over and over again until you grew a second womb.”
Maekar shakes his head wildly, drool and venom seeping out from his parted, panting lips.
“Oh, yes I could brother. I’d ignore that pretty pussy of yours until you were all bred up back here,” Baelor gives a vicious thrust directly into Maekar’s prostate with the claim, and the omega chokes, “And only then would I breed your cunt.”
Maekar distantly realizes that he is gasping out a response, repeated “no, no, no” ’s that slip out without his control. It is not a true rejection, and they both know it. Baelor snarls at the denial anyway, grasping Maekar by the throat to lift him bodily into his lap.
Both cock and fingers are ground deeper into Maekar, and the omega yips in pleasure-pain.
“You would deny me, brother? After claiming you would have given me children four times over?” Maekar has never heard Baelor so out of control. The zing of fear he endures zips straight to his clit, where it scrapes roughly against the hair on Baelor's stones with every slap of a thrust
“We are dragons, omega. I would give you a clutch.”
And the alpha’s fangs bury themselves deep in first one bonding gland, and then the other side of his omega’s neck.
Through cracked open eyes, Maekar sees a flash of red hair in the open doorway. It is of no concern to him, though, as his alpha’s knot has finally slipped free of him.
Maekar lies pillowed on Baelor’s chest during a brief lull in his heat, the alpha’s hand tracing absentminded patterns along his spine. Baelor had at some point managed to escape the bed long enough to collect both water and a soft cloth with which to wipe them both down, careful in a way his instincts hadn’t allowed during their joining but now demanded in the aftermath.
“You didn’t close the door,” Maekar grumbles into the alpha’s sternum.
“Yes,” Baelor says, pride lacing his tone. Warning bells go off in Maekar’s head and he sits up, heedless of the grunt his brother lets out when bony elbows dig into ribs.
Maekar scrutinizes Baelor’s face, eyes narrowed with suspicion. A light visibly dawns behind them, and he settles back into a seated position straddling his mate’s lap.
“You left it open on purpose,” he accuses. His voice is stern, but Baelor can smell the subtle shine of humour lurking in his scent.
He shrugs, unashamed and not caring to argue with his mate’s assessment. Maekar is, after all, correct.
“The Dondarrions hurt you, my own. I thought it best the entire castle witness precisely how totally their little plot has failed.”
Maekar snorts unelegantly, then seems to realize something.
“Jena saw us. I saw her hair in my doorway, and thought nothing of it at the time…” he trails off, blushing at what exactly had distracted him from their voyeur. Baelor discerns exactly the cause of the omega’s muddled focus and grins wickedly up at him. The alpha grips Maekar’s hips hard and pulls him down into an absolutely filthy grind.
Maekar’s eyes roll back briefly, chest heaving with the harsh inhale he takes. The next wave of his heat creeps up around the edges of his consciousness. Baelor rises to his knees during the omega’s lapse in attention, depositing Maekar gently onto his back with his head hanging over the foot of the bed.
“Let her watch, then,” Baelor purrs, “for I believe I commanded that you not leave this bed until you are pregnant with my pups.”
The alpha rests his hand against the lower half of Maekar’s stomach, fully encompassing the space in which his womb occupies. His cock slides against Maekar’s own before it nudges between the omega’s opening.
Baelor presses down on Maekar’s soft skin at the same time he presses in, groaning at the snug fit.
Both brothers stare intently at the place in which they are connected. Maekar’s neck strains with the effort until Baelor leans over him. His hand releases Maekar’s stomach for a fleeting moment until that same hand presses against his throat and guides the omega’s head back, back, back until it thumps against the outer side of the footboard.
Maekar is splay-legged, speared, and pinned with a hand on his throat. He’s never been more vulnerable. But he’s also never felt so safe.
“Keep your eyes on that door, beloved,” Baelor whispers, tonguing and then nipping the lobe of the omega’s ear, “I shall need you to pay attention to the arrival our audience”
“Let us really drive home their lesson.”