by Noah Harris
Strong and gentle. That's what Christopher is. Holding him so firmly, yet so kindly. That's what drew Timothy to him all those years ago. He sensed the gentleness beneath the carefully crafted steely exterior, and it's that kindness beneath the battle worn body that makes him melt, makes his knees weak, and makes his toes curl.
At the sound of his pitiful frustration, Christopher shifts, pressing his thigh between Timothy's legs and using his hand to push the omega until he's practically straddling his thick, well-muscled thigh. With Christopher's hand encouraging him, he grinds slowly against him, breath quickening at the friction. He can already feel Christopher's own harness pressed against his hip, his cock already straining against the seam of his pants.
It sends a thrill shivering down Timothy's spine, knowing this alpha wants him just as much as Timothy does.
Christopher slowly walks Timothy backwards. Eyes closed, they stumble blindly through the living room, until Timothy's heels bump against the edge of their makeshift nest, still taking up the whole center of the room. His hands slip out from under Christopher's shirt, only to curl his grip into the fabric and pull the alpha down with him as he sinks into the nest. Christopher follows easily enough, sinking to his knees and crawling after Timothy as he scoots deeper into the nest, leaning forward to keep their lips locked in uncoordinated kisses.
As he leans back against the mountain of pillows, his hands hold fast to Christopher's shirt, grip tight to keep his fingers from shaking. He pulls the shirt up, scrambling to pull it up his back, to bunch at his shoulders, desperate to get it off but unwilling to break their kiss.
But then Christopher pulls away, one large hand settling on Timothy's arm to stop his frantic struggle. They stay still for a moment, breaths intermingling as they pant. Timothy leans back against the pillows, and Christopher hovers over him on his hands and knees. Piercing green eyes, lidded and dark with desire, search Timothy's face. He licks his bottom lip, the drag of his tongue slow, sensual and drawing Timothy's attention.
But he's distracted by the furrow in the alpha's brow and the torn look in his eyes as he says, "Are you sure you want this?"
His voice is rough and breath ragged, low and rumbling in all the best ways, causing a wave of desire, hot and thick, to surge through Timothy's veins. But the words themselves are like a torrent of cold water that rushes through, cooling his heated skin as ice settles down his spine. Goosebumps rise on his flesh, and his body tenses, surprising a shudder as dread trickles into his gut, clenching painfully.
His fingers slip out of Christopher's shirt, arms pulling back, as if to protect himself as fear makes his lungs feel tight. "Why?" he forces himself to ask, voice wavering as he searches Christopher's gaze. He forces the next question out, even though he fears the answer. His voice comes out as a whisper. "Don't you want this, too?"
Christopher's sudden bark of laughter, loud and abrasive, yet quivering and breathy, leaves him bewildered and shocked, but it eases the tremble of his hands and the buzzing of his nerves. Then Christopher's hand rises to cup his cheek, firm and warm, and Timothy leans into it, heart beating wildly, like a bird in a cage.
"Of course, I do," Christopher says, voice low and even, lilting at the edges with wry amusement that curves his lips. "I want this so bad. So, so bad. I want you. I've always wanted you. I've been dreaming about this moment for years. But…" His smile fades, guilt swirling in his eyes. "But how can you want this after how I treated you? After everything I've done?"
Timothy lets out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, surprised when it comes out as a shaky laugh. He puts his head against Christopher's hand, nuzzling into his palm. "I've already forgiven you," he says.
He thinks he should be surprised by the truth of that statement, but…he's not. It settles inside him with a satisfying calm, settling the chaotic storm of uncertainty within him. For the first time in a long while, he feels like he can breathe. He feels…at peace. With himself. With his wolf. With Christopher.
He's not sure when it happened, or if there's even a specific moment he can pinpoint, but he's forgiven Christopher. He's ready to move forward.
Christopher lets out a shaky breath, closing his eyes as he falls forward, forehead pressing against Timothy's. "I haven't forgiven myself," he confesses, voice nothing more than a ragged whisper. A secret shared in the privacy of their nest. "I was cowardly and selfish. I hurt you, and then I let myself get caught up in the military, flying halfway across the world to avoid the problems I created. I should have gone after you. I should've gone after my mate."
"Mate?" Timothy echoes, heart fluttering against his ribs with the force of a thousand butterflies. His breath catches in his throat, and he feels a warmth unfurling in his chest, feeling like an ember of hope daring to catch fire. "I'm…you still think of me as your mate?"
Christopher's laugh is little more than a puff of air that caresses his lips. "Of course," he says wryly. He pulls back, looking almost sheepish as he meets Timothy's eyes, thumb gently brushing against his cheekbone. "You'll always be my mate," he says softly. "No matter what. And I…" His gaze drifts away, and he shrugs with all the awkwardness of a nervous man trying to be nonchalant as he mutters, "And I think I love you."
Words catch in Timothy's throat. His voice is lost, and he's not entirely certain he remembers how to breathe. But where words fail him, his instincts and his body do not. When words fail him, he takes a page from Christopher's book and relies on action.
He reaches forward, grabbing a firm hold of Christopher's shirt and ripping it over his head. He tosses it carelessly aside before grabbing the hem of his own shirt, sitting up straight as he struggles to pull it over his head. Large, careful hands help him, and when the shirt is gone, he finds Christopher smiling at him, small and fond.
He grins, reaching forward to grab hold of Christopher's face and pull him into another kiss. He can feel the alpha smiling through it as he falls backwards. Christopher pulls back from the kiss, lips trailing down over Timothy's jaw to slide down his neck.
Christopher shifts down the nest, hands leaving a trail of fire on Timothy's skin as they move over his body, his lips leaving kisses in their wake. Christopher moves down his chest, hands reverently moving around his swollen belly. Those hands, so large and calloused, strong and firm, are so delicate as they drift over Timothy's skin. Warm and comforting, rough to the touch but gentle all the same. He presses reverent kisses to Timothy's belly, causing heat to shiver down Timothy's spine, pooling and clenching low in his gut.
His back arches as Christopher kisses from his navel down to one hip, then across the hem of his pants to the other. His fingers curl into the sheets beneath him, breath coming quick and heavy as his body clenches, skin tingling with desire.
Christopher makes quick work of his pants and underwear, pulling them off as quickly as he can, grunting with frustration as they catch on his ankles.
And then Timothy is bare beneath him, naked and splayed out in their nest as Christopher looms over him, on his knees, eyes roaming restlessly over his body.
Timothy squirms, eyes downcast and looking away. His thighs rub together, and he bites at his bottom lip. He's only been naked in front of another man once, and then he’d been too addled by his heat to care about anything other than relief. Here and now, he's in his right mind, and he's well aware of the fact that he doesn't look the same as he used to. He's still small, body soft and skin smooth and so different from Christopher. But more than that, his slim frame is swollen with child. He may not have been happy with his body before, but he’d been proud of his flat stomach.
But just as self-consciousness starts to dig its claws in, he risks a glance at Christopher, and his breath catches in his throat. The alpha is hovering over him, green eyes dark and lidded, hot with unbridled desire. His gaze burns a trail of fire across Timothy's bare skin. He can smell the spiciness in Christopher's scent, thick and hot, sticking like smoke to the back of his throat.
His ner
vousness melts away with the oncoming flames of his own desire, sparked and fueled by the way Christopher looks him over. His eyes drift down to the alpha's lips as his tongue slips out, running over his bottom lip as if tasting Timothy. His nostrils flare, and his gaze snaps to Timothy's, and he knows from the low rumble that growls at the back of Christopher's throat that the alpha has scented desire leaking into his own scent.
His hands snap to the button of his own jeans, fumbling for a moment before he's slipping them off, shifting and grunting with frustration as he sheds the last of his clothing.
Once he's naked and bare, hovering over Timothy on all fours, the fire in Timothy's belly burns. Christopher is beautiful. Body hard with corded muscle that flexes and shifts beneath tanned, calloused skin. His shoulders and chest are broad, his pecs speckled with soft hair. His abs flutter beneath Timothy's fingers as he reaches out to touch, reverent and feather light. His hip bones are sharp, the lines down to his pelvis inviting. His thighs quiver with desire barely held in check. His cock hangs thick and heavy, hard and waiting, nestled in a thick thatch of curly hair.
And when Timothy's gaze travels up his body, he finds green eyes staring at him, attentive, sharp and consuming, lidded and dark.
He feels his back arch, head tossing back and to the side, baring his throat to the alpha above him.
His inner wolf whines, and he thinks the sound might have escaped his own lips. He can feel his wolf pacing within, shifting restlessly beneath his skin and burning with need. Aching with it. He feels his wolf shivering with the desire to roll over and bare himself to this man. It's an instinct he once hated, but he sees the difference in it now. He sees it for what it is.
Because in this moment, he's not an omega submitting to an alpha. He's a man desperate for the touch of his mate.
His mate.
This man, Christopher, beautiful and strong and perfect is his mate.
Christopher bends down, kissing down the length of Timothy's neck and gently running his teeth over the omega's scent gland. Timothy squeezes his eyes shut, biting his bottom lip to stifle a whimper. Then he runs his nose up Timothy's neck, pressing his lips to the sensitive spot behind his ear that has his entire body jerking as pleasure runs hot down his spine.
"I'll be right back," Christopher whispers, pressing a quick kiss to Timothy's lips before pushing himself to his feet. Timothy tries not to whine as he goes, and ignore the ache in his chest, reminding himself that Christopher isn't abandoning him. Before his instincts can spiral, Christopher is back, dropping a bottle of lube on the nest before crawling back over Timothy, pressing kisses to his belly, his chest, his shoulders, his neck, his lips, whispering. "I'm here. I'm here."
Strong hands move down to his hips, maneuvering him until he's rolled over, propped up on his knees and resting against his elbows and forearms. He feels exposed like this, but the way Christopher's hands roam over his back and squeeze his ass has him letting out a long, panting breath. It's incredible how the man behind him makes him feel beautiful with just his hands.
The pop of the lube cap has him shivering, and his body jerks as wet, cold fingertips press between his cheeks. Christopher coos softly, rubbing his other hand up and down Timothy's side, from thigh to hip to ribs and back again. He presses a kiss to the omega's lower back, breath hot against his spine as he says, "This is just in case. I don't want to hurt you."
It's a precautionary measure, and one Timothy appreciates. Because while his body burns with desire, it takes longer to work his body up to self-lubrication when he's not in heat. He would be fine in the long run, without extra lube, but he wants Christopher as quickly as possible. And he's certain the alpha is just as impatient. Helping the process along can't hurt.
He lets out a long, shaky breath, forcing himself to relax as Christopher gently rubs his fingers over his entrance. A soft gasp escapes him as the first finger pushes in, trailing off into a low moan as he buries his face in the pillows, fingers clutch at the sheets beneath him. It burns, but it's not unpleasant. It sates an ache he feels deep inside himself, a promise of more, leaving his body trembling. And as Christopher steadily works him open, one finger turning into two, the burn melts into pleasure.
Arms shaking in an attempt to hold himself up and off his belly, Timothy bites back soft grunts, teeth worrying at his lip. Christopher's hands sooth up and down his thighs, and he must notice the trembling in them.
Those warm hands, strong and gentle, roll Timothy over onto his back, trailing up and down his thighs as he spreads them. Timothy holds his breath as the alpha settles between his legs, cock hard and hot as it presses between his cheeks. Timothy closes his eyes, back arching, breath caught in his lungs, trembling on the tense edge of anticipation.
He waits…
And he waits…
But Christopher doesn't move.
He opens his eyes to find Christopher’s lips pursed into a small frown, brows furrowed as he gazes down, eyes trailing over where they're nearly connected to Timothy's stomach.
"What's wrong?" Timothy asks, a tremor in his voice as the adrenaline and pleasure his body vibrates with goes unsatisfied.
Christopher sighs, body slumping, cock pulling away. "I can't," he says, sounding defeated and frustrated. He looks up at Timothy, eyes far too sad and conflicted for the omega to be worried. "I just…I can't."
He tilts his head, curious more than offended. "Why?"
One of Christopher's hands move over Timothy's belly, cupping the swell and running his thumb over Timothy's navel. "I don't want you to hurt you, or the baby." Timothy opens his mouth to reply, but Christopher cuts him off with a shake of his head. "I know it's not supposed to hurt the baby, but…I can't do it." He looks at Timothy with pleading eyes. "I don't want to risk it."
Timothy finds himself smiling, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. His body is still burning, aching for this man, but he can't bring himself to be mad or impatient. Not when his heart and his chest are so full. Christopher is so gentle and so kind. Timothy can respect his reluctance, but the thought of stopping is wholly unsatisfying. "Maybe we can try switching things around," he finds himself saying, words trailing off in the wake of his laugh.
Christopher's eyes become sharp and guarded, frown wary as he says automatically, "No. No way."
Timothy pushes himself up on one hand, reaching out with the other to cup Christopher's face, pulling him forward into a searing kiss. His fingers card through his short hair, cradling the back of his neck. "I don't want to stop," he breathes against Christopher's mouth, voice pitched low and needy. "I want you. I want to be with you. I'll have you any way I can get. Please?"
Christopher pulls back, lips still pursed. His green eyes flicker to Timothy's, cautious and wary, but he doesn't say no. In fact, he doesn't say much of anything, and Timothy takes that as a sign that he's considering it.
So he pushes his luck.
He pushes forward, taking command of their kiss, pushing his tongue past Christopher's lips and feeling a spark of pride in his chest as the alpha moans, becoming pliant under his touch. Timothy’s hands roam over his shoulders and chest, dropping low to lightly trail his fingers around the alpha’s throbbing erection. He swallows Christopher's moan, pulling back with a nip at his bottom lip.
Confidence surging through his veins at the way the alpha is unraveling under his touch, his breath fast and ragged, Timothy trails kisses down Christopher's neck, much like the man had done to him. He nips along the sensitive skin, lips kissing away the sting. "Just because I'm an omega doesn't mean I can't make you feel good," he breaths against sweat soaked skin. Christopher's scent is strong and thick in the back of his throat. "Please, Christopher, let me make you feel good. Let me show you I can." And then, just because his confidence and the alpha's scent are making him dizzy, he playfully nips at Christopher's scent gland as he says, "Come on, alpha. Are you scared?" his voice low and cheeky, the taunt is definitely there, but it's softened by the fondness and desire that swirls i
n his veins.
"Not scared…" Christopher mumbles. Timothy can tell he tries to make it a hard statement, but he sounds wrecked, trembling under Timothy's lips and words catching a whine in his throat.
Timothy lifts his head, pressing a far more chaste kiss to Christopher's lips. This one soft and gentle, keeping the heat in check but no less passionate for it. He pours everything into that kiss, all the emotion he has trapped in his chest. When he pulls away he says, "Please?"
And he watches as Christopher's walls crumble. "Okay."
Timothy meets his gaze, searching those gorgeous green depths as he asks softly, "Are you sure?"
Christopher smiles. Kiss reddened lips pulling up at the corners as he leans forward to press their foreheads together. "I'm sure. I want you, too, Timothy. Any way I can have you."
It takes some maneuvering, but they switch places, Christopher leaning back against the pillows while Timothy kneels between his legs. He spreads them slowly and hesitantly, and Timothy smiles, running his hands lovingly over those toned thighs while he whispers praises against his raised knee, pressing kisses to the inside of it.
In that moment, he's especially grateful that Christopher had been impatient enough to bring lube to their nest. As an alpha, Christopher would definitely need it. It's an unconventional role reversal, but the trust is the same. Timothy coats his fingers and gently massages Christopher's entrance, running his other hand up and down his thigh until he relaxes. He stretches Christopher in much the same way he’d been doing to Timothy not too long ago, using his free hand to gently stroke Christopher's thick erection to keep his pleasure heightened.
It doesn't take too long to get Christopher ready. Despite their reversal he's still eager, and after he finally manages to relax, he falls easily into the rhythm of Timothy's fingers. When they're ready Timothy slides pillows beneath Christopher's hips to prop him up, settling between his spread legs, coating his own cock with more lube before positioning himself.
