Omega's Joy: An MPREG Romance

by Oliver Crowley

  “Fuck,” he said thinly. His skin was tingling, almost too sensitive to have Alex still slumped over his back. “Fuck.”

  He could hear Alex panting, and felt when he finally dragged himself back to flop onto the bed.

  They gasped like a couple of fish for a while until their breath quieted, and Jeremiah was abruptly exhausted.

  He blinked, and Alex was back with a washcloth. He blinked longer, and Alex was in bed again, curling tight around Jeremiah’s back. He kept pressing kisses onto the back of Jeremiah’s neck.

  “You’re too hot,” Jeremiah groused, but didn’t push him away. He was falling asleep even as he spoke.

  Alex just chuckled.

  “Laugh it up,” Jeremiah mumbled. He grabbed Alex’s hand on the top of his belly, holding it there.

  “You going to be here in the morning?” Alex asked into the quiet. His words were teasing, but he sounded watchful.

  Jeremiah squeezed his hand. “Yes. I live here, anyway. If anything, you should be the one to sneak out. It’s just common courtesy.”

  Alex chuckled. “I won’t.” He sounded so sure.

  Jeremiah felt tremulously happy. It felt dangerous.

  If he wasn’t so beat, he’d probably stay awake and have an anxiety attack about it, because he had no business being happy when he still hadn’t told Alex the truth, and he could feel Alex smiling against his neck as he snuggled in.

  As it was, Jeremiah let his eyes finally close all the way and was out like a light in an instant.

  ***

  Jeremiah woke up to Alex watching him from the other pillow. It made Jeremiah jerk, startled, taking a moment to remember what had happened, the night before, and then he flushed and pressed his face into the pillow to hide for a minute.

  The pillow was wet with his own drool. He was probably snoring, too. He peeked up at Alex, looking bright-eyed and rumpled and so blindingly handsome Jeremiah felt hot and uncomfortable just looking at him.

  “I have never felt less sexy in my entire life,” Jeremiah admitted.

  Alex smooshed his face into the pillow, shrugging one shoulder, smiling goofily. “You look alright to me,” he said mildly. He shifted his hips forward, cock rubbing Jeremiah’s hip, hard and tempting. He was staring at Jeremiah’s mouth.

  Jeremiah was torn, but he also had to pee and he was starving. “Later,” he promised, poking Alex in his naked chest. It turned into more of a stroke. “First, you gotta feed me before my stomach eats itself.”

  Alex rolled his eyes but got up easily, helping Jeremiah stand, eyeing him appreciatively even as Jeremiah hurried to throw on his clothes. Alex pulled on his sweats, no shirt, taking every opportunity to touch Jeremiah on the shoulder, his hip. He couldn’t seem to stop smiling.

  They brushed their teeth and went to the kitchen so Alex could make eggs and Jeremiah let Penny out.

  Outside of the protective cocoon of bed, they circled each other, the guilt starting to feel suffocating on Jeremiah’s end, Alex a little jumpy.

  After they ate, Jeremiah stood to bring the dishes to the sink but Alex grabbed him by the wrist. “Wait.” He stared at Jeremiah’s hand, then blinked up at him. “I need to-I just need to tell you something. Can you wait a second?”

  Jeremiah clattered onto his chair, heartbeat picking up immediately. Shit. Dread overtook guilt for a brief second, but not by much.

  Alex smiled tightly at him. He looked nervous. Taking a deep breath, he said, “I love you.”

  Jeremiah looked back at him, nonplussed. Of all the things. “What?”

  Alex kept his eyes on Jeremiah, determined and terrified all at once. God, he was so brave. He was so much braver than Jeremiah. Jeremiah was worse than a worm, and here was Alex, laying his heart out for the world to see.

  He pressed on, Jeremiah too shocked to do anything but listen in anguish.

  “I know you probably don’t feel the same way and that’s fine, you have so much going on right now, but I just needed to tell you. It’s the main reason I’m not going back to San Francisco, actually. I should have been more upfront with that. And I guess I just-needed you to know.”

  A wave of agony roiled from the pit of Jeremiah’s stomach up to his throat, choking him. He breathed through it. Brought himself back down to normal, temporarily, with extreme effort.

  “Goddammit,” Jeremiah bit out. This was such Classic Alex he wanted to lean over and bite him.

  Alex faltered, laughing nervously. “I’m sorry?”

  Jeremiah covered his face with his hands. He couldn’t look at his horribly earnest face right now.

  “I know my timing isn’t great, and I know I’m probably not your first choice for raising this kid with-I mean, you’d probably prefer the actual dad, and that would probably make more sense-but I’m here, and I want to do this. I want to do this with you.”

  It was unbearable, watching Alex staring earnestly into his eyes, jaw set, serious and committed.

  Jeremiah really was a monster.

  He squeezed his eyes shut. This was going to suck.

  “It’s yours. You’re the other dad. It’s your baby.” It didn’t even sound like his voice saying it. He felt like he was floating on the ceiling, watching a horrible person break some kind, decent guy’s heart.

  The silence in the aftermath was brutal.

  Finally, unable to take not knowing if Alex was going to up and leave which was fair, or reach over and end Jeremiah’s life with a swift snap of his neck which was still understandable, Jeremiah squinted his eyes open to peek.

  Alex’s mouth was hanging open. He was ashen. It looked like it was hard for him to grit out a single word.

  Finally, he swallowed with effort.

  “Carson,” he bit out, completely aghast. “How could you-” He was quickly moving to angry, voice low, so controlled it was scary. It scared Jeremiah. He was terrified.

  He hopped off the chair with a speed he had previously believed lost to the sands of time before his first trimester and was out of the house before he’d even realized he was moving.

  He heard Alex yell something after him. There was a commotion like Alex was scrambling to his feet after him but Jeremiah couldn’t slow down. He barely had a head start and he couldn’t really run anymore but he was speed walking, just blindly fleeing, no destination in mind. He didn’t even have shoes on. The hard pavement was already making his feet ache as he hit the sidewalk.

  After a truly pitifully short window of time, he felt a hand grab him hard by the upper arm and pull him back, jerking him to a start so that he stumbled backward into a strong chest, another hand coming around to clamp down on his chest, holding him still.

  If his assailant didn’t smell so damn good Jeremiah would have been sure he was about to be mugged.

  He froze, trembling, as Alex adjusted his grip, turning Jeremiah slowly around until they were facing each other, Jeremiah staring blindly at Alex’s chest. After a beat, he forced himself to look up at Alex’s face.

  He felt like a rabbit, caught and cornered and waiting to get eaten. He longed for death, frankly. Nothing could be worse than seeing Alex looming over him dark and upset and hurt, and know it was all because of Jeremiah.

  As Alex stared down at him with hooded eyes, Jeremiah stayed frozen and petrified. Jeremiah sniffed, hard. Eventually, something in Alex’s face softened.

  “Jesus, Carson.” He let go of his mugger’s grip on Jeremiah’s body and reached up to palm at his cheeks instead. They were wet, Jeremiah realized. He was crying. It was frightening, to feel so far removed from his own body that he hadn’t noticed. He was too panicked to do anything but stand there as Alex mopped at the tears on his cheeks. His hands felt so big and Jeremiah just wanted to collapse into him. Let Alex hold his weight up. Even now, after everything, he knew that he would.

  “Jeremiah. Come on back inside.”

  “Are you going to keep yelling at me?” Jeremiah sounded hoarse like he always did after he’d been crying. That was not t
he first thing he should have asked, probably, but it felt like the most important thing at the moment.

  The corner of Alex’s mouth quirked, reluctantly. “Not right now, probably. Maybe later.”

  “That’s fair.” Jeremiah deserved it, he knew, and probably worse, but just because he knew it was justified didn’t mean he had to walk willfully to his doom.

  They wandered back to the house, Jeremiah deeply grateful Fabian wasn’t looking out his window. Alex was tense at his side but he still led him back into the kitchen, hovering as Jeremiah settled in the seat.

  Alex leaned against the counter, arms crossed, and watched him.

  “I’m so sorry,” Jeremiah said miserably. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know-I just. When I found out, I tried to tell you, and I couldn’t-I couldn’t get the words out.” Jesus that was a weak excuse. Jeremiah closed his eyes, forcing himself to continue. “You said you were happy in San Francisco, and I wanted you to be happy and I didn’t want to force this on you.”

  Alex still wasn’t speaking, and Jeremiah kept babbling, throwing more words into the void. “You should hate me. It’s okay if you hate me.”

  “Does Fabian know?” Alex finally asked. It was impossible to read anything from his voice. It was perfectly neutral.

  Jeremiah shook his head, rubbing at the tears still streaking steadily down his cheeks. “No one knows. I didn’t know how to tell anyone.”

  When Alex didn’t seem to have anything to add, Jeremiah opened his eyes. Alex was watching him, unreadable as ever. Jeremiah coughed, his whole head feeling clogged. He wished he could hug his knees to his chest, make himself smaller. He settled for hunching his back as much as he could. “I won’t keep you from the baby. You can be as involved as you want. I won’t get in the way.”

  “Okay,” Alex said slowly. He dipped his face down so Jeremiah mostly had a view of his forehead and his strange invisible eyebrows. Exhaled, like he was bracing himself. He looked up from under his pale lashes. “So what about you?”

  Jeremiah rubbed irritably at his nose. “What about me?”

  “Can I still have you?”

  Like a rain cloud overflowing, Jeremiah burst into tears again, sobs coming fast and loud. Damn pregnancy hormones.

  “Whoa,” Alex said, alarmed. He hurried forward, hauling Jeremiah to his chest without ceremony. “Jeremiah, shh, it’s okay. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you’re okay.”

  It was just mindless comforting chatter but it still made Jeremiah flinch, jerking away. Why was Alex sorry? He should never be sorry, about anything.

  “How can you stand to be near me still?” Jeremiah demanded hoarsely, crying dying down but as best his words still jumping all over the place. “You should never want to see me again.”

  At that, Alex did look angry, finally. At least that made sense, contextually.

  Pushing Jeremiah back by the shoulders so they could look at each other, Alex shook his head. “What, so I’m supposed to just cut you out of my life now? Just, make some kind of moral stand and disown you?” Alex’s mouth curved, exhausted. “None of those options gets me you.”

  Against his will, Jeremiah snorted. He coughed a bit, clearing his throat. “Fuck, you and your obsession with The Notebook, I swear to god. You have a problem.” He’d caught Alex watching it endlessly immediately after his breakup with Katie, and then regularly afterward until it was obvious Alex just…liked it. Unironically.

  Alex sighed, put upon. “Movies don’t become cultural touchstones by accident, Carson,” he recited stubbornly. “They have to resonate with a core emotional truth in society. We’ve been over this.”

  For a second, as Alex pursed his lips, it was like they were back at their apartment in DC, one of a million well-worn debates sprouting effortlessly between them.

  “You sap.” Jeremiah’s voice was watery.

  Alex’s face went strained, to high points of color on his cheeks. He clasped Jeremiah’s hands tightly like they were sealing a solemn bond. Pleading, almost. “You can’t ever lie to me like that again. You have to promise me, Jeremiah.”

  Jeremiah laughed again, honestly couldn’t help it, the sound sharp and grim. “How can you ever trust a word I say? So what if I promise, I’ll probably just do it again because I’m a terrible person.”

  Alex looked helpless and young, suddenly. More than he did usually. Jeremiah wanted to hug his head to his chest, never let him go. He also wanted to run away again.

  He watched Alex chuckle thinly, seemingly at himself, voice rough. “I guess I’m just an idiot.” He rubbed at his wet eyes. “A moron who sticks around even when it makes me look like an asshole, because I’m stubborn and stupid about the people I love.” He took Jeremiah’s hands carefully in his big palms. He met Jeremiah’s gaze, his light eyes shining. “And I’m your idiot, now.”

  The moment stretched out long and tenuous, until Jeremiah realized, in disbelief, that Alex was nervous. That he was, astonishingly, waiting for Jeremiah to choose him. Like he’d ever stood a chance of choosing anyone else. Like he hadn’t been fucked since the second he’d walked in on Alex practicing for a press briefing and watched Alex roll his eyes with good-natured disdain.

  “Goddamnit, Alex,” Jeremiah hissed out breathlessly. He thunked his head onto Alex’s shoulder. Breathed out heavily. His whole body felt limp.

  He felt Alex press a shaky kiss to the crown of his head. “Now can we just go and hang out and watch TV on the couch like normal people on a Sunday, you drama queen? Or do you have any other unbearable revelations to share with the class?”

  Jeremiah chortled wetly, truly exhausted. “No. I’m all set.”

  On the couch, Jeremiah drew Alex to him. Cautiously, he arranged them so Alex was draped along his side, cheek to Jeremiah’s collarbone, long legs dangling over the edge.

  “I’m so mad at you right now,” Alex said into the quiet, voice low and rumbling against Jeremiah’s skin. “I can’t believe you would do something this horrible.” He rubbed his face tiredly against Jeremiah’s chest. “But I’m also so glad you told me. And grateful, I guess? That at least I know, now.” He huffed. “I’m in a really weird place right now.”

  Jeremiah couldn’t help but let out a weak peal of hysterical laughter. “Same.”

  An overwhelming tenderness crept over him as he felt how Alex was still shaking slightly from adrenaline. He smoothed his hand over his hair. If he glanced down, he could see his belly and Alex’s hair and he was hit with a now-familiar bolt of fierce protectiveness. He would kill to protect both of these things, the baby and Alex, from anything and everything but especially himself.

  He was going to have to be better at this.

  Alex grabbed for the remote and changed the channel, and Jeremiah resumed petting his hair. Jeremiah put his other hand on his belly, pressing lightly in case the baby decided to move.

  I’m going to learn how to deserve you, he vowed silently. Both of you.

  ***

  They spent the day lounging on the couch, both worn out from all the emotion of earlier.

  Jeremiah couldn’t help but notice how careful they were being with each other. Him most of all, probably, touching Alex lightly on the shoulder, the neck, laughing at him, teasing him but lighter than usual. Staying close.

  He didn’t want Alex to feel even the slightest bit uneven. It was his mission to make him feel completely on an even keel, from here on out. It was the very least he could do.

  Eventually, they went to bed, and Jeremiah finally got Alex’s dick in him again. It felt like they both needed it, to be close and put everything else aside for a while. Jeremiah craved it, desperately.

  Which wasn’t to say that he wasn’t nervous about it that he was shaking by the time Alex was opening him up.

  He caught Alex’s wrist, pausing him as he scissored his fingers, slick with lube. Alex hadn’t been more than an arm’s length away from Jeremiah nearly all day, and having him up in Jeremiah’s space made it easier to grit out, “Just
-go slow, okay?”

  Alex paused. He raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s been a while.” he admitted.

  “Oh?” Alex said lightly. Jeremiah didn’t necessarily appreciate the note of doubt.

  Jeremiah rolled his eyes, ruffled at having to spell it out. “I haven’t gotten fucked since you, okay?”

  Alex tilted his head like a dog, confused. “But, Fabian said you were going out all the time.”

  “Oh,did he now.” Jeremiah sniffled. “Maybe I didn’t want him to know I’m the kind of basic idiot that just got, like-so hung up on some straight guy.”

  “‘Some straight guy’? Carson, first of all, I’m not some guy. I’m your best friend.”

  “One of my best friends.”

  Alex glared at him, and went on, “And straight guys generally don’t jerk off thinking about fucking their male friends, so…horse might be out of the gate there.” Alex took a step forward, a hopeful look in his eye. “And finally-‘so hung up on’?”

  Jeremiah put a hand on his face, shoving it away. “God, smug is such a bad look on you.”

  They grinned stupidly at each other, Alex’s finger in Jeremiah’s ass shifting to the background as Jeremiah just stared at him, at his beautiful, open face, his translucent eyebrows, the crinkly eyes. Jeremiah felt unable to believe that it was this easy. That he’d told Alex the truth, and he still got to have him, apparently. It didn’t make sense. It felt on the brink of falling apart. But Jeremiah was selfish, and his only instinct was to grab hold of Alex and keep him as long as he was allowed.

  Alex leaned to rummage through the side table, emerging with a strip of condoms. “We didn’t-last time,” he said jerkily. “But now, do you want? Should I?” He held them up and Jeremiah couldn’t stop himself from shaking his head, fast.

  “No. Just you. Want you bare.”

  “God, Carson.”

  They were both clumsy after that, struggling to get in position so Jeremiah’s belly would be sufficiently out of the way. Finally, Alex twisted him wav over to his side, shoved pillows under Jeremiah’s hips until his belly was supported, hips propped up so Alex could slide in, holding himself over Jeremiah, chest heaving, arms trembling.