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Battler could always feel spring heat coming on just a little before it really kicked into gear. Calendars could predict it with razor-sharp accuracy, but seeing a date in your phone never really compared to that unique feeling you got a couple days before the streets became cloying with the smell of hormones. Even with heat suppressants, your body would feel like it was balanced on a razor, maybe a couple seconds from tipping over. As it got closer, it became easier to tip to the side, until eventually you found yourself with a hard-on in the break room. Usually they gave you a week of paid time off before it got to that point.
When he told Beato about it over dinner, she threw her head back, all her teeth on full display as she pounded the table so hard that the utensils started to shake.
“Was it like porn? Did some big, surly alpha come up to claim you? C’mon, c’mon, tell me the details! Were they big?” Her grin was as wide as the sea as he nearly choked on his rice.
“I’m still employed. Does that answer your question?” He deflected the embarrassing question with a smooth one as he cut his rice. Did the rice need to be cut? No. But the mere sight of a guy cutting stuff in the proper way with a knife and fork—neither of which were needed for rice—was still elegant enough to make him look good. There was no way to shatter such a cool, refined exterior.
“Hoh, but you thought about it, right? The taste of some alpha’s nice, plump—” On second thought, maybe there was a way to make him lose his cool, and that was Beato’s enthusiasm, which only seemed to be rising.
“Beato!” Like a truly dignified omega, his complaint was the tone of a child complaining when their mom didn’t get them something than a retort. For good measure, he gave the most drawn-out, extravagant gesture at his ring finger he had to remind her that yes, there was a ring on his left hand, and on hers as well. Realistically, though, he knew it would only egg her on.
“Whaaaat, you didn’t think about it? What if it was a hot blonde alpha?” Rice spilled from the corners of her mouth as she spoke.
“I don’t think anybody could be as terrible, hot and blonde as you are.” As the corners of his mouth lifted, he quickly raised a mug to his lips to hide it.
Beato really was an awful, terrible, tasteless woman. But Battler was also an awful, terrible, tasteless man, the kind who would cheer at the sight of a shirtless scene in a movie. They were both idiots, and ridiculous banter was their shared language.
“If you weren’t thinking of doing anything in particularly for your spring heat, I always have ideas.”
“Besides letting me curl up in a blanket and watch movies with you?” For all the ways his words would always come back to bite him—sometimes literally—in the ass, it was impossible to resist tease her just a little like this. Just like how man could not resist the force of gravity, he could not resist flinging bad jokes around.
“What kind of movies were you thinking of?” The grin on her face as she spoke broadcasted the exact sorts of movies Beato had in mind.
“Pervert. If I said I wanted to watch some extreme fetish thing, would you watch with me?”
“Kiyahahaha! It’s better to have your preferences out in the open, right?”
“Personally, I prefer to keep things indoors,” he said, as if the two of them hadn’t swapped kinks on the first date. Beato knew very well that he wouldn’t exactly say no to something out in public—but spring heat and a nightclub were two entirely separate beasts. One of them was scheduled, planned; the other would happen randomly, demand immediate attention, and then fade from the face of the earth until the next year.
“Were you planning to go off suppressants for a bit?” Her face was calm, concealing the scheduling calculations that were no doubt passing through her head as she spoke.
“For a couple days, maybe. Don’t like how they make me feel like a zombie when heat hits.” His knife moved the rice from one side of the plate to the other as he smiled down at it. Even after a half-dozen medication switches, the best that modern science could offer was something that worked pretty damn well for every day of the year except when it mattered most. It was a godsend that he liked both Beato and sex, or he would have driven himself mad years ago; she could run out and get groceries while he waited at home, free from the omniscient musk hanging around in the public sphere like a fog.
“Any plans to include your lovely, gorgeous, sexy wife?” As she leaned forwards, face supported by a hand, her hair cascaded down in beautiful golden tresses. The evening light hit her curtain of hair at such an angle that it seemed to be glowing, giving her an almost unnoticeable halo of light. It was not a human in front of him but a goddess pulled straight from a renaissance painting and given flesh and blood. From the dimples pulled into the recesses on her face to the peals of howling laughter, he could understand why ancient writers and singers would speak of a muse who inspired them to create their work. He wanted nothing more than for this moment to last forever, for her gentle teasing to never end.
“Now that I think of it, I was pretty sure I was planning to hole myself up in the spare room and never come out the whole week.” His words were tinged with a touch of sarcasm, but his face was completely serious as he leaned across the table into prime kissing range. They might have been a bit too old to play chicken in the schoolyard, but he made up for it here as he gazed into her eyes. He wanted to taste her lips, to touch her face.
“What a shaaaame. Guess those plans I made will have to wait.” Her face had the kind of fake pout on it that a kid would make when denied a treat, but it vanished in a blink as he felt her lips ghosted his cheek once, twice, three times before zeroing in. She didn’t back down after just a single kiss, nor did she stop after two. Instead, her arms locked him in place as she cackled, pressing hot, messy kisses onto his face.
Beato’s scent was never particularly strong; her body had never produced the right hormones. Unlike with estrogen, giving her a shot of alpha hormones would get her pacing around the apartment and swearing in a matter of hours. Pheromone perfume could compensate for that, but it didn’t smell exactly like he imagined she would. As she continued pinning him down, he smelled the faint scent of roses through the sound of laughter.
Just that faint whiff turned off any instinct he had to escape her hold. Not that he wanted to in the first place. All he wanted was to press his mouth to hers, to let her consume him.
Her mouth was hungry as it practically forced its way into his, forcing everything to the side as it demanded nothing but complete submission. Her tongue was warm and wet as it sucked at the inside of his mouth, leaving the taste of her food behind. As his heart was pounding and the blood rushed to his face, all his brain could do was react and make sure it didn’t go anywhere south instead. Slowly, she retreated from him, their mouths still connected by a thin strand of saliva.
“I think I’m reconsidering the social isolation plan,” he announced to another chorus of laughter, as if he was ever planning it in the first place.
After that, what they wanted to do got talked out between them, and his weekly pill box was forgotten, at least for a day or two.
Heat was normally like that; something that was in the background until it wasn’t. Everything could set you on edge, from the scent of an alpha in public to porn until some small trigger pulled you over the edge. He’d count himself lucky that he was able to hole up inside the apartment for a week—life with Beato never got boring, at least.
He woke up with the gentle but unmistakable tugging of morning wood between his legs. It was doubtless the fault of the woman sleeping next to him; he could barely smell roses, but that was irrelevant to his dick when she was snuggled up that close to his chest.
If Beato groaned when he planted a kiss on her forehead, she protested even more as he snuck out of bed. Even if he didn’t smell like the equivalent of a buffet right now, he was still a nice, warm body next to her.
He didn’t want to spend too much time lying in bed with both a boner and Beato at the same time; he could sense that full heat was a hair’s breadth away, and at the very least, he wanted to not be an oily mess when it happened. Under any normal circumstances, he would’ve just jacked off in the bathroom to rid himself of the boner and left it at that. But he knew from that tingling sensation in the back of his brain that the second he did, he’d enter full heat. He at least wanted to shower before then.
After cleaning up, the shower at full blast felt nice. Even if he’d get himself dirty beyond belief later, the feeling of water flowing down his body was still divine. He could, for a brief moment, forget all his worldly desires in favor of the warmth washing over his body. Even all his desires pressing at him could be ignored for just a couple moments. At least, until he heard the door open.
A moment later, Beato peeked out from the other side of the shower curtain, hair flowing down her naked back. She rubbed at her eyes as her mouth opened in a yawn, no doubt due to him trying and failing to slip out of bed undetected; when she was drowsy, Beato could give a bleeding-edge heat-seeking missile a run for its money.
“Sorry for taking up all the hot water, ihihi.” He grinned as she lifted her head, her nostrils flaring as she leaned towards him. She didn’t react as a couple rivets of water began to roll down her face as she stepped over the boundary of the tub towards him.
His eyes were drawn to how the water ran down her body. The droplets began at her forehead and ran down, past her breasts and the scars between her hips, until they mingled with the water at her feet. For all their years together, those times where he saw every inch of her like this were as treasured as the jewelry on their bedside; even when they were in bed together, those old wounds would be covered with lingerie or a harness.
What an act of trust was differed from person to person. For them, it was a moment like this. Beato was trusting him with her body, just as he would trust her to take care of his. She didn’t flinch as she felt his washcloth caressing her hips. When it traced the ridges of her scars, he felt her hand layered over his, guiding his movements with the gentlest of nudges.
The two of them were both quiet, knowing what was about to happen and yet wanting this moment to remain unbroken for all eternity. Just the wish was impossible; the hot water wouldn’t last forever, and felt the beginnings of a boner forming the second she stepped into the shower. The heat, the scent of her, the view of her chest in front of him—even one of them could push him over the edge, but all three of them combined stroked and teased that twisting feeling at the bottom of his stomach until it let him trembling in front of her.
The feeling broke the moment as his head begun to spin from the blood rushing downwards in combination with the shower’s heat pulsing down on every inch of him. A shower was a terrible place to start your heat, but right now, that was the furthest thing on his mind.
“You alright?” Even if his rational brain, losing blood fast, wanted to downplay what was happening, his cock didn’t. It was all he could do to give it a couple quick, overwhelming strokes.
“I think you should be more worried about yourself right now, Battleeeer.” Beato’s words were soft, malleable as she stretched out the syllables of his name. Her hands were cool enough to make him shiver as they traced the outline of his collarbone, her dainty nose occasionally taking in a deep sniff. A moment later, her hands were replaced by her mouth pressing hot, heavy kisses into his neck.
Every sense kicked into overdrive at once as she pushed him against the wall of the shower. His rational brain wanted to protest being forced out of the nice, warm stream of water, but every other cell in his body argued otherwise; it wanted to stay here, get down on his knees and take whatever was offered to him. Beato was every bit his alpha, and his dick knew it.
Instead of pressing him harder against the wall and fucking him, she stepped back to admire her handiwork. Every bit of his body was as red as his hair, his cock proud and erect.
He tried to say her name, to ask for more, but she pressed a finger to his lips and grinned.
“Has it finally hit you?” He nodded, too breathless and horny to speak in the face of her toothy smile. “Good, good. I smelled that you were ready to submit to me the moment I woke up. You got the bedsheets filthy with your scent, you know.”
“Hihihi, sorry.” Even if she was acting, it was all he could do in the face of this but apologize, try to get the lecture finished as quickly as he could.
“You’ll show your apology with your body, not your words. Once you finish washing yourself, I’ll be waiting, understood?” Her entire body snuggled up close to his; she didn’t care that his dick was pressing hard against her belly. Even though his scent filled the small bathroom, she seemed a plane above it all, watching him as if he was just an interesting play instead of burying herself in his flesh. Every time she breathed in, he felt it press on his cock like a slow, steady rhythm that left him craving more. His hips slowly tried to mirror that motion and grind deep into her.
“Are you really so poorly trained that you would disobey your alpha for some small ounce of pleasure?” That delicious pressure on his dick vanished as she stepped backwards, her eyes narrowed.
“Guess I’m not that well trained.” Admitting that was like throwing blood into a sea of sharks; Beato loved punishment. She loved to push his body to the limits over a small transgression, or to make him beg for release. Right now, that was what his heat-addled brain needed as much as it needed air. He wanted to be pinched, slapped, bitten, anything that would help sate that primal urge to fuck that had welled up inside him.
“Your body will regret that transgression. Get yourself ready, then come out to the living room. Somebody as disobedient as you has no right to wear clothes.” For as cheesy as her words could be, it didn't dull the edge at all; he wanted her to do whatever she wished to him.
She stepped out of the shower as he let out a great sigh. He felt the absence of the intensity of her gaze and touch the second she left. It was a void his body automatically wanted to fill, and quickly; they’d done this every year, and yet every time she still reduced him to whimpers as he unraveled under her touch. His body already wanted to sprint out of the shower, buck naked, in order to feel her skin against his. Beato could do whatever she wanted to him—he just wanted to feel that warmth against, inside him.
When he entered the living room, she was dressed like a mob boss with a mile-wide grin. in contrast, he barely noticed the overpowering, artificial miasma of roses; if anything, it made him focus his sights solely on her. she was lounging here, waiting to do things to him that sent a hot shiver up his spine, starting at the base of his cock and ending at the pleasure center of his brain.
“Come, come. Eat up. After that, put these on.” He didn’t feel hungry, but at the same time, he gobbled it all down to get to the cuffs she’d placed on the table-one for each hand and foot, and one for the neck. Even if they hadn’t been clipped to anything, just feeling the leather around his neck made his cock twitch.
“Good boy. You’re going to do your best to obey me for today, right?” Words had left him. If humans were to see the pure incarnation of light in their room, would they speak? No. Rays of sun did not speak, they only acted. Even if it was impossible to escape their beauty, but humans never tried in earnest. They were content to bask in the rays of the sun, baring everything to its light. As he tried to laugh, a pathetic whine escaped his throat at the praise, Beato laughed again, teeth gleaming in the light. She was howling in laughter at him, as if he was the only thing in the world.
She stood, and he couldn’t help but notice the bulge of a strap in her pants straining against the fabric. Her eyes commanded him to follow to the ottoman shoved against the couch. a towel had already been draped overtop it, just for him.
“On your back, Battler.” He obeyed without thinking, his eyes never coming off the cock hidden under her clothing. Just the silhouette alone wasn’t enough to tell him what model it was, only where it would be in a moment if Beato wished it.
If he was a bit of a brat normally, he was hers in this moment. He didn’t struggle as he lowered his hands to the floor to be restrained, only shivered as she traced a finger up the inside of his wrist. Her flesh was cold, like a solid block of ice had made its way to inside their apartment. He tried to jerk away from her freezing touch, but the handcuffs caught his movement before his brain even recognized the knee-jerk reaction.
Beato clicked her tongue in disappointment.
“Your hands are freezing, Beato!” He complained, knowing that it would only get his thighs and calves bound together a little tighter. She looped the rope under the legs of the furniture, forcing them apart.
What he didn’t expect was her then burying her freezing cold fingers in his thighs.
He kept trying to buck and get away from the sensation, his breath coming in rapid pants as he tugged against the restraints. No matter how hard he struggled, he couldn’t get away from her touch; Beato’s handiwork was too elegant, and the ottoman too heavy. Even if the angle was weird, he could see that sadistic smile on her face as clear as day as her freezing hands touched him. As her fingers warmed from his body heat, she pressed her whole palm into his skin, gripping it like she meant to spread him even further apart. His brain stiffened in preparation, but she only smiled and began rubbing her thumbs in large, wide circles across his skin, close enough to his crotch that he couldn’t help but buck in his restraints.
“Beato.” He meant it to be a complaint, but it came out like a plea for her to violate him. He wanted to taste what was under her clothes, anything that would quench the hormones raging in his body.
“Hmmm? What is it, Battleeeer? Could it be that you don’t want me to touch you?” Damn you, Beato. To add insult to injury, she didn’t take her eyes off him as she pressed a kiss to the inside of his thigh, sucking on the skin so hard that it would leave a bruise afterwards. This was ownership, not foreplay. Beato was proving who had power. For her, claiming him a thousand times over was never enough; she needed to do it a million, or a billion, to prove to the world that she was the one in control. For him, it was just hot. Knowing that it would linger only added to the intensity of his low, soft moans as she sucked and bit him, refusing to devote even a second of thought to his dick.
“Please.” He knew that the only way to get the attention his body craved was to beg. As he did, her mouth left his thighs, but only because her hands wanted to caress his chest.
“Please what? Am I not pleasing you? Is your body not enjoying this? Aren’t you a breast sommelier? Am I not allowed the same pleasure as my omega?” Every bit of her tone was calculated, even through the hormones, to make him squirm as much as possible. Her palm slapped at his chest, the feeling reverberating through his entire body.
At his gasp, she only laughed harder as her fingers pinched at his nipple. “This is why I bound you like this! You’ll get no release unless I wish it.”
His dick and ass felt like they were going to explode; they were both throbbing at her teasing in ways that the other parts of his body could only dream of. Those parts were the only ones she didn’t touch, precisely because she knew how much they wanted that attention. His legs were bound so that he couldn’t even touch them, let alone put an ounce of of that pressure they were begging for onto them. Only Beato could do that. She could tease him for as long as she wanted, fuck him only when she grew bored of his reactions. Only a direct appeal could redirect that pleasure to where he needed it.
“Please, Beato. I want you to fuck me.” The words finally escaped the knot in his throat.
She placed a single wet kiss on his lips as she smiled. Through that light, he found the corners of his own mouth turning up towards his eyes.
She was beautiful in the morning light, she always was. Her hair was like sunbeams had manifested upon her head, her speech like the chiming of a million bells. Even through the haze his mind was buried under, he could see that. If he wasn’t tied to the furniture, he would’ve tried to reach out and grasp a piece of that beautiful, shimmering light.
She brushed his hair out of his face as she shed her pants, giving him a front row seat to the dick strapped to her. It was one of her knotted ones, the kind that could barely stand up under its own weight because of the tapered base under the knot.
It swung back and forth as she took her place between Battler’s legs, her fingers spreading him as wide as possible. He was already wet with slick, and it took little resistance before he felt the pressure of Beato pressing inside him, barely taking the time to begin with her fingers before leading in with something much thicker.
It was barely the tip, but it was enough to leave him breathless. It was a feeling he could only get here while following Beato’s every beck and call. She could do whatever he wanted, could keep him like this and let him feel his ass stretching for an hour, if she wanted. Even the small thrusts he could manage with his hips were nothing compared to that feeling of hot, hungry anxiety in the pit of his stomach as his brain fully processed those implications of complete, utter domination.
She started slowly and deliberately, her strokes shallow and practiced. He groaned at the feeling—even with his dick throbbing in anticipating, she was still slowly forcing his body open. It was Beato, though; the pain of having his ass torn open and forced to readjust to this thick, firm thing inside it was pleasure. It made him squirm as much as he could, trying to find an angle that could alleviate that tension inside him, even though none existed. He felt her hands readjust her grip before leaning in over him and digging in firmer, further.
He felt that coming girth at his hole, ready to press inside him, but she kept denying it. She refused to give him the pleasure of feeling his body take the knot; instead, every time it kissed the inside of him, she withdrew, over and over, leaving him hoping that this would be the time she would stuff him like a pig.
She pulled out entirely for a moment, eliciting only a low groan at the sudden feeling of emptiness. Instead, Beato gave his cock a couple lazy strokes as he caught his breath. Every bit of him was over the edge, and giving a moment let him reorient. Beato’s grip was light, teasing. When she actually wanted to get him off, she would grip and pump so fiercely that his first instinct was to try to close his legs.
She pulled him apart again, casually lining herself up and pressing just a little into him before leaning forwards and fucking the entire shaft. His ass had no choice but to obey as the knot slotted perfectly into place. He almost didn’t feel any pressure as she entered—it was only when she stopped that he felt his muscles forced to conform to the sudden girth inside him. It was a double ended attack, with the shaft pressing on his prostate, and the knot on his entrance.
He was breathing hard—he’d taken bigger and thicker from her, but not while restrained like this. He could only be forced back as far as the restraints could allow as she pressed in harder and deeper.
And then she fully sunk into him. His breathing was ragged as she started fucking him in earnest, every muscle clenching around the knot hoping to milk a nonexistent orgasm out of it. His brain knew it was just silicone, but his ass only knew what it felt, and what it felt was a hungry alpha hoping to breed him. Every thrust made his eyes tear up as his teeth sunk into his lip. As she tried to pull out, his ass clenched hard around the knot, begging her not to remove this intense source of pleasure. He could feel it move inside him at his base, not long enough to tease at his prostate, but close enough to leave him moaning.
Eventually, she stilled, her hand wrapping firmly around his cock, her strap still buried deep within him. It barely took a couple strokes before he spilled over white and hot beneath her hands.
The orgasm took him slowly, his entire body feeling those waves of tremors. Every time he thought they ended, she touched him again, sending another wave through him. It had to be minutes that those waves finished running their course, before Beato began to undo the restraints binding him. He recognized the trembling in her hands as her fingers moved to free him, her breathing hot and heavy as he buried his head in her neck. When she loosened her shirt, he took one of her breasts into his mouth, sucking it as his hands caressed the other one.
He didn’t need a command or even a sentence to know what she wanted as his fingers brushed under her harness. She’d grabbed the bottle of lube on the nearby table and handed it to him. Her body shuddered at the cold feeling of his fingers pressing into her, but unlike Battler, she didn’t squirm or moan as he pressed at her prostate. And unlike her, he didn’t tease. In contrast to how she was normally, was almost entirely quiet as he touched her. It barely took anything to bring her over the edge as he felt her release with only a soft, barely audible moan.
When the two had finished panting and the haze had largely left them, she pulled up the TV to an old movie. His heat would probably come back in an hour, but that was enough time for an episode of that mystery show they’d gotten fond of.