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Regal collects people.
It’s subtle and silent, but it leaves a mark. People know. Bryan’s watched it happen before, he knows the drill.
It's happening to him, now.
Regal’s never needed to possess or control his people. Not while Bryan’s been watching him, anyway. On the contrary, the old man seems to prefer people who do what they like.
Guess he appreciates a spine, among other things. Interesting things? Valuable things...? What makes something valuable to William Regal?
There’s no common thread. Regal’s endorsement is not cheap, but it’s not exactly exclusive or prohibitive, either; it’s just… the man likes who he likes. That’s fair, Bryan supposes.
He likes Bryan, that’s not up for debate. Recently, Bryan’s been called “one of Regal’s” as casually as he’s been called a wrestler. It’s not even innuendo; they’re not even accusing him of sleeping with Regal, they just declare it like it’s obvious, like Bryan would never even want to object. Like it’s okay.
Bryan’s almost content to let that qualifier rest on his shoulders, but… that would be conceding. Submitting.
His Lordship makes Bryan want to forget that, even just for a few minutes. He’s massive, and strong, and impressive and disarming and smart and he smells like fucking heaven but that can’t be worth compromising his personhood. Not for a fucking knot.
Not even now, when there’s clearly rut in the outskirts of Regal’s silk-and-garden scent, fire and brimstone singeing the edges.
Bryan’s just about ready to jump his mentor. Violently, as in kick his fucking head off. His brain clearly neglected to take the same basic principles of understanding he applies to everybody else to William Regal. He’s not a normal person, let alone a normal alpha, but no matter how bizarre, they all have to go into rut sooner or later. Bryan resents the notion that he can’t just obsessively barrel through any problem and just be done with it, but he has to admit that if anyone could swerve him, it’s certainly Regal.
Pre-rut, Bryan thinks, has to be. By this point, he must be in late pre-rut. It’s been almost a week, and day by day, his Lordship’s only become more wild-eyed, more breathtakingly frightening. Regal is a perverse creature on an average day, but Bryan’s never seen the man like this. And the scent—
Pull it back.
Most of the signs of Regal’s impending rut don’t even show up in the man himself; it’s having more of a visible effect on Bryan than Regal . He wants to scream.
Bryan’s been carefully keeping himself in a state of hyper-vigilant agitation. It’s exhausting, but for the sake of keeping himself braced against the pull of Regal’s scent. It’s natural, he knows that, but it’s been trying so hard to jam up his mind and render him pliant and helpless and he’d been tired but fine.
Until today.
Regal looked at Bryan too fast while during a match. That’s all it took for Bryan’s knees to buckle underneath him, breaking the bridge he’d been holding and sending him crashing down to the mat. He recovered quickly enough, even won the match, despite his legs shaking and a sudden feeling of overwhelming, delirious fury.
Right after the bell, medical personnel crowded him assuming he hurt his leg and he didn’t bother setting the story straight. The idea of letting people think he just fucked up a bridge is infinitely easier to stomach than anyone knowing the physical reaction Regal just stole out of his body. Knowing Regal’s eyes made his whole body bow and collapse.
But Regal knows.
Or maybe he doesn’t, fuck’s sake — Regal has been uncharacteristically oblivious to his effect on the people around him lately, and for once, it isn’t just him being aloof on purpose . He’s so unaware he almost comes across as callous, especially to Bryan. Regal’s been brushing against people, scenting them without even realizing, hands extra tense in training, looking at people like he’s idly toying with the idea of eating them.
Looking at Bryan like…
“Is that tight, sunshine?”
Bryan doesn’t care what other people think. If he did, he wouldn’t be laying on a table in a crowded room, being manhandled by William Regal. His boots and kickpads were peeled off him by hands that weren’t his. He didn’t even get himself up here.
That was Regal. The alpha’s slotted between his legs as Bryan lays on a table in the trainer’s room, holding the “injured” one in the air, squeezing gently along his calf muscle. Once again, like he has any business being there. Like he has the right.
Bryan could cry. He’s doubly frustrated, not only that Regal has him this worked up, but also that it’s over something so humiliatingly stupid. He huffs and grimaces at the soundas it leaves his body. “Like you wouldn’t believe, sir.”
Regal has the nerve to chuckle. “Nothing feels too hot or inflamed. Very good.” Bryan scowls, but still won’t make eye contact with him. He fixates on Regal’s jugular instead.
Regal can smell his awful mood. Everyone can, probably. That’s why he’s looming over Bryan after the match and checking him over so thoroughly. He herded Bryan up on top of a table on the pretext of looking for injuries. Bryan won’t look Regal in the eye, even as he invades Bryan’s space; he’s glaring at anyone who looks at them, trying to keep the low growl (which is definitely not a purr) he’s been holding for the past ten minutes in the very back of his throat, behind his clenched teeth.
He’s angry that Regal’s so close to him and he can’t stand the idea of Regal getting any further away. He doesn’t like when the other people in the room get anywhere near them but he’s stressed about being alone with him. He’s touched, but knows he’d start flashing teeth if Regal touched anyone else right now. Not that there’s any risk of that— everyone else is giving them an insultingly wide berth, anyway.
He lets himself stew in a nasty fog of slicing, starved arousal and resentment. It makes his lower body contract with awful, mortifying need.
No, want, only a want. If it’s only a want and it never happens, everything can still be fine.
There’s so much rut roiling in Regal’s scent that Bryan swears it’s given him a little bit of a buzz. Regal’s pheromones might also be working overtime to chemically chip away at his confused, horny agitation, to render him soft and sweet and easy and exploitable . Bryan’s just a potential quick fix for an acute problem to Regal right now. A blip, just a bump.
Even with the thick cloud of pheromones, though, Regal’s touching him gently; as if nothing’s wrong with either of them. No creeping fingers, no clawing at his skin. His scent is so sharp that Bryan has to force himself not to gasp after inhaling, especially this close.
Regal’s shoulders are so big that it feels like they wrap around Bryan’s body somehow, even when the man’s just… standing in front of him. He feels trapped on that table, in the shadow of Regal’s frame. He doesn’t move. He’s laying back for Regal, letting the man handle him very intimately in front of a room full of people. Regal’s inspecting him, scenting him aggressively. He might not even know he’s doing it, this close to rut. His neck and shoulders and most of his body is slack and relaxed with the very public power he’s giving this man over him.
Giving. Allowing it. Regal’s breath ghosts over his calf and the feeling of the Alpha’s breath twists Bryan’s gut sharply.
He studies Bryan’s leg, moves his knee around like he has any business at all touching any fucking part of him . “Think you pushed it too far?”
“Mm-mm.” Bryan swallows, patience melting, and shakes his head. Get the fuck away from me. “Should be juuust fine.”
“Was worried, pet, thought you were hurt…” Regal rumbles, probing into Bryan’s calf muscle with his thumb.
Pet. Bryan jolts when Regal’s fingers find a pressure point and crush it. “ MM— ’m fine, said I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
Bryan’s mouth cracks into the tiniest snarl . It’s quiet enough that he’s sure only his lordship can hear, but the atmosphere in the room changes instantly. Regal’s eyes narrow with interest ; he stands up a little taller. Bryan still won’t look up, determined to just let the silence hang and fester.
But Regal waits, patient and undeterred. Regal’s just… holding him, at this point, just a strong, steady hand supporting his leg. In front of at least a dozen people. He studies Bryan for something, seems to come up empty and sighs. “What happened to you?”
“You know what happened to me.” Bryan snorts. “Let’s talk about what’s happening to you. ”
“I…” Bryan can hear him purse his lips. “Well… nothing yet, I suppose...”
“The hell is that supposed to mean?”
Regal chuckles again and Bryan’s rearing up and growling in his face before he can think. The sticky leather of the table squeaks under Bryan as he shifts his weight.
Everyone else in the room quickly leaves and Bryan hates him. He’s not getting another squirm out of me, Bryan thinks, rut or no rut. If Regal thought he’s going to just get scent-drunk and present his cunt or something, he doesn’t understand the first thing about Bryan.
Infuriatingly, Regal doesn’t even flinch. He just breaks into that stupid smile that rises out of him when he finds something amusing. They stay like that for a while and against his will, Bryan’s breathing gets lighter and shakier, his growl smothered by how close Regal is, how good he smells, how fucking big he looks from this point of view… He’s leaning in, inhaling Regal’s scent greedily, shivering and scenting the alpha before he can stop himself, rubbing his face into Regal’s neck, no, fuck, please—
“Darling, stop.”
Regal scruffs him. Bryan obeys, instantly, and flushes red. He pulls back from where their skin meets and forces his gaze down, grinds his teeth when his brain tries to tell him it hurts, not touching Regal. He swallows. “This isn’t fair.”
“…I’m sorry,” Regal’s still now, not moving to touch him more, the fucking bastard. “I didn’t think it would…” He squeezes Bryan’s leg. “...have this much of an effect on you.”
“You’re— fuck, I don’t care what you thought. This has to stop ,” Bryan growls in Regal’s face. Bryan’s skin prickles under the florescent lights in the tiny, empty room.
Regal sighs, and it sounds regretful, rather than disappointed or annoyed. “God, I hate this.”
Bryan blinks for a moment, connecting the dots. It’s easier to guess at Regal’s feelings a little when he’s unraveling like this; visceral discontent at the smell of an omega pushing back against his rut, the instinct to take what he wants from Bryan and his own disapproval of something so out of control, the desperate desire to make it all stop, to keep it from dragging him off-course, hijack his free will.
He doesn’t want to feel out of control, either. Bryan… can understand that.
“Sir,” Bryan’s almost touching Regal’s nose with his. “Do you... need to go home, or... something?”
Regal blinks. Bryan groans, struggles for more words. “I just— I understand if this is difficult right now, and it’s fine if you don’t want me to... if it’s a distraction—”
And William Regal growls at him.
“This,” Regal gestures at the door, “has been a distraction. An attempted distraction,” he shakes his head. “A well and truly failed distraction, from you .”
Bryan’s quiet, Bryan’s confused, and once again, Regal sees something that amuses him in that. His eyes flicker to the side, to the door, and he thinks about storming out for half a second before Regal cups his chin and brings his gaze right back onto him.
“You picked me,” Bryan blurts against Regal’s mouth, agitation crackling and burning through his nervous system like a brushfire. “I saw it, sir. You did.”
“Then let me have you.”
“Why sh—” Bryan twitches and inhales sharply. Regal’s tracing the outline of his cunt, dragging the pad of his middle finger around his entrance through the tight fabric, reversing and going back around when he brushes against the base of Bryan’s cock. “Why should I?”
“Because I want you…” He rubs a knuckle gently over Bryan’s cunt, pushing between his folds and grinding, fuck— “…and you like giving me what I want. You are so good at it, sweetheart… Oh,” Regal slides his fingers over Bryan’s cunt. “You feel a little hot, right here.”
At least he can’t feel how wet... not yet, anyway, not until…
“You should’ve asked.” At some point, Bryan’s leg crept up and wrapped loosely around Regal, which he only notices once it’s already clenching around the alpha’s waist. Regal keeps one hand rubbing gently over his cunt and lets the other wander again, feeling him bit by bit. Mapping him out.
Bryan’s unsteady and embarrassed, trying desperately to dissociate from the vivid reality of the moment so he can just have a little time to think, but his brain is running in panicked circles like a squirrel in the middle of the road and he can’t make it stop— He’s shaking and scared shitless but he still lets Regal map out his body, still drips before Regal’s fingers even find his cunt and fuck, he shouldn’t be allowing this.
“You would’ve run,” Regal growls. “And I would’ve caught you.”
That’s too much. He has to bite back a moan, panting against Regal’s mouth, feeling his legs fall open. Stupid. He has to be better than this—
—regal would chase him regal would catch him regal would follow him regal would—
—better than feeling possessed like this, than feeling wanted like this. Better than wanting any of it, certainly better than needing it.
But it’s also better than anything that’s true about Bryan, anything Bryan knows about himself. It’s right.
It’s right for him to bask in Regal’s attention, it’s right to savor Regal’s touch, it’s right to feel pride in being Regal’s.
The idea makes him shudder and bare his teeth, turns his stomach and chills his spine, but apparently, that’s the appeal; the feeling of Regal’s palms against his flesh is giving him all that and more. The heavy, fiery scent filling Bryan’s skull is advancing on his tendons next, submerging his body in warmth. It’s leaving him pliable and tingly as Regal’s fingers drag slowly down his leg, gripping lightly in each new spot, like he wants to remember the layout of Bryan’s body later.
Bryan has always wanted this, wanted Regal like this. He’d just assumed some kind of inherent danger in the emotional access he would have to allow another person if they were to… be ‘like this’, together .
Bryan doesn’t want to be ‘one of Regal’s.’ He wants to be ‘Regal’s.’
But he can’t just... do it. Won’t do it himself.
Needs to.
“I… I need…” He’s straining the seams of his mind, trying to summon some reason not to just let himself tumble (further) into Regal’s open arms, to just be swallowed up without a trace.
“Anything, love. Anything you need.”
“I need you to do this,” Bryan’s voice cracks and he winces. He squeezes his eyes shut and bumps foreheads with Regal, radiating fear. “Because I can’t.”
Bryan can feel Regal thinking again. He doesn’t say anything and Bryan panics. “I-I need— I’m sorry,” This is fucked this is fucked this is fucked this is so fucking stupid. “I need help. I need you to just… please. Lordship, I’m sorry—"
“No, you’re not.”
Bryan stops breathing.
“You’re not sorry,” Regal murmurs. “And I wouldn’t ask you to be.”
Bryan’s mind runs in even faster circles, if such a thing were even possible . That doesn’t… that doesn’t make sense.
“I think you’re only afraid.” Regal cups his chin and meets his eyes. “I’m sorry for that, darling, but there’s no need. It's my fault. You are the way you are and I want you that way.”
“Regal—” He shudders. Regal’s dipping down to mouth at his neck, his shoulder, stopping before his collarbone, resting on his scent gland and tasting, sucking Bryan’s flesh into his mouth. “I—"
“You don’t have to talk,” he breathes, “if it’s difficult. I can take care of that, if you’d like.” He tilts his head, finds Bryan’s eyes. “I’ll do my best, given my current condition. Is that what you want?”
Something to focus on. Bryan nods quickly.
Regal smiles and presses kisses into his shoulder as he starts to loosen up, rewards him with a few nips to the neck when he starts purring, strokes Bryan’s side slowly, carefully warming his skin. He growls gently in Bryan’ s ear and Bryan moves as if on command, tilting his hips to help the alpha peel his trunks off. “Good lad, careful now…”
Lad. Bryan tries his best to wear that signature sour face people incessantly feel the need to tell him he makes, but it doesn’t matter, nothing matters; he still purrs in a register he doesn’t quite recognize for Regal, still gushes when Regal stares him down from inches away and pushes a finger inside him, still gasps at how fucking deep it reaches, sucking in a shuddering breath when he sinks in all the way down to the knuckle.
“There you are,” Regal growls, deep in his chest, sounding bizarrely relieved. A smooth note of something like comfort swirls into Regal’s scent and makes the old man’s eyes crinkle up at the corners. Bryan almost wishes Regal wouldn’t look, at least not like that, at how he gasps and squirms underneath him in this stupid little room. What does he look like…?
Weak, he thinks, weak and thrashed, broken open .
“Forgive the phrasing,” Regal chuckles, “But… lay down for me, darling.”
Fuck.
Fine. He can be weak for a little while. Bryan takes the risk and lowers himself back onto the table, eyes fixed Regal. Let him look all he wants.
He winces—the angle of Regal’s fingers shifts, makes him see stars—and Regal’s quick to move with him, leaning forward and covering him so he can grab his back. He’s so close to Bryan’s face, doesn’t pull away as he starts to move his hand, staring down rapt and terrifying and grinning. He drags his fingertips down Bryan’s abdomen, not bruising or catching Bryan’s skin with his nails, but somehow it still feels like Regal’s sealing him to the soft surface of the table in one fluid motion.
It occurs to Bryan that he’s not just laying down for Regal, he’s laying back down for Regal. He’s slipping back into a position he’s already willingly put himself in, just…
…Now, the pretext is gone.
Regal’s scent is so thick on his tongue. Bryan feels stupid; his mouth feels stuffed full of cotton, tongue too heavy to form much more than a few clipped whines—
But Regal’s being so sweet to him, not taking advantage, nice enough to fuck him on three fingers, now that he needs it so bad all of a sudden...
It’s potent and disgusting, it’s the most overwhelming thing in the world. His free hand’s moving faster now, moving along Bryan’s body, over his chest and along his arm, scouting more aggressively now, getting grabbier. Letting someone map out his body might as well be letting someone read his mind and it should feel wrong, should feel like a violation, like Regal’s taking something from him, but it just feels like Regal's putting something back, something that already belonged to Bryan…
If any alpha’s worthy of touching him, it has to be this one.
“I—” Bryan flushes down to his toes and his body crumples underneath Regal’s; he grinds his teeth and cums, trying to hold in a sound as if he’s going to hide it from Regal somehow, as if—
“That’s it, sweetheart, ” Regal croons, watching Bryan’s face hungrily. “Show me how tight you’ll be, all wrapped around my cock...”
—as if Regal’s not staring directly into Bryan’s soul and drinking in his writhing and thrashing and whining through his orgasm on his fingers, suffocating on his scent.
Bryan winces and groans when the alpha’s fingers leave his body. Regal’s tongue is on him again, gently lapping his cum up from his stomach. Fuck, there’s the rut. Everything is so hot; Bryan can’t do much but pant and hiss, not with Regal so close, not with Regal’s cock pushing against his thigh. He’s being chased back into his own instincts with the scent of rut snapping at his heels, and e verything is just burning and fucking crackling.
“Regal,” he whines, “Pl—”
“You don’t have to talk, sunshine,” he says sweetly, pupils dilated, unbuckling his belt. “Remember? Everything will be alright in a moment.”
“Lordship—" Lordship? Bryan’s cock twitches. “Need—” He lets out an annoyed whine. Fuck, this is so stupid—
Regal’s thick cock slides inside him and he sucks in a breath.
Oh.
He flattens against the table. “There you are,” Regal breathes again, and kisses him.
Bryan’s jaw goes slack and he trills when he feels Regal’s tongue push into his mouth. Regal’s not even moving yet, but Bryan doesn’t need him to. He feels perfect and soft and happy already, drunk on rut and stuffed so full he can relax, for once—
But Regal does start moving, quickly and sharply, and instantly Bryan’s screaming against his mouth.
It’s rough and feral, but still bizarrely… romantic? Bryan doesn’t understand how he’s doing it, but Regal’s making the frenzied snap of his hips and the growl rumbling in his huge chest feel soft, personal, reverent.
Regal grasps blindly, finds his face and cups it, tilts his chin so he can push even further into Bryan’s mouth, submit him completely. It all makes Bryan feel so small.
That shouldn’t feel good. He shouldn’t let it, should know better than that, should BE better than that. The feeling shoots right past shame or degradation or even submission and registers as service. Worship from the alpha.
“I-I can’t— Regal!” O-voice. He’s whining, viciously. Whining at his mentor. Whining for his mentor to stop being his mentor for a few minutes and breed him. Fucking shameful. Whining for him to stay exactly who he is and break Bryan’s skin with his teeth anyway.
worse worse worse worse worse, that’s so much worse and he can’t—
“You…” The alpha growls against his temple, “You sound— Oh, sunshine…”
“Regal, Regal — “ It’s too much for the confines of his body, it’s nothing; Bryan’s sure blood must be welling under his nails on Regal’s shoulders. He wonders how it tastes and groans. "William—"
Regal finds an angle that makes Bryan wail and mercilessly abuses it, watching his face again. Bryan closes his fist in the alpha’s hair, earning another light, breathy laugh and a quick bite on the neck in return. Despite the brutality of the pace, Regal’s not rushing. He takes his time unraveling Bryan, laces their fingers together as his knot swells.
He feels so… taken care of. It’s disgusting, initially, but then Regal’s nosing at his hairline and all of a sudden his hangups just Do Not Matter. He tilts his head back and makes room for Regal, shivering.
Regal smells better, so much calmer, and it feels like Bryan did that. Bryan, specifically. Like he wasn’t just a means to an end or a convenience—
“Stop it.”
“...Hm?”
“Whatever you’re thinking, tell it to fuck off.” He kisses Bryan’s forehead. “I waited far too long to do this. Don't overthink my mistake. I hope you can forgive me.”
Bryan does as he’s told.
Regal wants him. Bryan can’t help but find that humbling. If Bryan can give Regal something he wants, he’s going to do it. Regardless of how he feels about it, he already knew that.
W ant him to pick me every time, Bryan thinks to himself . Wanna be it for him …
He lets himself smile.
They’re quiet for a long time, and Bryan’s so warm he’s worried he might fall asleep, knotted in public on this stupid table with his mentor slumped over him, still standing somehow. Sort of. “...Regal, how far along is this rut?”
"Not... very."
Bryan’s mouth falls open. He forgot to consider, after all this, that he might actually be right in all his manic initial analysis . “This is early? ”
Regal cracks his eyes open and smiles, and all the tension melts right back out of Bryan’s body. It forcibly lowers his hackles and gets him flushed all over again. “Its not always this dramatic. I was just… fixated, this time around.”
“...You're an animal.”
“I’d heard you’re a dragon.”
Fucking... "Touché, I guess.”
“If you’d like to leave before it gets worse, you can try... I’d do it now, though. We’re already far enough into this that I’m afraid I can’t guarantee you’ll get away.” Bryan knows better than to take that as a joke, especially when Regal grinds the knot down into him, gets Bryan to moan embarrassingly loud and then hold his breath when Regal lets him feel the scrape of his teeth again.
“I-I'll stay…”
“Good boy."