Work Text:
Santa told himself it was no big deal.
But it was proving harder by the minute as he sat under the studio lights, trying very hard not to glare holes into the host. Her manicured hand lingered on his partner's, Perth’s, sleeve just a fraction too long, fingers brushing over the dark leather of his jacket like it was some excuse to get closer. Her smile was syrupy sweet, and her voice carried that high-pitched warmth as she launched into an explanation of the game's rules.
Rules they had already been briefed on before the live show. Twice.
Santa’s jaw tightened, though outwardly he kept the easy curve of his lips. Perth, of course, was his usual self; open, polite, his smile all charm as he nodded along attentively, even though he didn’t need the refresher either. He wasn’t pulling away, wasn’t giving the faintest sign that he noticed the host’s fingers clutching his arm as she spoke. And she didn’t need to be holding him. Not at all.
Santa told himself it was the lights, the long hours, the lack of sleep. But no, the irritation prickled sharper, crawling just under his skin. It didn't help that the host was gorgeous; a beta with perfect hair, perfect makeup, her laugh just a little too pointed in Perth’s direction. She hadn’t looked Santa’s way once since the segment started, like he wasn’t even sitting there, like whether he understood the “stupid charade game” was irrelevant.
Perth turned toward him mid-explanation, just like he always did from time to time, eyes crinkled in that boyish way that made everyone melt. Santa forced his own face to soften, stretching a practiced, professional smile across his lips so Perth wouldn’t notice the tension in his shoulders. They laughed together at something silly Perth said and then started playing in earnest.
Yes, nothing was wrong. Absolutely nothing. Santa was just being… stupid. Feeling irritated. A kind of irritation that had been needling him since morning suddenly flared into something else. Something strange. Territorial. The kind of feeling that made his chest tighten at the thought of anyone laying their hands on his boyfriend. Left him feeling jealous. It had him inwardly flinching every time the pretty, older host touched his boyfriend.
Ridiculous. Santa wasn’t jealous. That was Perth’s role, if anything. Santa prided himself on being calm, collected, the cool half of their pairing. He was the media-trained professional, the one who rarely gave fans more than a teasing joke or a pre-planned quip. Even in his personal and past relationships, jealousy had never been his thing. He was secure, steady, the type who trusted hard and didn’t see the need to overanalyze harmless interactions.
So why did it make him want to bare his teeth when Khun Cherry’s manicured hand gave Perth’s sleeve another unnecessary squeeze?
Santa met her gaze when she finally flicked her eyes to him a bit later, and he smiled; polite and sweet. Her expression cooled by a fraction, her painted lips twitching downward for a second. She might think she was playing it cool, but Santa saw through her. No amount of scent blockers could completely erase the quiet flare of omega instinct. He smoothed his smile for the cameras anyway, kept it plastered there until the show ended.
And when they were finally done, when the lights cut and the crew shifted into clean-up mode; Santa went through the motions, bowing, thanking staff and returning smiles. Perth did the same, but Cherry lingered, stepping just a bit too close into his boyfriend’s space as she asked what his plans for the night were. Santa didn’t wait to hear the answer. He turned on his heel and slipped toward the dressing room, his expression polite enough to hide the way his chest was buzzing with annoyance.
Inside, the space was quieter and the lights less harsh. Santa quickly peeled away the celebrity version of himself; makeup off, performance clothes folded neatly aside, replaced by ripped jeans, a hoodie a size too big and a cap shielding most of his face. Their manager Mae Add had already ducked out to load their things into the car, leaving the dressing room otherwise empty. He had just reached for his backpack when the door clicked open.
Perth filled the doorway, eyes immediately on him.
“You didn’t wait for me,” the alpha said, voice carrying a faint accusation as he stepped inside.
“Yeah, sorry.” Santa offered an apologetic grin, the rim of his cap hiding the way his eyes darted. “Wanted to get out from under those hot lights and clothes as fast as possible.”
He bent to grab his bag, but suddenly Perth was there right in his space, close enough that Santa could feel the warmth radiating from him. A large hand tilted his chin up, fingers firm, forcing their eyes to meet.
“What’s wrong?” Perth asked, brows furrowed. “You’re not feeling well?”
Santa swallowed. He wasn’t well, not really. Even before the crappy live. His body was bone-deep tired, something that came with packed schedules. Even now, way past dinner time, he still had dance practice and a gym session before he’d clock out fully. His head was pounding, his muscles tight, feet aching. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed and forget the lousy day.
But the omega didn't say any of that. He was used to all this after all. It was part of the job, the grind he’d chosen. He was a professional. He didn’t complain. He knew others had it just as bad or worse. Besides, he was grateful for it all; for the work, for the stage, for the man standing in front of him with worry etched into every line of his face. So Santa gave him something real, however small. A smile tugged at his lips.
“I’m fine, Phi. Just a little winded.”
Perth didn’t look convinced. His thumb brushed against Santa’s cheek, lingering by his ear as he cupped his face, eyes dark and searching. The tenderness of the touch made Santa’s chest ache. He leaned into it instinctively, closing his eyes and drawing a breath, only to instantly regret it. Because along with Perth’s warm, grounding scent of dark chocolate and cedarwood came a ghost of something else. Rose. The same perfume Cherry had been wearing from earlier.
The effect was immediate. Fury, irrational and blistering, hit Santa like a freight train, along with a sudden, consuming urge to scent Perth thoroughly until nothing else lingered. His fingers twitched with the need to claim, to cover, to erase. He jerked back before he even realized it, breaking free from Perth’s hand. Perth’s brows furrowed deeper.
"You’re a bit warm,” he muttered, more to himself than anything. “What if it’s a fever?”
Santa forced his body to relax. “I’ll take meds then. No big deal, Phi.”
“Then why aren’t you looking at me?” Perth pressed.
Of course nothing ever got past him. Santa forced his gaze upward, forced the corners of his mouth into something playful. “Phi Perth…”
But before he could figure out what excuse to spin, Perth spoke again. “Khun Cherry invited our team to dinner with her and the producer.”
Santa froze. Whatever he’d meant to say died instantly, replaced by a curse that he bit back before it slipped out. Instead, he settled for a thin, “Oh, really?”
“Yeah.” Perth nodded, casual, though his eyes never left Santa’s face. “But you have practice, so I said we couldn’t-”
“You should go,” Santa blurted, the words tumbling out before his brain could catch up. His stomach twisted even as he forced his tone light. “Take Mae Add too. I’m sure they’ll feed you something better than the takeout she was talking about earlier.”
Perth paused, his gaze steady. When Santa said nothing more, his mouth pressed into a line and he shook his head faintly, almost like he disapproved. The weight of that look made Santa feel absurdly childish.
“Guess we’ll go then,” Perth said at last.
Santa nodded, gripping the strap of his bag tighter than necessary. “I’ll text you when I reach the dance studio.”
Perth stepped closer, his arm sliding around Santa’s waist with familiar ease, pulling him in. He dipped his head, lips brushing against Santa’s cheek in what should’ve been a simple and natural goodbye kiss. But Santa turned at the last second, letting the touch land awkwardly on his jawline before pulling back.
“In case Mae Add comes in,” he mumbled quickly, shifting away.
Perth scoffed, the sound low and disbelieving. Even though they hadn't explicitly told her, they both knew Mae Add was more than aware, even helping them keep their relationship tucked neatly out of sight for a while now. But Santa was still shy, still nervous about being caught with this thing they had. Perth knew that too, and even if it bothered him, the alpha let it slide.
-x-
Santa’s back hit the mirror before he slid down its cool surface, landing ungracefully on the wooden dance floor. He tried to catch his breath, chest scraping and lungs stinging with the effort. Sweat clung to him everywhere, soaking through the thin black tank top plastered to his torso and spine. His skin glistened where it was bare; shoulders, arms, the dip of his collarbone, and his hair stuck in damp clumps against his forehead and the back of his neck, strands darkened further with moisture.
The dance studio lights were harsh above him, fluorescent glare bouncing off mirrored walls, highlighting every drop of sweat running down his temple. His reflection on the mirror across the room stared back at him, hollow-eyed and ragged, and he tipped his head back, too drained to care how wrecked he looked. A shadow crossed his periphery.
“Water?” Pond’s voice came laced with mischief, and when Santa cracked one eye open, his fellow group member was there with a shit-eating grin spread wide across his face but breathing just as hard. Pond was also just as soaked through, his oversized white T-shirt hanging damp and clingy against his chest, joggers sticking to his thighs, trainers squeaking faintly against the floor as he plopped down beside Santa. He handed him a chilled plastic bottle, keeping one for himself. Santa twisted the cap off and downed half of it in one go, gulping noisily.
“That was…” Pond dragged the word out, pausing dramatically until Santa shot him a look over the bottle’s rim. “…intense.”
Santa huffed through his nose, still drinking, the cool liquid barely soothing his raw throat. The new routine was brutal; fast and complicated, not a single moment where they could breathe properly. Even as the group’s main dancer, Santa found himself at a loss on how they were going to get it down in time. The comeback schedule loomed close, the music video shoot already marked on the calendar. Time was running out, and he could feel it pressing heavy on his shoulders.
“You,” Pond continued once Santa finished and tossed the empty bottle aside, “are unusually slow tonight.”
That was him being kind. Santa grimaced, dragging a hand down his sweaty face. He'd kept messing up, tripping over the same sections, losing track of formations. Missing marks that should have been second nature by now. His body wanted to move, but his mind was somewhere else entirely; at a dinner table across town, where his boyfriend sat smiling beside a too-pretty host with hands that lingered too much.
The thought stung worse than sore muscles. Frustrated the heck out of him. So even after their choreographer, staff, and the other members, Aou and Joong, had packed up and left for the night, Santa stayed behind, running the routine again and again until his legs shook. Until he was sure dinner was over already, though he was too annoyed at himself to call and ask. Instead he danced. And Pond had danced with him.
“You can be truthful,” Santa muttered at last, letting his head tip back against the mirrored wall again. “I sucked, Phi.”
Pond chuckled, low and warm, the kind of laugh that made tension loosen no matter what. “And why’s that?”
Santa sighed, staring at their reflections instead of answering. “I’ll get over it.”
“That’s not an answer, Nong Ta.”
Santa gave him a sideways glance, a tired little smile tugging at his lips. “Just not feeling too hot. Everything’s catching up to me, I guess.”
“Ahh, the woes of fame,” Pond said dramatically, lifting his water bottle like a toast. Santa rolled his eyes, but the chuckle that slipped out was genuine.
“You’re one to talk.”
Pond grinned wider, but his gaze softened as he steered the conversation back. “I get it. It’s the stress. You and Perth are still considered new after all.”
Santa hummed faintly, though the mention of it dragged his thoughts right back to Perth, and the awkward, ridiculous way he’d handled himself in the dressing room earlier. Petty jealousy still burned in his chest, making him feel small and stupid. Perth would have understood if he’d just said it aloud, would’ve smiled and pulled him close, called him childish in that fond way of his. Santa knew it. But still…
“So,” Pond asked breezily, “how are things going with Perth?”
He meant it professionally, of course he did. Pond didn’t know about them yet. Santa opened his mouth to deflect, but suddenly a shiver ran straight up his spine, sharp enough to steal the breath from his chest. His body went unbelievably taut. Heat flushed through him, hotter than sweat, hotter than exhaustion. His palms went clammy, his temples dampening with fresh perspiration despite the air conditioner humming overhead. It was like the quiet irritation that had dogged him all day had combusted, swelling into something unbearable, painful even.
Santa winced, brows pinching tight. Pond’s grin faded instantly. “What?”
“Don’t know,” Santa rasped, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “Is it hot in here?”
“No more than usual,” his friend replied, eyes narrowing. “You really are sick. Get your stuff, I’ll drive you home.”
Santa tried to push himself up, but the movement sent the room spinning. His knees buckled, vision tilting, and if Pond hadn’t grabbed his shoulders he would’ve hit the floor again. The touch made a strange, involuntary shiver course down Santa’s spine. He staggered back out of reach at the strange reaction, eyes going wide.
Pond frowned, watching him wearily. “Dude, you’re burning up.”
“I- I need to go home,” Santa stammered, dread seeping icy and fast into his gut. His own voice sounded foreign, brittle. “Now, Phi Pond.”
No way. This couldn’t be happening. Not here. Not now. He was on strong suppressants; his cycles closely monitored and controlled. This was the one thing that wasn’t supposed to happen outside the safety of his home. He couldn't get himself to calm down. His heart slammed against his ribs, every beat painful, his throat tightening as tremors overtook him.
Heat.
The realization hit with brutal clarity. Santa’s back pressed hard against the mirror, palms splayed flat, as if the cool glass could ground him. He willed himself to breathe through it, thinking about the steps and training he'd gone through in middle school. But his overheated body betrayed him; pheromones burst out, wild and uncontrolled, flooding the enclosed space. They bounced off the mirrored walls, thickening the air until his friend, the alpha, couldn’t not feel it.
Shock and confusion etched themselves across Pond’s face, his hands fisting at his sides, knuckles pale. His whole body stiffened, nostrils flaring as his nose scrunched before he brought his arm up to shield himself. Took a step back to put distance between them. He looked at Santa like he’d never seen him before; like he was someone foreign, a stranger. And the weight of that look made Santa’s eyes sting.
“You’re-” Pond’s voice laced in disbelief was muffled behind his arm. “You’re an omega?”
“I’ll explain,” Santa choked out, desperation cracking through. “I’ll explain everything. Just drive me home first. Please.”
But Pond didn’t move, couldn’t seem to. “I need to get out of here.”
Santa’s breath faltered. “What?”
“I’m just out of my rut,” Pond ground out, voice rough with restraint. “I have blockers, but this is a lot. Your smell… it’s a lot.”
Santa understood, he really did, even if it made his chest twist. The thought of being left alone in this state terrified him. He trusted Pond, leaned on him more than most. And his presence was comforting even if he was alpha. Santa knew he would never compromise Santa's safety. No matter how thrown off he was by the revelation.
Santa would apologize properly later.
“Call Mae Add,” he managed, though his exhale trembled. “She knows about this. She’ll… she’ll know what to do.”
“Okay,” Pond nodded quickly, brain finally catching up with the situation. He stepped back to move, but before he could get far Santa doubled over, knees crashing hard to the floor. Something close to physical pain lanced through him, body buzzing with overwhelming emotions he couldn't name, and he barely bit back a whimper.
Pond was at his side in a flash, reaching out, but Santa recoiled at the wrongness of it; the scent of leather and spice not sitting right in Santa's hyper aware senses. His omega craved alpha, yes, but not just any alpha. Not this one. His body screamed for someone else.
“Get away from him.”
The voice cut across the room. Deep. Firm. Commanding. The sound hit Santa like cool rain on fevered skin. His head snapped up, heart lurching, eyes instantly locking on the doorway where Perth stood. His eyes were wide, scanning the scene, and Santa’s body responded before his brain could. His pheromones spiked, rushing out like a flare.
His alpha.
Just as Pond recoiled, Perth strode forward, sure-footed, crouching down beside him without hesitation. He didn’t touch, not yet, but his presence, his scent of chocolate and the forest after rain, wrapped around Santa and steadied the chaos inside him. Relief bled out of Santa in a shuddering exhale, his lips tugging into a weak, trembling smile.
“Perth, we need to leave,” Pond muttered, grabbing his arm like he could haul him away. “He’s in heat.”
Perth didn’t even flinch. He shrugged off Pond’s hand, his gaze locked only on Santa. “I know. Get out.”
“Did you hear me?” Pond snapped, exasperated.
“His alpha is here now,” Perth said, voice edged with something. A warning maybe. “So you can go.”
“His… what?” Pond’s eyes darted between them, confusion etched across his face. And it floored Santa even in his hazy state. The obvious concern on his friend's face, despite more shock, despite the onslaught of pheromones from someone he thought wasn't capable of emitting them. Santa swallowed, throat tight, but he found his voice.
“I’m fine, Phi Pond." He knew he needed to be the one to tell Pond it was okay. "I’ll be fine with Phi Perth. We’re dating.”
Pond stared for a long, heavy beat before finally nodding. “Okay. Okay.”
He backed off, the sound of retreating footsteps and the dressing room door shutting behind him leaving only silence, and Perth. Santa’s chest heaved, heart hammered, desperate for something. For contact. For more. But his alpha was still crouched beside him, tense, hands at his sides like he was holding himself back with visible effort.
“Why are you here?” Santa whispered, his voice small, eyes glassy. Relief, happiness, something bigger than both clogged his throat.
“You weren’t answering my texts,” Perth said steadily though his gaze was intense. “Came to drive you home.”
Santa could almost hear his own heartbeat echoing in the stillness. “How was dinner?”
“Boring.” Perth’s voice hitched slightly as he inhaled, his nose flaring. His pupils were blown wide as he leaned closer. “All I could think about was you.”
And it was that easy. The simple truth did that sometimes. And Perth Tanapon was truthful to a fault. It was one of the reasons Santa had fallen fast, fallen hard. His vision blurred with tears, lips trembling into a pout. “Then why aren’t you kissing me yet?”
Perth’s jaw flexed, restraint taut in every line of his body, veins protruding at his neck at the force of it. “Because I need to get you home first,” he muttered, low and rough. “Or I’ll end up taking you on the floor of your dance studio.”
A shiver of want ripped through Santa, sharp and immediate, his omega purring at his alpha's words, his promise. Slick leaked from his hole instantly, betraying just how ready his body was. Perth groaned, guttural and raw, the sound vibrating in his chest as he caught the scent too.
“Get your stuff,” he growled, voice ragged. “Let’s go.”
-x-
When Santa had joined Perth's company, he hadn’t been a rookie, but he might as well have been with how out of place he felt. The building was buzzing with faces he’d seen on posters or passing at industry events, yet he hadn’t ever truly spoken to most of them. He was too reserved, too cautious, clinging to his little circle and nodding politely rather than putting himself out there. He knew Boun and Prem, newcomers like him, their nervous energy matching his own. He knew Pond, someone he’d danced with for a while, a good friend.
And then there was Perth.
Well, “knew” was the wrong word. Santa knew of him; had known for a long time. Perth was one of the few actors Santa had actually followed since his own early days, watching most of his works, even reading a few interviews. He admired him from afar, drawn to Perth's chill vibe, to the way he seemed to own every scene he walked into; captivating, charming, magnetic. Santa had wanted to be like that one day. To stand on stage or screen and command attention without even trying.
What he hadn’t expected was to be paired with him. The offer had come out of nowhere, landing on Santa's lap with no buildup. It turned out the whole thing was a scramble on the producers’ part. Perth’s original partner had dropped out at the last second, and with no way to delay filming, they’d needed someone, anyone. Enter Santa. The fans were skeptical, the press uncertain. And Santa… well, Santa had doubts of his own. Not because he thought he lacked skill, though plenty of people probably did. No, the real problem was that everyone thought he was a beta.
Which, technically, he was, at least on paper. In reality, Santa was recessive. A recessive omega forced into a role that wasn’t his, because years ago, his first company had decided he was too tall, too sharp-edged, too masculine in his dance lines to ever be able to sell the look of an omega. And Santa, too young, too desperate for a shot, had gone along with it. It wasn’t hard to maintain the lie when his secondary gender was muted, when his heats were rare and weak, his scent barely there. So he lived as a beta. To his fans. To colleagues. To almost everyone in his life, even some of his family. By the time he joined his new company, the lie was cemented. Management told him to keep it up, and Santa didn’t argue. Somewhere along the line, he’d even convinced himself it didn’t matter.
But then came Perth.
The alpha-beta pairing was an odd sell for fans used to glossy, idealized alpha-omega dynamics. Whispers spread, skepticism lingered. And yet, somehow, it worked. They worked. Santa poured himself into the role, pushing every ounce of emotion and craft he had into their on-screen chemistry. Slowly, painfully, he earned a trickle of praise. And of course Perth was as amazing as always. The two of them began landing promo gigs, posing on magazine spreads, selling smiles in commercials. Santa’s career started to build momentum. He even joined a boy group that was starting to gain traction, alongside three alphas and good Phis; Aou, Joong, Pond. For the first time, it felt like he was carving out a place in the industry.
And all he had to do was bury his feelings for the man standing beside him.
Easier said than done. Santa was helplessly gone on Perth Tanapon; the broad shoulders, the sun-warmed skin, the smile that softened only for people he truly trusted. His heart, steady and true despite the industry’s brutal toll, had Santa crushing hard. Every reassuring word, every casual squeeze of his shoulder left Santa falling further.
But Perth was a dominant alpha, through and through. Santa could feel it even through the strongest scent blockers. It was in the way he walked into a room, in the quiet confidence beneath his teasing words, in the steady weight of his presence when he played roles that leaned into alpha stereotypes. That dominance was in his bones. And Santa told himself again and again: dominant alphas wanted sweet, delicate omegas. Not someone like him.
So he ignored the moments; the lingering looks, the hand that sometimes stayed a beat too long on his shoulder. He chalked it up to professionalism, to kindness, refusing to let hope twist itself into delusion. If he wanted a long-term partnership, he had to stay professional. His feelings would remain locked away. They had something good going on, friendship even, and Santa didn't want to jeopardize that.
But then Perth got drunk on him.
It was a week after their drama finished airing. Perth had slumped against him, cheeks flushed, words slurred but heartbreakingly clear as he confessed. Told Santa he was in love with him. That their secondary genders meant nothing when his heart knew exactly what it wanted. The confession shattered every wall Santa had carefully built. His world tilted, and before he knew it, the shock had dragged him into a heat. That had thrown Perth for a spin as well but he reacted like a dream. He hadn’t touched Santa that night; not beyond steadying and soothing him until their manager got there. The gentleman he was, Perth respected every boundary even when Santa’s instincts begged for more. So Santa caved right after his haze cleared. He couldn’t not. He admitted the truth he’d been burying for months, and just like that, they began.
Santa gained a secret relationship along with his secret identity, and it was the best thing he’d ever kept hidden. Perth was a perfect boyfriend in ways that made Santa ache; caring, attentive, maddeningly sexy. Staying in meant warmth and laughter. Dinners out felt like stolen romance. And the nights they made love left Santa undone in the best ways. It was perfect.
As for his heats… Since that first, accidental one, Santa hadn’t gone through another. Work had consumed him, schedules stacked until there was no time to even think about it. And while he trusted Perth enough to bare that vulnerable side when it did happen, his body hadn’t forced the issue. Not until tonight, triggered by something as stupid, as humiliating, as jealousy.
Which was why he was now slumped in the passenger seat of Perth’s BMW, his cheeks hot against the cool glass of the window. Embarrassment sat heavy in his gut, shame curling tight in his chest. His omega instincts had betrayed him over something so small, and now here he was; needy, humiliated. Perth slid into the driver’s seat beside him, shutting the door. The cabin filled instantly with his scent, rich dark chocolate layered over earthy wood. Santa’s throat went dry, his mouth actually watering, his body betraying him further as slick dampened his underwear and his cock strained uncomfortably against his joggers.
He tried to clear his head, to push past the heat fog. Tried to at least sound steady when he muttered, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.” His gaze stayed fixed on the cars in the parking lot of the dance studio, unable to face Perth.
“What triggered it?” Perth’s voice was low, strained. “Was it Pond?”
Santa’s eyes went wide. He turned to see his boyfriend’s fists clenched on his lap, his knuckles white, and eyes hard. The realization hit like ice water. Perth thought he’d gone into heat because of another alpha.
“That’s not it,” he said quickly, voice cracking with urgency, heat taking a backseat to his need to assure his boyfriend. “I promise, Phi, that’s not it.”
Perth turned to him fully, eyes dark, jaw tight, still simmering with suspicion. “Then?”
Santa swallowed hard, forcing the words out through the haze. “I’ve been pushing it off. My heat. Our schedules… they’ve been insane. Probably pushed too hard.”
Perth’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You told me you barely got heats.”
That was before Perth. Santa leaned his head back against the leather, closing his eyes. “I saw a specialist a few weeks ago. He said… being with a dominant alpha, sleeping with you, it’s changing things. Regulating me.”
A pause. "Why didn’t you tell me?”
Guilt twisted sharply in Santa’s chest. He turned his head, catching sight of Perth’s furrowed brows, his eyes full of concern. Santa sighed, wishing he could take the hurt away.
“I didn’t think it was a big deal,” he said, voice small. “Didn’t want you to worry and-”
“Didn’t want me to worry?” Perth cut in, disbelief roughening his tone. “Ta, all I do is worry about you.”
The words landed hard even though the alpha hadn't raised his voice. Santa's gaze fell to his own lap.
“I spent all evening wondering what the hell I did wrong,” Perth continued, raw and wounded. “Why you avoided my kiss, and I can’t- I can’t stop reading into every little thing you do.”
Santa’s breath stuttered. The truth slammed into him: he’d been a lousy boyfriend, even before today. Perth had given him honesty, openness, and in return, Santa had hidden, bottled up, shut down. Out of pride. Out of fear. Leaving Perth's thoughts to needlessly wonder. Santa was such an idiot.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice trembling around the lump in his throat. His skin was hot, tears threatening as his body shook. “I was jealous of Khun Cherry. She kept touching you and it-” his voice cracked, “it upset me.”
Perth just stared, gaze unreadable.
“I was insecure and petty and stupid,” Santa choked out, the tears finally spilling, streaming down his cheeks. “But I should’ve told you, Phi Perth. I should’ve said something. Please… please forgive me.”
The click of a seatbelt unfastening was the only warning he got before Perth pulled him across the console, wrapping him up in his arms. The warmth, the solidity, the safety; it broke something in Santa all over again, and he cried harder, clinging to his alpha’s chest. His legs slid over the console until he was straddling Perth’s lap, burying his face against him, desperate to be closer.
“Shh, it’s okay,” the alpha murmured, his lips brushing against Santa’s temple, voice soft and grounding. “I don't want anyone but you. Don’t cry, baby.”
The endearment unraveled him. Santa fisted Perth’s shirt, dampening it with tears, while Perth held him firmly around the waist. He didn’t push for more. Didn’t demand. Just held him, steady and sure, until Santa’s sobs eased into ragged breaths. Santa inhaled greedily, pulling in Perth’s scent, the few buttons undone on his boyfriend's shirt letting him press his nose directly to his chest. It soothed and ignited him all at once, wrapping around him like the answer his body had been aching for all night.
When the tears subsided, Santa eased back a little, chewing on his bottom lip, his flushed cheeks betraying his embarrassment. “Sorry for being stupid about Khun Cherry.”
Perth leaned in until their noses brushed, his lips curved in a soft, indulgent smile. “I’m sorry for being stupid about Pond.”
Santa’s brows knit together, guilt tugging at him again. “I have to apologize to him too. Explain things.”
Perth’s palms came up to cradle his face again, his fondness now clouded with a matching frown. “How ’bout I get you home first, huh? You’re burning up.”
“And then you’ll take me like you promised?” Santa couldn’t resist teasing, even with his body overheated and aching.
Perth’s ears went pink, and he scratched the side of his nose like he always did when embarrassed. “I was just- that was because-” He blew out a rough sigh. “Jealousy and your pheromones were making me wonky.”
“I believe you,” Santa reassured, grin unashamed as he looped his arms around Perth’s neck, dragging him close. “But I am serious about you spending my heat with me.”
That sobered Perth instantly. His dark eyes locked onto Santa’s, searching for any flicker of doubt even as hope bloomed on his own face. “You’re sure?”
Santa nodded, his voice steady even as heat coiled in his belly. “I’ll probably blab it to you sometime during my heat, so let me say it while I’m still somewhat, sort of, fully me... I love you.”
Perth’s breath stuttered. His eyes widened, and his grip on Santa tightened instinctively. But he didn’t speak, he just stared, leaving Santa to cringe at his own impulsiveness. His ears burned as nerves joined the bundle of heat in his belly.
“Too soon?”
Perth shook his head quickly, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips, pulling back before Santa could deepen it. Even that brief touch, light as it was, set something warm sparking through Santa’s chest.
“I love you too,” Perth murmured, eyes steady, gaze intense enough to make Santa’s heart skip. Make his breath catch. “Knew I did after the first time we kissed on set.”
Santa rolled his eyes, laughing under his breath at the ridiculousness of that, then caught his boyfriend’s lips in a lingering kiss.
It was meant to be sweet, gentle, loving. But the moment their mouths molded together, heat surged up, too quick, too demanding. Santa’s body ached with the need for closeness, his omega instincts unraveling now that he knew he was cherished. He straddled Perth fully, pressing him back into the seat, delighting in the flex of muscle beneath him as his boyfriend’s strong arms banded around his waist. Santa tipped his head, nibbling at Perth’s lip before sliding his tongue inside, moaning when the alpha welcomed him eagerly. He tasted like everything Santa desired and more. His fingers threaded into the short hairs at the nape of Perth’s neck, loving the rough texture as he kissed him harder, consuming, drowning. His skin burned, his veins buzzed, his blood ran molten.
Perth groaned, low and guttural, his hands falling instinctively to Santa’s hips. Santa rolled against him, grinding down into his lap, their breaths stuttering against each other’s mouths at the jolt of friction. When they separated for air, Perth’s head dropped to Santa’s neck, where he licked a hot, teasing line over his scent gland. Santa shuddered helplessly, back arching and head tilting to offer more.
“Fuck, Ta- your scent…” Perth’s voice cracked into a growl as he sucked at the sensitive spot. “It’s driving me crazy.”
“Take me home,” Santa gasped, commanded, clutching at his boyfriend’s shoulders as Perth continued to mouth at his throat. “I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.”
He meant it; more than that, he’d beg for it. His omega had never been so desperate before. It coiled tight in his gut, slick spilling freely, ruining his trousers as his hips rocked for more. Perth’s fingers tightened almost painfully on his sides, making Santa whimper. Then without warning, Perth shoved a hand down the back of his joggers, fingers breaching past the waistband into his underwear. Santa yelped in surprise at the sudden touch, only for Perth to withdraw just as quickly, jerking his hands up like he’d been caught red-handed. His eyes were wide, shock mirrored back at him in Santa’s dazed expression.
“Home,” Perth ground out, voice rough, trying to convince both of them. “Let’s get home first.”
To hell with that, Santa needed him now. So he tried to kiss his boyfriend again. But Perth was quicker; lifting him off and setting him firmly back in the passenger seat. Santa let out a frustrated, needy whine as the alpha shot him one last ragged glance before starting the car and pulling them out of the lot. The distance between the studio and Santa’s place wasn’t much, but even a single minute stretched unbearably for him. His body burned from the inside out, too hot, too cramped, the car air suffocating against his flushed skin. He palmed himself through his joggers, trying for relief, but it only fueled his frustration.
He didn’t even bother buckling his seatbelt again, instead he lifted his hips, tugging his joggers and briefs down until his cock sprang free, swollen and weeping. Perth swore under his breath as he chanced a quick glance, his knuckles white on the wheel. Santa barely registered it, too far gone to care about modesty or car accidents. Sneakers kicked off, pants abandoned in the footwell, his tank top bunched between his teeth so it wouldn’t block him. He wrapped a hand around himself, stroking desperately, moaning against the fabric as precum slicked his palm.
“Ta,” Perth whispered harshly, teeth clenched. “You’re going to get us killed.”
Santa only gasped harder at the sound of his deep voice, every syllable winding him tighter. His body arched, cock twitching in his grip as more slick spilled out of him, wetting the leather beneath. His hole ached, pulsing with need until it blotted out everything else. The car screeched to a halt at a red light, Perth’s arm shooting across Santa’s chest, holding him back from hitting the dash at the sudden stop. Santa barely had time to blink before his hand was knocked away and replaced with Perth’s rough, calloused grip. The contact made him jolt like he’d been electrocuted, a shaky moan tearing free as Perth stroked him with practiced, merciless rhythm. He let go for only a moment to shove Santa down further against the seat, forcing him nearly horizontal, out of sight, before resuming the handjob.
“Phi Perth!” Santa gasped, sounding broken. He needed him closer, needed more, even as his orgasm clawed at him at lightning speed.
Heat pooled low, spreading, tightening; his alpha’s face, flushed and hungry, only drove him closer. He flung one leg up onto the dashboard, spreading wide, and shoved his now free hand down between his thighs. The stretch of his own fingers inside his leaking hole made his eyes roll back. Perth cursed, the sound raw and guttural. The car filled with the obscene squelch of fingers and the heavy press of pheromones.
“Don’t- don’t stop,” Santa begged, voice wrecked and needy. “I’m close.”
Perth’s hand sped up, his grip brutal as he twisted at the head.
“Come.”
Santa shattered. His cry filled the car as his vision went white, body bowing off the seat, cum spilling hard over Perth’s hand and his own stomach. Slick gushed with it, coating his hand, his thighs, the seat, everything. He writhed, whimpering through the aftershocks, lungs clawing for air. His fingers were still buried inside himself, the walls around them twitching and throbbing, when he realized it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough
Perth pulled his cum-slicked hand back to the wheel, expression unreadable as he started the car forward again, as though he hadn’t just ruined Santa in his passenger seat. Santa winced faintly, dragging his soaked fingers free. Before he could wipe them off, Perth reached over and caught his wrist, tugging his hand to his mouth without looking away from the road. Santa froze, eyes widening as the alpha’s lips closed over his fingers, tongue curling to lap up every drop. He moaned low in his throat as though savoring it, as if it tasted like honey, sucking between Santa’s knuckles, tracing wet patterns across his palm. Santa’s cock twitched, aching all over again.
“Phi Perth…” he whined, eyes half-lidded.
“We’re almost there, babe,” Perth rasped, licking his own lips as he let Santa go. “Hold on.”
The last couple of minutes felt like agony. Santa hunched over, his body trembling with pent-up need, until his condominium came into view. Perth pulled up, killed the engine, and grabbed his jacket from the back seat before stepping out. Santa hated even the momentary distance as the alpha rounded his car, but Perth was there again soon, opening his door, wrapping the jacket around his bare torso. Strong arms scooped him up easily, and Santa immediately buried his face against the warm line of Perth’s throat, inhaling his alpha’s scent with greedy relief.
The familiar click of his passcode being entered echoed in the quiet porch, then the comforting scent of home enveloped him. The moment the door clicked shut, Perth’s mouth crashed onto Santa’s, all teeth and tongue and breathless urgency. Santa’s back slammed against the wood, shoulders pinned as Perth pressed into him, pheromones overloading all of Santa’s senses. The alpha kissed him like a man starved, like he was a feast, like every second without him had been torture. Santa melted instantly, legs weak beneath him, clinging to his alpha’s broad shoulders as wet, desperate kisses stole the air from his lungs.
Perth’s greedy mouth trailed downwards while Santa laboured for air, hot lips grazing his jaw before fastening at the vulnerable column of his throat. Santa gasped, head tipping back against the door, giving him more access. The jacket around his torso rustled to the floor, his tank top was yanked up and discarded, leaving him completely naked and at Perth’s mercy. Teeth scraped, lips sucked, bruises bloomed in messy constellations over his collarbone as the alpha held him against the door by tight grips at his hips.
A broken sound escaped him when Perth latched onto a nipple, sucking hard until sparks shot straight through his core. Perth’s tongue wrapped around the sensitive nub, before tugging on it with his teeth making Santa whimper. His back arched, hips jerking helplessly, the swollen tip of his cock leaking against Perth’s silver shirt. Fingers fisted into the alpha’s dark hair, tugging desperately, almost to the point of pain.
“You could’ve caused an accident back there,” Perth rasped against his chest, words muffled as he bit down hard enough to make Santa cry out. His head was pulled up by a firm grip at his jaw, forcing bleary eyes to meet Perth’s dark, burning gaze. “Jerking off in the car while I’m driving… what the hell were you thinking?”
Shame and heat clashed in Santa’s veins, face flushed, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. His body pulsed with need despite the scolding, or maybe because of it, slick spilling between his thighs in thick waves. He tried to form words as Perth kissed his nipple again, licking lovingly over the bite mark he’d just left.
“Couldn’t- help it,” he whimpered, voice raw. “Needed you… still need you. Please.”
The alpha’s hand slid up and down his trembling stomach, fingers light and teasing as he mapped out the plains of Santa’s torso. Santa was on his tiptoes now, standing on trembling legs, willingly displaying himself, greedy for whatever touches Perth was willing to give. His breath stuttered when the alpha’s hand dipped lower, ghosting over his weeping cock before moving down between his thighs. Perth didn’t hesitate, he found Santa’s core and pressed two thick fingers into him at once.
Santa screamed, the sound shattering, his head thumping back against the door as his body seized around the sudden stretch. His hole clenched instinctively, fluttering tight, greedy and wet. Heat spiked through him, white-hot, and his cock twitched violently against his abdomen, smearing precum over his own skin. Perth groaned low at the sensation, pushing deeper until his knuckles brushed Santa’s rim. He stayed there for a breath, spreading him open, letting the omega’s body clamp down helplessly around his fingers. Then he dragged them back slow, curling just right, before plunging in again.
“Phi-!”
Santa’s thighs shook, knees threatening to buckle as his legs spread wider, desperate to take more of him in. His hands clawed at Perth’s shoulders, fingernails raking over the fabric of his dress shirt, trying to ground himself against the overwhelming sensation. Each thrust drew out a fresh gush of slick, dripping hot and sticky down the backs of his thighs to splatter on the floor beneath them. A sob tore from his throat as Perth scissored his fingers, forcing him open further. It burned but in a delicious sort of way, unbearable in a way his body demanded it. His hips rolled without his permission, chasing the rhythm of Perth’s hand, grinding down for more friction, more depth, more of everything. His body was a live wire, every nerve screaming with need, every drag of those fingers pulling him tighter, higher.
“Phi- Perth,” he gasped, voice trembling. His head tipped forward, forehead pressing into his alpha’s shoulder as tears blurred his vision. “S-so good- more, please, I need more-”
Perth curled his fingers hard, brushing over that swollen, sensitive spot inside him, and Santa’s whole body jolted. His cock kicked violently against his stomach, his cry dissolving into a desperate wail, joining the squelching sounds inside the otherwise quiet and dark apartment.
Perth’s breath was hot against his ear, his voice low and rough. “So desperate, my Tata. You’ll take anything I give you, won’t you?”
Santa moaned, clinging tighter to him, nodding vigorously. “Anything,” he choked out. “Please, please.”
“Come for me,” Perth growled.
His body obeyed again, instantly, orgasm tearing through him like lightning. He cried out, clenching hard around the alpha’s fingers as hot ropes of cum spilled across their stomachs. His head fell back, mouth open, sobbing breathless moans as the aftershocks wracked his limbs. Even in his bliss-filled state, his need only grew sharper, his body greedy and aching within moments after Perth removed his fingers, hole clenching around nothing. Shaky hands fumbled at Perth’s belt, desperate to have his alpha’s cock fill him finally. But his boyfriend caught his wrist, prying him still.
“Not here,” Perth said firmly, though his own chest heaved with labored breaths. “You'll get hurt if I fuck you against this door.”
Santa whimpered, tears spilling as his body shook. “Don’t care… please, Phi…”
A kiss silenced him, slow but grounding, the alpha’s tongue sweeping deep, a promise hidden in its steadiness. When their lips broke apart, Perth’s voice was low but resolute. “Bathroom first. Let’s get clean. You’re mine. I’m going to take care of you properly.”
Santa barely had time to whine before his world tipped. Strong arms hooked beneath him, lifting his body effortlessly. His legs wrapped instinctively around Perth’s waist, lips meeting again in sloppy, wet kisses. His entire body trembled, his scent gland pulsing as the heat burned through him mercilessly, but in his alpha’s arms, even his desperation felt safe. Perth carried him deeper into the dark apartment, purposeful steps echoing faintly off the walls, until the muted light of the bathroom came into view.
Once they were inside, Perth placed Santa inside the tub and under the shower, twisting the handle until warm water poured down in a steady spray. The sound of it filled the space, loud enough to cover Santa’s frantic heartbeat. Wet heat cascaded down his naked and flushed body, washing away the sweat, the cum smeared across his stomach, the slick dripping from between his thighs. He shivered, back pressed to the cool tile, eyes not leaving his alpha.
Perth stood by the tub, eyes locked on him too, watching the water rush over Santa’s naked body for a long minute. It made Santa feel exposed and powerful at the same time, the possessive way his alpha looked at him, restraint stretched thin in every taut line of his face. Then Perth slowly started unbuttoning his shirt, tugging it out of his jeans. Santa’s breath hitched as smooth, muscled planes of chest and stomach were revealed, inked in places, the crumpled clothing falling to Perth’s feet when he was done. He worked the belt of his jeans next, pushing the trousers down along with his underwear. Santa watched breathlessly, bottom lip in between his teeth, as the thick, hard and flushed alpha cock was revealed to him, curved heavy against Perth’s stomach.
His whole body burned hotter than the water pouring over him at the sight as Perth finally joined him in the tub. His gaze traced every line of Perth’s body hungrily, from the broad shoulders to the veins along his forearms, down to the sharp cut of his hips. Scattered, beautiful tattoos to trace. Lust fogged his brain, need overriding everything else. He surged forward, their mouths colliding messily, water splashing between them as he devoured his alpha’s lips. Perth kissed him back just as rough, hands gripping his jaw, holding him still while his tongue pushed deep. Santa hummed in pleasure as their bodies met, no barriers left as Perth pressed him into the tile.
Santa’s hands roamed greedily, sliding over muscled, wet skin; across Perth’s chest, his abs, down to the sharp jut of his hipbones. His fingers curled around the thick length pressed against his stomach, stroking it once from base to tip, reveling in how his alpha’s body jerked from the touch. He was so hard, so hot, so heavy. Grade A alpha cock and all for Santa; crafted for him, designed to be buried deep into his body. It made Santa’s mouth water and his hole clench in anticipation.
“I need it,” he murmured shamelessly into Perth’s lips, stroking him again to get his point across. “Give it.”
Perth chuckled huskily, the sound low and spellbinding, making Santa’s desperation almost unbearable. He dropped to the floor, knees hitting the ceramic with a dull thud. His lips parted around the flushed head of Perth’s cock, and the taste hit him instantly; salty, bitter, raw. He moaned, tongue laving over the slit before sinking down, wet heat enveloping the length. Perth’s hand threaded into Santa’s damp hair, gripping tight as he groaned above him. Santa took more of the rigid length in, deeper, until the head bumped the back of his throat. Santa gagged, drool spilling down his chin, mixing with the shower water.
“Fuck, Santa-” Perth’s voice was ragged, low and strained. His grip in Santa’s hair tightened, tugging painfully, as he started to set a shallow rhythm, thrusting into the slick heat of his mouth. Santa’s eyes fluttered shut, tears stinging as his throat stretched, but he loved it; loved the roughness, the way Perth used him without hesitation. His alpha was usually a tender and caring lover, but that was how far he was gone, his control slipping in his need.
Santa bobbed his head eagerly, tongue flattening along the thick vein, lips sucking tight around the base. He wanted to choke on it, wanted to give everything, to feel his alpha unravel. Precum spilled across his tongue, bitter and hot, and Santa swallowed greedily, moaning around the cock stuffed in his mouth. He was gone, body pulsing with need, drowning in the taste and weight of Perth inside him, his own orgasm building again relentlessly. Perth’s thrusts grew rougher too, hips jerking, grunts spilling out between clenched teeth.
“So good- fuck, I'm close… You’re taking me like a dream, Ta-”
With a sharp groan, Perth shoved deep, holding Santa’s head in place as his cock throbbed on his tongue. A large quantity of seed spilled down his throat in thick pulses, and Santa swallowed every drop, whimpering as the taste flooded his mouth, his senses. His own orgasm tore through him at the taste of his alpha’s cum, cock jerking as he painted his stomach again, the water washing away the release down the drain. Perth let go slowly, easing back but not pulling out completely, his cock still heavy against Santa’s lips. Santa licked him clean, eyes half-lidded, dazed and trembling but already hungry for more.
It was like it was never enough, not until he had Perth buried deep inside him. Rather than sated, he felt frustrated, tears falling free along with the water that cascaded down their bodies. His alpha sensed his distress immediately, lifting him swiftly back to his feet, holding him close in a tight hug, comforting pheromones wrapping around them both.
“Let’s get to bed, okay?” Perth whispered, soothed, fingers tracing random patterns down Santa’s back. “Then I’ll give you what you need.”
Santa nodded into his shoulder, trying to calm his frazzled heart down, knowing he was being silly and needy and whiny. But he couldn’t help it, couldn’t control how he felt in this state. Mind too fogged to see any reason beyond the need for his alpha. But he knew Perth understood it, would take care of him, was the only one who could give him what he wanted and craved. The water was turned off, steam fading fast into the cool night air. They dried themselves in uneven strokes, towels forgotten on the floor the moment another kiss pulled them off course. Perth’s mouth claimed Santa’s again and again, until the omega was pliant and trembling in his arms.
By the time Santa’s back met the soft give of his mattress, he was already shaking with need. The sheets smelled of himself; faint traces of detergent, the familiar musk of his skin, a grounding comfort that steadied the fraying edges of his heat. Due to his recessive nature, Santa didn’t nest, not really, not even when the rare heats came. But the simple familiarity of his own space, the dim amber glow of the bedside lamps, the faint clutter of shoes and clothes in the corners of his room; all of it helped soothe him. The most foreign thing in the room was Perth. And yet Perth was the very thing that anchored him most. He'd only been at Santa's new condo a handful of times before, only ever slept over once. Now the alpha stood at the edge of the bed, gaze sweeping slowly down Santa’s body, watching as streams of gold light bathed his frame. The admiration in his eyes was so naked, so unguarded, Santa shivered under it.
“You’re so beautiful, Tata,” Perth muttered, voice gravelly, like the words had been ripped straight out of his chest, from his heart. Santa’s knees bent instinctively, feet planting into the mattress, thighs spreading wide in offering. His arms lifted, reaching for his alpha, glazed eyes heavy with hunger. His lips parted, swollen and red, each breath shallow, needy.
“Phi Perth…”
The alpha didn’t make him wait. He climbed onto the bed and slid between Santa’s thighs, lowering his weight down until the solid press of his body smothered Santa’s trembling frame. Their mouths fitted together again, but this kiss wasn’t frantic; it was molten, deep, an indulgent savoring, as though they were drinking each other in sip by slow sip. Santa moaned into it, arching, tugging him closer by the shoulders, desperate for more.
"So gorgeous. So needy. Mmmh…"
Perth’s hand drifted down, cupping Santa’s thigh to spread him wider before sliding between them, fingers finding the source of his heat. Santa gasped, the sound raw, when a finger breached him; his rim swollen, slippery with slick. There was just a bit of tenderness there, Santa's body feeling the use and fatigue but the pleasure was stronger. The intrusion made his hips jerk, a soft whine escaping against Perth’s jawline as he pressed desperate kisses along his alpha’s skin.
“Enough with the teasing,” he begged, words breathless and high-pitched. His slicked thighs trembled as he tried to grind down on the three fingers stretching him now. “I need you, Phi. Please.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Ta. Let me-”
“Alpha.”
The word cracked through the silence of the room. Perth froze, head snapping up, fingers going still. His eyes locked on Santa’s face, sharp, searching.
“What did you say?”
“Alpha,” Santa repeated, voice hoarse, almost broken by need. Pupils blown wide, tears balancing on the tips of his lashes. “Fuck me, please. I need your cock, alpha. I need your knot.”
The emptiness was unbearable when Perth pulled his fingers out, Santa whining at the loss. But then there it was; the fat, heated crown of his alpha's cock pressing at his slick hole, parting him. Santa’s breath hitched, a long shuddering sigh spilling out in relief. Finally. Perth’s hands braced firm on Santa’s shoulders, steadying him as he began to push in.
The stretch was glorious agony, Santa’s walls fighting to take him before yielding, inch by thick inch. His teeth clenched, fingers fisting the sheets, every muscle taut with the effort of bearing it. It felt endless; like the alpha was splitting him open, claiming space deep inside him that no one else had ever reached. Santa’s chest seized as he felt the heavy length bottom out, buried to the hilt. It was overwhelming, the fullness pressing against every nerve, touching something unbearably deep. For a heartbeat, the world went still.
Then Santa shuddered violently, climax ripping through him unbidden. Cum spilled across his stomach in hot streaks, his vision blurring as tears slipped from the corners of his eyes. His body locked hard, spasming from the force of it. Perth cursed under his breath, eyes dark, a wince crossing his features. His hands moved from Santa's shoulders, smoothing down the curve of his ribs in a grounding touch.
“Breathe, baby,” Perth urged firmly, voice husky but steady. “You’re too tight.”
Santa gasped, lungs aching as he forced air back in, every inhale sharp. His shoulders loosened by degrees, his body gradually yielding even as he still felt stretched to the brink. He blinked up through his wet lashes, trying to focus, desperate not to make his alpha hold back. And when he exhaled, he whispered a single word that carried all the surrender in his body.
“Please."
But Perth still held still. Waited. Waited until Santa’s breathing evened out more, until his trembling thighs stopped clenching in resistance and started opening wider, offering. Only then did he move, pulling back a few inches and pushing in again, slow and careful. Santa’s jaw fell open, a ragged moan breaking loose. The friction was blistering, every drag of thick cock along his stretched walls striking sparks through him. He tilted his hips, urging his alpha deeper.
“That’s it, baby,” Perth groaned into his ear, voice rough silk. His lips brushed Santa’s temple, his jaw, his cheek, kissing everywhere he could reach. “Taking me so well. So- hng, so tight around me. You’re perfect.”
Santa sobbed at the words, nails dragging down Perth’s back, leaving hot trails. “Phi- harder. Please. I need it.”
And Perth obeyed, hips snapping faster, fucking him in deep, steady strokes. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the dimly lit room, slick squelching with every thrust. Santa met him stroke for stroke, feral, grinding up to meet each plunge, his cries ringing out sweet and broken. Perth pulled out almost to the tip before slamming back in, angle shifting. He hooked his hands under the backs of Santa's knees, folding him in half, getting better leverage. Santa wailed, the position leaving him completely exposed, cock jutting hard between their stomachs, leaking a mess across his own skin.
“So fucking hot,” Perth rasped, biting down on Santa’s nipple hard enough to make him jolt. “You’re dripping, Ta. Milking me already.” His tongue soothed over the abused bud, then sucked it deep into his mouth, tugging with obscene slurps that had Santa thrashing.
“Fuck- alpha!” Santa gasped, arching into it, tears spilling. “Please don't, don't stop-! I want your knot."
Perth groaned at the plea, plunges growing rougher, more insistent. Springs squeaked below them with each move, bed creaking by the force of Perth's thrusts. He shifted again, angling his hips until the fat head of his cock ground over his prostrate. Santa screamed. His body convulsed, clenching down violently, back arching as the pleasure ripped through him.
“There!”
Perth snarled against his jaw, rutting into the spot again and again. “I’ve got you. So beautiful- you’re going to break on me.”
Santa’s walls spasmed, tightening around his alpha's cock, and Perth kissed him, swallowing every moan. Their tongues tangled, messy and desperate, while Perth fucked him hard, pace brutal now. Santa tried to keep up, tried to hold on, but he felt himself unraveling fast, clinging on and just taking it. The pleasure was indescribable. But then Perth pulled out, making Santa whine pathetically at the loss.
"Shh, it's okay. Let me get you on your stomach."
The world tilted as Santa was flipped, pressed face-first into the mattress. Perth loomed over him, one hand on the back of the omega's neck, the other pinning his hip down with a bruising grip. He drove in from behind, deeper than before, his weight pressing Santa into the sheets with each thrust. The new position was devastating, pushing into spots so raw Santa thought he might shatter apart. Santa sobbed into the bedding, speech reduced to single syllables between thrusts, clutching at the sheets until his knuckles blanched. “Please, please- don’t stop- need it, need you-”
“You’ve got me,” Perth grunted, sweat dripping down his temples as he slammed in. “You’re mine, Ta. Every part of you. Gonna give you my knot, fill you so full you’ll never forget who you belong to.”
And then Perth bit his nape. Not where Santa needed him, not where it would mate them. But it was close. And that was enough. Santa clenched violently as pleasure and pain collided, another orgasm rushing over him. His cock spilled with weak spurts, untouched against the sheets, his body wracked with shudders, hole fluttering wildly around his alpha’s length. Perth groaned roughly. He drove harder, his base swelling, the thick bulge of his knot pressing insistently at Santa’s stretched rim.
Santa convulsed, body fighting between pain and need. “Phi- alpha, give it to me. Please!"
With a guttural snarl, Perth slammed forward, forcing the knot past his entrance in a brutal stretch. Santa cried out in anguish, the burn tearing through him, but then he was full, so impossibly full, plugged deep as the knot swelled inside him, locking them together. The pressure sent shockwaves through Santa’s body and he was cumming again, dry this time as he sobbed into the pillow. His hole clenched desperately around the knot, milking it as if begging it to stay.
Perth fucked him through it, shallow thrusts now, grinding deep into the locked tie. His hips pressed flush against Santa’s ass, burying him to the hilt, groaning as his own orgasm tore free. Hot spurts of cum flooded Santa’s insides, the sheer volume forcing slick and seed to leak around the seal of the knot, trickling down his thighs. Santa’s eyes rolled back, tears drying on his cheeks, body trembling violently under the overstimulation. Yet all he felt was peace; blissful, dizzying, perfect. He was stretched wide, plugged and filled, owned completely.
Perth collapsed over him, chest heaving, lips brushing Santa’s damp shoulder as he whispered, “So good, baby. So fucking good.”
Santa's omega preened at the compliment; content, smile weak and hazy. His lids fluttered closed, his overheated body finally sated, and he let himself drift into unconsciousness with his alpha still locked deep inside him.
-x-
The rest of Santa’s heat blurred into a feverish haze, days and nights bleeding together without distinction. His body ruled him completely; need eclipsing thought, instinct louder than reason. The hunger for Perth, for his cock, was relentless, waking him from shallow sleep with a sharp ache that could only be soothed one way. Every time he opened his eyes, he was reaching, clawing for Perth, begging until he was filled, stuffed, stretched to the edge of pain. He couldn’t breathe right until Perth was there, giving it to him. And Perth always was. Always steady, always willing.
Between the endless bouts of sex, Perth cared for him with a tenderness that cut through the fog. He fed Santa spoonfuls of broth, pressed water to his lips, ordered food he barely remembered eating. His alpha bathed him when his legs shook too much to stand. Changed the sheets when they were soaked through with sweat and slick. Held him when the need ebbed enough for Santa to crash into exhausted sleep. Even through exhaustion, Perth never stopped giving. His voice was everywhere; sweet, grounding words of praise murmured against Santa’s skin, filthier commands whispered into his ear until Santa preened, his body clenching helplessly. Santa couldn’t remember half of what he said in response, his mouth running shameless with need, every thought stripped bare in the depths of his heat.
Much, much later, when the haze finally began to lift, Santa surfaced into himself slowly. Every inch of him hurt. Bruises bloomed dark and mottled along his skin, a messy constellation of blues and purples. Bite marks throbbed, raw skin burned where Perth’s teeth and hands had claimed him. His muscles ached with every small movement, and his body still felt too stretched, too used; yet warm satisfaction sat heavy in his chest. Perth was no better. The alpha looked just as wrecked as Santa. His face was shadowed with dark circles, stubble roughening his jaw, his lips split faintly at the corner. Bruises painted his broad shoulders, his chest, even the curve of his neck where Santa had latched onto him again and again. He looked mauled, ruined, body battered and bruised thoroughly.
“How long has it been?” Santa rasped, voice scratchy, as they lay together tangled in the sheets. Sunlight spilled across his bed, golden warmth seeping into his sore muscles, making every ache sharper. Perth was sprawled on his stomach to Santa’s left, hair a mess, their limbs knotted together beneath the covers.
“Four and a half days,” he murmured, voice low and husky with sleep.
Santa let out a soft snort. “I’ve never had a heat last more than two.”
“Yeah?” Perth’s brows lifted slightly, amusement tugging at his lips.
“Yeah,” Santa replied, leaning in to press a tiny kiss to the tip of Perth’s nose, just because. “Probably because I’ve never had anyone spend one with me before.”
That made Perth pause. His dark eyes widened, surprise flickering before a slow, lazy smile spread across his face, making him look boyish despite his exhaustion. “Yeah?” he echoed, softer this time.
Santa’s cheeks heated, his lips curling into a shy giggle. “Yeah.”
Perth's hand lifted, palm cupping Santa’s cheek with a gentleness that undid him. “Thank you for sharing this with me, Ta.”
Santa swallowed, not wanting to cry again, his throat already raw from days of begging and sobbing. “Thank you for coming when I needed you.”
Perth’s mouth curved into something more teasing. “I'd appreciate a heads up next time.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Santa muttered, rolling his eyes. He had no plans to go into unplanned heat again, thanks.
“You need your suppressants and blockers changed,” Perth continued, his tone shifting serious, protective. “It's dangerous otherwise. I'll go with you, the specialist will know what you need better if they test me with you."
Santa huffed a laugh, covering the sudden flutter in his chest. “Okay, Phi. I get it, stop lecturing-”
His words were cut off by a quick kiss, Perth’s lips pressing against his. They both hissed at the sting, raw mouths protesting, and broke apart only to laugh at themselves, soft and unguarded. Santa let himself sink into the sound, let it fill him. Perth’s laughter was sunlight itself, brighter than anything pouring through the window. It filled his heart to the brim.
“I went to a specialist too, you know?” Perth said suddenly, fingers trailing over Santa’s bare shoulder, touch absentminded. Santa tilted his head at that, brows knitting curiously.
“When we first got paired,” Perth went on, a small smile on his face at the memory. “I thought something was wrong with me. Wondered why a beta was making my pheromones unstable.” He scoffed. “The doc didn’t have answers. Just shoved more scent blockers at me.”
Santa bit his lip hard. “Sorry.”
Perth laughed softly, shaking his head. “I’m not scolding. It just… never happened before. Not even with omegas I’d been partnered with.”
Santa’s chest tightened painfully. He pouted without meaning to, eyes dropping, shame prickling under his skin. He had upended Perth’s balance from the start, all because of a lie. Even if unintentional, it was his fault. Perth noticed the shift in his mood instantly. He always did. His hand slid down to grip Santa’s waist, tugging him closer until their foreheads nearly touched.
“What I mean is,” he murmured, steady and deliberate, “you were special. From day one.”
The words undid Santa. A tear slipped free before he could stop it, post-rut keeping him emotional. “It was the same for me, Phi.”
Perth’s answering smile was soft, but certain as he brushed at Santa's moist cheek. “That's nice. I love you, Tata.”
Santa’s lips trembled, his smile wet, his heart full.
“I love you too.”