Chapter Text
“Bastard.”
Till loathes that guy.
It's an obvious fact, quite literally written on his forehead. Anyone who had seen their interaction would know that Ivan is constantly setting him on edge, pulling on his strings like how one would manoeuvre a marionette.
Like this is the law of nature and they are just playing their respective roles.
His face burns beet red when said guy once again tugs on his jacket like an amused child poking a cat just because. Till jerks his hand away with a defensive snarl, the subtle twitch in his jaw followed by an annoyed tsk, only to be met with a satisfied huff from the other, like he had already achieved his motive without even trying.
Ivan had always been fascinated by Till's angry expression. The redness that crept up his complexion, eyebrows knot together like wires, teal eyes boring into his soul like a warning, teeth clenched shut like a challenge. If anything, he just wants to pry it open and unravel the sensitive loser that resides within. Something must be hidden under there, a secret of some sorts.
He wonders if he's rough enough Till would break under his grip. Probably not, since Till is as prideful as he is. That doesn't halt his curiosity.
Maybe he should try and be nice? Then again, where's the fun in that?
“I'm not a mirror, Till.” Ivan smirks, his voice all faux innocence, the way someone might tease a cat just to watch its hair stand on ends.
Till explodes just from his words alone.
Ivan's not the typical nerd Till expected to be. At least, according to him, Ivan is the devil incarnate that wears the skin of a sacrificial lamb. People around him regard Ivan as smart, witty, charming, sweet, kind-hearted; every positive adjective that makes Till's skin crawl. They don't see the flame burning under those crimson irises, more accurately they choose to be blind to the naively cruel attributes that lie within. It's his privilege that he had worked hard to maintain, Till's just his unlucky victim.
If he could even be considered one, of course. Ivan didn't even try to be mean, it just happened because of Till's wounded, fragile ego. They blend together like oil and water, yet somehow Till's the only one getting the short end of the stick.
He had never seen Ivan lost once. He's always on the high ground, scrutinising him with a relaxed smile, playing with his emotions like this is his favourite hobby, and there’s nothing else that would entertain him as much as teasing Till.
Till, on the other hand, is prone to embarrassing himself in public. Even as a prime Alpha. No one seems to take him seriously, not his friends, not his teachers, no one. That title was simply slapped onto him to mock how little dominance he has over his relationships and himself. Still a 16 year old virgin when Alpha’s his age are getting laid. No wonder the Alphas at school exclude him from their pack, he’s too much of a loser to be seen with.
“If not for you, Mizi would've been impressed by me–” Till complains, like that's all he could do, jabbing a finger at Ivan's broad chest while baring his teeth. He's frustrated, to say the least. It wasn't supposed to end like this. He was certain that his plan was well-drafted. From luxurious chocolates to exquisite bouquets, he meticulously orchestrated his confession strategy, confident that this time it will sail smoothly.
Ivan, that bastard basking in all of his glory, just wants to poke his nose into business that doesn't concern him. Till doesn't even know how he managed to obtain his locker password, Acorn probably snitched on him. Next thing he knows is that Ivan had eaten all of the chocolates and read his confession letter out in public like how one would recite a poem, gasps of disbelief and laughter of mockery reverberating throughout the halls.
“Oh Mizi, you're like the sun, and I bathe in your warmth–” Ivan reminds him again, his tone laced with cruelty, scooting closer to the flustered Alpha to observe his reactions.
Ah, he's so easy to toy with. Ivan could never get enough of this, not when Till is on the verge of tears, clawing on his shirt like that would shred away the embarrassing incident that engraved onto everyone's memory.
“Shut the fuck up!” He barks, whether out of desperation or humiliation, an attempt to silence the defiance in Ivan.
“Mizi's a lesbian, even if she’s an Alpha.” Ivan explains with a matter of factly, followed by a nod of approval. “Last time I checked, you have a dick. Or is that too small to be considered as one.” He grins, his eyes trailing down onto Till's basketball shorts, captivated by his pale thighs and wobbly knees. Right, he's also terrible at sports. “I saw you play on the court today. Must be hard to keep up with everyone, huh? Don't worry, I was rooting for you even if you lost and fell face flat onto the floor.”
Seriously? That's a build of a prime Alpha? Ivan didn't have to question, Till could already read him from the back of his mind like an open book.
“Fuck you!”
Ivan was unfortunately right.
As a prime Alpha, Till's certain that he's naturally dominant, just that his growth spurt has never matched his confidence. His lean build coupled with his terrible personality has never been the spotlight of Betas or Omegas, Mizi was the only one who ever complimented him out of pity. The only reassurance that he had is this Alpha title that doesn't match the owner.
“What do you mean you checked?!” His face scrunches like a dry sponge, taking a few steps back as he winces in disgust. Great, now he's grossed out Ivan takes pleasure in observing him like how one would treat a specimen.
“Word for word.”
Oh, how he wishes to wipe that smile off Ivan's damn face. He would've just punched him in the face if not for their apparent size difference. Whenever he tries to put his hands on Ivan, he slams him against the locker and pins him down like a criminal, riddled with glee as Till cusses at him to let go. He'd complain this to Io like the good mama's boy he is, only for her to tease him further, assuring that Ivan meant no harm.
“I hate you! You are sooo annoying!!” Why is he so easy to ragebait? He doesn't gain anything from this, Ivan is the only one profiting off his misery. Yet here he is again, eyebrow twitching as Ivan once again ignites the fuse.
“You are one to talk, Till.”
He needs to be gone from this chaos. He needs the crowd to disperse. Anything, but remain in here as Ivan's plaything. He grabs his essentials and flees away from the crime scene, his footsteps growing louder as punctuation for his very own demise.
“Stop following me!” He nearly ran into someone, as Ivan trails after his shadow like a magnet. He just wouldn't leave him alone.
“I'm going back to class.” Ivan answers truthfully, catching up to his pace.
“We don't even share the same class!”
“Aw, is it because little Tillie is too dumb-witted to be in the AP class? Don't sulk about it or cry your eyes out.”
Here he goes again, rambling about their differences. Till could never compete when Ivan basically excels at everything. If it was the opposite, Till wouldn't have been this miserable anyways.
“Trip on a rock and dive into concrete.” Because if Ivan doesn't, he's going to be the one that does it.
“That's a new one. See you after class.”
Right. There's still his last chance to save face and prove everyone wrong, especially Ivan. Finally he will rip off Ivan's goody two shoes facade and reveal the vulnerabilities that reside within.
If Ivan goes low, he will go lower.
“Till. Are you actually serious about executing this plan? You are more than just a few screws loose, actually. Would you kindly open my eyes and explain why this is a great plan to begin with?” Acorn coughs, a frown carved into his skin, waiting for Till to justify his actions, already ridden with regret for handing those pills to him. “You know what, both of you are a match made in heaven.” At least that sarcastic response managed to spike a gasp out of Till. That proves that he's still listening to him. Not like his words would penetrate through that thick skull of his.
Why did Acorn even agree to this again? Right, because Till promised to take up his shifts so he could go on dates with Marty. Nobody could blame him really, he just wanted to help prove a point. He has nothing against Ivan or anyone in particular.
Till merely dangles the bottle in front of him, mesmerized by the soft clicks of the contents, the heart shaped pills falling into his palm like paper stars. Just a handful would be enough, more than that and he will face legal repercussions. It's nothing lethal, just unethical to a degree, especially knowing that drugs like these were meant for mated couples to spice up their lives instead of holding one vulnerable.
“Yeah. I'm going to expose this bastard's true colours.” Technically, he spiked a drink, but Till would argue that this is necessary evil for justice. For his own vengeance, and not for anyone else, he mutters as the pills slowly dissolve into the lemonade, glowing pink, like a witch's brew.
There's no going back now, since he's halfway here.
“That's Ivan we are talking about, not some random asshole.” Acorn emphasises, snatching the bottle away from Till, gasping in horror now that only two pieces remain. That bastard didn’t even save him the rest. “Isn't this unethical? You're drugging him.” He just prays that Ivan wouldn't associate him as Till's accomplice. He wants nothing to do with this, he's merely providing the resources, Till's the one choosing to act on his own will.
“Don't even remind me.”
Right. As a responsible member of society, he should turn Till to the police and walk away from bad influence. Then again, he doesn't get paid enough to deal with this stupidity.
“You are actually insane. All this just to get back at him? How are you even certain that he's an Omega anyways? He could've been a Beta.”
Ivan's secondary gender is still unknown. That piece of information seems crucial enough for Till to bite on and never let go. He knows that most anticipated him to be an Alpha in hiding, but Till is gambling for him to be a Beta or maybe just an Omega instead. If he turns out to be the same ranking as him, that would actually smite his ego and dignity to live.
“That's why I increased the dosage of this drug. It's harmless, just something that would induce hormones. Like a stronger aphrodisiac.” Till grins, his eyes glinting with mischief, clicking his teeth to punctuate his pride, “I'm going to expose his pathetic soul and then crush it.”
“Don't say I didn't warn you.” Acorn sighs, ridden with guilt, “seriously, you are so ignorant sometimes…”
Till merely flipped him off.
“You're just as reckless as that pink-haired Alpha…”
Asking Ivan out was unexpectedly easy. He thought Ivan would at least put up a fight before giving in, but Ivan merely shrugged and adhered to his request, like they didn't just fight each other in the hallways this morning.
Till just can't shake off this weird feeling. He supposed it was something else but guilt. Is Ivan always this laid back around other people?
“So what is it that you want to show me, Till? No way, is this a gym date between us? You're going to make me blush.” Here comes the endless teasing, Till really should've expected the worst, now that they are left alone to themselves, away from nonsense and the crowd.
“It's not a date, you prick.” Till retorts, knowing that Ivan would not be laughing any sooner, slamming the door shut, coughing as dust impales his lungs. He really should've picked a better place, but this will do for now. Temporarily.
A quiet, closeted gym hall. An Alpha, and another Beta equivalent. A spiked drink. Everyone knows where this is going. Everyone but Ivan, apparently. Till assumes that this is only because Ivan is familiar with him.
“Quench your thirst first.” He pops open the bottle, waiting for Ivan to indulge, the pink liquid shimmering like warning. His eyes sparkle with anticipation, heartbeat thumping heavier than the previous, nearly ringing the bells of victory. But he can’t–for now, patience is a virtue.
“Awh, you're such a sweetheart sometimes. I love pink lemonade.” Of course Ivan accepted the drink without a second thought, after all, he never has his guard around Till, chugging it down like Till would snatch it away out of shame if he didn't act sooner.
What happened to not drinking or eating food from strangers? Or maybe Ivan's just undermining him, that must be it. Till grumbles, kicking the emptied bottle, the loud crackle settling between silence.
“How do you feel?” He waits several minutes for the drug to kick in. Until it’s noticeable that there’s subtle changes in Ivan's complexion and posture. The way his face flushed pink, his chest heaving and falling with shallow, rasping breaths. Slow, strong, heavy grunts. Beads of sweat rolled down his chin, a vibrant contrast to his usual confidence.
Slowly, step by step, falling victim in Till's hands.
He will have the last laugh.
“A bit tipsy. Hot headed.” Ivan mutters, gasping for breath, the pain on his forehead growing apparent. It throbs, and pauses, like it’s controlling each nerve in his system. He needs something to soothe the heat rising in his body, fast. “This drink is too strong. What did you mix this with, Everclear?” Any sooner, he will lose his sanity before his consciousness.
“A heat inducing drug.” Till punctuates, nailing their fates to the coffin.
“Huh?” Ivan blinks, once, then twice—trying to ascertain the intention of Till’s words. He collapses onto the floor with a loud thud before he could arrange his thoughts, back pressed against the dusty walls as his legs spread open, drool sliding down his chin like he's near defeat. It’s hard to concentrate now, the world spins in his eyes, and churns like a kaleidoscope.
“Bet you didn't expect this, student president?” Till grins in a singsong tone, crouching down as he leans closer to Ivan, now that they are meeting eye-to-eye. Ivan's so pliant like this, it reminds Till of a whimpering puppy. He isn’t a big fan of pets, but has always wanted a guard dog. Especially a well trained, obedient one. His fingers traced along the bridge of Ivan’s nose, tweaking it slightly, before moving to the curve of his ear, his touch as light as a feather. “That you would end up begging for mercy under my hands.” He snickers, now that Ivan could focus on Till's black nail polish, cherry coloured lips, and dangerously low shirt. He swears he saw the pink nipples, just ripe enough and ready for him to reach.
“Till–” Ivan whimpers, knuckles turning white from the tightness of his grip, “Don't get ahead of yourself.”
His first time seeing Ivan this exhausted, like life has completely drained out of him. It's new, and rather, exciting for Till. Is this what victory tastes like?
“Shush,” Till's index finger pressed Ivan's lips firmly like a warning, but in Ivan's eyes Till's just playing hard to get, “you don't want everyone to notice your poor, humiliating state right? Our Mr Popular, losing his virginity to a ‘nobody’…” Ivan gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing as to affirm Till's question, a perfect answer to Till's delight. “That's what I thought.” He doesn't even realize that his catty grin had Ivan nearly choking on his drool, his breath shaky with excitement, like he couldn’t wait for the story to unravel.
Weird.
“Till, why would you do this?” At least Ivan seems more horrified and confused, as opposed to aroused, like he's trying to hold himself back from something stupid, biting his purlicue, his eyes scanning for the exit. It's all barricaded shut, firmly locked. No means of escape.
He probably thought he secured Ivan in his personal hell, not knowing Ivan considers this his heaven.
“Hah?” Till scoffs, flicking Ivan's forehead with an annoyed grunt. “Just wanted to confirm that our model student here isn't exactly the best at everything. Especially when it comes to sexual intercourse. A big, v-i-r-g-i-n loser.” He snaps his fingers in exclamation, brows furrowing with frustration. To be fair, Till is also one, but he would never admit this in front of Ivan. Too prideful to even lose face like this.
His words must have flipped a switch in Ivan, because he writhes and pants on the ground, the sudden tightness of his pants visible for Till. Amused, he walks over slowly, his footsteps echoing of malice, like a cat sauntering down the streets, curiously circling his prey.
Leaving Ivan barely any seconds to react, Till's boots grinded onto the tent in his pants forcefully, dragging the rough sole along the creases of his jeans. He nudges on it at a torturously slow pace, savouring each whimper that escaped Ivan's lips. Seriously? He's going to cum getting stepped on? Till muttered, focusing on Ivan's mood change. Not so cocky now, now that Till is stepping on his cock, beaming like a sadist he is. Right, if only he was much kinder to him, then maybe Till would’ve had a change of heart.
“After all,” for the first time throughout their interactions, Till allows himself to laugh, whole heartedly, like his retribution finally ended in success after centuries of being thwarted over. “You're just an omega in heat.” Each syllable laced with spite, Till is more than ecstatic bullying a vulnerable Ivan. It serves Ivan right, Till murmured as he presses harder onto Ivan's groin. Did he take advantage of Ivan? Yes. Did he regret it? Not quite.
Till wonders if he rubbed hard enough Ivan would ejaculate in his pants. Maybe then, Till would take a picture to blackmail him from ever teasing him again.
His nose wrinkled.
The air feels stiff. He might just be imagining things, else why would his Alpha instincts trigger automatically? Something must have shifted, Till blames it on the drug. He has to end it quickly before it escalates into another conundrum.
“Damn it.” Till grits his teeth, his eyes glancing for his bag. He's not actually going to lay a hand on Ivan like a rapist. That would be too far even for his own moral compass. He's just going to trigger Ivan's heat and then give him suppressants after having his blackmail, the mere thought of getting into Ivan's pants and copulating with an unconscious Omega disgusts him. He's a hater, but not the extremist kind.
“Omega?” Ivan mumbles, “Is that what you thought so, Till?”
Why did he shiver from Ivan’s words? Till could feel it, the way his body freezes in place after Ivan’s supposingly innocent question.
“Wait.” It's only then Till realized the changes in the atmosphere. As if he's warped up in a haze, pinned down by a sudden force. It lodges into his throat and punctuates his breath, stirring his consciousness until he tumbles down panting for air. His body flares up almost instantly, heat rising from his chest to his head.
This is maddening.
Then, his breath hitches. His jaw twitched, eyes widened in surprise, barely able to register the sudden change—why is Ivan's scent suddenly this overwhelming? First, it was the floral notes. It numbs his senses as he basks into the sweet cradle of a floral bed. Beneath the sweet veil of Bellflower, Till chokes on the sharp tang of rusted iron. It shouldn't be this overpowering, as if he's assaulted from the pheromones alone.
There's only one conclusion. The worst ending.
“You're in rut?!”
He backs away with a yelp, legs trembling in disbelief. At least he could ascertain that Ivan is not an Omega or a Beta. That fact is not reassuring at all in the slightest. He blames himself for magnifying said effects now that Ivan is actually suffering. “How's that even possible?!” He scrambled through his bag frantically, looking for a cure, his heart nearly jumping out of his ribcage from Ivan's sudden fever. He moves closer to Ivan with a clear vial in his hand, praying that Ivan would remain conscious. “Fuck. Stay awake. I'm going to give you the antidote.”
“I'm an Enigma, Till.”
Till freezes on the spot. The antidote drops to the ground with a loud crackle and shatters like Till's sanity.
That couldn't be possible. Enigmas are less than 1% of the population. Just how lucky could he possibly be, to encounter one? He's heard of them before, read articles and did his research even. The real dominant of the social hierarchy. Far more terrifying than Prime Alphas.
“Yeah.” Ivan pants, and Till tried his best to not squirm at the subtle shift in his tone—now losing his usual soft-spoken, sophisticated vibe. No, this was both carnal and brute, a signal for Till to run. Screw this, he would be lucky if he’s able to walk out of the hall still an Alpha.
“Wait–” That explains the sudden shortness of breath and lack of energy to retaliate. Till crumbles to the ground, back laid flat on the cold wooden tiles, the sudden surge of cold spiking his nerves. His legs had already given up on him before he could make a run for it.
His strength disperses on touch.
“Till,” The next thing he registers is the soul-crushing weight slammed onto his body as Ivan pounces onto him, unable to contain his excitement as he pins Till with both of his hands, holding him in place. “I win.” Only then Till realizes the terrors of Ivan's snaggletooth. When it's too close to his glands, when he’s vulnerable in his hands.
“You–!” Till screams, flailing his limbs frantically, attempting to push off the boulder overriding him, “get off!” Even his fists hurt from punching Ivan's chest, Till had started to wonder if that bastard came prepared wearing armor.
It’s bad news for an Alpha and an Enigma to be put together in a room. Till understands the implication that comes with it.
“You started this, Till.” Ivan unzips his jacket, using it to bind Till's hands together to prevent him from struggling. Only then does Till realize the sleeper build underneath that thick jacket, rendering him defenseless against Ivan's strong grip. His palms were about the size of his face, and Till wondered if he could die from being choked by Ivan's grip. It would be too late to retaliate then. “Till, you're so generous to me. Surrendering yourself to me, you're the sweetest.”
“Wait! I'm an Alpha that's attracted to Omegas! You can't–” He needs to escape now. An Enigma in rut is like a wild dog losing its leash. They act purely on instinct instead of rationality. To be fair, Till was also as reckless as Ivan, but surrendering his bodily autonomy to another man is not what he had written in his script.
“Oh.” Ivan nods, a soft hum to clarify that he understands the commotion, “I'll make you my Omega then.”
Dread seeps through his body in an instant. Only then does Till realize that he had made himself the perfect victim for Ivan. No matter how much he twitched, how his muscles tensed, it was merely an appetizing sight for Ivan. Each plea, each curse, each pant.
He’s completely awake in this process. Staring at the bright ceiling light, as if he stares long enough he would figure out what’s wrong and escape from this nightmare. His breath came out ragged than Ivan’s, like he’s too close to his impending doom, like there’s really no choice but to surrender. Ivan’s grip is ironclad, and for once Till blames himself for not going to the gym frequently.
“Once I knock you up for good, let's go shopping for your omega collars. What's your ring size? When will our wedding date be? Where should we host our honeymoon?” If anything, Ivan’s too opportunistic for Till’s own good, already planning other events. No matter how much he struggles, he’s bound in Ivan’s personal web, forever encased there, their future weaved and set in stone.
“Fuck off! Get off me you pervert!” He squirms louder now Ivan is caressing his neck, face paling at the thought of Ivan marking him completely. He would rather suffocate and die by his hands than be impaled on Ivan’s dick.
“You're the one trying to rape me, Till. I'm just abiding by your wishes. Here, bounce on my cock now.” Ivan reasons, kissing the beads of sweat rolling down his face, releasing heavier pheromones to chastise his defiant mate-to-be.
“No! I don't want to rape you, what the hell?! Get off me! Stop pulling me closer!”
“I said you can take me wholly and fully, Till.” Ivan continues, “don't be shy now, finish what you've started.”
“Hey Ivan… this is not funny anymore, you can stop now…” Till laughs, awkwardly, that’s the only thing distracting him from the fear of being marked down as possession. His head is dizzy, all he wants to do is go back in peace and fall into slumber.
“I've always wanted you, Till. Always.” Ivan seals off the exit, his face pressed against Till’s staring into those teal irises with yearn and want, “you feel the same way, don't you? Why else would you drug me then?”
It was more than just love at first sight. Till's existence himself—that genuine, spine-chilling tenderness that brands the shape of love into his heart. He remembers everything. From the first time he laid his hands onto Till to their unintentional kisses in a truth or dare game. Each touch, each bicker, each smile, each frown—Ivan devours it like a starving parasite, draining nutrients from his host until he's left empty. A being like him who thrives, who's heart starts pumping and veins start flowing when nurtured by love.
He's the abnormal, and Till's the misfit—they are a match made in heaven.
He's violent in the way he displays it, he suppose Till understands the very core nature of his actions.
More than just his biological tendencies, something far more sinister and maddening. Ivan's disease could only be cured by Till alone.
“It was a prank! It wasn't supposed to be that serious! I have the antidote, just let me go and I'll free you–” Till's still resisting, Ivan could tell that he's genuinely crying for help now. That won’t do. Till can be bratty all he wants, once he finishes knotting him full of cum. Then, Ivan suppose he would allow Till to take a break and indulge his annoyed huffs.
“From this opportunity? No, Till. This is not a joke. I am being serious.” Broad fingers slid up Till's shirt, coarse fingertips rubbing the sensitive buds. Ivan plays with it like this body belongs to him, pinching hard until Till snarls and then tugging it until Till's breath hitches. The cold piercings warmed up from Ivan's touch alone, as Till whined from the discomfort of his perked nipples.
“Ivan, this is not funny. Stop it…please.” What supposed to be a command comes out as a beg, Till biting his tongue out of frustration now that Ivan latched his tongue onto his pectorals, sucking onto them like a hungry baby. He wonders if Till would produce milk once he impregnates him. Maybe then, this breastfeeding session would be a success. For now, he drinks in the soft whimpers and protests of Till as he focuses on preparing Till for the mating session. He sinks his teeth into the sensitive chest, leaving hickeys all over to mark his territory.
“Mhm,” Ivan licks his lips in satisfaction, “move into my place once we graduate, okay? You can build your nest here, I'll be with you throughout your heat. I will take care of you for the rest of our lives.” Such words of sweet devotion laced with poison, a mantra that wraps around Till's brain like a curse.
“Ivan–!” Till breaks into a loud yelp as Ivan pulls down his pants, quivering in shame as he realizes that he's hard from Ivan's touches alone. From breastfeeding his self-proclaimed rival. Those teal irises widened in fear and arousal, from Ivan's strength and dominance.
That wet patch on his crotch explains everything. It's still dripping wet, the rough fabric of the leggings rubbing uncomfortably against his sticky thighs. Till winces, his heartbeat nearly coming to a halt, as if the world is ending.
No way this is happening.
His body is being altered purely by the Enigma’s pheromones alone.
“Till, is that…slick? How naughty, did you wet your panties?” Ivan parts the emo's legs open, his tone laced with mischief, whistling in glee when more slick pours from his hole, as if to fulfill Ivan's perverted desires.
“Don't word it like that!” Till screeches, kicking his legs, only for Ivan to catch him by the ankles.
“But it's the truth. Your body is already adjusting to being an Omega.”
“No! You are kidding!” He hopes this is just a fever dream. It could not be the truth, he will not accept this cruel reality of being reduced to an Omega. He's too young to be mated for life, too naive to be trapped into this mess. Ivan’s dragging him into his abyss, tainting Till with everything.
“But Till, slick is trickling down your hole like rivulets. You are naturally preparing yourself to be mated.” His words slice deeper than a knife. Each fragment of his body stings from the Enigma’s touch. Ivan reminds him who’s in charge with a cruel and direct manner, tugging down his leggings to his ankles before discarding it along with his boxers, the lustful glint in his eyes never fading.
“You–” Till yelps when a finger prod at his entrance without warning, eyes trembling as Ivan inserted two digits into his slicked hole like this would ease his tension. Not even sparing him time to adjust, completely taking control of their dynamics. He wants him to submit, and Till would rather choke on glass shards than moan Ivan’s name. He screams, muscle spasming in pain, nearly biting off his tongue from holding in his pathetic whimpers. The perpetrator merely flinched at the sudden tightness of the self-lubricating hole, despite dripping with slick. The lewd walls wrap around Ivan eagerly, the creases smoothen by his broad fingers, which had begun stirring a whirlpool inside of Till.
“Let me slurp that up after I'm done with you.” He commands, quickening his pace when Till's hole gape slightly, a sign for Ivan to continue, more slick trickling down the glossy thighs. He needs to stick a straw inside of that lewd hole and suck it like a drink. Part Till's legs opened so he could indulge in a full meal.
“Pervert!” Till screams, adrenaline coursing through his veins as the bursts of agony short-circuits his brain. That bastard Ivan is still fingering his hole, scissoring it open as slick clings onto the two digits like thick, luscious honey.
“I am.” Ivan grins cheekily, “Tell me something I don't know, Till.”
“You–”
Ivan's scent is getting unbearable. Instead of emanating throughout the halls, it condenses and sinks into Till's senses like a drug, a painful reminder that he's merely a slave to his and Ivan's very own desires. His personal, tailored Karma.
“Your womb is somewhere inside. I wonder how many rounds it would take to get you pregnant?”
Pregnancy.
Till nearly loses his composure. If anything, he feels the grip wrapped around his waist growing tighter, as if to emphasize the seriousness of those words. His world had collapsed from the echo of each syllable, his identity lost in the sea of shifting tides. He didn’t intend for this. Had he known that Ivan was this stubborn, he would’ve minded his own business and kept to himself.
That bastard wants him to be pregnant with his pups.
“Not ready to be a mother yet?” Ivan had the audacity to whine he's the victim in this scenario, “but I hope Till would let me impregnate him so he's full of my pups. I have always wanted you to be my omega wife.”
“You're not listening to me! Ivan, stop this nonsense!” Till hisses with spite now that Ivan had inserted three digits in, still debating on the overall possibility of actually conceiving a baby. He tosses around with his life depended on it, the jacket leaving red scars on his wrists, the tight rope burn restricting his movements entirely. The more he wriggles, the tighter it gets, and Ivan finds all of it too amusing for his own good.
“Hmm. Who would've thought? Maybe you should've thought twice before drugging me.” The raven teases, not forgetting to rub Till's sensitive buds while his other hand worked on preparing Till for his length. It's still tight despite slick dripping, Ivan wonders if he'll be in heaven when he finally sheathed his cock in.
“Fuck you!”
Ivan's brow twitched, but Till is still adamant on spewing nonsense. His inner Enigma simply refused to be challenged like this.
“So vulgar today,” He retracts his fingers from the dripping hole, tongue lapping up the excess slick, savouring the sweet and salty fluids. It's not enough, he needs his whole tongue inside. Just when Till thought that Ivan was done with his torment, and would finally set him free, he does the opposite by flipping him onto his lap, now face pressed against Ivan's broad chest, Ivan's pheromones cutting sharper and deeper.
“I should punish you.” The Enigma confirms, kneading the round and plump flesh. Right, he just wished that Till would sit on his face right now so he could bathe himself in Till's slick.
“You're the one that needs to have their brain checked–” Till argues, hands now tied behind his back, headbutting Ivan right in the jaw. That would've worked if he's strong enough, but the next thing he knows is a clean, loud slap. His ass stings from the impact, burning from Ivan's touch.
Ivan had the audacity to spank his ass. He didn’t do anything wrong!
“You–” Till's face burns redder than before, whether from anger or from humiliation, a shade of crimson that would drip out blood if Ivan actually pierced his skin.
He raises his hand and proceeds with another slap, harsher than the previous, which had Till choking on his own saliva and glaring into Ivan's crimson irises. He sees the sheer amusement written on his face, like this was a fun challenge for him.
“Shh, let’s keep it down, Till.” He grabs the swollen flesh, kneading it forcefully, “let's keep this between us, okay?”
That bastard is definitely doing this on purpose.
“How fucking dare you?” Till jolts, nearly biting his tongue as Ivan pinched his waist as a not-so-kind disclaimer.
“Where are your manners, Till?” He questions, not so amused this time, reaching for another slap. The loud crackle of skin echoes in humiliation, as if it’s broadcasting Till’s misery, the colour of his ass matching his flustered disposition.
It stings and burns. The ironic agony of this—Till thought, holding back tears, eyes pressed together as if that would erase the wicked smile plastered on Ivan's face. He hates it even more now that there's a weird feeling rising in his groin, as more slick pours out from his hole.
“You like being spanked. I'm just rewarding you, aren't I?” Ivan jeers, inserting two fingers into the reddened rim, while more slick pours to evidence that statement.
“Shut up! I'm not!” He could never allow himself to get off like this. To climax from being spanked by Ivan, the demon himself. No matter how much he clenches his teeth, no matter how his body trembles, he would never submit to Ivan.
So why is Ivan teasing him to no end? He points at their lower half, eyes narrowed at the scenery down there.
“Your cocklet down there says otherwise.” Till's gaze slowly lowered down to the wetness of his groin. He had come from being spanked and fingered. His mouth gapes open, bound by Ivan's grip. Till would argue that his size is not small, maybe considered pathetic for a Prime Alpha, but he just came from having his bottom smacked. This is too embarrassing, even for an Alpha like him. He’s supposed to be the top of the hierarchy, now here he is, punished like a bratty Omega that doesn’t know his place.
He hates it. How dare Ivan treat him like this. Like he only sees Till as a misbehaving doll instead of a struggling Alpha.
“That thing is worthless for my dear Omega, right? After all, you won't be penetrating anyone with that small cocklet anymore.” Ivan whispers, biting onto the shell of Till's ears, the tent in his pants nudging against Till's whimpering dick, coated by ropes of semen and the puddle of slick, bathed in ecstasy.
“Y-you!” Just when Till thinks he could recover from Ivan's body shaming remarks, another slap on his ass reminds him that he's the vulnerable one at stake. “Don't think I won't have a chance of getting laid with another Beta–” He's stubborn, and will not settle. Not even for someone as great as Ivan.
“Did I not make myself clear, Till?” Oh. Till panics, swallowing a harsh gulp, as Ivan's fingers dig into his swollen skin, drawing circles on the reddened marks. It sinks deeper, and claws on the bruised flesh, before prodding at his entrance again. The temperature must have dropped a few degrees, because the words that Ivan uttered next is utterly bone-chilling. “Should I buy you a chastity belt to keep your little cocklet locked up in a tight cage, so you will not fuck anyone else? Seems extreme, but you know the lengths I would go for you.” Except Till knows this isn't a blank threat.
“Would you like to have your pussy spanked, Till? Seems like you deserve it.” Till shrieks, his legs shivering as Ivan thrusted three digits into his hole swiftly, punching the defiance out of him. He knows that Ivan is angry this time, because the hits were harder than he had expected, bruising his rim. He holds back tears, desperately hiding his ugly, degenerate pride. “Is it really that hard to keep your cocklet in your pants? I'm keeping you leashed up if you misbehave next time.” Till knows this could potentially happen. They live in a society where the power imbalance is at extreme lengths. Omegas don't usually reserve any basic rights, especially when they were once a bitched Alpha.
Ivan's actually going to make him a livestock. All just because of his stupid, stubborn plan.
Alas, he couldn't stop the tears from falling. It's just too much mixed emotions wrapped in his tiny head, he needs an outlet to release them.
“Awh,” Ivan must have noticed how upset he made him, because instead of pressing matters further, he leaned in to kiss Till's tears away, gently rubbing the bruised skin. “Don't cry, Till. I won't actually leash you like an animal.” That reassurance is too vague to be considered as one, not like Till cared if his pleas were heard.
“You managed to ripen up your scent. It smells sweeter now.” Ivan switches the topic, sniffing Till's sensitive nape, indulging in the sweet tones of vanilla and cinnamon. It's perfect—his inner Enigma sings in thrill, captivated by the gift in front of him. Till's bruised, reddened ass, glossy with slick and sweat, just like a delicious roast drizzled with a honey glaze. His winking hole is left exposed, still hollow from the lack of fingers, oozing with slick just like Till's personal invite. “Finally slapped some senses into you, dearest.” Ivan wonders if he should slow down with the spanking, and if he has to go this far in disciplining Till. He doesn't want his Till to be reduced to a crying mess, not when Till is the best Omega he could ever have in his entire life.
“Now where is the womb located?” Till grunts, arching his back as Ivan's fingers prod at his prostate, pressing hard on that firm spot. He screams, and thrashes around in agony, tears streaming down his face now that Ivan had dismantled everything from him. “Hmm, is it here?”
“Not–!” Even his screams are left muffled as Ivan stretches his hole wide, focused on the lewd slap of skin and slick.
“Where is it then, Till?”
Till shakes his head adamantly, caught up in his feverish haze, refusing to answer.
Oh, Ivan loves it when Till misbehaves like this. He loves doting on his bratty Omega as much as he loves punishing him.
“I'll just have to keep exploring then.” Ivan shrugs, continuing with his endeavors, all while Till whines and protests about Ivan’s insensitive demeanor. It’s not fair, not when he’s the only one who’s suffering all while Ivan regards his cry for help as sweet coos.
“Till, you are so cute. Whining for me to fuck you like this, even this is too much for me.”
Till’s head hurts. It’s all too much.
His nose is lured by another pungent scent. It wraps around his neck like a noose, urging him to crawl towards it. The next thing he knows is that Ivan had already released his grip, allowing Till to focus on his own pace. Soon enough, he will come to the realization that all paths lead him back home.
It would be less embarrassing if not for his nose pressed against Ivan's cock, his breath panting and mouth drooling, begging for it like a sinner. His senses must have been completely fried, completely devoting himself to Ivan’s touch, lost in Ivan’s abyss.
Ivan chuckles, stroking his cock languidly, whistling as Till stares at him, face blank.
It finally clicks for Till. He gasps, forcing a gulp down his throat.
That thing is colossal. Is this even possible for human biology? Till wonders, staring at that large cock towering before him, veins bulging from the pillar and red crown leaking pre. His breath hitched, voice soft, careful not to moan with desperation. Whether it was out of Ivan’s influence or his personal needs, it’s evident that Till needed something to distract his wandering mind. Anything. Ivan.
He needs him.
“Till, you are my closeted cock slut, aren't you? Drooling just like that…” Ivan hums, a hand carding through Till's hair, assuring the Omega to come forward. He knows Till is aroused, from his reddened face and widened eyes, from the twitch of his brow and slacked jaw with drool leaking out. Ivan's personal cock slut, eyeing the thick girth in front of him, “you can suck on it all you want. Part your lips open.” Who is Ivan to not indulge him? How could Ivan resist when Till is practically worshipping his cock, catching the whiff of steam? How could Ivan say no when Till is looking at him pleadingly, like this is the only thing that would sate his hunger?
Like nothing matters now. Only pleasuring his mate and fulfilling his role as an Omega. As much as Till wants to reject the idea, his body punishes him by increasing his pain and agony, quivering like a starving, needy, injured fawn. He's incredibly thirsty, whether that need is to suck on Ivan's cock or indulge in Ivan's scent. His body churns with want, and a need to submit.
He should just surrender himself to Ivan. Ivan would make everything better. He always does.
He laps up the salty pre, tongue swirling around the tip, prodding at the slit. Ivan grunts, shifting uncomfortably as Till bows lower, now slurping up the base of his cock, his lewd mouth wrapped around the thick phallus. Till whimpers, like it's too much for him to handle, gagging at the sudden thrust. Ivan held him tight, and shoved his cock deeper, moaning as Till's throat constricts around his cock, tightening like a good flashlight. He thrusts harder, watching as Till's adam apple bob with each swallow, tears and drool muddling his face.
“You seem eager, Till. Does my cock really arouse you this much? I'm honoured.” Ivan comments, now that Till is swallowing the length on his own without Ivan's guidance, completely lost in his own ecstasy, riding his own high, “don't choke on it, babe.” He can't help it. Ivan's too large, he could barely swallow without gagging on it once or twice.
“You're too good for my own good…” Ivan mutters, massaging Till's head, like he's petting a cat that's starving for attention now that he had just domesticated it, “Are you going to swallow my cum like the good Omega you are?” Till flinches, snapping out of his Omega instincts, wheezing at the tightness of Ivan's grip, holding his ears like handles for him to ride his cock deeper into Till's throat.
“Is it too heavy? But this is just the way you like it.” No, Till wants to retaliate, but what else could he do but choke on the fat cock lodged in his throat? “Dear, don't be shy now.” Has Ivan always been this annoying? He wants to rip that tongue out and cut it to a million pieces.
“My sweetest cockwarmer.” Being compared to a sex toy is too much. Till moans, head pinned in place as Ivan cums inside him, hot semen violating his throat, washing down the humiliation and arousal. Till squirms, tongue lapping up each bead of semen, until Ivan decides that's enough.
Slick. He's producing more slick than usual.
His own scent is too potent. He’s a stranger to it, a complete prisoner to his sexual desires.
Did Ivan just trigger his heat?
He's slumping on the floor now, Ivan parting his legs open, his lubricated cock penetrating his rim. He hears Ivan's gasps and pants, drowns in the Enigma's scent as it slowly eats away his rationality, allowing himself to be manhandled by his mate. Ivan guides him slowly, gently, cruel in a sense that he allows Till to adjust to his pace, to familiarise himself with his cock, before sliding in with a loud slap, clawing at his pale skin.
“Ivan—please stop.” Somehow, Till still managed to grasp onto a sliver of hope that Ivan would snap back into reality. But Ivan is stubborn and reality is often unfortunate. Till squirms once again when he hears the wet squelch of Ivan's cock sliding out his hole, the throbbing cockhead still aligned with his reddened rim, before thrusting it harsher than the previous.
It's too heavy, like someone had punched the air out of his guts.
It felt sharper now. Like it could slice Till open and force him to kneel, to behave and please his Mate. As if it's trying to silence the defiance in him and chastise him to obedience.
It's all too happening for Till to register. He blinks, slowly, tears and snot muddling his face—the next thing he knows, Ivan has grabbed his ankles like one holding a handle before pinning him onto the floor, Till's back arching with a wretched cry as Ivan closes in their distance, kissing the tip of his nose. Now fully overwhelmed by the Enigma's scent, Till's Omega purrs in delight as he parts his leg for his dominant to access. He gulps, teeth clattering, Ivan's large length now visible and threatening.
He can't believe how easy it was for Ivan to fold him in half. Now forced into a mating press, Till felt his heart sing in despair as Ivan licked his lips like a desperate Alpha ready to pounce and devour.
There's really no escape.
His fluttering hole twitches, sucking in the thick phallus deeper, as if guiding Ivan to his womb.
He's an unwilling victim of his own biological instincts. It betrays him, like how everyone did.
“Wait! Is that—No, Ivan please!” He screams when Ivan sheathed his cock in, tongue lolled out and eyes seeing stars from the sudden thrust, drooling like an uncontrollable faucet. Ivan's cock inside of him had grown larger, Till would argue that it expanded even, now just dragging it out would brush past his sensitive prostate. He'd writhe around under Ivan's control, trying to back away, only for Ivan's rough fingers to bite into his thigh and spread him open for better access.
“Sorry, baby,” He grunts, biting his lip until it draws blood, “ripping it out directly would tear your hole.” And Ivan's true to an extent, his large cock nestled inside of his very own heaven, Till spasming from each shift. “Finally, you're going to become my Omega. Aren't you happy that your plan succeeded? I've succumbed to you now. Wholly, spiritually and physically.”
Ivan's still biting into the past.
Maybe if he just submitted and apologized? Would that even make a difference?
“No! No! Please—get off!” The power differences between them drives Till crazy–still trapped in the mating press, he only felt excruciating pain as Ivan molded with his body like he's the creator of this marionette and Till is just the unlucky soul trapped in.
No.
No no no.
Till's breath hitched, reminded that his scent gland is still unmarked, and today would create history.
He's going to be reduced to an Omega for the rest of his life.
Ivan's Omega wife.
“Baby,” Ivan gasps, his brows knotted together, panting with delight as he indulges in the warmth of Till's hole and soft skin, “I'm so glad you accepted your fate, Till. Now be good and take my knot, okay?” Till shakes his head frantically in response, to which Ivan found adorable.
“I'm going to breed you, Till.” He teases, a prelude to the tune of their bodies rocking together, “You can take my knot.” Now to loosen up this tight cunt, or Till would actually bleed—though he finds it arousing, Ivan wants the Omega's first night to be gentle.
“You're doing so well. My dearest.” Ivan peppers kisses all over Till's face, from his freckles to his dimples, as if that would encourage Till to rock his hips slowly and bounce on his cock, “I'm halfway there. So close to your womb, baby. Your scent is sweeter than candy.” He must be delirious, because Till could feel their temperature rising.
Halfway?!
“Iva-nnn” Till moans, his voice as sweet as syrup, clogging Ivan’s senses. He needs Till to call his name again, especially when he screeches as Ivan’s sudden thrusts penetrate deeper into his hole.
“Mm? Yes babe?” Ivan grins, slowing down his pace, for Till to continue with his slurred speech.
“N-no more. I'm sorry. I'm very sorry–” Oh, this is his first time seeing Till actually crying. His disheveled frame, teal eyes swimming with shame and regret—his tears, a fragile defiance against Ivan’s soft-spoken cruelty. “I shouldn't have lied to you. I shouldn't have drugged you. I regret it. I should've just minded my own business instead of trying to expose you–” He continues, confessing his sins, like that would prevent him from the fate of being knocked up by Ivan.
“Aw.” Till’s so much cuter when he's struggling to apologize, when he’s vulnerable like this. “Don't be sorry, Till.” Ivan kisses the tears away with a bitter confession, “because I'm not.” He doesn’t allow Till to repent.
He sheathes his cock inside Till in a harsh thrust, now that tight ring of muscle stretches around the fat cockhead. He slides in with ease, penetrating Till’s Omega cervix, earning a loud scream out of Till. He squirms, flailing his legs, muscle spasming from Ivan’s sudden thrust—and Ivan knew he hit the jackpot. It clamps down on his cock tightly, dragging the cock deeper inside, as opposed to Till’s rebellion. Ivan’s brain melts, bubbles and fizzes from the warmth of Till’s womb. It accepts him without reservation, unlike Till who plays hard to get.
“Oh, Till, good omega…” Ivan licks his lips, teeth grazing at the neck, tongue licking at the scent glands, ready to engrave his devotion onto Till, a permanent binding mark.
“Ivan, you will regret this—” Till sobs, and terror occupies his thoughts when he feels a sudden budge on his cervix. No matter how much he wriggles in Ivan’s grip, the swollen knot doesn’t seem to flatten.
A mating knot.
“Till, I'm very grateful that you chose me.” Ivan seals their fate by biting down on his gland, imprinting his scent onto Tills, their life forever bound together. Till is finally his Omega now, after countless failed courting attempts. His to hold, his to admire, his.
“Do you feel this, Till?” Ivan snickers, hands moving towards the center of his belly, pressing on the obvious bulge. He figured that he would urge Till to eat more, since now he’s too thin for his own good. Ivan supposed it wouldn’t be ridiculous to compare Till to a thin sheet of candy wrapper.
“N-no, don't–” He begs, desperately praying that Ivan would regain his rationality–but Ivan’s cock buries deeper, the knot expanding inside his cervix. It knocks out the fight in him, filling him with the familiar dread.
“That's me, buried deep inside of your womb. I'm going to make you a mother now.”
“No! Please! I'm not ready yet… I'm not ready to become a mother…” An Omega who bears the heir of an Enigma is too rare. The State would never allow him to get rid of the baby. Worse, he might just have his daily life monitored and reported, leashed to his mate.
“Love, don't defy your natural instincts. You were made to be impregnated.”
“N-no, I don't want to–” the mere thought of becoming a highschool dropout pregnant Omega is too cruel. He doesn’t have the courage to explain this to Io, to spell it out that he got impregnated as a result of Ivan’s revenge, “don't impregnate me, please!”
Cum bursts and sloshes inside of him, the knot preventing each drop of cum from escaping. Till should’ve known that begging was futile, writhing like a broken doll as Ivan continues to pump his seed inside of Till, making sure he’s dissolved in Ivan’s touch.
Is this the future now? Is this everything left for him? What direction should he take next?
“No can do, bunny, you've already accepted my knot.” Ivan grins, unable to understand Till’s anger and despair, “I can't wait to spoil you, Till. Your omega is preening, baby.” It would happen eventually, just the matter of time. He’s a crazed maniac who ends up baby-trapping Till in order to preserve whatever fragile fragments of love they have, to salvage the remaining relationship they share before graduation. He had Till’s life written out, his role assigned and to be fulfilled, he would be the one guiding him until each puzzle fell into place. He’s certain that Till’s adaptable, he will come to terms with his new life eventually, and if he doesn’t—maybe attic-wifing isn’t that bad. Still, this would be the last resort, the kids deserve their mother after all. He hears Till’s fluttering heart, not the deranged cries that it pumps. He sinks his teeth into Till's neck like sweetness would burst in his mouth, his tongue lapping up the crimson nectar to salvage everything given by Till.
“Why… Do you resent me that much, Ivan?” Even though he's the one that started it first, Till finds himself blaming Ivan for taking everything from him. His autonomy, then his heart, then everything they had shared together. They rub into his wounds like salt, yet Till would rather wince in pain then remain numb at each bittersweet memory.
It carves onto his skin like possession before prying his chest open, leaving a hollow gape for Ivan to fill. His heart, that Ivan-shaped hole, waiting to be filled.
He doesn't know which one is worse. Ivan's yearning that seeps through his scars or Ivan's love that masks cruel violence.
“I love you, Till.” Ivan kissed him again, his tongue nudging at the clattering teeth, as if he's asking for permission to enter, “I love you, and that love would transcend death itself. Whether unreciprocated or not.” Till gasps, his irises tremble as Ivan's tongue explores his mouth, savouring the metallic rust of his blood and licking away the salty beads of sweat. He takes, and takes, only the brief reprieve of Ivan’s panting gave Till a moment to catch a breath of air.
“My precious,” It's unfair for Ivan to ruin him whole then kneel down like a devoted believer, worshipping him from head to toe, his gaze stern as steel yet warm as the sun, as if he's not the devil that just sowed his seed inside of him. “My everything.”
“Madness.” Till exclaims between hiccups, his hands forcefully intertwined with Ivan's, his legs parted open again for another round of torment. He blames himself for enticing Ivan, for luring him into this sinful addiction, for ruining everything between them. It's his fault, certainly, now that Ivan had turned his back away from their promise. “You hate me.” It's the only thing Till could ever utter, because he knows the opposite is the truth.
“No, I love you, Till.” Ivan continues, peppering kisses all over Till, his bite mark on Till's sensitive nape still swollen and pulsing with life, “I love you.”
“I thought you had issues with him? Aren't you guys on one-sided bad terms, at least for Till's part?” Sua murmured, heavy glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, still foggy from Mizi's warm breath. She's tinted pink, whether from the trail of hickeys Mizi had left as declaration of her territory or her very own dilemma of succumbing to Mizi's whims. It's a bad habit to spoil a needy Alpha, but it's Mizi in front of her.
The pink Alpha leans closer to her Omega, her footsteps gentle and swift, pulling her into a tight embrace as her thumb draws circles on Sua's back, an attempt to ease her tensed shoulders. Sua exhales tiredly, though the gentle gaze cast onto Mizi was enough of reassurance. She simply can't refuse her Alpha, not when Mizi is her god and the reason for her existence entirely. At least, as a devout, that's what she believes in.
“How are ya, Ivan?” A confident grin framing her face, Mizi sneakily pecks Sua on the cheek, earning a flustered scowl and a frustrated tug on her jacket. Sua's too cute for her own good, Mizi could tease her forever.
“Nope. Never been an issue to begin with.” Ivan hums, resolving Sua's confusion, “and I've never been better, Mizi. In fact, I might just be the happiest person in the world.” He continues smoothly, fingers reaching out to intertwine with Till's, as if that would fasten them together for eternity. As if he had never let go in the first place, Till wouldn't have a way to escape. Reluctant or not, Till could only comply with Ivan's tempo, dancing to the rhythm Ivan had scripted out for them.
Lucky for his dearest Omega, Ivan is a sweet, caring and devoted mate. Rotten from top to bottom, except for his thumping heart. A flower left to wilt, a parasite with a soulless host. He's anything, but forgiving.
“Love is in the air~” That sing-song snapped Till awake from his dissociating state, a reminder that this is all just an act of love. Not even an act, but a crude and raw demonstration of yearning. Ivan's way of devouring him from within.
His identity as an Alpha was stripped off and extinguished the moment Ivan left his mark over him. Till knew this was the end–what he should be relieved of, if not for the promise of a new beginning. The very same one with Ivan, as his Omega mate, completely soul-bound. Ivan leans closer, his puppy dog eyes a ploy to charm Till into reluctance, to which Till tiredly pushes him away, balling his fists though with exhaustion rising within.
He's still wearing Ivan's varsity jacket to cover up the marks Ivan had left him this morning, Ivan's scent spiking his adrenaline like an intoxicating drug. He finds himself unintentionally sniffing on the cuffs of the sleeves, chasing after his mate's scent to quell down his whiny inner Omega. It's carved into his instincts, Till merely acted upon it. Heavens, he could only shoot Ivan a dirty look, or that familiar heat would petrify his soul again.
It didn't matter if it was out of love, survival or codependency, Ivan found it cute either way, entranced by Till's little attempts of tip-toeing closer, yet said Omega flares up like a wild cat when Ivan gets too close. Especially now that he had submitted to him, he's far more sensitive than usual. Ivan knows that the cog has turned inside Till when he starts hissing at Omegas and even Betas who's eyeing Ivan like candy.
Jealousy much?
No, something more than that.
Something Till is afraid to admit and Ivan is willing to wait.
“Finally you guys got along!” Mizi exclaims with a sigh, like a proud parent who had just seen her son achieve the greatest accomplishment of his life, “I was worried this was going to escalate into something awful. Till, you really shouldn't have drugged Ivan like that, you could've got into worse trouble if it was someone else. Luckily Ivan was the one who claimed you instead.” She scolds him lightly, as if Till hasn't experienced the consequences of riling up a frustrated Enigma.
Ivan nods in the midst of Mizi's lecture-like rambling, having the audacity to wag his finger with a sharp tsk, like Till was really in the wrong. Still, Till argued that he learnt the consequences of his antics.
“That's not the case. He–” Till grumbles, itching to explain the whole story, before his jaw is locked open and eyes are wide blown.
Realization hit him like a bullet. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, fast and violent, as if fired from the same gun. The fear that had long been buried now resurfaces in light of panic. Till can't believe that he had overlooked. It felt as if he was splashed with cold water, and then electrocuted afterwards. “Mizi, you knew Ivan would've done this?" His brow arched, a frown framing his lips, reasoned by confusion and disbelief. Because how else would Mizi know Ivan would be the first to save him? That hall is abandoned and securely locked by Till, no one else other than Ivan could bust in.
There's no way. He just couldn't admit the truth. It's not possible that Mizi could've enabled Ivan if she knew of his plans.
But Mizi blinks at him, shadow surging behind those emerald irises, a glance that is both pitiful and sorry. The Mizi in front of him felt distorted, eerie even, as if someone had segregated her from her true self. This wasn't the Mizi that he's familiar with, as if someone was living in the husk of her. Her expression is unreadable, with a smile too aloof to be considered sweet. Maybe this is her true colours, Till's too used to the sweet mask she wears.
She must have sensed the changes in his scent, as she backs away from him and leans closer to Sua. He feels Ivan's breath brushing pass his ear, as if he's asking if Till's okay. That would be the case if not for Ivan's pheromones spiking his nose.
Then again, the reality is that both Ivan and Mizi are considered to be elites in the societal hierarchy. He should've known that all Alphas are the same. Especially Alphas that are close to Ivan. It's no wonder that they are best friends and partners in crime.
Really, he should've known better. Pick his crushes better and minded his own business.
“Yeah, I did.” She nods without hesitation, like this is a question about her favourite colour. She bats her eyelids, her gaze only fixated on Sua, “kudos to him for actually executing his plan. I actually didn't anticipate that it would work out, but he has his charms. That's how he managed to bag you, isn't it?” She remarks with a slight tut, like admiring a work of art, blind to the scars permanently etched into his skin.
“Why didn't you tell me that Ivan is–” As much as he hates it, he can't believe he's still finding excuses for her. Like she's a perfect god, instead of a flawed human like him..Does Sua not know that her Alpha is being ridiculous right now? How is he the only one left in the dark? How did Ivan just run along with it?
“Hmm?” Mizi hums, “so you will get the hint and stop hitting on me. I'm not attracted to you, Till, it should be obvious by now. Sua's the only one that mattered.” He expected his heart to hurt like needles pricking his skin, but it didn't. Instead, guilt encompasses him, his gaze merely landing on Sua, murmuring a soft apology. From Omega to another, it must be disturbing for one to ‘steal’ her mate. She kept her silence, but nevertheless nodded in acknowledgement.
“Hope you learnt your lesson, Till.” The Alpha continues, because Till refuses to believe that's the extension of Mizi, “Ivan's a good mate, he will spoil you right.”
“Huh?!” He gasps in surprise, face bright red from the sudden reprimand, “am I the only one that's concerned here? Isn't this immoral, or at least abnormal?” Because how could anyone justify this without remorse? Then again, he is the one to manipulate Ivan first, so Till suppose in their eyes he deserved it.
“You're overthinking it. He just wants the best for you.” Sua held Mizi's hand tightly, like if she let go of her she might just lose support and tumble over, like ashes scattered across the pavement. “You're a collared omega now, it's not easy to go back. You and I both know this, and the consequences of it.” She points at the pink leather collar wrapped around her neck, except her gaze towards Mizi is soft and loving, sickeningly sweet, like she would willingly melt in her arms if Mizi commanded her to. “You just have to accept it and move on.” From her scent alone, Till could tell she's a willing prisoner, doting on her Alpha like the world would end if she's left to her own thoughts.
Till winces, shifting uncomfortably as he adjusts the collar Ivan had fastened onto him. The very same accessory that Ivan had spent hours scrutinising before making a decision. It's padded with velvet on the inside, not enough to bruise, but nevertheless ticklish as it presses onto his marked scent glands. Though it managed to hide Ivan's bite, Till argued that this display itself is far more humiliating. He knew that Omegas had to wear a state mandated collar with their Alpha's information chip in, but he never expected to be treated like one until today.
Just like property. Or, a housepet.
He hates it. Being flaunted like a possession, despite Ivan considering it as belonging. He can't even push him away either, his inner Omega would flare up and pull Ivan closer, as if this is meant to be.
“Fuck off.” Till grunts, before being reluctantly pulled into a hug, “you're going to be a shitty mate. I just know it, fucking control freak. Maniac. Asshole.”
“Hmm, I don't think so, but let's ask our kids what they think!"