Chapter Text
Ryland Grace is first and foremost a scientist. He is a teacher next, a lover of skittles after, a human being with flaws and imperfections and things he’s good at and loves. The last thing he is and the last thing he cares about is his secondary sex, Alpha. He was never good at being one on Earth, choosing the comfort of loneliness over trying to find a mate. He casually dated sure, passively tried to find that special someone, but his instincts never really latched onto someone like he’d seen before with other people in his life. He’d actively decided to use suppressants every month, even with all the warnings of the side effects if he went too long without a rut. He just didn’t have time for it. Besides, all that sweating and chasing release was gross.
The only good his designation had done for him was at first he’d been immediately ruled out for being on the Hail Mary, even though he had the coma resistant gene. They wanted all betas, because the idea of an alpha or an omega needing to go through a rut or heat for any reason while in space was the worst case scenario. Then the explosion happened and that went out the window. He’d woken up on the Hail Mary with military grade suppressants that would last him a decade if he continued to use them. He had used them until he got to Erid, and then didn’t see the reason to keep using them anymore. Ruts were manageable when there was no other human around, because his body knew there was no chance of mating.
Grace never really paid attention to scents back on earth, he knows his is mostly parchment paper and raspberries with a bit of an evergreen undertone. It’s not a generally normal alpha smell, it’s not punchy enough. He’s been mistaken for a beta or even an omega before, not that he minded. He’s gotten pretty good at hiding his scent, making it not alpha potent. It’s second nature to him now. Very genuinely the last thing Grace cared about was this part of himself.
That sentiment continued even when he gained a new roommate via Eridian exploration ship. They’d found him floating in space inside a submarine and brought him back to Erid for Grace to take care of.
At first Grace couldn’t smell any scent from Simon, no sort of inkling as to what he was. Not that Grace was trying to form a sense of hierarchy, more so trying to figure out what he was working with, if he needed to adjust his life around the new man. The lack of scent told Grace that Simon was either a beta or on some heavy duty suppressors, which meant he was most likely an alpha if that were the case. Grace had experience working in close corridors with other alphas, so he wasn’t concerned about how he himself would behave.
Simon kept to himself mostly, sequestered away in his room in Grace’s, now their, house. He’d come out sometimes to have lunch or dinner with Grace or watch a movie, but most of the time was spent behind a closed door at first. Grace would have liked for a bit more companionship, but he did understand what Simon was going through. He decided to give him time, give him space, meet him where he was, and maybe they could develop more of a friendship as the time went on. He’d only been here a couple months, anyways. Recently he’s started to come out more, work parallel with Grace. Simon is a hands-on kind of person, only having one hand limited what he could do unfortunately, but he and Adrian were working on getting him a Xenonite arm. For now he was busying himself with learning how to garden, so he would often read about it on the tablet while Grace graded papers.
Simon had been over the moon when Grace told him about the small garden, wanting to see it. When Grace brought him there it was the happiest he’d seen the man since he landed, so naturally he offered the care of it to him. Simon had immediately taken him up on that offer with gusto, and the small garden flourished into a larger area with Simon’s attention and care.
Speaking of a couple months, Grace knew he was due for a rut soon, and this would be the first one where a human being was within 16 light years of him, so he’s really not sure how it’s going to go. He’s never been unable to control himself before, so he’s pretty confident it will still be the case here. Maybe if Simon were an omega he’d have some worries, but he’s convinced Simon isn’t. From what little of his scent he can get the longer Simon’s been here he can gather it’s more earthen, like petrichor, with a hint of something like sweet citrus. It’s so faint though he’s all but convinced Simon’s a beta because he hasn’t seen him take the suppressors the whole time, and he knows Adrian isn’t making any because they would have wanted to talk with Grace about them. He’d also looked to see if Simon was claimed when they first met, the tell tale mark on his neck. Nonexistant, which furthered his thought that Simon was a beta.
He decides to tell Simon when it gets closer, tell him that for about a week Grace will need to lock himself in his room for hours on end until he can be human enough to come out for a moment and eat something to regain his energy, just to go back into his room and start the process over again. He’s hoping that this is like the others he’s had on Erid, and he can get some work done during it: he really needs to get his lesson plans situated for next year.
Unfortunately, Grace does not have as much time as he thought.
He wakes up with a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and a twisting in his belly, the tell tale signs he’s actively going into his rut. He has nothing prepared, no water, no snacks, his lesson plans are in his office. He tries to stand and immediately doubles over, gritting his teeth to keep from making a noise. Taking stock of the situation, he realizes he’s the hardest he’s ever been in his life, so hard that it’s actually painful being trapped inside his pajama pants. This is going to be the worst rut he’s ever experienced.
He needs to get water at least, already thinking about his 48 ounce bottle and the feeling of the cold liquid sliding down his throat. He’s getting feverish, a little disoriented, his scent starting to clog his own nose. God, how long has it been since it’s been this potent? A hormonal teenager experiencing his first rut maybe? Distantly he hears something clatter to the floor, but it barely crosses his conscious mind. First he needs water, then he needs protein, and then he needs to take care of himself for the first time in what’s almost guaranteed to be a long, long rut.
The kitchen is occupied when he comes shuffling in, hunched over, wiping the sweat from his brow with the bottom of his shirt. He knows he needs to greet Simon, try and be normal. He hadn’t had time to warn the other man about this, so it was only right that he at least give him that.
“Morning, Simon,” he gives a valiant effort in remaining cool, but he can tell his voice is horse, strained. He doesn’t look at the other man as he reaches for a cup and fills it with water, downing the glass in three large gulps. It helps some, gives him a little bit of clarity back.
Simon is completely silent, standing stock still next to him, not moving away like he normally would. After Grace fills the cup a second time he looks over at Simon, taking in his face. His eyes are wide, staring unblinking at Grace, gripping a spatula like a life line. Grace looks down and sees a pan of eggs scattered on the floor. Oh, that’s probably what he heard earlier.
“You okay?” He croaks out, motioning to the eggs. When Simon doesn’t respond he takes a deep breath and gets down onto the floor, starting to pick it up, “Did you burn yourself?”
“You’re . . . an Alpha.” Simon responds, seeming to find his voice. It sounds nervous, horse, a little scared.
Grace looks up at him then, his brain trying to focus on Simon instead of the eggs, “Uh, yeah, I am . . . did I not mention that?”
Simon shakes his head and Grace smells him then, fully. It cuts through the self-absorbed haze he’s in like a knife. Simon’s scent is very genuinely the best thing he’s ever smelled in his entire life. It wraps around him, filling his nose, going straight to his gut. It takes Grace a moment to stabilize himself, he’s lost his balance as it hits him. He closes his eyes, taking it in, something inside of him begging to claim it for himself, to build a nest for the other man and keep him safe, protected, loved. He’s never, ever felt like this before about another person and it knocks the breath completely out of him.
Then he gets to the emotion of the scent and smells Simon’s fear. Grace quickly stands and backs away, putting distance between them.
“Hey, it’s okay, we’re good, I’m under control, I’m not that kind of alpha.” He said, putting his hands up, “I take care of myself, I’m an adult.”
While he doesn’t relax, he does seem to believe what Grace is saying, given the way his scent calms down a bit. Grace is trying to figure out why his scent is affecting him so much, why he can even pick out emotions from it. Normally you can only do that with alphas and omegas, and if Simon was an alpha he would be trying to rip Grace’s head off right now. Oh. Oh no.
“You’re an Omega,” Grace breathes, understanding flooding through him, “oh my god I thought you were a beta!”
Simon shakes his head quickly, backing up just a step, “No I uh, I’m on . . . or was on . . . suppressants. Heavy duty ones, they last a year.”
Grace nods, trying to think through the haze that’s quickly forming in his brain. He needs to leave this room right now, he needs to lock himself in his bedroom and not come out until the rut ends. The understanding that Simon is an unclaimed omega makes his cock throb and his head spin. He starts to back up towards his bedroom.
“Okay, okay, I’m going to go to my room now, if you need to leave you can, I’m not going to stop you, I’m just going to stay in my room.” It’s fighting every instinct in him to distance himself from Simon, to not tug him into the room with him, but he can’t do that and he knows it. He’s just coherent enough to follow through and leave the situation.
His back hits the door and he fumbles with the doorknob, still watching Simon. Simon takes a couple steps towards him, like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it, a low whine escaping him. When it reaches Grace’s ears he quickly opens the door and shuts it, unable to stop the slight growl from deep in his chest. He is so fucked.
The door is barely closed when he quickly strips down, the feeling of clothing too much on his sensitive skin. He’s leaning against the door, head thrown back as he brings a hand to his mouth, drags it over his wet tongue. He then wraps his hand around his cock, giving it a few pumps, his tongue staying half out of his mouth as his eyes roll back from the feeling. Bringing his fist to his mouth he bites down on it, trying to muffle the noises he can’t stop from pouring out of him. He tries to think of anything other than the man on the other side of the door, but it’s like trying to stop a damn once there’s a leak. It trickles in slowly, flashes of Simon’s hair, his rare smiles, his eyes. Then the crack bursts open and all Grace can think of as he jacks himself off is the sound of slapping skin, the feel of hips under his grip, the sight of Simon presented to him as he rails the omega from behind. The rational part of his brain hates him for it, but the animal in him loves it so much he blacks out when he cums.
He collapses to his hands and knees, panting heavily. Once he catches his breath he starts thinking just a bit more clearly. This is a very bad situation, possibly the worst situation. He is so hyper aware of Simon still, he swears he can hear the man’s breathing out in the living room. Grace gets himself cleaned up and sits on his bed, his head in his hands. He has no idea how he’s going to get through this because there is no way in hell he’s going to ask Simon for help. If he can get away with it he won’t even see him until the end of his rut, and then he’ll ask Adrian to make him suppressants. He thinks briefly of the studies he’d been read many, many times over the years by doctors every time he would get his prescription renewed. The first rut after so long without going one could be deadly if not managed right. Well, he’d just have to manage it right.
So Grace gets up and does something he’s never done before. He grabs all the soft things he can find, blankets, clothes, sheets, pillows. And he makes a nest.
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It’s been 24 hours and Grace finally gets a break from the constant heat in his belly and the stiffness of his cock. Nothing has been truly satisfying, but at least the fever has broken for now and he feels less like an animal and more like the calm, rational person he is. He needs food and water, maybe some juice. He hasn’t heard Simon move around this morning, so he’s hoping he’s still asleep. Grace throws on some cloth shorts, digging them out from his nest. There’s no way he’s going to be able to put on a shirt, it borderline hurts to wear the shorts with how sensitive his skin is, but in case Simon does come out he needs to be at least a little decent.
He opens the door as quietly as he can and stops short, looking down. There’s stuff outside his door? He doesn’t remember hearing any knocks, he knows there were moments through the last 24 hours where Simon came close to the door, his body told him every time he was near, but Grace thought he was just . . . hovering maybe? He wasn’t sure, he really wasn’t in much of a state of mind to think critically about it.
Bending down, he sorts through the pile, seeing his 48 ounce water bottle he forgot to grab filled with ice water, a couple granola bars, and a shirt. The shirt is the thing that puzzles him the most. It’s one of Simon’s, one of the ones he had the Eridians make for him. It’s plain, a dark forest green, and when Grace brings it to his nose on instinct it is drenched in Simon’s scent. He groans softly, burying his face in it, inhaling deeply. The act makes his cock twitch, but he’s still in control of himself for now. Before he can really think about it he brings everything into the room and places the shirt in his nest, replacing one of his with it. He takes that shirt, wondering what the fudge he’s even doing, and deposits it outside of Simon’s closed door. He doesn’t stick around, doesn’t knock, just leaves and quickly grabs what he wants from the kitchen and heads back into his room.
As he gets back into his nest makes a mental note to try and check the door outside, in case Simon leaves him more things. He also makes a mental note to staunchly ignore the way he thinks this is what having a mate might feel like as he presses his nose into Simon’s shirt.
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He’s in the middle of another feverish episode shortly after, humping his pillow, chasing a different release from his hand, thoughts of Simon flashing through his mind (they’ve been there the whole time, not a moment during these spells has he not thought of the man), when there’s a tentative knock on the door. His hips still immediately and he looks to the door, wondering if he hallucinated it. He knows Simon is standing at his door, can smell the nervous scent wafting under it and towards him. The knock comes again.
“Alpha?”
Grace immediately springs to his feet, ready to go and rip the door open and pull the omega into his room, but he stops himself somehow.
“Simon? Is everything okay?” he calls, his own voice sounding pathetic and ragged to him.
“I uh . . . I think . . .” Grace is trying to focus on his voice, but there’s something different about Simon’s scent. It starts very gradually, just an afterthought, but the longer Simon stands there it grows. The sweet citrus undertone to his scent is slowly starting to overpower all the other notes, reminding Grace of skittles. What’s happening? What’s changing? Why is it changing?
He hears Simon sigh out and a light thump as Simon drops his head on Grace’s door, “I think I’m going into heat.”
Yes, that’s exactly what that scent was. An omega’s heat. Simon’s heat.