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It was a zipper to the face–the oblong metal catching on his nostril and yanking–that woke Jack.
He’d come home after the quote SHIFT FROM HELL unquote, as he’d complained heavily upon walking through the door, to the drowning scent of pre-heat as Robby frantically cleaned the house. Not stupid enough to try to interfere with an omega in den-mode, Jack had headed right to bed and texted their ED dedicated HR rep to make sure the paperwork was updated as Robby had cycled a day earlier than expected.
“No pants,” Robby had growled when he’d walked into the room, right as Jack had closed his eyes.
“Ohhhh, this is gonna be a strong one, hmm?”
The omega had just repeated, “No pants,” with a ferocity that spoke volumes.
Jack hadn’t hesitated again, complied with a flourish as he made a show of dropping his pajama pants and briefs to the floor.
Another growl had clawed out of Robby. “Belongs in the nest.”
“Then put it where you want, Alpha wants to sleep.” Jack bared his teeth back, scent thickening with pride when his partner grabbed the discarded clothing, tucked them compulsively into the wall he was building at the foot of the bed. “Make me a nest, proper nest. Scent it good.”
(The direction had been less an order and more the form of praise Robby had told him long ago got through to his hindbrain: asking for a nest meant an Alpha knew Robby could build one, could make it perfect, could make it right, and it was a preening source of honor for him. Particularly since he’d had to figure it all out on his own, no one in his family able to help or explain things to him by the time he had hit adolescence.
His father had been the omega that had died in whelp, and his mother, the Alpha, had finally run off when he was a kid after long stretches of leaving him on his own. His grandmother and grandfather had both been betas, nesting wasn’t something they felt compelled to do or ask for.
So with books and instincts, Robby had figured it out by himself.
And damned if he hadn’t thrown himself into making impressive ones.)
He’d fallen asleep to the noises of drawers opening and blankets and pillows and couch cushions being retrieved, and woken with the damned zipper up his nose a few hours later.
“Ow, I need that, Mike,” he whined before opening his eyes.
A chuff was his response.
Eyes popped open fully.
Robby had managed, while Jack slept in it all, to line the whole bed into a tall-walled construction: couch cushions braced them from the end of the nightstands to almost the footboard and where they stopped, Robby had rolled two comforters to bulk the edge. Clothing, specifically whatever had been waiting to be washed along with the contents of their underwear and pajama drawers lined along those edges for scent and reinforcement. Pillows had then been placed over it all to close in the nest walls and sheets tucked over those, their favorite throws and thinner blankets covering the one Jack was still under. Both their most used hoodies were stuffed into the headboard corners.
And in the middle, slowly spread-eagling now that he knew Jack was awake, was Robby, face rubbing into pillowcases, wrists spreading scent along the throws, dick rubbing into fabric as the glands in his crotch kicked up a notch.
It was another instinct that’d he had embraced without knowing that most omega would rub the object on themselves first then place it in the nest, not build then scent, but fuck, Jack had loved it instantly. He’d watched, the first time, as Robby crawled into the corners to run his neck along pillows and wrists on cushions, with barely contained pleasure that Robby did this his way, the way his omega directed, and not the way someone had taught him.
“Mmm, good morning, Mikey.”
“Need to... your side smells like you.”
Ah, the offense.
It should smell like Robby, of course.
Jack carefully extricated himself and relocated to Robby’s side of the bed. There, he was pushed, hard into the softness of the nest, Robby pressing his face into his neck to draw in a long breath and Jack was summarily told, “Stay here,” before rolling to the side Jack had just vacated. He pushed at the sheets, the blankets, the clothing and cushions, working it all smooth and stable.
“Scent it for Alpha,” he whispered to himself once he was satisfied with how it all was laying, dipping to rub his glands on cotton and fleece and bamboo.
“Think you’ve married them good, my love,” Jack told him after a few minutes. He’d rolled to his side to watch, head propped on a hand, but he’d spied the ruddy, thick cock tight to Robby’s belly and the glisten of slick that’d dampened his thighs.
Heat had definitely rolled in.
That zipper was tactical, not accidental.
“You brat,” Jack muttered, smirking, and he slid up, back, re-settled himself into the center of the bed and patted his lap. “Come here, that’s gotta be so uncomfortable, Mike. Come get Alpha’s knot, hmm? Get you some relief for a bit?”
Robby’s pupils blew wide and he clamored over, straddling over Jack’s lap and leaning in quickly for a proper, engulfing kiss. He pressed himself down as he did, pelvis tilting, seeking the heat of Jack under him and grinding down. There was a chuff as he made the first pass, breaking back and whining when Jack’s hand landed on the small of his omega’s back, pushed him down, other hand wrapped around his hip to guide.
He shushed the whine gently. “You’re not even in the thick of it yet and you’re needing. It’s all right. It’s been a while since your last good heat.”
A mewled, “Please,” and Robby’s head fell into the crook of his neck again, licking over his skin, the bite scar. He ground down again, let Jack slip him over the shaft of his cock, over top of his barely popped knot, and he cried out when the hand on his hip slid forward, fingers grazing over his pussy then one slipping deeper.
“So wet, so open and swollen already. Should have woken me earlier, sweetheart,” then, “Come here,” and Jack guided him to lift up. Robby went eagerly, picking his head up and demanding another kiss while Jack used fingers and experience to guide himself inside, short little thrusts that made Robby moan into his mouth.
Jack smirked at that, forever delighting that a non-verbal Robby wasn’t a non-vocal Robby.
No, lost in heat, Robby was actually more vocal, words lost, and Jack absolutely adored it, the breathy ah-ah-ahs when he got the angle right, the long whines and the startled cries, the moans when he craned his head back and tightened down and his legs went hard against his back to push Jack deeper.
And as needy as he was, Jack anticipated the groan and the relieved panting when Robby clamped him. Fuck but he hadn’t heard it in so long, menopause having settled in and leaving these heats, the true heats, fewer and fewer. It made his heart grieve for Robby, who had desperately wanted a child, but it also made him sing with the relief that if Robby didn’t catch, they were ever closer to the end of the post-heat menstrual shed that left him bedridden for days with cramps and heavy flow.
“You gonna move?” he asked after Robby settled onto the length of him and stayed, again grinding down.
The growl he got was throaty. Stay, Alpha, Mine.
Jack chuffed back, light and playful. All yours, omega. He let himself relax a little more into the softness of the nest, cozy and content, dick warm inside Robby and pulsing with each press of pelvis into his hips. He gripped at Robby’s sides, thumbs rubbing over the swell of his belly and felt the muscles there tense...
Robby adjusted his knees, planted his hands on Jack’s broad shoulders and lifted with a whine, a groan. He slammed himself back down with a long cry, and he shifted, tilted and turned until the next movement brought out the moan.
“Oh, Mikey, you’re so beautiful like this.”
Finally, a purr erupted from him, loud and soothing and needy and burning, and Jack answered back with his own. He even let Robby have a handful more rises and falls until Jack decided he was ready for more and with a growl of My turn, Jack flipped them easily.
A momentary fight of hands, but it was all ceremonial, what with Robby’s legs wrapping around his waist, his cunt spasming around him with a gush of fresh slick. He pinned both arms down at the wrist, lips finding Robby’s and taking the kiss they both wanted, feeling the press of Robby’s answering tongue along his.
He moved.
Robby broke the kiss at the first thrust, a gasp and he pulled his left leg up Jack's side, opening himself more.
“Good boy,” Jack murmured.
More brief kisses, his hands released and nails scratching down Jack’s back as each thrust drove the pleasure higher.
A whine.
“Shh, gonna feel so good, sweetheart. Knot’s building, gonna seal us together and fill you up.”
Robby knocked his head back and whined again. He spread his right leg, pressing it down to the bed, hitched it into his hand.
Oh, sweet thing.
“Too soon, sweetheart. Tomorrow or the day after, we’ll try, okay? When you’re deeper into it.”
That earned a trill, the noise of an aroused omega who was ready, and Jack dropped closer, hands on either side of Robby’s head as he worked them both toward the peak. Robby had shifted one hand back to his dick, striping it hard, quick, thumbing the head.
“You gonna come for me? Gonna make a mess of us and this wonderful nest?”
“Nest.”
“Yes, Mike, nest you made us, so good, so safe. Good place for us to fuck for days and days and days.”
He preened and came, slick dripping out of him and from him, and Jack stilled as he followed, knot swelling into the shallows. A partial tie, Jack breathing through the aftermath for a moment, then easing them very, very slowly and cautiously onto their sides; Robby threw a leg over his side, knee tucked up at Jack’s armpit.
The feralness of heat had eased back for the moment and there was purring again, Robby asking, “Really think it’s a good nest?”
“Best one yet.”
A long noise of pleased agreement.
“The couch cushions are new. I like it.”
“Gonna be a problem if we end up in the living room like last time.”
“I can fuck you over a couch arm. It’ll be fine.” Jack threw his own arm up, again rolled them ever so slowly until he was on his back and Robby was a solid weight on his chest. The knot was just as full, the first always one of the longest so it’d be a good twenty minutes probably before he could let Robby reset the nest while Jack went hunting for refueling snacks. He pressed a kiss to the side of Robby’s head, tucked up into his shoulder again. “So addicted to my scent this time.”
“I can’t help it, it feels... more than usual.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Like I can’t ignore it.” Robby demanded his lips, Jack’s hand coming up to cup his cheek as they came together. There was another push of come from Jack, the knot’s final pulse. “You smell like coffee today. And marshmallows.”
Scents changed from day to day, one note always the undercurrent that identified someone, but the rest of it shifted with stress, pain, happiness, joy, and all the emotions. Robby had identified dark chocolate and smoke for him as his base scent, but coffee and something else sweet always broke through when Robby was at his neediest: pleasure and want at the surface, love and joy for Robby breaking open on a deeper level.
“Mmm, so I’m a s’more right now? A latte?” He smirked, running a hand along Robby’s back, scratching over his spine, the edge of the heat-flushed skin at his neck.
“So fucking good,” Robby groaned, then winced, the knot softening and leaving soreness behind.
Good sore, but still.
Jack was careful to pull out gently, more than aware of Robby’s face as he did–ibuprofen would be fetched–then leaned up to kiss his partner and ask, “You wanna fix things in here or come with me to find food?”
Always the same offer, always the same response.
“Stay here.” He sniffed at the blanket they’d soiled, made a face and blinked around the room at the two chairs pre-heat Robby had strategically placed with the ‘only acceptable once the good ones were messy’ blankets piled up on them.
Jack nosed into the messy hair at Robby's temple, pressed a kiss to a sweat-slick brow, and dragged himself up, onto his crutches.
Turning back to ask if there was anything specific Robby wanted to eat, he was met with another of his favorite sights: the tip of Robby's tongue, the little licks, just tasting the air for the hints in the thick of the scent.
It was swiftly followed by a sight he didn't care for nearly as much: the flare of Robby's nostrils as his eyes narrowed, taste having given away Jack’s secret.
“I'm fine.”
“You're in pain.” He drew up, tall frame puffing out as he uncurled from the bed and drew up onto his knees. Tilting his head to the side, Robby trilled at him. “You take your meds?”
Overprotective omega, in thrall to instincts. Jack knew to tread very, very lightly, lest he wind up trapped in the bed by the very man advancing toward him and not for the originally expected reason.
“Yes. I'm going to take more now. I'm fine.”
Pupils dilated.
Fuck.
“Robby...”
A growl was the only warning before he was grabbed by the shoulders and dragged, forcefully, back into the bed. Jack was, of course, not stupid enough to fight against Robby when his hindbrain was most firmly in control, and wondered for a second if an outsider would see it like a Looney Tunes cartoon, him being yanked in without resistance.
He was all but tossed into the center of the nest, arranged to Robby’s liking, and then, fingers gentle as they always were when handling the scar site, he surveyed the residual limb slowly and carefully.
“Red. Swollen.”
“Yeah, but that’s not it.”
Another head tilt, another chirp.
“Phantom limb, Mike.” Jack gave him a wan smile, reached for Robby’s hand and pulled him closer. “It’s a bad time for it, I know, but it’s okay. I just need some meds and some food...”
Robby was up and moving before he’d even fully realized, a dribble of slick trailing down his thighs that he paid no attention to in his low-fevered state. He muttered, “Pills, food,” to himself as he disappeared into the house, a clatter of plates coming from the depths of the kitchen.
There was a rapid clicking.
“Don't you fucking dare touch that fucking stove!”
Jack did not need another two month ribbing from his TEMS colleagues on contributing to the statistical increase of kitchen-related house fires during heat and rut. Once was enough, more than enough.
The clicking stopped.
A rattle as the fridge door opened, the pop and close of container lids, the door sealing up again. The microwave running with a faint hum that ended in a series of beeps.
He reappeared with a container of chicken and rice, a bottle of Gatorade, and then slipped into the bathroom to fish through the cabinet before bounding back with his prize held out for Jack.
Robby watched him with hawk eyes as he took the meds, murmured softly when Jack hesitated over the food. The heat was gathering again, taking him back down into instincts and need, and Jack could see the urge to feed him building in Robby’s eyes but with his brain trying to tell him there was severe pain in a foot he no longer had, he couldn’t get the spoon to his mouth fast enough.
A trill as it was taken from his hand.
“I can feed myself. I promise.” He reached for the bowl again.
This time Robby growled, gathering a bite on his fingers and offering it to Jack.
He sighed. There was no way around it and there would be no reasoning with Robby, not when he was in the thick of it like this, so he leaned in and let himself be fed. Cubes of chicken and clumps of rice were carefully offered and equally as carefully taken until Jack promised, “I'm full, I'm good,” and coaxed, “You eat now. Fuel, Mikey, and I'll knot you again, but only if I see food in that mouth.”
The whine could've been comical if it wasn't plagued with desperation. Still, Robby ate the rest of the container like he was starved–heat did drive up caloric need double, triple, sometimes quadruple a person's usual–and then, throwing it to one side, practically dove at Jack.