Chapter Five
Virion
Virion’s heart raced in his chest, one step away from vacating his body as Nemiah carried him toward the consummation chamber. Each step jarred a little more realization into his heart, reminding him he was moments away from the king taking him for his courts to witness. The last memory his family and officials might ever have of him would be bent over for his alpha king, knotted and sobbing.
The scent of raging alpha desire did not escape Vir. His natural scent had an edge of steel lined with a soap of some sort, musky and rich. Were it any other circumstance, Virion might enjoy it.
The room they entered had been thrown together haphazardly. Despite the bed having rich linens and the wall hangings in neat place, it lacked personal touches. Then, with the presence of the incoming guests, it had far too many personal touches.
To not make eye contact with those he knew, he forced his gaze downward. He’d thought the gesture rather timid and sweet when he’d first seen an omega consummated. At that moment, though, Virion knew the gesture for what it was: disgust.
An attendant came by and laid a white cloth over the bed as the gathering witnesses grew silent. A rough voice commanded them to commence, and Virion forced himself to dissociate.
Timidly, Virion cast his gaze to his husband, absorbing the feral heat snarled across his face, his wolfish teeth bared in what could only have been disgust. Virion cast his gaze back down in response and drew his robes away, parting the ties to lay them over a valet rack left just for that purpose.
With an almost predatory growl, Nemiah invaded his space. Virion retrieved the bottle from his pocket and handed it to Nemiah, a gesture of placation that interrupted his tense posture. “My king. If so you choose to use this. Please do.” The latter he said far quieter.
Nemiah took the bottle from Virion’s trembling fingers, that expression twisting into something cruel and predatory. His gaze deviated from Virion’s face to travel his body and flick elsewhere, toward the gathering people that Virion was too ashamed to look at.
Not wanting to look or wait, Virion drew his pants open, letting the fabric pool around his feet, undergarments next before he turned, keeping his eyes down as he approached the side of the bed and bent forward, splaying his ankles. Eyes closed, Virion waited, his heart beating so fast it almost vibrated in his chest. Each breath came sharper and tenser than the next.
Coarse fabric brushed the back of Virion’s thighs, fabric moving as buckles and buttons jangled. Gritting his teeth, Virion bunched his fists into the sheets and whimpered when hot flesh brushed his backside, a hard shape that must have been his cock brushing his inner thigh. “Please…” Virion’s breath of a whimper fizzled out on his tongue.
Please hurry.
Please stop.
Please don’t?
Virion wasn’t sure what he wanted when he heard the pop of the bottle’s stopper and the rich, heady scent of lover’s oil flowed with the light wafts of his alpha’s fragrance.
Pointed nails traced his scalp, sharp but not painfully so. It was almost comforting for a fraction of a moment before they clenched, hair pulled back as Nemiah leaned forward, his hot breath whispering shakily in his ear. “You—will bleed.”
Every muscle in Virion’s body clenched tight, but his cock traitorously hardened. “Don’t hurt me.” The whisper left Virion’s lip in a breath.
If Nemiah heard him, he said nothing, but his hard, heavy cock spoke volumes for his desire as it rubbed fretfully along Virion’s backside. The sheets creaked in Virion’s fists when Nemiah pulled his hair again and adjusted his hips. “Close your thighs.” His heady, gruff growl made Virion jump to obey. “Do not let them see you cry. That’s not for them to see.”
Virion’s eyes stung, and he hadn’t realized that tears had readied themselves. He took a breath and between one and the next, Nemiah’s thumb brushed his hole, sending a flutter through his belly, cock jerking up hard against his stomach. Before Virion could make a sound, the thick heat of Nemiah’s cock thrust between his thighs, rutting along his tender space between balls and hole, grazing his omega’s shame. Where an alpha’s balls hung low and fat, and a beta’s swelled with pride, an omega’s balls were barely two mounds nestled against the root of his shaft. They were sensitive and blossomed with nerves as Nemiah thrust again, hips slapping home.
Vir clenched his jaw, waiting for Nemiah to fuck into him, to loosen his hole and thrust in, leaving him sore. His thighs tightened, distracting Vir from the audience. Each pump made Nemiah growl and thrust harder, flesh smacking flesh until a sharp pain seared against his hole. The burn of intrusion, the finger, likely his thumb, resting at his hole pushing in just the tip, sharp nail carelessly unwelcome there. Despite the pain, Vir’s body responded, his cock bucking against his belly and, from the cool sensation, dripped.
Nemiah’s thick cock pumped between his thighs, rubbing in that sensitive spot, providing only the barest pleasure made Virion’s lust blossom. Despite not wanting to enjoy the experience, his cock disagreed. The tingle at the base of his spine pulsed. Lightning kissed the tip of his cock. Virion hissed and choked, the sensation rushing over him as his husband grunted, the base of Nemiah’s cock swelling, rubbing the back of his thighs as he bent forward, draping over Virion’s back.
Hot cum pulsed down Virion’s thighs, his own and Nemiah’s, his heavy breath rugged and beaten.
Vir’s cheeks burned, the sweaty, warm weight of his alpha, his king and husband draped over his back, having come without even penetrating him. “Shh.” Nemiah shuddered and made a show of pulling away from him. In the process, his hand scooped between Vir’s legs and smeared their combined lust all the way along his crease, slicking his hole with it.
Cold air traded places with Nemiah’s warm body. Virion wondered for a moment whether Nemiah would continue, thrust into him without warning. A flurry of footsteps behind him tempted Vir into opening his eyes, glancing over to witness, but he refrained.
Eerie silence filled the space before a rustle of clothes.
“The agreement is sealed!” An unfamiliar voice declared and Vir didn’t dare look yet.
Soft clothes draped his shoulders as a warm cloth cleaned him, his hole still stinging from the sharp intrusion of his finger. Against all common sense, he opened his eyes once clothed, ashamed of what’d transpired. The white cloth they’d fucked on hung from his father’s attendant’s hands, a streak of blood smeared along it. He’d never seen that part of the ceremony before.
Vir turned his back on the observers and drew into himself as Nemiah gestured him away. He’d not meant to come like a springling, shooting over mere frotting. Whatever had happened, though, appeased the crowd. “Why didn’t…”
“Because I didn’t want to.” Nemiah tucked a few errant locks of hair out of Vir’s eyes and smoothed his hand over stray hairs. “Now look presentable. I promised the nymphs I’d feed you before I send you back to your room.”
He patted Vir’s back and guided them toward the main dining hall, the journey a blur of confusion.
He didn’t want to… Vir couldn’t shake that feeling from his gut, nor the confusion that followed.
With each numb step, he closed in on the table, steered away from the lower seating where his father usually sat him and at one point, his mother when she was alive.
“Don’t make me look a fool, Virion. You sit at my side.” Nemiah steered Virion into place at the head of the table, the chair there, ostentatious and padded with dark velvet. Before Vir could reach for the chair to pull it out, Nemiah himself pulled the seat back and gestured for Vir to sit before pushing him in as a servant would the king. Shameful heat burned his cheeks as Nemiah pulled his own chair out and sat. “Welcome all. I thank you for attending my wedding.”
“And fornication,” someone muttered from Nemiah’s side of the table, earning a huff of annoyance from him.
“Customs are different between our cultures. I did what was necessary to appease his family, as my husband’s family has tolerated our customs that may seem strange to them. Our exchange of blood and binding is not familiar with them.” Nemiah offered a flat-lipped smile, directing his fierce blue eyes, almost glowing from black sclera, toward Virion’s father. King Alluin returned the smile with a terse nod, his expression sour.
“It appears so. I’m looking forward to our growing bond between nations and will feel much better when you have an heir to pass your secrets onto.” Alluin sat back when an attendant whisked by with a decanter of wine and poured glass after glass along the line into fine silver trimmed crystal goblets. He swilled the contents as he did at home, as many poisons tarnished silver.
“As I look forward to our wars ending. My father’s goals were not my own. I have ambitions to spread our nation without a heavy fist, but with a prosperous wheel. I’ve negotiated peace and restitution. Our steel will take nations by commerce and leave life and fortune where once we stole all. Small farming towns will become profitable hubs of trade. We can keep livestock stores farther from our towns to reduce the foul odors. And we may eat the fruits of faraway lands that we could only sip the wines of previously.” Nemiah raised his glass for a toast and many cheered in response. “To my husband and the future of Drashil.”
Alluin didn’t return the toast with as much enthusiasm, Vir’s father’s attitude so often self-centered and entitled. His eyes wandered the table and walls, up toward the ceiling, taking in everything with a judgmental sneer. Virion could imagine all the hateful things his father would say, things that he kept to himself for the time being. Despite the harrowing experience, Virion felt a weight off his shoulders.
I am a husband, a male, regarded as something other than a fertile ass. I have three lovely nymphs. So far, so good. Vir squeezed the arms of the chair he sat in and jolted when a larger hand moved over and rested atop his. Vir glanced over, but Nemiah’s gaze focused elsewhere. He wouldn’t even look at Vir after the display they’d had to make.
“I promised your girls I would feed you. Please be certain to eat or they will hassle me endlessly.” Nemiah’s gaze flicked from person to person. Despite the joyous occasion of a new king and a marriage, nobody seemed thrilled. Alluin should be thrilled to have rail, or Nemiah, a husband and money. Instead, the event had all the finesse and heartfelt emotion of a particularly savvy purchase of grain.
In that instance, Vir could only wonder if he were the coinage or the undervalued grain. As an attendant swept by, filling his glass, others filed by laying out trays of hors d’oeuvres. And despite the décor of the palace being dank and colorless, the food was anything but.
Little flakes of something green sat atop some sort of savory cream filling a roasted tomato. With all of his own family’s ostentation, the food was rather bland. So, when Nemiah served himself and Vir and passed the plate, he couldn’t resist reaching for the correct fork and flinching at his father’s stern glare.
“Please,” Nemiah said, face unreadable as he grabbed Vir’s wrist. “Eat. You are my Silver Prince. You sit at my side, here. I won’t look a fool not to hold you in esteem, right, Alluin?”
Vir’s father fumbled his fork, mouth open. A flash of confusion froze his face until he blinked it away and slowly drew his lips flat once more. “Omegas… They are not… Virion… Not proper.”
Nemiah hummed and snorted with amusement into his wine as he tilted it up for a lingering sip. “You’re right. This exchange isn’t proper. Mother?” Nemiah leaned to his other side and whispered to the queen, patting her hand with an almost comforting gesture.
She nodded once and stood, drawing her dreary skirts.
Vir almost turned his gaze away, looking down at his plate with the rapidly cooling treat that seemed even farther away from his lips.
“Come, Virion. Please. This is no place for you.” Queen Kiara’s stern expression made Virion’s gut twist, and he cast his gaze down, finding Nemiah drawing his chair away. “We’ll eat elsewhere.”
Vir found a warm hand on his shoulder, kindly guiding him out, not the doors of the main entrance but through one of the servants’ entrances, politely dancing around an attendant as they swept in.
Queen Kiara waved her fingers at one of them as they passed and ordered them to bring a full meal to his chambers.
“Don’t pout, dear, it’s not befitting your pretty face.” The queen turned and flicked a finger underneath Vir’s chin and guided him down the main hall and down the wing that held his new room.
“Yes, Q—” Vir choked when she whipped around and pressed a finger to his lips.
“You may call me Kiara. You may call me any number of polite affectations, up to and including mother . I understand that may be hard for you, but I will not have you prostrate yourself like your blood isn’t that of the first line of your goddess. Are we clear? Nemiah may have his father’s personality in some things…” She waved her hand dismissively and Virion tensed when she guided him into a chair. “But he will not suffer someone to disrespect what is his. But I’m afraid that the deal with your father is one he cannot afford to set ablaze.”
Virion traveled to a small table in the room’s corner. A sliver of a window threw a beam of moonlight across it, inviting him to sit in one of the ornate chairs. The hand-forged, twisted blacksteel accepted his weight as he relaxed marginally.
“Your father treats you an awful lot like mine did me.” Kiara sat in a chair across from him and primly swept one leg over the other as wine, glasses, and food were brought in. She paid no mind to decorum and stabbed a fork into what appeared to be a roasted potato.
“Omegas are not a common thing in my family. I notice Nemiah refers to me as a male. Am I male, in Drashili culture?” Virion followed suit and went for the tomato he’d been denied earlier. His stomach twisted and growled with hunger.
“I think it’s less that omegas are regarded as male, and that it is far more accepted for an omega to choose how they identify. Certainly we respect when one expresses a gender that differs from what they were assigned at birth, but omegas are encouraged to choose how they identify because the dichotomy of appearances.” She pulled a large piece of potato away with her silver-plated fork and hummed as she bit into it, smiling.
“We are regarded as neither. I think the common public can choose how they’re addressed, but my father holds to ideals from another time, perhaps? Or he has his own ideals. My mother always told me he was not a reflection of his upbringing but a reflection of what he thought he should be.” Vir took another bite and relished the flavors for another moment before he frowned at their plates.
The potatoes in a rich cream sauce shared space with a small salad, some sort of little savory tart and braised vegetables. Vir pushed the food around the plate. “Did we get all the courses at once?”
“Would you rather be waiting for them and stare at all the other guests who just watched you bent over by my son?” She raised a single sculpted brow imperiously.
“You are as observant as you are kind.” Vir bit back a comment about Nemiah not fucking him but thought better of it. It was not a discussion one had with their mother-in-law.
“And flattery will get you far, my son. And so you know, your nymph sisters will be very loyal to you. Unless you are in danger or bringing harm to our family, they will hold your secrets. I was surprised Nemiah assigned them to you. Clover has coddled him since he was a wee thing.” Kiara sniffed as the corner of her lip twitched up.
Vir took a small sip of wine and placed his glass back, searching for his water goblet on the crowded table before draining it politely.
“I should probably ask. Are you prone to a nip of drink?” She let that little tug of a smile on her lips bloom into something more mischievous.
“Oh. I lushed once or twice and didn’t hold my own well. I wound up in a state of undress in the palace fountains with my chambermaid chasing me about with a robe. Apparently, the summer heat didn’t agree with me and I had vowed to seek the inventor of an omega’s garments and bring havoc.” Vir’s cheeks warmed at the admission. “So I refrain from more than a glass or two on special occasions.”
“And what about the sunderleaf?” The mischief in her eyes glimmered reassuringly.
“Oh, if it weren’t for the smell, I’d have a pinch in a pipe every night before bed. Such sleep I get!” Speaking openly with the queen soothed something in him.
“Lucky for you, I brought a pipe. You could do with a little relaxing before Nemiah returns with dessert for you. I think it’d be good for you two to eat together, since he’s not bedding with you.” She took another bite and dug in her skirts before pulling a slender and ornate pipe from somewhere in the folds with a tinderbox and tin full of the rich green powdered leaf.
“Aren’t you worried someone will smell it?” Vir put his fork down and glanced around.
“Good ventilation, my dear. Also, it’s not prohibited here. I don’t forbid it, at least. Neither does Nemiah, though he doesn’t partake.” She rolled her eyes and struck a match while fiddling with the pipe.
Together, they ate at their own pace, passing the pipe back and forth between one another as the memories of the day slipped by.