5 #2
"Can I knot you?" Norrix's voice was ragged, his teeth grazing Scott's shoulder. "I need to. Tell me."
"Yes," Scott gasped, his whole body shaking. "Yes, do it. Please."
The knot locked them together with a final, irreversible pressure that made Scott's eyes roll back.
He came again from the lock alone, weaker this time but no less devastating, his body shaking against the tree.
Norrix followed with a guttural sound, flooding him in hot, heavy pulses while they stayed sealed together.
The sensation drew a long, broken moan from Scott's throat, muffled against Norrix's palm.
They stayed entwined, panting and clinging, for long minutes.
Scott's forehead rested against the bark.
Norrix's chest was pressed solidly to his back, one arm wrapped tightly around his waist to keep him upright, the other hand still gently covering his mouth.
Norrix's lips moved against the side of Scott's neck in soft, wordless reassurance, and Scott could feel every pulse of the alpha's cock still buried deep inside him, every slow throb of the knot keeping them joined.
Slick and spend leaked around the seal in small, warm trickles that ran down his thighs.
The daze settled over him while they were still bound, soft and floaty, the worst of the emotional storm temporarily quieted by the physical lock and the steady heartbeat against his spine.
Only after the knot naturally subsided did they carefully separate.
Norrix cleaned them both with a cloth from his pack, his hands steady and gentle as he wiped the mess from Scott's thighs.
He helped Scott straighten his clothes and smoothed the hair back from his forehead with a tenderness that made Scott's throat tighten again.
Neither of them spoke much as Norrix walked him back toward the settlement. The silence was heavy but not empty.
They ran into Rukheim at the edge of the training yard.
Scott stiffened the moment he caught the alpha's scent.
Rukheim was standing near the fence, his arms crossed over his chest, and his dark eyes moved from Scott's flushed face to the fresh marks on his throat and then to Norrix standing close at Scott's shoulder.
Rukheim's jaw tightened until the muscle jumped.
His pupils blew wide, and his hands clenched at his sides.
His shoulders squared, and for a long moment he looked like a man preparing for a fight he knew he couldn't win.
He mastered it. Barely. The struggle was written across every line of his body.
Through gritted teeth, voice low and controlled only by force of will, Rukheim said, "A prime omega needs multiple anchors in the first year.
The healer made that clear. I hate it. Every part of me hates it.
" His gaze cut to Norrix, and the two alphas stared at each other for a long, tense moment.
"But I will not let him die from neglect. "
The words came out stiff, forced. His hands unclenched and clenched again.
He looked at Scott then, and something flickered in his expression that Scott couldn't name.
"We need to talk about the arrangement. All three of us.
Soon." He turned and walked away before either of them could respond, his back rigid and his stride stiff.
Scott stood frozen, his heart pounding. Norrix's hand found his and squeezed once before letting go.
"I'll walk you the rest of the way," Norrix said quietly.
They didn't speak on the short path to Scott's cabin. At the door, Norrix paused and looked down at him, his expression serious. "Get some rest. I'll come by tomorrow." He waited until Scott nodded, then turned and headed back toward the warriors' quarters.
Scott went inside and closed the door behind him. The evening light slanted through the window, warm and golden, and the room smelled of pine and dust and the faint trace of his own fading heat. He crossed to the bed and stopped.
The dried flower lay on his pillow.
It was small and fragile, the petals faded to a pale, dusty lavender.
He recognized it immediately. Years ago, when they were still young enough to believe in magic charms, Fynn had picked a flower just like this one from the meadow near their secret hideout and told Scott it would protect him from anything bad.
Scott had laughed and tucked it behind his ear and forgotten about it by the next week. Fynn had clearly not forgotten.
The note beneath it was written in Fynn's careful handwriting on a scrap of paper that had been folded and refolded until the creases went white.
I miss you.
Scott sat down on the edge of his bed with the flower cupped in his palms. His chest cracked open, a quiet fracture that he felt all the way down to his bones.
The fear of offering Fynn only a broken, confused omega, still reeking of other men, still unable to name what he even was, sealed his lips tight.
He closed his fist around the flower until the brittle petals crumbled, and he didn't cry.
He was too hollow for tears. He just sat there in the gathering dusk, holding the dust of a childhood promise, and wished he knew how to be the person Fynn deserved.