Ben’s breath is hot against her neck. “Are you sure? Are you sure you want this?”
“I need it,” she whines. “So empty.”
“I don’t”—she feels him touch the string dangling between her legs, teasing up the length of it until she feels him pressing against her in a way she never imagined—“want to hurt you, Omega.”
“Then don’t.” She presses back against his hand, almost willing to beg for it, for anything really. “Just fuck me.”
When he gives the string a slow tug, aNd she feels the the end beginning to give—she is happy to find that she won’t have to.
Ben places a cool rag at her forehead. “I know, little one.”
It isn’t fair, she thinks, that after every heat comes this—left ragged and spent from days upon days of endless fucking only to be assaulted with the after.
Ben smoothes the cloth over her brow. “Can I get you something?”
“A new uterus.”
She keeps her eyes shut, but she thinks she can feel Ben’s grin. “Anything else?”
“Ice cream,” she mutters. “I want ice cream.”
His lips press at her temple, the warmth of his body pressing against hers and bringing her a moment of relief—if only for a moment.
“I’ll be right back.”
“Thank you, Alpha,” she hums, nuzzling further into the pillows.
Rey thinks to herself that being an Omega isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
It’s odd, only experiencing a menstrual cycle a few times a year. She imagines that on some levels it’s a blessing—Betas have one every month she hears, after all—but the infrequency of it is wholly dwarfed by the magnitude of it when it comes.
Rey could laugh at the idea of a normal Beta tampon, as she wrestles with her menstrual cup with an inflatable knotted end. Could cackle at what her friend Rose describes as a couple of blah days—her own uterus feeling like a glass monster in a knife shop, punishing her for not doing her Omega duty and producing a baby at her earliest possible convenience.
“Let me start earning an actual income first, you traitorous baby box,” she grumbles.
She and Ben have been mated less than three months—a decision they made after years of being together through grad school, and it’s nothing new, for him to share her heats with her. It’s expected. It’s wanted. But this is the first cycle he’s ever… been around for. They can’t exactly get around it, now that they’ve finally moved in together. Not that she’s embarrassed of it by any means, it’s a natural process, it’s just that—
The other side effects are… a little more embarrassing.
It isn’t her fault, she thinks, that her biology forces her to be subjugated by her own hormones. It isn’t enough that three times a year she will find herself begging to be fucked in every way imaginable, pleading for an Alpha knot to fill her in a way she would never quite satisfy on her own—no. Then comes the punishment for having the audacity to subject herself to birth control, because how dare she not produce children? Her body will put her through another round of this mindless need, albeit a slightly, slightly more tolerable one—but a desire to be… filled either way.
Not that it’s even possible. Not with this contraption fully inflated inside to keep her plugged and unable to ruin the bedsheets and the couch and every stitch of her clothing with what can only be described as a gory affair.
Rey sighs as she throws the applicator and the inflation tube away, cursing her own luck.
She can feel him, hovering nearby, practically vibrating with anxious energy, unsure of what to do for her.
“Tell me how to help,” he pleads softly from where he sits at the edge of the bed. “Tell me what to do.”
Rey curls a little further into herself, shaking her head against the pillow. “Just have to”—she grimaces as another cramp stabs inside her—“ride it out.”
The edge of the pain tapers off into a blooming heat—her cunt clenching around the cup inside as she shuts her eyes a little tighter.
Damn her insufferable womb.
Ben rubs her back, his touch strangely only worsening her predicament. She doesn’t know how to tell him politely to get the hell out of here— but the alternative would be to ask him to fuck her in the worst possible way, and that feels like something for veteran couples, not freshly-mated pairs. They just figured out a workable morning routine, for Christ’s sake.
“I just want to help,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing down her spine in a soft caress. “I don’t like seeing you like this.”
She knows this is just as torturous for him in a way, his Alpha instinct urging him to take care of her. To fix it.
She moans under her breath, her body tensing from both the stabbing pressure and the searing heat of her murderous hormones, whose only bright idea seems to be ask for his dick.
“I’ll be fine,” she assures him. “I promise.”
She tries not to think about there being several more days of this.
Ben rolls over in bed, propping up on an elbow and blinking at her sleepily. “What’s wrong?”
Her skin feels flushed and tight, sweat clinging to her temples and feeling not entirely unlike what she’d just experienced not two weeks ago. Only she hadn’t been holding in an entire crime scene between her legs.
“We have Ibuprofen in the bathroom,” he offers. “I’ll get it.”
She nuzzles into him, surprising him, she thinks, when she rubs her nose against the gland at his neck. The warm scent of him is like a balm to her aching insides. It’s like a breath of fresh air, a burst of endorphins, it’s relief. Utter relief. Has she always needed an Alpha for this too? Has the answer always been that simple?
She realizes what she’s doing, pushing away from his chest a little embarrassingly. “Sorry.”
“Ibuprofen,” she mutters. “Please.”
He lingers a moment, frowning down at her with a contemplative expression. “Was there anything else I could do?”
“No.” She shakes her head aggressively. “That’s all.”
She has to force herself not to drag him back when he rolls off the bed.
Three days. Three whole days.
She can’t take this.
Has it always been this bad?
It’s been months since she last went through it—which is an arbitrary amount of time in the grand scheme of things, but surely it couldn’t have been this bad before? Surely not.
But her womb radiates warmth, so hot that it is unbearable— and she moans into the pillow as she takes in the gray early morning light. It’s so hot. So sore.
She manages to roll to her side, finding Ben has fallen back asleep, and she takes advantage of the moment to breathe him in. Again his scent is like the sun on a cloudy day, blinding, but pleasant. It warms her in a different way, and she can feel herself growing a little dizzied by it.
“Ben.” She presses her lips to his shoulder, trailing up to his throat. It’s a little hard to think. “Ben.”
“Wha—?” He rubs at his eyes. “What time is it?”
“Don’t know.” She’s rubbing against his thigh mindlessly, hardly aware of it. “You smell good.”
“Are you okay? You’re—Ah. ” There is a bloom of his scent as her fingers tease his boxers. “I thought you were—”
“Hurts, Alpha,” she whines softly. “Need you.”
He groans when she begins to unceremoniously grind down on his thigh, shifting her weight until she’s half-straddling him. She isn’t really sure where her sense is right now, but she has a feeling that it is somewhere without so many hormones.
“Please, Alpha.” She licks at the gland below his ear, the uncomfortable pressure in her uterus swelling to insurmountable levels. She hardly even recognizes herself. “Please.”
“Rey—you’re sore. I don’t want to—”
She sucks at his gland noisily, and his hands grip under thighs as the heady scent of him works its way inside her, only making her want more of the sweet relief he offers.
She isn’t thinking about the logistics, about what it would mean to beg him for this, isn’t thinking of anything really—
“Please,” she repeats airily. “Need your knot. So empty. Everything hurts. Make me feel better. Please, Alpha.”
His large hand curls under her chin, turning up her face to tease her lower lip with his tongue. “I’ve got you, Omega. Anything you need.”
Something inside her sings.
“Fuck, it’s”—she feels the inflated end of the cup stretching her just a little as he gently eases it out—“a lot like me.”
She arches her back, too worked up to think about what will come after this. Only able to focus on the promise of relief. Her fingers grip the towels that her mate had been conscientious enough to lay down, and he grips her hips to steady her as he eases the silicone cup from inside her.
“So full.” His voice is strained, but oddly it’s… reverent. As if he’s grateful that she would offer herself like this. “Does it hurt?”
It does. Sharp aches inside that war with the molten heat that burns deeper.
But the burn is more prominent.
She feels a trickle down her thigh, the predecessor to a steady flow—and something in her mind pings with awareness because what is she doing?
“Ben, I’m sorry, I know it’s—”
“Beautiful,” he rasps. “You’re beautiful. Let me help you, little one.” His palm slides over the outer curve of her thigh. “That’s what I was meant to do.”
He presses a hand between her shoulder blades, urging her face against the bed as her spine bends to hoist her hips.
“I’m going to give you what you need,” he half-growls. She can hear the way his tone has shifted, the way her mate has devolved into a state she has only seen during her heats. “I always give you what you need, don’t I?”
“Yes, Alpha. Yes. Please. Please, help me.”
“You want my knot?” She can feel the heavy weight of him at the cleft of her ass—sliding against her skin lazily. “Even like this?”
“I want it,” she whines. “Want your knot. Please.”
“Shh.” Finally she feels the hard length of him sliding through her folds in a slick slide—and she knows that he is wet with—that surely he’s—“It’s so slick, Rey. It’s just like your slick—but so bright.” He strokes through the lips of her cunt once more for good measure. “Fucking beautiful.”
“Please,” she hisses. “Please, I need—”
She moans into the bedsheets when the head of his cock nudges at her entrance, her teeth finding the edge of the towel to grip it with her teeth as he begins to inch inside.
“It’s so wet.” The stretch of him is heavenly, warm and thick as he slides inside—and she doesn’t think about what he’s pushing into. The mess he’s making. She only thinks about how it feels. “So… hot inside.”
The weight of his balls is heavy against her cunt as he buries deep—a guttural sound tearing from his throat as he tugs at her hips to let himself stir her up inside, and the heat of his cock is lovely. He reaches beneath her to let one large hand press against her abdomen, and it’s hot and wonderful against her womb. The combination of both is doing more than a heating pad ever could.
“Fuck.” He begins to withdraw, and it’s amazing, it’s perfect. He smoothes a hand over the small of her back. “Look at that.” He draws out slowly, and her eyes are shut tight as she focuses on the sensation. “I didn’t think that I’d—didn’t think I’d— fuck. You’re beautiful, Omega. So beautiful like this. So warm and tight and beautiful.”
“Ben. Yes. That feels—”
“Feels good?” He thrusts back into her, and the sharp snap of his hips should be brutal, but the wet slap is anything but off putting. “Is this what you needed, Rey?”
“Harder, Alpha. Harder.”
He growls behind her before pulling out of her completely, and then with one swift movement he rolls her to her back. She thinks it should deter her, seeing his cock slicked red with her right down to the thicker base of his knot—but all she can think about is getting him back inside her.
“Your scent,” he chokes out. “So sweet, but”—his nose presses to the gland at her throat, inhaling deeply—“there’s something else too. Something raw.” He pins her wrists just above the hem of the towel—easing back inside with gritted teeth before he nips at her collarbone. “From now on, you’ll tell me,” he grates against her skin. “When you need me.” He licks at her gland just at the bend in her shoulder—where the imprints of his teeth lie. “You’ll tell me when you need this.”
“Yes. Yes, Alpha. I will—so good—tell you.”
Every thrust presses the warm head of his cock against her womb, and it’s better than any drugstore remedy she’s ever had. It’s everything.
“Gonna knot you,” he promises huskily. “Going to plug you up better than that thing ever could. Make you feel good.”
“Knot me,” she gasps, reaching to tangle her fingers in his hair. “I want it, Ben. I need it.”
“Come for me first,” he purrs, the heat of his body like some sort of Midol-magnesium-lavender super cocktail that simply reverses the bane of womanhood. “Will you gush when you come? Make a mess of me?”
“I’ll do anything,” she babbles, feeling an impending rush of euphoria and absolutely no traces left of discomfort from her mutinous lady parts, too lost in what he gives her. “Anything you want, Alpha. Please.”
“Such a good girl,” he coos. “Be even better, and come for me. I want you to come.”
It takes her by surprise, not because it’s unexpected but because it’s so overwhelming—wracking through her entire body as a flood of endorphins course through her and make her feel light and airy. She feels the gush of what will probably be an absolute mess between her legs—but it’s hard to focus on it when she feels the shudder of Ben’s body, the twitch of his cock deep inside before what she knows is the painting of his own fluids as his knot begins to swell.
It doesn’t surprise her, that his cum is like a balm to her heated uterus. She isn’t sure why it never occurred to her—that it would alleviate these symptoms, it certainly does wonders for the cramps her heat inspires.
It’s hard to think with the boneless contentment she’s feeling just now.
A more rational part of her brain tells her that they should get out of the bed, that they should clean the mess—but Ben seems to care about this as little as she does. He simply threads an arm beneath her, making room for his too-large body on her little bed of ruined towels as he hoists her back to his front, knotted deep inside. His lips mouth lazily at the glands along her throat, and she thinks given the circumstances—she’s never felt as dazed as she does in this moment.
“I’d be alright replacing all those little things for you.” He shifts his hips, tugging at his knot as if to accentuate his point. “I could do the job myself.”
A little shiver passes down her spine, but clarity is starting to seep back in. “I can’t believe we just did that.”
“I’m not complaining.”
“It’s not… gross?”
“Nothing about you is gross. Especially when you’re begging for my knot.”
Her throat feels dry, and she wriggles a little, slightly uncomfortable by the tacky stickiness between them. “We really made a mess.”
“When my knot goes down, we’ll shower.”
“Mm.” She strokes his forearm that is wrapped around her middle. “That sounds nice.”
“And the best part”—he nuzzles her hair, his voice low and tempting at her ear—“is that we can’t make a mess in there.”
Rey finds she can’t argue with that logic.
Not that she even wants to.