It took a lot of doing to keep the Arthur and his knights from discovering he was an Omega. Especially when he was in Heat.
Naturally, as the assistant to the court physician Merlin was aware, just as Gwaine knew about him. Merlin, too, was an Omega hiding in plain sight within the court, and a sorcerer beside, although Gwaine wasn’t sure Merlin knew he was aware of the second fact. The first he offered freely, Omega to Omega. It wasn’t something they spoke of, but it was there all the same. It was through Merlin’s machinations that Gwaine was able to be a Knight at all.
While whatever potion Merlin mixed up did not suppress his heats, they did dampen his pheromones, and Gwaine managed to pass as a Beta, already a minority within the Knighthood. He was able to pass off the scent of his slick as that of some other Omega, and on occasion, it was even true. Gwaine certainly didn’t discriminate when it came to his lovers. In spite of his effort, though, hiding from the noses of over a dozen trained Alphas was no easy feat.
It was his third day of heat and Gwaine’s strength and patience were fading fast. It wasn’t that he was uncontrollable during heat. That was a lie the Alphas told to make themselves feel better about their own lack of control around a sweet smelling Omega. He could function perfectly fine, same as he could with a mild cold or when suffering through allergies. It was unpleasant and he felt a bit weakened, and he’d rather be home in bed, but it was nothing a bit of willpower couldn’t overcome. After all, as Arthur liked to say, he may have to fight in worse conditions one day. His willpower was fast running out, though.
Riding his horse was absolute torture, empty and wet as he was. He was glad of the autumn chill cooling if not his ardour than at least his fever. All he wanted at that moment was to be cosied up, face down in his nest with a thick, hard Alpha drilling into him. Percival was a favourite fantasy of his. And he had the feeling Elyan’s still waters ran deep enough to be very fun in bed.
Instead, he was patrolling the forest outside of Camelot’s walls in the dark and cold and honestly it would just be his luck to run across a group of bandits in his state. The moon was bright and full and Gwaine himself felt highly visible in its pale light, feeling as if his cloak were all but glowing like a beacon in the night.
And then he caught the scent of Alpha on the wind and his blood ran cold. And then spiked feverishly hot. No amount of self containment could overcome his body’s basic reactions and Gwaine felt a fresh gush of slick dampen his padded braies, his hole clenching around nothing. No Alpha Gwaine knew smelled this good. No one in Camelot scented this wild. Feral.
He wanted to present. He wanted to run. Wanted to escape and be caught all at once.
“Well, well,” came a sultry voice from the shadows. “Does Arthur know one of his knights is a bitch?”
“Who goes there?” Gwaine called as he dismounted his horse, a cold sweat prickling on the back of his neck. A cloaked figure emerged from betwixt the trees and Gwaine drew his sword. The figure scoffed and waved their hand, his broadsword following the gesture as if leaping from his grip.
“Do you really think a mere sword can fight off magic, Sir Knight?” Lowering the hood of her cloak, Gwaine could see her face.
“Lady Morgana!” he gasped, taking a step back, unsure of his next actions. He was unsure if he should attempt to fight the witch, not only being outmatched by her sorcery but feeling it was not his place to take on the King’s sister on his own.
“So I am, and you are in heat.”
Gwaine’s pulse lept and he took another step away, fear of a different kind lancing through his veins. “Stay back, witch!” he demanded, creeping toward where his sword had flown.
“That’s Alpha to you.”
Gwaine shook his head, hair whipping around his face.
“You are not my alpha,” he denied. Morgana skulked forward, backing him up against a nearby tree and Gwaine’s senses were overwhelmed by her feral scent and wild beauty. By fear and desire both.
“I could be.”
Gwaine swallowed thickly, “I am loyal to King Arthur.”
“He has helped destroy my people!” she snarled.
“He has only tried to protect his own,” Gwaine argued. “Do you expect him to welcome magic with open arms when you use it against innocents?”
“You know nothing of what the Pendragons have done to me and mine,” Morgana growled lowly, grabbing Gwaine by the hair and baring his throat. “But I’ll forgive you. I’ll even spare your life,” she grazed her sharp canines over the vulnerable flesh of Gwaine’s throat, right over his scent gland. “Submit to me now and I’ll let you free.”
“No…” he panted, but he was gushing slick. He blinked his eyes, lashes fluttering as he fought the desire to submit to this Alpha.
He felt her hot tongue lave his skin and he gasped, bucking his hips and feeling an answering hardness between Morgana’s thighs. Moaning, Gwaine broke, relaxing into the sorceress’s hold and parting his legs wide enough to let the woman step between them. Eyes glowing molten gold, Morgana hissed a few words in a language Gwaine couldn’t comprehend and Gwaine felt his armour unbuckling themselves. Thus freed, Morgana ripped open the wool of his tunic, raking her long nails down the sensitive peaks of Gwaine’s nipples.
“Ahh!” he cried out in pain, cock twitching as it translated into harsh pleasure.
“That’s it, cry for me, Omega,” Morgana whispered into his shoulder.
“I know what you need,” consoled him, hand caressing his cheek before she pulled him forward by the hair and pushed him to his knees. “Present.”
Gwaine pushed his breeches down to his knees and spread his legs as far as they would go, dropping down onto his folded arms, ass high. Morgana circled him, hands palming one ass cheek and spreading it, revealing his dripping hole.
“Such a good bitch,” Morgana sighed, slipping two fingers into him without ceremony.
“Fuck!” Gwaine thrust back into the intrusion, taking her fingers as far as he could, unable to help himself. He needed more.
“Beg me,” Morgana ordered.
“Please!” Gwaine sobbed. “Please, please fuck me, Alpha,”
“That’s right,” she said adding a third finger inside him. “My good Omega.”
Morgana fucked him with her fingers, rubbing at his prostate and making his cock drool onto the grass below.
“Please, please, please -!” Gwaine chanted, rocking back against her hand until Morgana reached around and began stroking his weeping prick. “Oh! Yes! I’m -!” He released over Morgana’s soft fist and she stroked him through it.
Before he had finished coming, he felt her hiking up the long skirt of her dark gown.
Panting into the ground, Gwaine moaned long and loud as her cock breached him. He heard her stutter a gasp at the tight heat of him and his eyes drooped in satisfaction.
The pause did not last long, however. Immediately she set a brutal pace, her pelvis crashing into his ass with obscene slaps in the quiet night air. She leant over him and he felt her bodice-covered bosom mould softly against his back as her hips continued their pistoning inside him.
This was exactly what Gwaine had been missing; had been needing all day. For the last three days. He put out of his head where the relief was coming from and tried to just enjoy the pounding he had begged for.
Morgana mouthed at his shoulder, opposite from his scent gland, but she sucked a livid bruise into his skin.
Gwaine felt the swelling of her knot catching on the rim of his ass and groaned, bearing down to take it in. The stretch sent him over a second time and he sobbed.
“Such a slut,” Morgana hissed between gritted teeth, and Gwaine couldn’t deny the accusation. He wanted her knot more than he could say. “But you’ll have to wait another day, my little whore,” she said pulling out of him before her knot inflated fully.
“No!” he cried, reaching back to fist his hand in her skirt. “Please!” he begged, shuddering through the aftershocks of his second orgasm.
“Shhh, there’s a good Omega,” she cooed, licking over the bruise she’d made as she stroked herself before biting down, hard.
Gwaine screamed at the pain and pleasure skipping down his spine like lightning, cock giving one last weak spurt as he felt the alpha cover him in her seed.
It was not a bonding bite, but Gwaine could tell that it had broken the skin and would likely scar nonetheless. No mating, but still a claim.
Morgana gave a tender lick to the wound before backing away, leaving Gwaine to collapse fully onto the ground.
“You had better hurry back to the citadel before someone comes looking,” Morgana warned, brushing off her skirt as it settled once more around her hips. “Give Arthur my best greetings. Tell him I will see him soon.”
Gwaine’s eyes slipped shut as he heard the Alpha leave him, every cell in his body crying out for her.
Shakily, he pushed himself up, fastening his breeches and looking down with dismay at his ruined tunic. He didn’t know how he would make it back to the castle in his state. He feared this would be the end of his knighthood.
A very small part of him lamented the fact that the witch had not marked him for real.
Gathering his armour and his sword strewn about the woods, Gwaine set off in search of his horse. He didn’t know how yet but he’d manage to spin the story his way.
After visiting with Camelot’s resident sorcerer. Morgana would be returning soon, and Gwaine was not stupid enough to think they would not need another magician on their side.
Gwaine only hoped he would be fighting alongside his brothers when the battle came.