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*
Omegas never get anyone pregnant.
That's like knowing Alphas are Doms by nature, or knowing to drive off when you hear about an escaped convict missing and there's an sudden, odd scratching at your car door. Everyone had some kind of generalization.
But still, here Merlin is, vomiting spectacularly into a toilet bowl, already six weeks according to the test results. He moans pitifully.
"Through your nose, good," Arthur says, rubbing Merlin's back, fingers wrinkling the soft material of his tee shirt. He coaxes him through the period where Merlin's lungs shudder for air. "Keep breathing, love."
Merlin groans out, forehead thudding on the porcelain rim, "Hate you."
"You're such a girl, Merlin."
"And you're a fucking ass!"
Arthur scoffs at a temper tantrum, but looks far from provoked.
"I don't think you have any room to talk," he says quietly, knowingly. But a smile perks up the corners of Arthur's mouth. His very, very kissable mouth.
With the hand not pressed to Merlin's bowed spine, Arthur instinctively reaches to stroke the round firmness of his own belly. He's taken to wearing pyjama button-ups around the house, padding barefoot through the rooms and complaining about his ankles and calves and existence.
Smiling contagiously with him, Merlin doesn't lift his head but exposes his paled face to the other man. He thumbs Arthur's hip, feeling for how it widened and enlarged for birthing.
"Love you too," he murmurs, eyes on Arthur's stomach.
*
It's only been four months since the other big surprise in their lives, and Merlin can honestly say their friends and family are at a complete loss.
This shouldn't have been possible—two pregnancies with two Omegas.
Uther had been from a long succession of Alphas, and his pride dictated that his sons had been part of that Alpha bloodline.
Before he married Ygraine, Uther impregnated his best friend's wife, giving life to Morgana. Uther had no interest in a firstborn daughter, let alone one who turned out as Beta who (according to him) "couldn't rule others or command authority" and deemed her from a bastard union.
After both Gorlois and Morgana's mother passed tragically in her late teens, Morgana gathered her own resources and money. She legally became her own guardian and never accepted a coin from Uther.
Uther eventually did marry. No one had known much about Ygraine Pendragon, except that she had been a rare Omega. She couldn't get pregnant. An Omega who couldn't conceive, not even once, bore an ugly personal stigma and constant pressure from their support groups.
By chance, some twist of fate, Ygraine did give birth to Arthur.
And then left.
She vanished from the estate with little belongings. Arthur spent most of his years blaming a part of himself for his mother leaving, on top of disappointment in being a male Omega.
Merlin couldn't say he had related to Arthur's experiences.
Hunith had been Beta, and quite content with that. It meant she could live her life peaceful under the radar of Alphas and without the societal expectations of the Omegas. She met a man named Balinor during a wild pub night with friends, shocked to discover he was Omega.
"You're just like him," Hunith would tell Merlin, kissing his brow.
As much as those words often lifted his spirits, Merlin also longed to have known his father, before the intestinal cancer had claimed his life.
When he initially met Arthur, based solely on his rough mannerisms and patronizing, overbearing attitude, Merlin had assumed he was an Alpha.
Arthur had the tendency to override a conversation in his favor, snap and bark orders, even at the other faculty; and as a fellow graduate afore literary professor, Merlin wasn't past involving himself in an argument. He could throw a blunt, sharp witticism to shut Arthur up.
Even with the both of them on hormone suppressants and birth control, there had been a noticeable heat around them. It came out in their exchanged voices, in the too-long sideways glances, in how they occasionally brushed shoulders while passing in the corridor. Merlin couldn't figure out why Arthur smelled so lovely and why Merlin's insides hummed for him.
For all his stubbornness and faults, he clearly wanted Arthur.
Arthur, getting his head out of his arse, happened to be a sweet, caring person. Especially while in bed.
Merlin never cared he was an Omega like him.
He hadn't been the only one who mistaken an identity. Arthur thought Merlin as Beta, simply because of the guile to challenge him.
Arthur's tender, stretched hole was always damp for Merlin, warm and musky, and he loved burying his face in, lapping up his slick, fucking Arthur open with his tongue before fucking into him. Reveling in the clench of Arthur's muscles and fighting the urge to come too quickly.
Omega couples worked, but it seemed more temporary.
He knew ones who lasted: Mithian and Elena, as well as the headmaster Caerleon and his wife Annis, were happily devoted as Omegas—they were also open relationships. Meaning they happily let Alphas into their beds.
"I feel so naughty sometimes, but," Elena would sigh aloud, nudging against Merlin on the outdoor bench where they ate lunch together. It helped their friendship being in the same teaching programs and being employed in the same region. "I swear… being properly knotted feels like a proper fuck. Mithy understands. She's told me about Leon."
It wasn't as if Merlin didn't understand.
During the less public conversations, many others like Elena giggled and spoke of nothing getting better than being pumped so full of come, aching and sore around an Alpha's knot, being owned and bred.
It wasn't anything Merlin hadn't experienced before. He had chosen to get fucked by Betas and Alphas, pre- and graduate years. Had once taken a knot so far past his rim, it felt like Merlin would burst from the pleasure and the pain. The orgasms had wrecked him, every nerve-fiber set ablaze.
Merlin's channel would get filled with so much hot come to the point of feeling swollen in his own body, writhing and feeling amazing with tears building in his eyes. While still high on endorphins, that knot still locked and pulsing inside him, he could endure the dirty talk—about how tight it felt, how full Merlin was, how he was this Alpha's bitch.
He loathed that. The debauching and humiliating comments.
The sex was fantastic, but not something Merlin required in his life. He didn't need an Alpha to own him, or be told he was an unmated Omega just because using glass dildos were a preference or a penis without a knot.
Merlin wasn't about to be a vessel for someone else's pleasures. A broodmare for an Alpha or any other person on that matter. He had thoughts, opinions, dreams and fears. Merlin was a human being. He didn't want to belong to someone based on his Omega status.
Maybe it was because Arthur felt the same, but it was easier with him.
He wouldn't mind belonging to Arthur and Arthur belonging to him.
*
Once they moved in together, Merlin stops taking birth control.
He rides his heats with Arthur, fortunate enough that living under the same room for so long syncs up their cycles. Merlin feels the crackle under his skin, right before Arthur comes through the front door, eyes dark and slitting intense blue, fumbling out of his old tweed jacket before fumbling out of the rest of his clothes.
"Should have expected this," Arthur tells him irritably during the first prenatal visit. Merlin watches as he runs a palm over the faint swell.
"No one else did," Merlin counters, ducking a smack on the back of his head. He gets up from his chair and places a doting kiss on Arthur's bump.
*
There's no point anymore for the suppressors or birth control.
Arthur's heats, surprisingly and yet unsurprising considering, were virtually nonexistent during the first several months of his pregnancy.
But Merlin feels his own like an awful crushing wave, consuming him.
He cries and begs for Arthur, begs to be filled, trembling and straining his reddened, stiff cock to the mattress as Merlin humps against it, wet and leaking everywhere. He cries out more softly as Arthur touches him.
"I've got you," Arthur shushes him, replacing Merlin's fingers, twisting his own fingers in until Merlin's hole darkens pink and shiny with the lubricating fluid.
He lets Merlin suck his fingers greedily, letting Merlin have whatever he needed, before Arthur's cock breaches him, slamming Merlin's face into their pillows with hard, brutal thrusts, chasing the emptiness away.
It's the sensation of Arthur's huge, naked belly against him, carrying their baby, and his cock throbbing deep inside Merlin, right where he recently impregnated Merlin with their second child, that brings him off.
"Beautiful," Arthur whispers, holding him close, pulling at Merlin's cock until he can't milk anything more from it. "You're beautiful like this."
The heat tampers off, Merlin's skin cooling down.
He reaches back, one-armed. Merlin's fingers comb through blond hairs sticking with perspiration, eliciting a drowsy response.
There's nothing else in this world Merlin needs more than him.
*
On the spring term, Merlin's workplace is overrun by unfamiliar faces.
He doesn't have paternity leave until his third trimester, and Merlin sort of wishes he did now. He gets nervous by the way the new Alphas sniff him out, being ridiculously flirty and bold and knowing he's fertile.
"Are you… alright, Merl?" Elena asks, raising an eyebrow.
Merlin glares at the two men attempting to catch his eye and making lewd hand-mouth gestures. He knows she can't see them at her angle, and if Elena did, Merlin was sure they would be fleeing in terror.
"Brilliant," he mutters, suffering another plain carrot in his mouth.
Perhaps he should have mentioned it. One stupid Alpha corners him in the bathroom, managing to knock Merlin against the wall and pushing his cold, impatient hands roughly down the seat of Merlin's pants.
"Need a good knot in that ripe cunt, don't ya," he breathes in Merlin's ear, nauseatingly close, attempting to spread his cheeks apart.
Lucky enough to find the right opening, Merlin throws a right hook into the Alpha's eye. The man tumbles backwards, hitting his head on the edge of the sink and blacking out. It's the least he can do before suing the prick.
Arthur's beyond words furious, demanding an explanation for the cryptic mobile call, for Merlin shaking and pinch-faced, why they're in a police station for questioning—but especially furious after learning what happened. It's only until Arthur knows for a fact that the man's losing his testimony and Merlin quits the sodding university that he's satisfied.
*
Reading the books and online articles does little to answer some concerns.
Lancelot and Gwen are helpful in enthusiasm, but not the subject itself. They both lived as childless Betas (presently childless).
Morgana adores her little brother, despite his relation to Uther, despite their bizarre shows of affection including exploitation and blackmail and Merlin wasn't going to involve himself. Because he was an only child and that was a good enough excuse. However, she had no medical history and couldn't give them advice.
They end up at Gwaine's flat, tuning out the afternoon's footie game.
"You just missed Percy. He says you lot need to stop by again." He fake-pouts in Merlin's direction. "I can't believe you forgot. I just had the baby during the summer."
"It's been hectic," Merlin explains. "Sorry, Gwaine." Arthur rolls his eyes mildly behind him, holding his belly to him. If Merlin didn't know better, he'd think Arthur was planning to hire a palanquin soon. Merlin rests his hands on his lower back, massaging. The weight of his own three-month belly wasn't annoying yet, but Arthur looks like he swallowed Jupiter.
"Better late than never, I suppose." Gwaine shrugs, adjusting his daughter in his arm. "So, you want to know about popping out a baby?"
Arthur blanches at the phrasing. Merlin tries not to chuckle.
"It's that the due date is soon for Arthur. We tried looking up—"
Gwaine interrupts, "Books aren't going to tell you shite, mate." Merlin does chuckle when he peers down at the squealing infant, grinning. "Shh. Don't tell Daddy I said that, Florence."
"Then from personal experience, what can you tell us?" Arthur speaks up, expressionless.
"It's not terrible. You were born equipped for getting pregnant." Gwaine chews his lip thoughtfully. He snorts. "The pain was a bit like taking Percy's knot, only coming out."
Merlin knows he's joking—well, maybe Gwaine's joking. For the record, Percy was the sweetest and most polite Alpha he had ever known. Merlin probably would have let Percy fuck him and breed him in another lifetime, but he had also seen Percy's cock before. It was a tad unnerving to imagine a knot bigger than a fist locking inside his body.
"There's nothing to worry about." He claps Merlin's shoulder.
*
For all of Arthur's easy starts, going from labor into birth is difficult and grueling.
"Fuck, fuck," he grits out, cursing loudly with his bare knees wide open to the hospital floor. "Merlin," he gasps out, contraction fading.
The one hand on Merlin's shoulder tightens up. He sees Arthur's other hand go to his stiff, massive belly, pressing on it. Two nurses hover nearby, checking equipment and getting fresh blankets and towels. They've let Arthur get comfortable where he is, occasionally probing him with green latex fingers that recede tipped in glistening, bloody fluid.
"Look at me, oi," Merlin says, cradling Arthur's reddened face. He plants a series of kisses down his lightly freckled nose. "You're doing so well, s'alright. Keep pushing."
It's enough incentive for him to grab both of Merlin's shoulders, mouth set in silent determination.
"That's it, Arthur."
He bears down at the next contraction, muscles tensing, head rearing back. His voice cracking as Arthur yells.
The nurses yank up the hospital gown, helping Arthur into a better crouching position, murmuring to him and to Arthur, naming off his vitals and the numbers on the monitors. Merlin's throat clenches up, heart racing in his chest, as what looks like a giant bloody knob emerges between Arthur's legs. The room spins a little.
Merlin's barely at six months, but that coming out of him—he wasn't ready for any of this.
The baby feels incredibly heavy inside him, rustling, as if anxious as well.
Minutes, or hours, tick by. He doesn't watch their son fall into a nurse's arms, bawling and ugly and perfect.
They wheel Arthur out, to his own recovery suite, and he knows he should follow. Merlin grimaces, already standing and in the corridor, ignoring a concerned Gwaine holding Merlin's triceps. He didn't notice he was panting, gripping at himself, soothing away the cramping in his belly. It feels like stabbing up his womb, and that everything wants to clench and harden.
"Bugger," Gwaine mutters, scrubbing his hands over his face. "Merlin, I need you to stay calm. I think you're having contractions."
He can't.
Merlin turns big, watering eyes over to the other male Omega, head shaking fiercely.
"No, no. The baby's not ready," he says, Merlin's breathing dangerously bordering on hyperventilating. "Gwaine, I'm not ready. I can't do this—ah!"
Merlin's face screws up, as he hisses in the newest stab of pain, feeling Gwaine's large hands rubbing his arms and his neck. Sweat collects on him, dampening and soaking through his clothing. Pressure floods through Merlin's stomach.
"I'm not leaving you. I'm going to be with you the whole time, understand?"
Merlin nods, gulping in air, not able to do much else when he's led into a wheelchair. It's premature. It's too soon.
He remembers getting hooked to an IV, but not to the oxygen tank or being stripped and prepped on his back. Not the steroid injections for the baby's underdevelopment. Or his labor being induced, his legs pulled to the stirrups. Merlin feels like he's in and out of his surroundings, washing over colors and lights, lost between panic and serenity.
"Arthur, where," Merlin says, whimpering as pain rips through him, burning.
Gwaine's face blurs against the lamps.
"Morgana's with him, don't worry," he says, clutching on when Merlin's right hand scrambles to hold the cot's railing. "He's fine. You're ready for this. Push at the next contraction, Merlin."
It doesn't feel like pushing and releasing; it's pressure. Building and building, for lifetimes, until Merlin's sure he'll tear open a fissure of the universe.
And then it releases entirely, leaving him dizzy and exhausted, Merlin's belly deflating as the baby slides out of him with a gush of amniotic fluid.
Gwaine laughs like he's gone mad, wiggling Merlin's curled hand between his own.
"It's a girl, Merlin," he says. Gwaine leans over, smacking a loud, affectionate kiss on the top of Merlin's black hair.
"It's a fucking beautiful girl."
"Girl," Merlin repeats in a soft, tired murmur, letting the busy hospital activity around him lull Merlin into a semi-doze.
*
He opens his eyes to see Arthur in a loose-fitting shirt from home and one of the scrub pants.
"You should be resting," Merlin whispers, catching his attention.
Arthur straightens up in the guest chair, joy and relief and shame mingling in his expression.
"They said you should have stayed outside waiting," he says, tonelessly. "Being off your feet and not under stress."
"Don't," Merlin sighs, rubbing his eyes. "Please don't… start blaming yourself." He then glances back at Arthur, noticing the powder blue fabric bundle in his arms.
Merlin's lips quirk.
"Who's this…?" he asks, whispering, eagerness clear in his smile.
Arthur smiles back, getting on his feet in record time (considering the past month he was unable to).
"Why don't you say hello to him?" He shifts the bundle in Merlin's waiting arms.
A little pink, scrunched face. Dark hair capping a little, fleshy head.
"He's… utterly hideous." Merlin sniffles, blinking back tears. "I love him," he exclaims, grinning toothy at Arthur.
"Me too," Arthur says, quietly, ruffling Merlin's hair.
"Where's…?"
"She's in the NICU. On tubes for her breathing, but Alice believes her blood pressure is stable and there's no infection or trauma." Arthur sits back down in the chair, rubbing at his stomach absently, cringing a moment. "They didn't tell me you were in labor until it was over," he says. "Apparently it was one of the fastest births they're seen in a while."
"We didn't pick out names," Merlin points out.
"Rest now, Merlin. There'll be time enough for that."
"I like Freya."
"We're not naming our daughter after your dead cat," Arthur tells him with a suspicious amount of patience.
"Constantine."
"That's my grandfather's name and absolutely no."
"Kyduan." Merlin rocks the bundle as the newborn squalls, a tiny, chubby fist waving. "How about Kay?"
Arthur leans his cheek on a hand, staring at them.
"Kay," he says, fondly. "It's perfect."
"I guess it's fair you get to name our daughter then."
"Gyneth," Arthur suggests. Merlin looks at him doubtfully. "Gwyneth?"
A snicker. "Gwen will be flattered."
"…Maybe we should think on that one," Arthur admits, turning red.
Merlin sweeps a finger across Kay's cheek, humming.
"There'll be time for that, right?"
*