Chapter Text
Sebastian’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead. He blinks. “Sorry—What?” He’s glad he put his coffee down; otherwise, he probably—definitely—would’ve spilled it all over himself.
All straight-faced and matter of fact, Andrea repeats: “We need you to help Charles with his rut.”
Sebastian takes off his sunglasses for this absurd conversation; Andrea should be able to see the incredulity in his eyes.
“No, no, I heard you the first time,” he says, placing them on the little round table between them. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “I was just wondering if you heard what you said.”
Andrea exhales a sigh. He pinches the bridge of his nose and then rubs at tired eyes. He looks run ragged. “I know I am, uh, asking for too much, but I wouldn’t have if it hadn’t come to this.”
Sebastian’s brows furrow. “What do you mean?”
“Charles’ rut last time was not so…good. Very bad, actually.” Andrea hesitates, looking down for a moment. He’s fiddling with his phone, turning it this way and that. Sebastian can tell he really doesn’t want to expose his driver’s privacy and vulnerability like that, and Sebastian appreciates the loyalty.
The situation must be dire enough because Andrea reluctantly proceeds: “Charles, he kept screaming in pain. They’re getting…uh…worse. And longer. This time, I fear it will be very bad, and I worry for him. He won’t eat. As alphas, Joris and I can’t look after him because he gets too aggressive if we come close.”
“Well, couldn’t you get one of those Service Omegas or Betas to take care of him? I know Ferrari has a contract with one of the major organizations.” There’s a part of Sebastian, one he refuses to acknowledge, that doesn’t quite like the thought of Charles with some stranger, especially when he’s in such a vulnerable state, but Sebastian’s nothing if not pragmatic.
Andrea huffs. “Don’t you think we have considered that?” he says, “We tried, but Charles won’t let anyone in his suite, let alone touch him.”
This has Sebastian straightening up. He raises a brow. “And what makes you think he’ll even want me there? What if he also tells me to fuck off?”
Andrea drums his fingers on the tabletop. There’s a moment of quiet as Andrea regards him with a look, one that suggests Sebastian’s stupid for still not getting the point. Sebastian refuses to be unnerved. Andrea pointedly looks Sebastian in the eyes and says: “It’s you he keeps calling out for. He doesn’t want anyone near him but you.”
Well, fuck. Okay. Now Sebastian can’t help but avert his gaze. He really wishes he’d kept his damned sunglasses on. He ducks his head, tugging awkwardly at his heated ear. He doesn’t know what to say. He cups a hand around his coffee, letting the heat centre his thoughts. He lifts it up to his lips and takes a sip, just to have something to do, for a moment to process and catalog. Thankfully or not, Andrea doesn’t seem to be expecting an answer from him because he just slides his chair back and gets up.
“Think about it. It is completely up to you, if you want to or not,” Andrea says, reaching into his jacket pocket.
He slides something over to Sebastian. “In case you make up your mind.”
Sebastian glances down. It’s a keycard.
“Now I’m not saying you take care of him like that,” Andrea continues. Sebastian still can't believe they're having this conversation. “But please just make sure he eats. He cares for you. A lot. And I know you care about him.”
He takes leave after, and Sebastian’s left alone in this little nook between motor homes he’d sought out just to have a breather in between media obligations, only to be accosted by his ex-teammate’s babysitter (trainer).
Sebastian folds his arms on the table and drops his head down with a groan. He just wanted a bit of peace and quiet.
In spite of his better judgment, in spite of all the reasons Charles and Sebastian together aren’t a good idea, Sebastian finds himself standing in front of Charles’ suite hours later. He cares, and that’s his weakness.
Sebastian swipes the keycard and lets himself in. It’s a standard suite issued to omega/alpha dynamic-types to ride out their cycles. He’s cautious at first, not knowing what to expect. But when he makes his way inside, Charles is nowhere in sight. Most likely locked away in his room.
The suite is saturated with pheromones. Charles’ scent pervades the area, a glaring mark advertising his territory. Sebastian feels like he’s walked face-first into a brick wall cemented with scent. He stops short, blinking, almost disoriented by the overwhelming attack on his senses, and then sneezes. He scrunches his nose; it still prickles after. The scent is so potent that he can taste it on his tongue, and it makes his mouth water. Sebastian wets his bottom lip with his tongue and then presses his lips together. He stifles a whimper; he can feel himself leak slick almost instinctively in response to the heady scent.
He’s barely stepped foot inside when his ears pick up the rush of padded footsteps.
Charles bursts out of one of the rooms, managing to startle Sebastian. Sebastian’s surprised Charles didn’t manage to break the door handle with the ferocity he’d heaved the door open.
Charles looks out of it, to say the least. Nostrils flared; he seems to be tracking the source of the scent invading his space. He’s dressed in only a pair of well-used sweatpants. He’s flushed red, his skin shining with a sheen of sweat. His eyes appear blown-out. There are deep bags under them. Not to mention his hair, which is all mussed, standing up in odd places, like Charles has been pulling on it.
Charles falters when his gaze lands on Sebastian; he seems frozen by the sight of him.
Sebastian’s own gaze flits down, flits up, and then flits down again. He swallows. It’s impossible to ignore the elephant in the room. In this case, the elephant bulging from under the cover of Charles’ sweatpants. He has to force himself to drag his gaze back up to Charles’ face.
Charles’ wearing an expression of disbelief and wariness; his eyes are still riveted on Sebastian. He shakes his head and then blinks a few times. “Seb…?” he breathes out, hopeful yet hesitant, like he’s afraid of the illusion shattering.
“Yeah, Puppy,” Sebastian says. “It’s me.”
Charles sucks in a sharp inhale. "I smelled—Your scent…I couldn’t believe—I thought—'' He stops, and then says: “Seb, you came.” His voice comes out in a whimper. The relief in just those few words is palpable.
Now that he’s confirmed Sebastian’s presence, Charles is visibly struggling to stay in place. His fists are clenched so tight that his knuckles are white and he’s shuffling his feet restlessly. Even this amount of restraint is commendable given his rut-addled state.
To put him at ease, Sebastian holds his arms open in invitation.
And Charles doesn’t waste a second. He practically lunges across the room and throws himself at Sebastian. Sebastian’s breath punches out of him, and he staggers back a few steps as Charles headbutts him in the chest. He can’t help but let out a breathless huff of amusement at the blatant eagerness. He cradles the back of Charles’ head, hugging Charles to himself. He finds himself craving the contact as much as Charles.
Charles is burning up because of his rut, so he’s like a furnace in Sebastian’s embrace. A restless one, at that.
He crowds into Sebastian, backing him up against the wall. “Easy, Charles,” Sebastian laughs. “I have nowhere else to go.” But he still lets himself be manhandled.
Next thing Sebastian knows, Charles has shoved his nose into the crook of his neck. Nostrils flared and lips curled back, exposing his canines, Charles inhales lungful of Sebastian’s scent like he’s drinking it in. His lashes flutter, his eyes practically rolling back. It’s followed by the most wanton moan. “Seb,” Charles pants out. “You smell so good.” He nuzzles Sebastian with more force, like he wants to burrow into him.
He starts to rub his cheek against Sebastian’s scent gland, eliciting a soft gasp out of Sebastian. Sebastian trembles as Charles continues to impart his own scent onto him until the two coalesce. “I missed you,” Charles says. His hands squeeze Sebastian’s waist. “So much.”
Sebastian swallows, closing his eyes. “Me too,” he finds himself admitting. It comes out soft, merely a whisper.
Charles is utterly engrossed in the act of covering Sebastian’s scent with his own. He continues scent-marking Sebastian until he’s saturated with Charles’ scent, rendering Sebastian’s own scent imperceptible. And Sebastian lets him go at it to his heart’s content. An indulgence he only allows Charles. No one else.
Sebastian finds himself tilting his head back, baring more of his throat to Charles, basically offering himself up on a platter. It’s instinctive, mostly. It definitely pleases Charles; he makes a sound of approval in his throat and then frees a hand to cup Sebastian’s nape. It’s an act that’s entirely possessive. Sebastian loses the ability to think as soon as Charles starts mouthing at his jawline, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses and sucking bruises into every inch of exposed skin.
It’s only when Charles gets a little careless with his teeth grazing Sebastian’s mating gland that Sebastian finally puts a stop to it. “No, Charles—Don’t.” He threads his fingers through the short hair curling at Charles’ nape and tugs, pulling him back by the scruff. It’s enough to get Charles to comply. Charles pulls away from Sebastian, albeit with great reluctance.
Sebastian cradles Charles’ cheek, and Charles’ eyes flutter shut. He melts into the touch, all docile. Sebastian caresses Charles’ unruly hair with his other hand, combing through it, gently scratching his scalp. A low, pleased rumble begins to emanate from Charles’ chest. Charles butts his head back against Sebastian’s palm. It elicits a warm smile out of Sebastian.
“Oh, Puppy, just look at you,” Sebastian says softly, his touches just as soft. His heart can’t help but soften around Charles no matter how much he tries to put his walls up.
But Charles' eyes open abruptly, and he pulls away with a jerk. His expression is morphed into one of displeasure. “I am not a pup.” Bristling, Charles stretches himself up to his full height with his chest puffed and shoulders pulled back. He snarls: “When will you take me seriously?”
But Sebastian isn’t impressed with his alpha posturing. He frowns, meeting Charles’ heated gaze head on. “You’re acting like a pouty puppy right now.”
Charles’ resolve crumbles in an instant, deflating in the face of Sebastian’s disapproval. He can’t seem to stand disappointing Sebastian in any way. Charles ducks his head, chastised. His jaw tightens.
Sebastian parts his lips, soothing words ready on his tongue. But then Charles speaks up. “Why won’t you just give me a chance?” Long lashes frame Charles’ lowered gaze. His voice is so raw and vulnerable that it hurts Sebastian’s heart to hear him sound like that. Charles speaks softly at first but then he raises his head, determined. “Please, Seb. Let me prove myself to you—I can take care of you. I want to take care of you. So badly, I want you to be mine.”
Sebastian blinks, a bit caught off guard. There’s quiet in the room as he searches for the right words. They don’t come. His resolve wavers a bit and—for a moment, a single breath—he almost gives into his own yearning. It’s hard to be rational with Charles pleading at him with those eyes, but, finally, he settles on what’s better for the both of them. In the long run, at least. Even if it may not seem that way right now.
He gives Charles a soft, sombre look laden with regret.
“Charles, you know why,” he says, as gently as possible. “We’ve talked about this before.”
“It is not just some puppy crush, Seb,” Charles bites out, face twisting like he’s tasted something bitter. “It’s been more than a year and you still won’t believe that I am serious about claiming you. I don’t know how else to prove that my feelings won’t change.”
It’s kind of sweet that even now, when they’re standing apart, Charles’ body seems to be leaning towards Sebastian almost instinctively, as if his body is hardwired to gravitate towards him. He doesn’t think Charles is even aware he’s doing it.
Charles seems to have it in his head that he’s the one who needs to prove himself, when he isn’t the problem. It’s Sebastian. As cliché as it sounds.
Charles is an alpha in his prime—so talented and beautiful and radiant. He has people of all dynamics fawning over him left and right; a sea of potential suitors ready to throw themselves at his feet. And this is the age for him to experiment and figure out what he wants and doesn't. Sebastian wants Charles to live his life, experience several relationships, break some hearts, less get his heart broken; not get tied down to him—an omega who’s nothing special and past his peak fertility window.
“Chin up, Charles.” Sebastian nudges Charles’ chin, which usually elicits a reluctant dimpled smile whenever Charles is upset. But this time, he’s met with a tight-lipped frown. Sebastian still gives him a comforting smile in return. “You're young and so, so easy to love. I promise you: there will be others, okay? Way better options than an aged omega like me.”
Charles’ frown deepens, dimples carving skin. “Don’t put yourself down like that,” Charles snaps. “You know I do not like it when you do that. When will you see yourself like I do?”
Charles gets closer, and Sebastian has to fight the urge to step back. “You don’t get to decide for me,” Charles says, maintaining eye contact with Sebastian. Sebastian swallows. He feels like he’s being crowded by a starving caged animal. “Seb, whether you accept it or not, I belong to you. You just need to decide whether you want to belong to me. You’re it for me, okay.”
Charles’ close enough to kiss, close enough that Sebastian can feel his breath brush his lips. Sebastian parts his lips slightly, wanting. He can already taste Charles, is already familiar with the taste of him and yet yearns to reacquaint himself with it. He finds himself tilting his head closer, seeking, as if his movements are being navigated by an invisible string.
His heart thuds rapidly in his ribcage. Sebastian closes his eyes for a moment to get a grip of himself and exhales. “Don’t want you to be tied down before your life has even begun. Don’t want you to regret it down the road,” he says, a confession against Charles’ lips.
“What’s the point of getting to live my life if it’s not with you,” Charles says. “I’ll spend the rest of our years proving your doubts wrong. C’mon, Seb, let me have you…I know you want to.”
Sebastian trembles. It would just be so easy to give in. Let Charles claim him for life with a mating brand. He places a palm on Charles’ bare chest; the skin is hot under it. He presses his lips together, inhaling deeply through his nose. Charles’ heady scent washes over him. It’s intoxicating. He needs to think. In order for that to happen— With self-restraint he didn't know he possessed Sebastian pushes at Charles.
A growl erupts out of Charles. Charles looks as startled as Sebastian, and clamps his jaws shut. He takes a few steps back from Sebastian even though it seems to pain him to do so. There’s an unhinged look in his eyes now. Charles raises both hands to his hair; he runs them through unruly curls and then pulls.
“I didn’t take you to be this cruel, Seb,” Charles says, utterly aggrieved. “You keep dangling it in front of me and then taking it away. Are you just here to torture me with what I can’t have?”
Sebastian almost reaches out for him but catches himself as soon as he realizes what he’s doing. It’s better to keep his hands to himself for now.
“Fuck, Charles, I’m not,” Sebastian says. He rubs a hand over his face. “Just give me a moment.”
He takes a breath, exhales, and then says, “You’re in a rut, Charles. You’re not in the right state of mind to be making permanent decisions like this…” He runs a distressed hand through his own hair. “I’ll help you through your rut. But you can’t...Promise me you won’t claim me during it.”
Charles looks distraught. “I would never.” He shakes his head. He pauses, and then with a resolute look in his eyes, reassures: “I won’t, if you don’t want me to.”
Sebastian nods. “Okay”—He swallows—“If you still want to, after, we’ll talk about it. Okay?”
Charles replies softly, “Okay.” His demeanour has changed now that there’s a possibility of Sebastian reconsidering on the table. He’s smiling again, in that endearing boyish way of his. It never fails to charm Sebastian.