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Everything is warm.
Like cinnamon flavored honey and perfectly toasted marshmallows.
It’s not Juleka, in this moment he can smell both her and his mother in a perfectly distinct way. His family all have that key sea salt tinge to their profiles— and as of this moment, he’s relatively sure he’d know it anywhere. But this sugary warm gooey smell that’s wafting off his sister fills him up in a deliriously perfect way. So much so that he can’t help but lean over at the dinner table subconsciously. His nose twitching like crazy as the lingering odor tickles his skin with feather light drags.
It’s not Juleka, it’s her side purse that’s been placed in a messy heap on the kitchen table.
Calling to him, begging to know his deepest secrets and most alluring desires before—
….before—
“Luka!” Juleka screeches at him.
Uh oh, busted.
His eyes shoot open— he didn’t even realize that he had closed them if he’s being honest. Without much evaluation though, Luka’s pretty sure he can’t talk his way out of this though— his nose is basically pressed flush to the table, and their mother’s ol’ reliable supper of ‘cream of wheat soup’ is now coating the entirety of his elbow and upper arm
Not to mention his keen-eyed mother is staring at him, while Juleka just looks irritated. Her red eyes blinking in annoyance when she asks, “What’s your deal?”
To which, Luka immediately retracts away from the sugary sweet scent. He tries to ignore the ache his body feels moving away from it— tries. Instead he just levels her stare back and tries his best to ignore how his cheeks flushed a brilliant pink as he begins removing his elbow from the bowl, “It’s nothing! Just…” Luka sighs, shaking his arm as he leans up from the table. A striking screech from his chair across the weathered oak floors accenting his ascent.
Juleka doesn’t let up— if anything she’s acting like an Alpha. The kind he can’t stand. The kind who raise their chins a bit higher with their teeth barred just to watch others quake with fear, “Just..?” She poses.
He rolls his eyes, annoyed as he drops his bowl into the sink and quickly dips his arm under the cold faucet, “You just smell like… a uh…”
Juleka just keeps staring though. The cogs in her head start to turn at a painfully slow rate and when she opens her mouth to accuse Luka, Anarka sits back in her chair with more force than her son had moments ago. The squeak of the chair against the floor was noticeably louder than Luka’s just a few seconds ago.
“Jules, be a dear an’ hit the dishes fer me, won’t ye lass?”
“But—!”
“Thank ye, loov. I just knew ye’d understand.” Anarka’s smile is sweet as she adjusts her red-rimmed glasses. Calculated. Her cool blue eyes tell her daughter to ‘shut up and do as she’s told’ if she doesn’t want hellfire coming her way anytime soon.
Juleka nods an affirmation, taking time to take another bite of her nearly cooled soup— by the time Anarka turns to address her oldest though, he’s gone. Always quiet. With the stealth of a snake. He doesn’t need to know she knows his identity, but damn if he doesn’t make it too obvious what his attribute is sometimes.
Though at the end of the day she’s still his mother, which means she knows right where he likes to go when he’s had enough of their shit.
So Anarka throws off her black apron that’s adorned with an embroidered ‘ROCK AND ROLL’ and sets it over the back of her chair before making her way to the upper deck, making sure to mind her footwork and avoid the creaking boards in exchange for the more silent ones.
She doesn’t want to spook him if…
The thought alone makes Anarka bite her lip, she’d hoped it wouldn’t be…
But if it is, then it’s her duty to make haste with the situation.
When she appears at the top, the first thing she notices is the full moon tonight, an old sea shanty coming to mind about the word ‘Lunatic’ and how it’s derived from the madness the moon brings. Though her brain doesn’t stay focused on it long, she’s more or less grimacing at the deck. It glistens in the spots that got properly swabbed earlier in the day— she regrets to glance at the boards that were missed. A problem for another night.
Right now she’s busy keeping her pace light and precise. She’s busy trying to hurry before Luka decides to take a walk or worse—
But she finds him.
Messy blue hair and fear behind his round turquoise eyes. His cheeks are flushed red and he looks…
Anarka sighs, he looks a bit too much like his conveniently absent omega-father.
She props her elbow so that she can rest her chin on the flattest part of her hand, “What’s bitin’ yer ass, lad?”
His nose is running, eyes soft and wet.
The nineteen-year-old can’t muster much else other than, “I just don’t feel good, Ma.” Through sniffles.
He looks like a child again, and truly it's cathartic to see her big bad tattoo-having, piercing-addicted, motorcycle-riding, superhero son be so… vulnerable?
She misses him relying on her more.
Anarka pays attention to how the hairs on the back of his neck are raised straight. How his hands shake and tremble. How Luka’s thighs quiver on each exhale he manages.
Her voice is so careful compared to its normally thunderous quality, “Aye? Because I think ye may be—“
“Don’t.” He snaps.
It’s so uncharacteristic for him. Luka was never one to have a harsh tone, he’s always calm, nurturing. Always offering to hold his sister and mother when they need him, helpful with every chore. His only selfish habit really is his need for a ridiculous amount of blankets because of how cold he gets and—
Anarka bites her lip hard as her brain wracks over the signs that in retrospect, seem obvious— had she really not noticed?
“Luka.” She sighs, “If ye can smell it then… I think ye already know what it implies. Ye should let me take ye to a doctor, maybe even—“
He shakes his head adamantly, “No. No, I’m a Beta, Ma. I’ve been a Beta my entire life. I’m registered and everything because—“
“An’ sometimes, kin are late bloomers.” She leans down, cupping his cheek. Luka easily leans into the cool touch, it soothes his flushed skin.
It nearly makes him purr with delight—
Nearly. He’s careful.
Because the audible confirmation of what he thinks could be going on might just kill him.
“Don’t tell anyone. Please.”
Anarka hesitates. Staring at him for just a moment. Knowing how bad of an idea it can be, knowing this might be the one time she needs to tell her son that she knows more than him.
“We need to tell Jules. We need to know which of yer friends are Alphas at least.”
He just shakes his head back and forth like a child throwing a mini tantrum. His knees pull to his chest, and his face twists up with the slightest hint of pain. Anarka notices the intense beads of sweat that are appearing on his forehead as he whispers, “There’s just four.”
Fuck.
Fuck he should’ve said three.
She crooks her head, “Do you know which one ye sniffed?”
Luka shakes his head no quickly, “I’ve never been able to…”
“Smell them?”
He bites his lip so hard he tastes the metallic tang and nods.
“Who are they?”
He slides his hand up his face, tracing it back up through his hair in a quick motion, “Alix and Adrien. Adrien will be hard to avoid because of the band but—“
“That’s only two, Luka.”
“Oh yeah, Alya Cesaire. Sometimes I forget her.” He tries to laugh.
Hoping to whatever deity is listening that his mom doesn’t—
“And the fourth?”
His lip busts with blood under the pressure of the new tiny fangs in his mouth.
“Oh, son.” She’s leaning down in an instant, unwrapping her scarf so that she can wipe and clean at the indentions he’s just made on his lip.
“It’ll stain.” He tries to complain— but Anarka just pets him on the head as she wipes away fresh blood. Giving her son a soft-sweet smile as she works. It’s mostly rooted in pity. “And ye think I give a shit aboot tha’?” She laughs loud enough that at this hour, anyone along the Seine could probably hear her bellowing.
He mutters a quick, “No.”
Anarka leans over, placing a quick kiss to his forehead when she notices the blood clotting. He’ll probably have a nice pair of matching indents there for a bit. It’s a bit of a giveaway, but luckily it’s summer and Luka has time for the scars to heal before he has to see anyone again.
She leans over the boat, soaking the scarf with the water and giving it a twist to wring it out more properly of the caked blood. It’s used as a more proper rag this time, wiping it over his forehead, cheeks, and neck until the shaking stops and Luka is able to breathe evenly again.
“We should get ye inside. The heat won’t be easy, at least, it never was fer yer father— even once we mated.”
He nods.
A forbidden topic there, his father.
“Yeah.” Luka shakes his head, really leaning into the cool sensation that the rag gives him as she sweeps it over his jaw, “That’s… probably a good idea.”
He really does have the best mom. She makes quick work of the laundry that he’s been procrastinating for the past few months. Quickly gathering it up while he manages to get himself into the bathroom.
As he strips, he’s becoming all too aware of himself in the mirror. Like he’s suddenly self conscious of every curve and muscle. He’s incredibly tall, a hulking figure that anyone in their right mind would associate as an Alpha or a Beta within a moment based on stature alone. Even his hands are big. Long, calloused fingers too. As he strips out of his underwear and steps into the shower, he’s left just staring at how his dick is curved painfully hard up to his belly button.
He’s certainly well endowed too… which… normally lends itself to being an —
Luka slams his forehead against the shower wall.
Why does he have to be an— FUCK!
He breathes a soft distress cry into the beating water of the shower just as Anarka finishes making his bed. Her heart pounds rapidly, because she cares. Because it’s unfair for a young man to present at his age. It’s so late, two months off from absolute confirmation and he’s so easily cucked out of being a Beta by his fucking genetics.
She makes sure she leaves a towel on the door handle for when he finishes, a few bottles of water on his now cleaned off dresser, and a relatively bland granola bar that is more for nutrition than taste.
Anarka seems happy with herself, just for a moment at least. She takes a second to make sure the blankets she’s plopped at the end of his bed are clean and smell mostly of detergent— Until she hears a loud crash of porcelain that has her rushing back into their kitchen.
Juleka is just standing there doubled over in pain.
The source of the crash is Juleka’s purse that has been flung into what had been a cabinet. Though the force of the throw seems to have left nothing but wood and porcelain shards along the floors.
“J-Jules?” Anarka asks softly.
She stares up at her. Eyes slitted, body shivering— a snarl on her upper lip and a large pair of fangs that could only belong to a rutting Alpha.
Gods forbid— can she just have a fucking break today?
“Get that thing away from me, Ma. Now.” Anarka follows her daughter’s gaze to where the bag rests, and doesn’t have a chance to ask another word before Juleka mutters, “I went to her house today after school and—.”
Anarka carefully takes a step towards the bag, “Aye?”
“She sent me home with something to model.” Juleka growls, letting her claws sink into the laminate on the kitchen floor as her mother tracks around the room to quickly remove the bag and peek inside.
It’s a simple garment, just a low cut shirt that is perfectly embroidered with the ‘M’ that their aspiring fashion designer friend is known to put on all of her work.
‘Who’s the fourth?’
It hits Anarka like a fucking truck as she grits, “Stay here.” To her daughter.
The quick pace she makes to her son's room is greeted by the sound of the shower running still— thankfully . She drops the bag on the floor but makes a careful move to drop the shirt on Luka’s bed, right on the new set of pillows.
It isn’t much but…
Anarka doesn’t really have time to think with how much she now has to do. Drag her daughter through the house and lock her into her bedroom with less finesse than she gave Luka.
It’s not as if she cares for Luka more, but rut and heat are very different and Anarka isn’t risking getting punched by a newly presented Alpha in rut.
And with both doors locked—
The house grows quiet once the two are properly put away into their bedrooms. And thank the Gods- she supposes, for the mandate of ‘sound proof-scent proof’ building materials.
She used to curse the taxes she had to pay when they built the ship.
But now?
Well.
Anarka supposes she’s thankful for their damn government or whatever.
But only just this once.
Luka dry heaves as the shower water falls over his naked form. The cold knob is turned all the way up to max but it’s still not enough, his entire body aches with a foreign throb of molten heat despite the chilly tendrils of ice cold water dripping over his form.
He doesn’t want to look down again, but with his head crooked and his gaze downcast, he’s left with no option other than to stare at his dick.
He’s never seen his tip this red, veins more pronounced than usual as his precum leaks and smears just below his navel.
I want to cum.
But he doesn’t.
His mind is racing as the temptation just to grind his cock against the cold shower wall grows more and more intense until he’s basically on the verge of tears. Luka’s head hurts and he just—
Fuck, he just wants to cum!
I hate it!
I hate it!
I hate it!
I hate it!
I hate it!
Luka’s head falls forward with a solid ‘thunk’ against the shower wall. He's not thinking, he’s really not even sure he’s breathing as he lets his hand trail down past his straining pectoral muscles and just past his belly button.
He’s jacked of dozens of times before and then some — why is he so… so fucking stressed about this?
“Fuck it.” He growls, letting his hand wrap around his cock right at the base and pull one solid stripe up his aching shaft.
And honestly, that’s all it takes.
Luka whimpers.
His hips twitching involuntarily to make the poor boy stroke himself through the intense waves of orgasm. His eyes are clamped shut but he can still feel how his cock absolutely spills itself over his knuckles is a mess of slippery white.
“Fuck… fuck…”
It’s so fucking different.
And when he opens his eyes, he’s surprised that he actually does feel a bit better. Despite how disgusted he is with himself and his new lack of self control.
Luka’s always calm, cool, collected.
So the lingering ache that had been making his head swim really motivates his need to feel better again. To be able to quickly wash off the remnants of his shame down the shower drain and actually soap his body down to his toes.
He’s thorough— because he doesn’t know when the next time he’ll get a shower will be. He spends the moments of clarity trying to wrack his brain for the biology classes he took as a freshman as he works the plush towel over his damp hair.
Just staring at himself feels so foreign, and he doesn’t even want to begin to think about how wet he feels around his ass. He just doesn’t want to go there.
Deep breaths.
Patience.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
When he opens his eyes, he’s feeling even better than before.
He’s calm.
He’s okay.
He’s still himself.
But just to make sure, just to prove it, he has to really look himself over in the mirror.
Everything is okay.
He’s going to be okay.
He remembers the first time an Omega presented near him. He couldn’t smell it, Beta’s and unpresented secondary genders can’t usually. But he remembers helping the guy— Nino?
Yeah. One of Adrien’s close friends.
He remembers now how the boy cried, how he must have felt at that moment. The pure anxiety. Luka wracks his brain for the memory as he gently applies the stick of deodorant to his underarms. Taking quick note that he should probably refresh his hair dye soon— it’s looking a bit pale and not quite as ‘in your face’ as he normally likes it to be.
Nino though— what had happened that day?
—
“Everyone is going to hate me, avoid me.”
“I won’t.” Luka just keeps carrying the boy in the directions he insists are the way back to his apartment, “And no one else will either. You’re an Omega? So what, you’re still you. You just smell a little different now.”
—
Luka nods the affirmation back to himself.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
I can do this.
He walks out of the shared bathroom that connects his and Juleka’s room. Being sure to turn the “occupied” sticker over so she would know he’s no longer inside before slinking back into his room.
He manages about three steps before the slight curve of anxiety badgers him. He doesn’t normally lock the door leading back to his room, but the tickling sensation that tells him he’s not safe unless he knows all the entrances are controlled makes him shiver into submission.
Inhale.
Exhale.
He’s okay.
And when he turns to really look at his room, he’s never appreciated his mother more in his life. The lights are dim and his dirty laundry has all been loaded up for him. There’s water and snacks and a little pile of blankets at the end of the bed that a foreign part of his body longs to make a nest with on his bed.
His normally flat pillows have been replaced with larger, much more plush variants. And on the top of the pile there’s a tiny pink sticky note with a coffee stain that reads:
Text if you need anything. Gone out to the store to get supplies for the two of ya.
Jules is rutting, do not leave your room.
- Ma
She really is the best.
He knows it’s probably a waste to get dressed at this point, but the after-shower ritual demands that he throw on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt minimum.
Luka normally throws on a pair of gray sweat pants and a hoodie too. Wool socks to boot, he’s such a cold sleeper. Truthfully, he blames Sass for it. But tonight, he thinks he should probably avoid overdressing in case…
There’s a flash of himself back in the shower, desperately jacking off as white spills over his knuckles.
He shakes his head quickly.
Inhale.
Exhale.
And instead busies himself with inspecting the blankets his mother brought him. Carefully laying each on his bed until he notices a wadded up article near those two new pillows.
His mother is a saint and he will never ever bring up the single missed piece of clothing.
It’s just a small black thing that he doesn’t immediately recognize, probably a pair of boxers or something considering how sheer the fabric looks.
So he easily picks it up, ready to chunk it across the room when it passes just under his nose.
Fuck.
Fuck.
He immediately dives into the makeshift nest, itching at his feverish skin as he hauls the garment to his nose and inhales the scent of toasted marshmallow sweet like it’s a drug he just can’t get enough of.
Truly it’s the worst kind of drug:
Extremely addictive, limited quantity.
But he doesn’t care.
He’s certainly not focusing on his breathing anymore as he ruts his hips down against the bed and bites at the pillow nearest his mouth. The moans that tumble between his lips are downright raunchy, and the hypnotic ache coupled with the perfectly sweet scent—
The yelp that comes from between his lips as he rocks his hips down one last time is the least masculine noise he’s pretty sure that he’s ever made in his life. His cock spills into the fresh pair of boxers only to leave a humiliating large wet spot at his front.
Aching.
Truly aching.
Even now that he’s come, it’s not like before.
The ache persists till his cock is right back where it was a second ago. Begging for attention as he huffs the bitter vanilla scent like it’s his only connection left to the physical world.
Fuck.
He’s so fucked.
Why?
Why… of all things…—
Did he have to be an Omega?
Life adjusted quietly for the family of three.
Both teens went on mandatory birth control.
Both teens volunteered to keep their secondaries a secret for the sake of their social standings as Betas.
Their week’s absence was explained away by a quick doctor’s note and an explanation from their mother about an awful case of Bronchitis. Which everyone seemed to accept gracefully.
It didn’t really matter if the code on the doctor’s visit didn’t match the filibuster-like speeches his mother was giving about the war effort of battling both twins into taking their Amoxicillin.
Scent blockers became a new norm, and before long the little family was truly back to normal. The band came back to play, and the black shirt that had plagued the underside of Luka’s pillow slowly lost its scent.
The only bad thing?
He knew who it belonged to.
Sometimes he wished Marinette Dupain-Fucking-Cheng didn’t have such amazing skills. Not that he'd even need to see the beautifully embroidered ‘M’ to know its creator.
To know that he’d basically used her his entire heat without her explicit permission.
The guilt makes his stomach twist, and despite always being such an ally for her—
Despite forming a relationship with her where the meek girl would go to him for advice and questions and everything—
Luka purposely worked on distancing himself.
He made himself scarce after band practice and quickly made bee lines out of the room when he noticed her lingering nearby. Luka made damn sure on the days that they had band practice that he used a triple layer of scent blocker and a gentle dot of peppermint oil beneath his own nose.
It wasn’t questioned, none of it. But if it was he knew he’d be able to explain away his need to escape by saying he’s busy working on college stuff, or even that he’s just feeling kinda tired.
It works. And it was working fine until he comes back from a heavy practice session one afternoon. He’s sweating like crazy from the summer heat, fresh on the cusp of the August sun.
He’s far overdue for a cold shower to get the stink of sweat off his lean form, and that’s exactly what he’s about to treat himself to.
But when he opens his bedroom door, the scent of marshmallows hits him like a truck. Theyre not normal though. Honey-soaked, bitter-vanilla, sour-rancid.
His eyes quickly trace the entirety of his room until he finds its source.
Marinette, of course.
She’s sitting crisscross on his bed with his comforter wrapped around her shoulders. Perfect, tiny, bead shaped tears rolling down her round cheeks.
Fuck.
She’s in his nest.
She doesn’t know she’s in a nest. But she’s there, seeking comfort from his scent and the warmth of his blankets.
If there had been a chance for escape, his body physically wouldn’t let him now.
Concern crosses every single feature from his brow down to his clenching fists. He quickly shuts the entry door behind himself, laying down his guitar carefully against the wall before making a few quick strides to be at her side.
“‘Nette?” He asks, his voice beyond soft as his knee hits the plush of his bed.
“I-I’m sorry. The p-panic attack just g-got to me and I didn’t k-know where to go and your room is just r-really clean and warm. It smells g-good in here, you know?”
She’s trembling. Absolutely shivering with anxiety to the point her scent is nothing but a rancid bubble that he wants to soothe back into something sweet and delectable. The primal part of his stomach groans and grumbles, while the logical side of his brain commandeers his vessel.
“Take a breath for me, ‘Nette.”
He has to be careful.
Can’t get too close.
Just be normal.
Just be Luka.
She does as he instructs, a very careful breath just like they always do when she’s having a bad brain moment. They face one another, syncing the rhythm.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Beat.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Beat.
The little stutters of her breath even out, it marks the calm of the storm.
Luka gives her that award-winning smile, the one he always gives her when they manage to get her tune back in check, “What happened?”
Marinette blinks away from his piercing gaze, “I… I don’t know if I should talk about it.” She leans over so that her head hits his shoulder, her hand instantly landing on his forearm to let her fingers dance along his skin.
Again.
This is.
Absolutely.
Fucking.
Normal.
Behavior.
But it’s nothing like before he presented— her touch alone, the anxiety coping mechanism she’s used for years that has never bothered him has every hair on the back of his neck and arms standing straight up. Goosebumps galore erupt over his skin as the scent of honey-caramel-sweet burns his nose and the stroke of her fingers burns paths down his arm like lightning bolts.
He should push her away, make a lame excuse to leave or something— but instead he manages a quick, “Are you sure? You know I’m happy to listen to your woes anytime.”
He pauses just for a second. An emotion he hasn’t felt in a long time hitting him in a moment of weakness, “Is it Adrien?” But his tone is far from its normal friendly sounding cadence.
Marinette shakes her head no. Clearly too absorbed in her issues to notice his waver, “I wish it was an Adrien problem. No it’s just— It’s Chloe.”
She huffs loudly, moving into a position so that she’s propped on her knees. She’s still idly stroking his arm as she leans in close, “I’m just frustrated! It’s not fair that she— she wags her Alpha title around like it means something. Like it makes her better than us all. Even though I'm an Alpha. Even though there’s plenty of us in the class. She's such a jerk about it, she makes the Omegas uncomfortable and the Betas feel worthless.”
There’s a low growl that seeps from Marinette’s throat. Her lip curls as the clarity of the question comes into view and he realizes it’s Marinette’s pride as an Alpha that’s at stake here.
His bottom lip quivers as the scent of an irritated Alpha hits him full force and the burn of his nose makes him want to yield here and now.
Not that he wouldn’t of before—
He likes Marinette.
He really likes Marinette.
Luka accidentally opens his mouth too soon. Stupid Omega brain. Stupid stupid stupid. Because the noise that comes from his lips in entirely involuntary. It’s a soft cry that Omega’s make to calm Alpha’s down. His pheromones are leaking through the three layers of scent blockers and he can see it in her the moment her pupils dilate into slits for a moment.
He clears his throat around a cough and raises up from the bed to walk across the room and prop up against his dresser.
Am I just avoiding the inevitable?
Her eyes are completely focused on him, the worry of her situation with Chloe completely forgotten until Luka crosses his arms over his chest in an attempt to make himself look bigger.
Like he’s denying her unspoken question.
Like he’s trying to present himself as something else to dissuade her newfounded suspicion.
He doesn’t even hear himself say the next bit, “Maybe you should put her in her place then.”
Fuck?
What?
No.
That is not advice the normal, non-heat flushed, Luka Couffaine gives.
Marinette just blinks at him, obviously bewildered, “Like, fight her?”
Luka groans, shaking his head, “No, I mean. Fuck. Like— show her she’s not the only Alpha, I guess? Straighten your back, hold your head up high. Show her how pretty and blue your eyes get when—“
He pauses—
Pretty.
He said pretty.
And she’s staring at him.
“- when you get passionate about something.”
His hips twitch. Uncomfortable. He’s aching again. Why is it so hot now? Why is she looking at him like that?
“M-Marinette I uh— I think I’m tired or— whatever. Do you mind if I lay down and—?”
But either she takes the hint or she’s the most oblivious person in the world because she quickly jumps to her feet and grabs her bag.
“You know, you’re absolutely right, Luka! I can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner, just show her how many of us there are and don’t deal with her crap. Good idea, excellent idea—ahahhahahahhaah.”
She’s backing away, waving her hands above her head as she goes with her cheeks stained a pretty red.
He really hopes it’s the latter.
“Good luck.” He calls after her, just as his door slots into place.
Inhale.
Exhale.
But his room is covered in her scent. There’s no escaping the soft velvet warmth of toasted marshmallows, and when he turns to face his dresser.
Well.
Between how red he is in the face and the fact that his boner is disgustingly obvious in his sweatpants— It’s probably safe to say the former got her out of his room.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Luka tracks a hand back through his slightly sweaty hair.
Hes so fucked.
Marinette has never been one to pry— except with Adrien. She’ll admit back in middle school she was a bit obsessive to what was clearly and unhealthy extreme.
But with the rest of her friends there has always been healthy barriers and clear lines of which she could or couldn’t cross. Things are simpler that way, when everything is outlined in black and white without a hint of gray to concern yourself with.
That’s another reason she’s always loved hanging out with Luka.
He’s calm, sweet, always giving her comfort. But despite her own feelings, it’s always been blatantly obvious to her that Luka was in no way interested in her due to her secondary. Everything about Luka though was always warm and welcoming despite it all, and as she stepped into being a hero, it became more and more obvious that Viperion and Luka shared more than a few traits.
It didn’t take long for her to have a very similar crush on the snake holder.
Until…
Well she’d be lying if she said she’d been smart and conniving. That it was all a part of her master plan— because it was a complete accident.
—
They both slipped into the same hotel balcony from different angels, detrasformation commands on their lips.
Only Multimouse saw Viperion.
Viperion didn’t.
The transformation slipped from his lips and she only had a moment to decipher the situation before she was staring at none other than Luka Apollo Couffaine.
In the flesh.
Her tiny hands cover her mouth all too quick and her eyes are the size of dinner bowls.
Luka’s on her in an instant of absolute panic. Clasping his hand over hers. As if his hand— covering her hands—covering her mouth is going to save them from anything. As if the lack of her words will change the fact that she knows who he is.
His chest heaves, and all he can mutter is a quick, “Shit.” As they stare at each other.
They stay in that hotel room for a bit. Panic, fear, and a lot of laughter.
It’s obvious they know each other, but Luka never presses her for her identity, and Marinette has a secret wish that even if he doesn’t love Marinette… maybe he could fall in love with Multimouse instead.
—
But back on the subject of prying—
She can’t help it.
Honestly she can’t. The second she notices the tightness of his joggers and the flush of his cheeks— as soon as she notices the barest hint of a scent on him.
It’s cool.
Like wintergreen, seasalt, and cedar wrapped up in a perfect bow. She barely scented him, but she’s so sure now. It’s just that final piece of information that she needs to tip it over.
If… if it’s possible that Luka? Her Snake? Her ride or die?
Is it possible that he’s an Omega?
She discounted the possibility years ago.
Both Juleka and Luka both never adapted any form of scent, nor were they able to smell anyone.
And as far as that was considered— it seemed the twins were quite simply, Betas.
It explained Luka’s extreme calm, how he was always able to carry himself to a perfect poised decimal point far away from those who had presented.
Not to mention the cut off.
There’s a 99 percentile of people who present between 13-16 years old. The rest of the rarities fall between 17-20.
So at 19, two months before the twins would hit the magical 2-0…
Was it… was it even possible to be considered?
But she needed to know, she ached for it.
For the possibility that…
— that she might be able to court him.
But all she can remember is that conversation she overheard.
“I don’t think I could ever be with an Alpha. They’re bossy and high strung. Unless I was an Omega, then maybe I could like it.”
The visage of Luka dissolves with his perfect laugh echoing around her memory.
And within a moment of making it back home, she shucks her school books down onto her bedroom floor with a quick, “Mullo, Transform me!”
The trip back to the Seine is much quicker than her run on foot. It’s aided by her jumprope swings and in general her superpowers— shocking, truly.
It’s a lot darker now than an hour ago. Nearly nightfall to the point that when she looks overhead, she can see the stars.
The quickness of her walking is careful, practiced, poised even. When she’s came before, it’s always the same. A quick two pronged knock on the porthole window that belongs to Luka’s bedroom and within just a second he’s opening up for her.
Big goofy boyish smile and an excited invitation inside.
Crap, she’s got it bad.
But tonight isn’t about giggles and sweet smiles, it’s about figuring out if Luka is actually an Omega. Her head swirls as she stealthily shimmies along the side of the boat, oh so careful of herself as she takes a deep breath.
What is she even doing?
What an invasion of privacy.
She should leave.
Just ask him like a normal person who noticed a crisp wintermint scent on—
Oh, there it is.
The window is just barely cracked but she can smell it like a fine, aged wine. The cedar is much stronger now, only barely intertwined with the lingering hints of seasalt. It’s cracked straight down the middle with a haunting mint that has her salivating in under a millisecond.
She’s bewitched by it, drawn to the window only the be met with Luka staring at her from his bed.
He doesn’t even have pants on for Christ’s sake. Nothing but a sweat soaked tank top that leaves nothing to her imagination.
“Mousey?” He breathes.
Oh no. Why is his voice that deep? Voices shouldn’t be that deep. That rasped? That desperate?
“S-Sorry.” She manages, looking just as drunk as he does. Temptation drags her through, encouraging her fingers to push open the window that she probably should be closing.
Oops?
Luka doesn’t seem to be able to find the will to stop stroking himself despite his audience of one. Whether it’s her plush pink lips or just how tight her suit looks today— he’s really not sure what it is.
He sighs, squeezing the base of his cock in an attempt to calm the fuck down a little, “You— I know we have an open window policy and everything but you should—“ his mouth opens around a really soft, pliant moan.
They both freeze in that moment, just watching each other until Luka manages to collect his thoughts enough to speak again, “—You should probably go.”
She’s doing that thing with her fingers. That thing that lets him know the little mouse wheel in her brain is working on absolute overdrive, “I… uh… you’re an Omega?”
Luka groans, squeezing himself just a bit tighter to starve it off.
It’s weird to hear someone else say it.
Like speaking it outloud between himself and another being makes it that much more real.
Her eyes are so cold and pinpointed. Luka’s never even considered if Multimouse has a proper secondary or if she’s just a Beta. The suits have the impeccable ability to cloak their pheromones— for the sake of identity, or some other bullshit.
He’s just always been thankful— but now he’s itching, wondering, questioning himself and somewhat hoping that his meek little mouse companion is an Alpha.
There’s no way.
She exhibits every textbook trait of an Omega. Somehow he finds that incredibly attractive. The idea that she might just kiss him on the forehead and cuddle with him till it passes. Just talking about nothing and curling up together in his nest. Omega’s share heats together often for the sake of companionship. Maybe that’s what she’s offering, a friend?
He wouldn’t mind that so much…
Even if it would cost him his pride.
“Yeah. I’m—“ his cock twitches noticeably in his grip, “I’m an Omega.”
Multimouse swallows around that dry spot in her throat, “How? I mean—?“
“Late bloomer.” He shakes his head, “And my friend smells good— she was here earlier and—“
Are those tears in his eyes?
Multimouse feels her spine straighten, fingers twitching as she takes a solid step forward that has them both counting the seconds in between each breath they manage.
“She’s an Alpha. She doesn’t know I’m an Omega but…” he’s just barely moving his fingers now. Out of breath but unable to stop, “Mousey, please leave. I-I can’t stop. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable and you’re obviously uncomfortable.”
He’s talking about me.
My pheremones did this to him.
Luka likes me.
“I’m not uncomfortable.” She says it so careful, soft. Like she’s afraid if her voice goes any louder she might scare him away.
Her tongue darts out, licking a stripe over her bottom lip, “I could… help?”
It’s definitely more of a question than a suggestion.
Luka shakes his head. Trying to ignore how heated his face feels at the suggestion, “I don’t want to make you—“
Multmouse drops to her knees infront of him, determination dripping from her features as her small hands reach forward. He can’t feel what he’s sure is warm flesh, just the hexleather that she’s wearing like a second skin as she removes the hand that’s been squeezing his cock into uncomfortable submission the past few minutes.
“Mousey?” He bites his tongue, “Are… you drooling?”
She glances up at his absolutely ruined expression for only a second before looking back at her prize. Her fingers tracing soft lines that make Luka’s back arch, hips thrusting against her touch.
Fuck.
She feels it now, the way her mouth is just slightly ajar and the slight trickle of her mouth watering becomes very apparent.
“Sorry. I’ve just— never tasted an Omega before and since I’m an Alpha—“
Luka’s eyes widen, “You’re a what?”
But she can’t stop herself, can’t explain any further as she positions herself over his bare lap to lick at his dripping tip.
Pure Ambrosia.
Thats what an Omega— that’s what Luka tastes like. She’s never sucked dick before, but she certainly can’t get enough, can’t stop herself from swallowing him down another few inches till his length is tickling the back of her throat— and she hasn’t even made it two thirds of the way down yet— Jesus.
Luka certainly has lost all care as well. Her mouth is too inviting, too perfectly wet and warm for him to care right this second. His hands have found their way into her buns, pulling just a bit from her scalp that lets her know that despite being an ameture, she must be doing a half decent job.
“Mousey, Mousey—!“
— Christ, he sounds so desperate.
So she moves, using her hands to hold his hips as still as she can as she swallows him one more perfect inch. Her tongue softly swirls down and up as she moves her head over his length.
He’s trembling in her mouth, absolutely shivering with the unadulterated anticipation.
Luka is always so selfless, so kind. Always thinking about others needs before his own— so when he breaks, when he’s just a little bit selfish? Multimouse can’t help but to ravenously pepper him with affection.
When those fingers grip her hair just a bit tighter and Luka whimpers out a soft, “Please. More. I want to— hnng.”
She gives it her everything.
She attacks him with everything she can, not minding how his cock bruises the back of her throat and certainly not minding how tight he’s pulling her hair. He’s using her like a toy to get off and she’s so okay with it. She’s happy to see how he loses control and selfishly grinds onto her tongue.
She can’t speak. But her eyes stare up at him, daring him. Commanding him.
‘Let go for me.’
And he does. Pouring himself down her throat with reckless want in less than twenty-five seconds.
That has to be a record.
Which Multimouse is more than happy to bask in. She’s more than happy to swallow each and every drop until Luka finally lets go of her hair and she’s greeted by fresh air entering her lungs.
Well— as fresh as it can be with their only clean source being the porthole, but that’s besides the point.
She’s pretty sure Luka is mumbling a bit incoherently to her. Apologizing? It sounds like he’s apologizing. But she’s much too happy from tasting his cum to care right this second.
So instead she just— swallows him down again.
He’s limp in her mouth, but the strangled cry tells her it won’t take long to get him back to where he was. In tears, begging to cum.
She just wants to see him lose it one more time, just once.
Multimouse pushes him back with an open hand, making sure that his back hits the bed and his only leverage is what he’s able to muster by using his elbows to watch her.
Her mouth is already so wet and sticky from the first load but she just wants more, she just wants to devour him a little bit further.
Multimouse’s mouth opens around his cock, showing off the trails of spit and cum that are claiming her mouth as its new home, “Be a good Omega and give me one more, okay?”
Luka shivers, unable to speak so instead he just nods as the heroine takes him down again.
She’s not nearly as gentle—he wouldn’t have necessarily called the first time gentle really. But this is different. This time she’s sucking him like her life depends on it, fondling his balls and even letting her hand trail down further to his— fuck.
FUCK!
He hates that he’s fucking wet.
He absolutely hates it.
It’s 100% natural and Multimouse certainly seems more on the side of liking it than being repulsed but still it’s just—
“Don’t.” He manages, “Scared.”
A look of realization crosses her features and her hand moves from his core back up to playing with his aching balls. Fondling them as her other hand comes up to stroke what she can’t get with her mouth.
Achingly hard again so fucking fast.
Fuck.
She’s milking him.
Fuck.
She’s not even giving him a chance to breathe.
Fuck.
“Come on, Lu.” She mumbles around him, “Feed your Alpha.”
Alpha?
His vision is white, startlingly bright in all the wrong ways. He feels like she rips it from him, commands his body to give and it happily does without Luka’s consent.
Giving and giving and giving her whatever she wants until she finally gives him reprieve from her mouth.
He’s never seen her like this. So calm, so confident. There’s just a single drop of his cum on her lips and he watches as the hungry Alpha licks it up. Like she’s jealous someone might come along and try to steal it from her.
The whimper that comes out of his mouth at the display is possibly more damning than coming down her throat twice in less than five minutes. It makes her eyes drag up to his, encourages her to crawl up his body so that she’s got her arms on either side of his head and her hips sitting on his chest.
“Are you okay?” She asks with all the care in the world l
Luka nods, his hair is so sweaty and matted against his forehead, “Surprised? I guess?”
Oh his voice sounds so wrecked.
Shakey, scratchy.
Ridiculously deep.
She nods, “I didn’t mean to attack you… are you mad?”
Luka shakes no this time, “I’m exhausted.” Which is followed by a laugh, “But I do feel better… you… are good?” He quickly sits up, holding her to him as he does so she doesn’t get the wrong idea.
Only it puts her sitting on his cock and despite how much he’s already came, the idea alone makes his cock twitch.
Fuck.
He’s so fucked.
“Wait. Sorry.” He sighs, leaning his head down to rest on her shoulder, “That was really lame.”
Multimouse smiles, letting herself pull back just enough that she can place a small kiss to the side of his temple, “Well, you are really lame.”
“Oh, shut up.” He pulls back, shaking his head with that signature boyish grin tugging at his lips, “You just sucked my dick, doesn’t that make you the lame one?”
She presses her finger into his sternum, the gleam of her silvery-blue eyes wicked, “Maybe it does. Whats your angle exactly?”
“I don’t know… I guess.” He shakes his head, “I’m flooded with a lot of horny Omega pheromones right now and a girl I find pretty just blew me? I’m fucked in the head right now.”
She pouts, “Language, Luka.”
His eyebrows knit together, “You’re really going to say that when you have my nut on your tongue?”
Her mouth opens in mock-horror. She stands abruptly, dusting off her suit and heading straight for the window.
“Mousey, don’t be mad! I was teasing.”
Oh, his voice is so whiny.
“I know.” She says, teeth tugging her grin away, “But unless you want me to jump your bones, I should probably get going and—”
It’s akward, the moment right after. Because they’re both trying to be logical and ignore the tension.
“Do you like me?” She asks, direct as always.
“Like you?” He parrots back at her, “I find you beautiful… kind. I love talking to you and everything…”
“But?” She squints her eyes, “There’s a but there.”
He groans, “But I love this girl. The one who I was telling you about?”
Me. You’re talking about Me.
She tries not to let it go to her head, the fact that he’s confessing point blank to her. If he knew, he’d probably die. She’d love to watch it, she’d love to call her transformation and mount him like a horse right this second—
“Mousey?”
“Yes, girlfriend- friend! Friend girl . Friend girl who you are in love with.” She batts her eyelashes, “So you don’t love me. But you do like me?”
Luka nods very slowly, “I don’t want you to think I didn’t enjoy it?— appreciate it. I did. Your mouth felt—“ she notices his cock twitch, gaining a bit of its hardness back.
It makes her want to put him back in her mouth, watch him cry as she forces more of that delicious cum from his length. Prove to him that he still has a few left in him.
“— really good. I just don’t want to commit something to you when I’m in love and—“
“Why don’t we be friends with benefits?”
Luka makes a strangled choke sound, his sweet little mouse partner— Fuck, he never knew such lewd thoughts could swirl in her brain.
Let alone be present in her vocabulary.
“I…”
“I could show you how to please her— no strings attached of course.”
What the fuck am I doing right now?
“And when you’re ready to confess, I won’t intervene. I won’t do anything off brand, promise!”
Luka starts, “I’ll—“
He should be saying no.
He should be saying Marinette is the only girl he could ever want.
But for some reason he’s lulled into it, he’s carefully poked and prodded— it’s probably the post-two-orgasm-haze he’s going through right now. Or maybe it’s the way Multimouse smiles, her kindness? Her candor?
He’s not sure right now.
“Only when it gets bad. Only when I need it.”
And that’s good enough for her.
Because Multimouse has a interesting way of making him need it just by being around, it would seem.
He doesn’t have to wait very long to see her, only three days and there’s an Akuma attack on the horizon.
“Mousey, Vai. I need you both on standby. Ready for a second chance just in case.” Scarlet Beetle’s voice comes over the com link.
Viperion wants to shoot himself.
Metaphorically? Literally?
Fuck.
“Mousey.” He grits his teeth, they’re just sitting on a rooftop, watching from a safe distance as the Aggressor-Type holders move forward while the Support-Types take their places in the various quadrants of the city.
Typically, he’d be engrossed in paying attention, but right now he’s sitting crisscross on the ground while the mouse heroine finds a discarded plastic chair to sit in.
She’s been so much more promiscuous with him, so he’s shocked he didn’t see it coming sooner. But then her boot is pressing against his crotch and fuck—
With his suit being that dark green shade, it really shows off just how red and flush his cheeks are beneath. His lips part and the softest noise comes from between them as he mutes his com link, “We’re supposed to be working.”
She grins, pressing just a touch more with her boot to really watch how Viperion’s slitted iris dilate under the stimulation.
“We are, it’s called multitasking. Besides, we’re just on stand by.”
She’s always so professional— what the hell is going on?
That’s definitely the question as he hears the sound of a zipper. It commands his eyes to watch, coming from under the back of her hips and sliding up up up till it hits its stop at her navel.
Shes so— pretty.
Her pale skin and pinkish toned pussy. Clean shaven, no underwear. But the boot on his crotch hasn’t been forgotten, still pressing as he sits beneath her. She crooks her finger, “Come here, Omega.”
Viperion can’t stop himself from obeying the request. Her voice burns him alive in all the right ways, and as soon as her legs spread for him he’s assaulted by her Alpha scent.
Sweet. Sweet. Fucking sweet.
Bitter, honey, vanilla— sweet.
“Oh? Look who the drooly one is now.” She keeps her boot on him.
Is she… getting revenge?
Viperion shudders as another wave of sweet hits him, “You… just… smell good.”
He meant to say: ‘fuck off.’ — but this woman makes him lose every bit of bite in his body.
Multimouse smiles, “Ask me. To let you. You want to, right? Ask.”
Viperion’s face turns at least 6 shades deeper of that pretty cherry color. But he’s already panting and huffing and — “P-Please… can I…”
He’s struggling to find the words.
Precious.
“Can I please taste you?”
She lets up the pressure on his crotch just enough that he can move forward. Carefully using his hands to press her thighs apart, while strategically leaving her leg low enough he can rut his hips against it for relief if needed.
He looks up at her one last time, eyes begging for verbal confirmation, “Go on.” She encourages.
And he does.
Fuck he does.
His tongue is longer in his hero form and he’s never been so thankful in his life. He wonders if maybe this is why she sucked his dick like his life depended on it— if he tasted even close to as intoxicating as she does to him?
Fuck.
Fuck.
“There you go. Don’t rush it.”
She’s panting already.
And he can taste how wet she is for him. How his tongue thrusting inside of her dripping pussy is everything she wants and more from him. Everyone talks about Omega’s tasting good— but why does no one mention that Alpha’s have it just the same?
Candy coated goodness—
He draws out his tongue and flicks it over her clit.
The sound.
He never thought he’d hear something so sweet and perfect.
She’s panting like a fucking dog, gripping his hair by the base as his tongue fucks into her ravenously, “So good. You’re doing such a good job.” Her words set him on fire, he just wants more.
Everything.
Now now now now now now.
“Vai, I need a loop start, now!”
He almost ignores it.
Almost.
But the barely rational side of his brain makes his arm raise into position as he clicks back the Orobouros head just as Multimouse’s nails really start to dig into his scalp. The pulse of sparkling energy does nothing to detour him from his goal. Of course, he doesn’t know how many loops they’ll have to make— but with the way she sounds above him, it seems like he’s about to get a lot of practice making Multimouse unravel for him.
He decides for this first one, he just wants to taste her. Just wants to let his tongue sink inside her far as it can while she pets the top of his head and whispers about how good he’s doing.
Fuck — he didn’t know he had a praise kink, but he’s pretty sure that’s what this is. He’s absolutely dripping everywhere that can drip as her Alpha pheromones overwhelm him.
Drunk on her.
He can’t breathe.
He can’t do anything but taste vanilla sweet and—
“Reset!”
He clicks the head back into place without hesitation, resetting them to just a few moments ago.
Multimouse doesn’t notice but—
Was that taste— marshmallow?
He’s certain she was about to cum.
That’s why it changed.
It has to be.
He pulls his mouth and tongue from her, still affected be the previous loop, he’s drooling obscenely while Multimouse just pouts, “You’re stopping?” She sounds breathless.
It couldn’t be—
She reaches down and shamelessly spreads her pussy with her fingers so he can see everything.
He’s just mistaken.
He must be.
“You don’t like my taste, Vai?” She batts long eyelashes up at him, “It’s okay, if you don’t I just — mmph!”
He pushes back into her space, ignoring everything as he uses his tongue to lick her clit like his life depends on it. Sucking and swirling, he can’t get enough of how she’s trembling above him, how desperate sounding she is at the sudden attack.
But it wouldn’t hurt to be sure.
“Reset!”
Click.
He wasted too much time in the last loop, he knows it, he can do better this time. He can make her cum before Scarlet Beetle cucks him out of his Alpha’s sweet taste.
His Alpha?
Oh no he can’t just—
Multimouse grabs him by the chin, “Somthing wrong?” She uses her boot to knock him onto his back, “You seem so distracted, do you need me to help you instead?”
“Reset”
Click.
“Reset”
Click.
“Reset”
Click.
“Reset”
Click.
“Reset”
Click.
“Fuck!” Viperion growls, he’s on the verge of tears as he forces his mouth off her dripping cunt.
Multimouse just grins down at him, “How many?”
“Huh?” He looks so dumbfounded at the question. Like she’s speaking straight gibberish or something despite her absolute fascination with perfect dictation.
She rolls her eyes and uses her heel to push his torso back inbetween her toned thighs. He pussy just a centimeter or so away from his more than eager tongue.
“How many loops?”
“A lot.” He groans, “You just— are you—?”
He just wants to ask, the loop will get reset anyways.
But he can’t, it feels like the cowards way when he could just know via her taste.
“Am I?”
He groans, obviously frustrated as she pets him like a dear treasure, “How do I make you cum?” It’s an easier question, “Please just…”
She raises an eyebrow at him, “Use your fingers.”
What a simple answer.
“I’m only saying this because I probably won’t remember this in a second.” She grabs his hair, pulling his head back to look up properly at her, “I may be an Alpha. But I like something inside me. You have an obscenely huge dick for an Omega, did you know that? You don’t need something that big and yet—“ she sighs, leaning back in the plastic chair and shoving his face right back into her pussy.
He can’t hold back anymore either and he’s trembling like a drug addict at not having her dripping on his tongue for even that short duration. And he’s just so sure from that first taste that— he groans against her folds, letting a soft, “Marinette.” Come from between his lips before he dives back in.
“Reset.”
Click.
He didn’t even get to see her reaction before he’s right back here again.
“Stopping so soon?”
He stares up at her, really taking just a second to look at her features while trying to remember each and everyone one of Marinette’s own.
And then?
And then he’s shoving his fingers inside her while using that expert tongue to flick and roll her clit. It’s like a perfect toy, he can’t let her catch her breath. He can’t let her win again.
He just has to push harder, just has to curl his fingers deep inside to press on that bundle of nerves that makes his Alpha squeal.
Multimouse’s panting again, letting out soft sounding squeaks that become louder. Her spine curves like she’s trying to get him deeper.
“Luka!” She gushes all over him, coating the lower half of his face, his fingers, and his tongue in molten marshmallow.
She’s heaving hard, petting his head while muttering, “So good. You did so good for me. Pretty Omega b-boy.” His fingers give another curl and he listens and watches as Marinette pulls his mouth off her.
And then she’s smiling, it doesn’t take much more than a glance for her to see the dark, wet spot beneath his belly button.
“Oh, Vai~”
Why does Marinette sound like that.
She clicks her tongue and tutts, “Did you cum in your suit for me? Is that it?” She leans a bit closer, voice nothing but a whisper, “Did you cum just from eating me out?”
“Good work team. Supports are free to leave while we finish up.”
But they’re certainly not listening to the com link anymore.
He nods very slowly, just watching her because he’s still trying to connect the two entities together.
Marinette gave him a blow job.
Marinette asked to be friends with benefits because he rejected her.
Marinette just pushed him to his fucking knees and squeezed his head between her thighs till she came on his tongue and fingers.
Fuck.
Fuck.
He doesn’t even notice her zipping up, he’s just transfixed on the situation.
On everything.
On her.
But now her tone is soft. Soft fingers tilt up his chin with not even a hint of horniness and only care left, “You look so dazed— Did I overdo it? Should I take you home?”
She’s so genuinely concerned it hurts.
Viperion shakes his head no just as the ouroboros clicks into place, cementing the timeline. His transformation falls, not that he really cares. He’s the same whimpering mess in his jeans that he is with a mask on.
“I think I need some air. Can you just h-help me down?”
She nods, first helping him back to his feet before jumping down to the street side alleyway.
“Va— Luka.” She shakes her head at the mistake, rolling her shoulders back before noticing the spot that was on his suit is still on his jeans.
“Hm?”
His back hits the brick wall and the snap on his jeans is quickly undone, “I’m sorry— it’s my hormones I just—“
She drops to her knees, now tugging his jeans down with her. Luka yelps, somewhere between fear of being caught and fear of being milked again.
“ Ma—mousey—“ he almost did the exact same thing she did, the only thing justifying the stutter being her tongue licking a firm line over his lower abdominal muscles.
“I’m just cleaning you, I promise.” And she does— with her fucking tongue.
Fuck.
Fuck she’s really going to kill him.
Carefully tracing each and every line of his jizz from his skin till she’s satisfied that he can go home without washing any of his spend down the drain — a waste, truly.
His head is so dizzy. He doesn’t know if he can keep up with this. There’s nothing in his head but Marinette and Alpha.
She smiles, zipping him back up and placing a quick kiss to his jaw, “I’ll see you later, ‘Kay?”
He nods, “Sounds good.”
And she’s gone. Just like that she whisks away into the crisp night and Luka can do nothing but curse himself.
Ten minutes.
That’s his limit, apparently.
Because given the time it takes him to compose himself and walk down the street— that’s approximately how long it takes Luka to say, “Fuck this.”
He dodges into another alley and quickly transforms. Running over rooftops and throwing himself from the high altitudes just to land solidly on her balcony.
Ten minutes is so fucking weak.
But he doesn’t care.
That's why he doesn’t knock.
That's why he lets himself slip inside the trap door.
The lights are off, except for a single candle blinking on her dresser. Along with the bathroom light, he can hear the sounds of a hair dryer a few feet away.
Needed a shower after that orgasm, did you Mousey?
There’s a rock sitting in the pit of his stomach, he could leave right now. He should leave. Forget that he knows her identity and then—
A thought his him.
Bunnyx isn’t here.
Which means—
He’s done hesitating— Viperion rushes through the threshold just in time for Marinette to toss her freshly dried hair back and see him staring at her in the mirror.
“Ack!” She screeches, tearing back with the hairdryer as if it were a proper weapon to stop a burglar. The defense pose is impressive— but the weapon?
Viperion does manage a smile at that, “Are.. you going to attack me with that?”
Marinette just blinks, clearly coming off the adrenaline of the coveted: ‘strange-man-in-house-kill’ instincts.
The breath she lets out is so deep, “I mean— yes?! What else would I use in this scenario?”
He shrugs so casually, “I suppose that’s a good repurpose.”
But she’s so confused.
Marinette and Luka? Check.
Luka and Multimouse? Awkward check.
Multimouse and Viperion? Unstoppable— but yes, check.
Marinette and Viperion though?
They don’t know each other— they don’t even come close to an interaction that isn’t her watching him soar across the skies, “Wait— stop— why are you even—“ her eyebrows knit together, “Why are you here?”
He waits: one, two seconds.
Letting himself really think for a moment before— And then he just does it.
He kisses her fully on the mouth. Hands reaching behind her head so she can’t escape from the intoxicating feeling of his tongue filling her mouth.
He's everywhere.
Biting her lips, brushing along her tongue, tracing her teeth like he can’t get enough of her all at once.
The taste of herself— and himself, still lingering between them from their earlier play, “Mousey.” He moans against her lips, “If you think I wouldn’t know that taste, that scent…”
He whimpers against her, eyes closed tight.
She pushes him back, “V-Viperion I don’t know what you think is goi—“
He kisses her again. Firmer, grabbing her by the ass and lifting her in one solid motion onto the bathroom counter, “You don’t have to pretend— I know. I know it’s you— I fucking— I really need to fuck you.”
He’s surrounded by the marshmallow-sweet scent again, one he’s starting to realize is directly related to her level of arousal. And fuck if it didn’t just load into overdrive. Their mouths a non-stop wet onslaught of sin as their hips slot together and both moan into their kiss.
“How did you—?”
“No one smells like you.” He answers so quick it nearly gives her whiplash, “No one smiles like you. It’s your own fault.”
She’s gasping, like she’s choking on his scent, “Vai— slow down.”
“No, no more waiting. I can’t, I—“
And they’re back to kisses that become more demanding by the second. He pulls back just to kiss lower. Starting at her jaw before sliding down to her breasts, it’s so easy to tug on her little tank top and get all of the eyeful he’d ever need, “You’re so pretty. And you like me? You knew it was me and still—“ he opens his mouth, tongue salivating over the sight of those pink nipples. She's sensitive for an Alpha. Back arching to meet the glass mirror as his tongue explores every inch of them.
“Vai—!” She’s wiggling her hips now, trying to get his attention.
“I can’t stop, it hurts. It hurts so bad ‘Nette.” They look between their bodies to see his cock straining against the material of his suit, “—this is what you do to me— this is how it feels to be around you. I can’t — I can’t stop my head from thinking about you having me in every position. It’s so fucking hot— literally, I need to get out of this fucking—“
“Luka.” She whispers, grasping him by his cheeks and forcing him to look at her.
He pauses, taking a moment to just look down at her when she mutters, “Breathe.”
He does.
Inhale.
Exhale.
It’s a very long, careful breath, “Luka. You’re in heat.”
Oh.
Oh.
— that would explain— a lot.
“I should’ve taken you home… I’m so sorry— I didn’t smell the heat but...” she looks like she’s struggling to breathe as much as he is. The sweat on her face is dripping over her cheeks, a few drops passing by those kiss bruised lips.
Her eyes manage to find him again and he just looks sad.
Rejected.
The scent of his distress is somehow permeating the super suit and Marinette’s nose learns very quickly that she does not like it.
“Oh, Lu. No. Nonono. I’m not— it’s okay , I’ll take care of you, I just need you to focus for a second. Come here.” She hops from the counter to grab his hand, “Detransform for me, come on. Let’s get you comfortable.”
It’s such a mess, but he manages to do as she asks. Following her around to her bed, it’s mostly pink and plush. But it smells like bitter vanilla and Viperion is certainly not about to object to the coddling she’s offering.
As soon as the transformation is gone, it’s just them again.
Only now Luka’s heat is making her bedroom incredibly claustrophobic as the suit dissipates to leave them naked to each other’s pheromones.
Despite how she fans herself, despite how Luka instinctually starts to nest in her bed.
She needs to call Anarka, or maybe Juleka? He can’t stay here, it’s wrong.
It’s so fucking wrong.
It’s one thing for them to fool around, it’s one thing for them to enjoy intimacy, maybe even date.
But she can’t take advantage of him like this.
Not when he’s so susceptible.
Heat sex.
Marinette shivers.
“Fuck.”
She glances back over at her bed, and — god she’s really fucking screwed.
Luka’s got his eyes screwed shut, dry humping her fucking body pillow.
She doesn’t even realise she’s walked across the room, hand moving out to brush the strands of hair away from his face, “Is that better?”
He nods, whimpering against the pillow he’s been trying to keep his teeth out of.
“Need you.” Is all he manages, “ Please, A-Alpha.”
Luka Couffaine is quite possibly the most selfless man Marinette has ever known.
And just like the first time, when he begs? When he’s just a little selfish— she just can’t deny him.
“Take off your pants.”
Is all she says, stripping her top and bottoms away as she climbs into the bed. By the time she gets there, his bottom half is dripping sweat, cock already back to full.
And he’s just looking at her, just waiting—
“Please.”
Like there’s no hesitation behind those fucked out, empty blue eyes.
She mounts him, pressing the tip of his cock to her opening. She’s still dripping from earlier and— Luka jolts as she takes him down in one motion to the hilt.
They’re both so fucked.
So happy.
He feels so good inside of her and in just a moment their lips are pressing back together in a steady rhythm as Marinette starts her pace of riding him into her mattress.
“Alpha— Alpha— Alpha—!”
“There you go.”
She doesn’t realize it yet.
He’s such a whimpering mess.
“More— please— don’t—d-don’t stop—“
His balls are aching as he teeters on the edge, “Please please please.” He’s not even sure what he’s begging for anymore
To stop? To keep going?
It’s neither, but Marinette knows.
Luka’s got his head thrown back, neck, beautifully, perfectly unmarked.
It’s so open. It’s just for her. He’s just for her.
Mate.
Again, it’s no hesitation. Because Marinette doesn’t realize that Luka has triggered her rut. That she’s just beyond senses as he is.
That she’s been in love with Luka since they were thirteen and —
Marinette’s canines throb.
Her hips slam down, milking his cock in time with her lock. It’s so tight around his base as he fills her. But his voice is lost to a scream that tears through the fabric of his being.
What was he begging for?
— the ache of his neck is still very clear in the aftermath. It’s not pain from a bite he so desperately wants there though, it’s the emptiness he feels at rejection.
At the fact that the tinge of iron he smells in the air is coming from the Alpha ontop of him biting into her own fucking hand.
Her gaze is molten gold. She can’t even release her teeth from her own flesh—
Not for a good few minutes anyways.
“Sorry.” He mutters, “Sorry I lost it I—“
Wait— Is she about to cry?
“I almost bit you, without your permission.”
Oh yeah, those are tears.
“I’m the worst Alpha l— the absolutely worst— I can’t believe—“
“I wanted it.” He breathes.
“Because you’re in heat! Because you—!”
He grabs her by the neck, pulling her down into another messy kiss that will surely plague his wet dreams.
“Because I’ve been in love with you since forever.”
How cheesey— oh Jeez! How is that fair!?
She lets herself fall against his chest, heaving in the aftermath.
“How long does the lock last?”
“About twenty minutes, I’ve heard…” she smiles against his chest, “..it’s difficult for an Alpha to get pregnant though…”
He sucks in a quick breath, like he’s just now remembering what sex is for.
“S-so don’t worry. I’m not going to try to trap you or—“
“Trap me?” He sounds so confused.
“Like with a baby. I promise. I wouldn’t do thatI—“
His grip on her shoulders tightens, “Stop, stop— stop doing the Marinette thing.”
She blinks, “The Marinette thing?”
“Where you overthink and overanalyze. I mean it.” He sighs against her neck, trying to pull her just a bit closer, “Let’s just go one step at a time. We don’t have to mate, or— or fucking do anything. We don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. But I do love you and—“
The lock shifts just a bit and they both feel Luka’s cum drip from her down onto him.
Twenty minutes? As if.
“And I just really want you to fuck me right now. We can work on us later— we can — God Marinette, I want to date you but right now—“
He leans back, feeling the subtle ache of heat run through his being, “Right now I want you to fuck me and forget about all the normal crap we worry about, alright?”
As her lock releases just a bit more, she feels the swoop of her rut. Her teeth throb, fangs aching.
She quickly leans over the bed removing him from her core— the noise he makes at the loss is downright sinful. But she’s on a mission, And Marinette grabs a thick leather choker she’s been designing for herself. It still needs to be cut to size, so it’s too big for her, but—“
“That’s fine. But you have to wear this… please?”
Luka pouts, “.. but I want you to bite me.”
The confession is so raw in the air between them.
So honest that Marinette wonders if she should just fucking give in. She stares at him for just a few more seconds.
And then she makes up her mind.
Leaning over him to tighten the collar around his neck, she smiles, “If you still want me to after your heat is over, I will.”
She leans back up to smile down at him. Wild black hair and pretty blue eyes.His cock already back to full, “Besides, you said you wanted me to fuck you.”
Luka draws in a breath.
“So let me ruin you just a bit more before claiming you as mine. Maybe you should earn it—“ she positions herself over him again, teasing him with how wet she is in a perfect way that makes his breath hitch.
Marinette moves her hips up, before sliding back down with a punishing force down to the base.
The whimper that escapes him is so fucking desperate, “Show me. Show me why you deserve to be mine, Omega.”
She’s already his.
He grasps her hip, thumbs digging into her hip line as his eyes glaze over silver, “Y-Yes, Alpha.”