Chapter Text
How to be a good person?
It’s a question that Bel has to ask himself before every choice he makes. Any time he does something without asking himself this question, he’s stuck facing consequences. One time that he failed to ask himself this question was before he had become sick. He had found a dog on the streets after school, and being twelve and curious after a lesson on how dogs don’t see colors in the way that humans do, he decided to cut out its eyes to try and see for himself. He was still holding up the eyes to his own when the dog's owners had found him.
So, Bel asks himself this question no matter the situation, because its becomes clear to him that he can’t trust his instincts on any sort of matter. He’s not a good person, and he knows that. He doesn’t really care about that either, but it makes life rather difficult when others think you’re a bad person, so he’s learned to do his best to put on a front.
When Bel comes to after presumably dying from his illness with someone else penetrating his ass, he asks himself what a good person would do in this situation. His first instinct is to move to rip out the throat of whoever has decided to wake him up, but he’s long since learned that such a reaction is usually frowned upon. The answer he comes to is that a good person is usually meek and helpless like a fairytale princess, and so he does nothing but lay there as a larger man works him like a cock sleeve.
He takes in his surroundings silently, not a moan or grunt even daring to stir from his throat as his body is used and abused. It’s a small room that surrounds him, something like a supply closet but it’s hard to tell its contents in the dark. Are they still in the hospital? His body feels strange from before he woke up. The lengthy sex organ that pounds into him is going… somewhere. A place that feels like it didn't exist before. His body also feels hot all over, like a full-body fever that somehow makes him erect? His dick also feels like it’s lost an inch, which he guesses is supposed to be sad but he never used it for much anyway so what does he care. There’s also a strange feeling of… pooling? In his ass? Like how saliva gathers in the mouth, but in a completely different part of his body.
But he doesn’t feel sick anymore. He doesn’t feel weak, and fragile. He doesn’t feel like he’s wasting away, like his body is eating itself alive, and he’ll take this strangeness over that any day.
“I should have done this to you ages ago!” the man above Bel moans out as he does his best to violate the smaller, “Always teasing us alphas with your scent like all the other omegas. Wearing those dresses that show off your unclaimed neck. You’ve practically been begging for this to happen.”
The man's hips speed up their pace, chasing a climax.
“It’s to sad that your nobility status is to low for me, but I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time raising our kid by yourself though. Unless some other cuck wants my sloppy seconds.” It is apparently the thought of no one else wanting Bel after the alpha is done with him that pushes the aggressor over the edge. His knot inflates, locking the two as he empties his balls inside the fertile omega body he’s been using, filling Bel’s new womb with seed that’s bound to take.
Bel, for his part, is quiet. A little confused by whatever the other man is going on about, but that’s whatever to him. The real thing that’s starting to frustrate him is the knot. He thought this guy was going to just cum inside him and leave, but now the source of his incoming headache is stuck inside him.
Bel is not happy. He’s never happy, granted, but he’s starting to get quite peeved. His frustration increases with every second that passes in the five minutes it takes for the alpha to finish spurting the contents of his balls and for him to finally slip out of Bel’s ass, white DNA coming out with it.
The man gets up to leave opening the door and turning to face his work. The omega he knows as Belle looks like a mess, with bruises on pale skin, cum leaking from his hole, his once slicked back now a mess that falls apart on his forehead. To top it all off, distant look in eyes that eerily remind him of an empty void. The alpha thinks he must have fucked his brains out, which one could assume is correct in a way.
Bel catches a look at his face as he leaves, committing his toned muscles, green eyes, and messy light brown hair to memory. He doesn’t know how he’s going to get vengeance yet, but he will. No matter how long it takes, because Bel can be patient when he wants to be. No one, not in his entire life, has crossed Bel and gotten away with it. For waking him up and making him have to deal with third-rate sex on top of making him have to wait in boredom for five whole minutes before pulling out, Bel is going to find way to make him pay.
‘What would a good person do?’ Bel asks himself, ‘A good person finds a way to teach someone to be more mindful of other people’s time.’
Bel wastes no time in collecting himself, standing up almost as soon as the new target of his frustration leaves. Light shines through the door from a hallway lined with lamps glowing warm light onto him as he dresses himself. It’s a surprisingly complicated affair as he pulls on multiple frilly layers and a corset, finding that it all fits him rather well. Strange, considering this wasn’t his style at all in life. Not that he had much time to find a style outside of wearing hospital gowns, something he’s had to do ever since he was fifteen. But even at twenty-eight, he still remembers enjoying clothes for comfort as opposed to style before he was sick.
He makes his way out, quickly realizing that he isn’t in the hospital anymore. He follows the sound of music that fills the stone walls around him, eventually finding himself in a ballroom filled with other people, all dancing and chatting away with each other. Bel has to do a double take once the mix of smells hits his nose. Is this what it’s like to smell when you’re healthy? He’s so used to sterile hospitals that he’s kind of forgotten what it’s like to smell anything outside of them.
“Belle! There you are, I’ve been worried sick!” a woman comes up to him with a smile. She has dark brown skin and a flowing bright yellow dress, her hair in carefully crafted braids with ornaments that mimic flowers. Her face turns from excitement to curiosity as she comes in closer, “Why do you smell like sex?”
Bel, with all his tact and grace, tells her, “Some dude was railing me in a closet a few minutes ago.”
“During your heat!” she yells out, going to whisper once she realizes that people are starting to turn heads, “With who?” she whispers.
Bel looks around, scanning faces before his eyes land on the piece of shit that woke him up from what felt like the best damn sleep he’s had in years. He points over to him, hearing the woman’s surprise gasp at who he’s pointing to.
“Reginold Galeford?! But he’s been practically harassing us since we got here for his eighteenth,” she sounds confused, a little disappointed, but turns it back around, “Well he is a crown prince, so you could hardly do better than that. So when’s the wedding?”
Bel rolls his eyes at the thought of a wedding with that bastard, “There will be no wedding.”
The woman in yellow looks to her companion with shock, “But you were going into heat?! And I’m assuming he, you know, in you, it’s rare to see an alpha that wouldn’t want to knot with an omega, especially when you’re in heat. I mean, maybe he held himself back because you’re so old…”
“Old?” Twenty-eight was hardly old by Bel’s standards, in fact, most nurses that talked to him told him it was a shame that he was dying so young.
She blushes and begins to cover herself, “Well, I know you look good for twenty and four, but you have to admit, you are on the older side of unmated omegas.”
“Right…” Bel isn’t sure what to make of that, so he changes the subject, “When is this whole thing over? I feel like going home.” The thought of going to a place that isn’t a hospital, that he can call home, is something that sparks actual anticipation in him. The good kind to, which is very rare for the man to come across.
“Well,” the woman flows with the change with excited ease, “Tonight’s the last night of celebrations, then we’ll all take our carriages home. It’s a shame our estates are so far from each other, I really wish we could visit each other more.”
It takes all of Bel’s self-control to not roll his eyes at the thought of seeing this woman for longer than he has to. So he tunes her and the rest of the party out, feeling relief once the night ends and he’s on his way back home. He’s still confused by… everything… but he takes comfort in the fact that he has a project to work on.
A better person wouldn’t seek out petty vengeance. But Bel isn’t a better person, or a good person, or a kind person, or even a nice person. Not at heart. He doesn’t even bother to try to be a better person, because it’s to much work to keep up the act. But he can at least pretend to be a good person, and he knows that good people are allowed one or two bouts of pettiness every now and then.
Bel spends the night riding home, thinking about how he’s going to get Reginold back for pissing him off. He does his best to remember to make whatever punishment or prank he pulls to be equivalent in strength to what was done to him. Unfortunately for Reginold, Bel has never been very good at deciding what is and isn’t fair when left to his own devices.