Winmance

It was the least he could do. He would look upon the monster, then return to his chambers and weep through the pain, if that was what Damen wished.

Moving was still difficult. He had barely eaten since the birth, and had already lost weight during the pregnancy, and the bleeding had not yet stopped. Being apart from Damen only worsened his condition. Omegas needed their alphas after such an ordeal, yet he had not seen Damen since he had screamed at him to take the baby from his chest. Damen had tried to return, of course, but Laurent had sent him away. He refused to face his mate after failing at the only thing Damen had ever asked of him.

He walked to the nursery without assistance, ignoring every offered hand. He would not appear weak.

Yet he had seen himself in the mirror.

He had seen his face and body, the witness of his skin and the hollows in his cheeks.

It would be a miracle if Damen ever wished to lie with him again.

He had looked, too, at his private parts, and he doubted that, even if Damen still wanted him, they would be able to do anything. The sight had been horrific, and he had called for Pascal to confirm that he was not, in fact, dying. The old man had been reassuring, until he began offering unwelcome advice.

You need to see your baby. You need to be with your mate. You need, you need, you need, you need. Everything was Laurent’s fault. Everything that went wrong was because of him, and he could not endure the accusation any longer. He had sent the old man away and refused to let his servants help him wash again. He didn’t want anyone reporting back to Damen how broken and disgusting he had become.

He stood in front of the nursery’s door for a long time before finally opening it. The servants that were taking care of the creature left the moment Laurent stepped into the room, and he did not spare them any word.

The bassinet stood in the middle of it, but from where Laurent was standing, he could not see what lay inside. His heartbeat quickened, fear tightening in his chest at the thought of what rested in the wooden cradle.

Slowly, he made his way toward it, dragging a chair behind him so he could sit, afraid the shock would be too much to bear standing. He set the chair carefully beside the bassinet and did his best not to look down until he had no other choice.

He braced himself and drew a long breath, praying for a miracle. Perhaps the child had changed already. Perhaps he had gained weight and now resembled a proper newborn. Perhaps he was an alpha, after all, strong and sturdy, as Laurent had once dreamed.

Laurent did not believe in gods, so he prayed to Auguste.

Please, brother. Please help me. Please make the pain go away. Please, please—

He looked down and felt as though he had been stabbed through the heart.

The babe had barely changed. Still ugly, bald, and wrinkled, small enough to fit in Laurent’s hands, if he could ever bring himself to hold him. Instead of gaining weight, he seemed thinner than before, which was no surprise considering Pascal and the servants had been begging Laurent to come feed him for days.

Sensing his presence, the baby forced his eyes open and turned toward him, searching for the love he deserved. Because Laurent knew he did. Every child deserved love and care. Laurent wished he could give it. He wished he did not feel this way. But more than anything, he wished things had been easier. Perfect.

“You couldn’t even take after his eyes?” Laurent murmured.

They were not Laurent’s eyes either. They were darker, a deep blue he knew all too well, eyes that had once looked at him with nothing but warmth and devotion.

They were Auguste’s eyes.

Pascal had said they would change. Eye color did not settle for months, sometimes up to a year.

Auguste’s eyes had been beautiful, but too kind. Too gentle. Laurent never wanted to see them again. The grief was still too raw, even after all these years.

“I was hoping you would come.”

The voice reverberated through Laurent’s body. His alpha stood behind him, and for the first time in five days, Laurent felt something close to alive. He had been longing for his alpha’s touch, his warmth - yet he had refused it and would continue to refuse it. He did not deserve the gentleness Damen would offer, and he feared even more the anger he believed he deserved.

“You asked me to come. So I did.”

“I didn’t ask. I would never order you, and you know that. Forgive me if the servant misunderstood.”

“I’ve seen the child,” Laurent cut in. “What more do you want from me?”

Damen remained behind him, but years together allowed Laurent to picture his expression perfectly. Disappointment. Sadness. Frustration. And yet, he said nothing.

Laurent needed him to be angry. Needed him to shout, to call him a useless omega, to strip him of the pity he could not bear.

Damen did none of that.

Instead, he stepped in front of Laurent and knelt, like a servant, before taking Laurent’s hands in his own. Despite everything, Laurent could not fight it. He craved the contact more than anything. It took all his strength not to collapse into Damen’s arms.

“Talk to me, love,” Damen pleaded. “Tell me what’s wrong. Is it the pain? Are you still bleeding?”

“Of course I’m still bleeding. Pascal said it was to be expected for days, perhaps weeks. Are you so eager to put another monster inside me? I can’t promise the next won’t be even uglier or weaker than this one.”

He expected anger then. He wanted it. Needed it, but instead, Damen looked wounded, as though Laurent had struck him. As though he were the one at fault.

“It is because of me that the child is like this,” Laurent went on. “I am cursed. We should have known better.”

“Do not speak that way about my omega. Nor about my son,” Damen said quietly.

“A son? This thing will not survive. And even if it does, it will never be a king. We waited ten years, and all I could give you is a frail omega. Spare me your pity, Alpha. I do not need it.”

There was a pause before Damen spoke again. He seemed to gather his thoughts, choosing his words carefully so as not to anger Laurent further, as if he could somehow mend the situation.

“The birth was difficult,” Damen said after a while.

“Like all births are.”

“No. Pascal said it was bad. I thought I was going to lose you. I know you feared that too.”

Damen’s mother had died bringing him into this world, and Laurent would be lying if he said the thought hadn’t haunted him ever since he became with child.

The pregnancy had been atrocious. He had thrown up every day, several times, until his stomach was empty, and yet he had been forced to eat again, if only to keep the child alive. He had migraines so severe he ended up slamming his own head against the walls, praying for the pain to stop.

At barely four months, he had been forbidden from riding his horse anymore, and in the same breath, forbidden from lying with Damen. At five and a half months, he had been put on bed rest.

He had not complained, even when he had wanted nothing more than to tell everyone to go to hell. He had endured it all and more, to give Damen a healthy child. All of it, all that pain, all those sacrifices, for nothing.

“I failed you. Ten years without an heir, and when I finally give you one, it’s… it’s this.”

“This,” Damen said, tightening his hold on Laurent’s hands, “is our son. And he is as perfect as I ever dreamed he would be.”

“He’s going to die,” Laurent said. “He’s too weak. I saw it the moment Pascal laid him on my chest. He was so -”

The memory of the baby on his chest rushed back, and Laurent felt nausea rise in his throat. The baby had weighed almost nothing. His body had been so fragile, so delicate, so incomplete. Laurent had not only failed Damen, he had failed his son. He hadn’t made him whole. He had pushed him into the world too soon, hadn’t eaten enough, hadn’t been careful enough, hadn’t been enough. He had condemned him to suffering. He hated himself for it.

His child deserved better. He did not want him to suffer. Never. He wanted him to have the life Laurent had never known. He wanted him to look like Damen, to love and be loved as Damen was.

“It’s okay, my love. It’s okay.”

Laurent hadn’t realized he was crying until Damen brushed the tears away with his lips, a futile attempt to kiss the pain from his face. Still, Laurent let him, even leaning in until Damen’s arms wrapped around him, offering the comfort he had been longing for.

“I’m sorry,” Laurent whispered. It was unclear whether he meant it for Damen or for their son. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything, Laurent. Our son will live. Pascal said he is strong, despite how he looks. We will love him through it all, won’t we? That’s all he needs. That’s all that matters.”

“He will be infirm.”

“We don’t know that,” Damen corrected gently. “And what if he is? We will find a way. If he cannot hold a sword, we will fight for him. If he cannot ride a horse, we will carry him every day of his life. If he cannot speak, we will speak for him. We will face whatever comes together. As a family. Would you have given up on me if I had become infirm after a battle?”

“Of course not! But it’s not the same.”

“It is. I promise you, it is. Our son just needs you right now. He needs your milk, yes, but more than that, he needs your love.”

The baby began to cry beside them, as if in agreement, and within seconds Laurent felt warmth spreading across his chest, his body responding to his son’s need. Damen’s eyes followed his, but he said nothing.

“You haven’t even held him yet,” Damen said softly. “Perhaps we could start there? You don’t need to feed him. He just needs to be close to you. Can you do that?”

Could he? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t know how he would react. But Damen was right. He had to try. At the very least, he had to try. If it still didn’t work - if it still didn’t work, the baby would die, and Laurent would let himself die as well.

He must have nodded, because Damen pressed a kiss to his forehead, thanking him for something that should never have needed asking.

The baby looked even smaller in Damen’s enormous hands, and yet the sight of his alpha holding him sent a fresh wave of emotion through Laurent’s body, his heart suddenly too large for his chest. Tears slid down his face again, and this time he did not try to stop them.

Carefully, Damen placed the child into Laurent’s trembling arms, and Laurent forced himself to breathe steadily. The baby’s body was warm against him, and he instinctively turned toward Laurent’s covered nipple. He could not feed like this, but Laurent let him nuzzle there anyway.

He was still too light. Too small.

But he was here.

He was alive.

And he was fighting.

“I wanted him to have an easy life,” Laurent said. “To be an alpha. Strong, and not - I didn’t want him to be like me.”

“Why? You’re the closest thing to perfection I’ve ever encountered,” Damen replied. “I know the pregnancy was hard. I know the birth was even worse. I will never be able to thank you enough for enduring it all for us, Laurent. You are stronger than you think. And so is our son.”

Laurent closed his eyes and tried to focus on the feeling of the baby against his chest. He didn’t have a name yet. Five days, and no name. If he had died, he would have died unknown. Unnamed. Unloved.

Laurent had already lost a child that way - a young boy with mischievous eyes and a quick mind, who had died alone because of his loyalty and love for Laurent. He had never been able to recover Nicaise’s body after everything that happened. No ceremony. No burial.

He could not bear to lose another child.

“Isn’t he the most precious thing you’ve ever seen?” Damen asked.

Was he? Maybe. Perhaps, in some fragile way, he could begin to see it.

“Your Majesty?” one of the servants called through the door. “One of the guards is asking for you.”

Damen sighed heavily, the same way he always did when a servant interrupted their lovemaking or disturbed them in the middle of a conversation. The familiarity of it made Laurent smile faintly.

“I’ll be right back. I promise,” Damen said.

Laurent nodded and watched him leave, leaving him alone with the baby in his arms.

It was strange to dwell on it for too long. Damen and he had created this. Their love had made this child. And he would grow to resemble them, if he survived.

Laurent needed him to survive. He could not give up on him. Not now, not ever.

He thought of Auguste, who had cared for him when their own mother rejected Laurent after his birth. He thought of Damen, who had continued to love Kastor despite all the wrong he had done. He thought of Nicaise, who had loved him enough to give his life.

But he also thought of the sacrifices he himself had made. Of the endless nights he had spent at Damen’s side when he was wounded. Of the statues commissioned in honor of Auguste and Nicaise. Of the good he had done, of all the love he had given.

He had not always been rewarded for it. Auguste was still dead. So was Nicaise.

But he had tried.

And he would try again, for their son.

“I’ll give you my life,” Laurent whispered. “My life for yours. I would give it without hesitation. You will do great things, greater than anyone before you. You will be great. The greatest. I promise you, alive or dead, I will watch over you. You will never be alone. Not once.”

Laurent did not believe in gods, not after all the pain life had inflicted on him, and yet, for the first time in years, he found himself praying.

For his son, he would pray to every god. And if they refused him his miracle, he would fight them himself until they had no choice but to grant it.

For his son, he would do all of this, and more.

He opened his shirt, his nipple tightening in the cool air, and guided it to his son’s mouth. The baby began to suckle, instinct taking over, and Laurent closed his eyes.

His son would be alright, and so would he. They would defy the odds. The three of them, together. Destiny had never managed to stop Damen and him before, and it would not start now.

He locks his phone without answering back.

They see each other one week after that. One week of hell, of pain and suffering, at least for Damen. For Laurent, Damen doesn’t know. They haven’t talked in a week, not even sent each other reels on Instagram or funny TikTok videos. They haven’t done any of that, because they’re not friends anymore and Laurent said he didn’t want to see him again.

Yet, it’s Laurent who offers to see him. He doesn’t make a big deal out of it, simply texts Damen “12:30 at The Frenchie”, as if their Monday’s lunch hadn’t stopped three weeks ago now. It’s almost humiliating, the way Laurent just expects him to come running every time he whistles. That’s the kind of behavior Kastor would call him out for. He would tell him to man up and tell Laurent no. To be more alpha, more aggressive and more assertive, but Damen can’t and so he gives Laurent a thumbs up, and even arrives first at the restaurant.

Laurent walks in, and the first thing Damen realizes is that Laurent has stopped taking his suppressant. His smell is so strong that, even feet away from him, Damen can already smell him, the sweet scent so addictive that it makes him breathe harder to get more of it. He knew Laurent’s scent would be good, but he didn’t expect it to hit him this hard. It’s almost too much, yet it’s still too little.

He wants to pin Laurent down and bury his face in his body. He wants to prevent anyone else from smelling him.

He doesn’t do any of that, and waits for Laurent to sit down in front of him. The smell is even more amazing up close.

They order without exchanging any words other than hello, which Damen is glad for because he can’t form a single coherent sentence. Having Laurent so close to him and smelling so good after all this time is a blessing, not to mention having Laurent all by himself.

Yet, after the waitress is gone and theyyet have to say something, the nice silence becomes oppressing.

“So, boyfriend, uh?”

It sounds cringy, even to Damen’s ears, but it’s the first thing that came to his mind.

He fucked up. One week without seeing Laurent and this is what he came up with?

“Yes.”

“You always said you didn’t want to be in a relationship.”

“I guess it was a matter of finding the right person.”

The words echoed back in Damen’s mind and then in his heart, where the crack is becoming larger and larger. Can someone die from being heartbroken? He read some stories about alpha or omega who had lost their mate and died from sadness, but Laurent isn’t his mate, never has been and never will be.

Dad would call him a pussy if he could hear his thoughts right now. Alphas don’t die of broken hearts, especially not because of omega that are not theirs.

“And Govart is? The right person, I mean.”

“Yes. I needed to settle down.”

“For your heat?”

“No,” Laurent says, too quick. “We’re going to get married.”

“Oh.”

“Not - now, obviously. But soon, I guess.”

“Why?”

Laurent shugs.

“Love.”

“But -” there’s a million things he wants to say. So many questions he still has, so many regrets he wants to tell Laurent about. He keeps quiet, begs his heart to slow down and to hold on, just for a few more minutes. He can break down later, in the loneliness of his house, but not there. Not in front of Laurent.

“But what?”

“Nevermind,” he says, forcing a smile on his face. “What does Govart do in life?”

“He’s,” Laurent makes some kind of gesture, as if Damen would beable to guess the job based on that only. He doesn’t, which seems to upset Laurent who sighs heavily. “You know. Like. In finance or something.”

“In finance or something,” Damen repeats.

“Yes.”

“You don’t know what your boyfriend’s job is?”

“Of course I do! But it’s none of your business. He has a good job and makes good money. He works with my dad.”

“Oh.”

Laurent and his dad's relationship is complex and messy, probably more so than the one Damen has with his own dad.

When Laurent was fourteen, Auguste almost died during one of their dad’s parties. Laurent never talked about the incident, not even with Damen, but the news had made it front page all over the country. If lots of things were left unsaid, the consensus was clear: Auguste had been on the balcony and had fallen over, for unknown reasons, by accident or not, and his head had hit the ground first. Damen can still recall the picture that had been shared everywhere: Auguste being taken away on a gurney, blood everywhere, his skull visible, and Laurent, tears on his face as he clenched his brother’s hand. Damen hadn’t known them back then and yet, he had felt sick for them, for him.

Auguste woke up after one year of coma, unable to walk, stand, or even talk. If Laurent is convinced his brother is still there, somewhere, he is the only one to believe it, something that has become one of the many points of contention between Laurent and his old man. Laurent blames his dad for what happened to Auguste, and his dad never hides the fact that he wishes it had been Laurent instead of his brother. His dad has been advocating to end Auguste’s sufferings, but so far, Laurent has always objected to it. It’s a subject Damen and he rarely talk about, and Damen has always been careful not to express his own opinion.

He always wonders whether Laurent and Kastor would get along. After all, they both hold the position of the less preferred child, the one not quite desired, but always deeply regretted. In another world, where Auguste didn’t fall from that balcony, maybe things would have been different. Maybe Auguste and Damen would have been good friends, and maybe Kastor and Laurent would have been, too.

Maybe, in this universe, things would have played out differently, and Laurent and Damen would have been able to be together.

One of the main reasons why Aleron refused to sell his company to Damen, even when he would have truly benefited from it, was that Damen’s dad used Auguste’s accident to gain more clients. He stole the Devere clients, not caring that the eldest son was dying, which led to Damen having to pay for his father’s mistakes now. Aleron hates him and will always hate him, but Laurent was mature enough to understand that Damen shouldn’t pay for someone else's actions.

The fact that his dad hates Damen only made him want to get closer to him. A sweet revenge against his dad that Damen truly thought would play in his favor one day. That maybe Laurent would want to be with him, not for love, but to make his dad even angrier.

To think that Laurent is dating a man that his dad chose is unbelievable.

“He’s old.”

Laurent shrugs, again.

“I’m mature. He likes younger omegas. We’re both happy that way.”

“What will happen once you're not young anymore?”

Laurent bites on his lips so hard that they don’t even form a straight line anymore, and Damen expects blood to start pouring any moment from now.

He didn’t mean to hurt Laurent. He would agree to years of torture if it meant keeping Laurent safe for any more pain.

“I’m sorry. That was mean.”

“It’s fine,” Laurent says. “I don’t plan on living past thirty anyway, so I guess we won’t have to find out.”

“Don’t say that,” Damen warns him. “You know I hate when you say things like that.”

Laurent doesn’t apologize. Apologies have never been his thing anyway.

“Just - be careful.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It seems fishy. Maybe he wants your dad’s company or something.”

“Is it so crazy,” Laurent says slowly, “to think that he might want me for me?”

Laurent doesn’t yell or even looks annoyed, and yet Damen can tell by the way he speaks that anger is there, right above the surface. Damen feels his own heart picking up, ready to start a fight he doesn’t even know the reason for.

“I’m not sure you two have a lot in common. That’s all.”

“Well that’s for us to decide. And you know what they say? One man's trash is another man’s treasure.”

“What does that mean?” Damen asks.

Laurent looks like he wants to say more, but his lips stay pressed together, preventing any word from escaping his mouth.

“Never mind. Are you coming to the Christmas party?” Laurent asks.

He wants to go back to their previous subject, to continue their conversation but he knows that once Laurent has settled his mind on something else, there’s no coming back.

Just like when he asked Damen to share his heat with him, and Damen refused because he’s fucking stupid. Any other omega would have cried or asked again, but Laurent moved on and found a lover before Damen could even regret his decision.

“Will Govart be there?”

“Of course. He works there, I’ve just told you.”

Conversations with Laurent used to be simple. They would fall into a rhythm the second they started talking, an ease that Damen never experienced before. No matter how many days went by since they saw each other, it felt like continuing a never ending conversation, like their brains were always in sync, always thinking about each other.

It doesn’t feel like that anymore. Today the conversation is forced and the tension is high. It makes Damen’s stomach hurt and he wants the lunch to be over, as soon as possible, which makes him even sadder. Spending time with Laurent used to be easy and joyful. How could he let that happen? How could he lose Laurent so quickly? He should have said yes. He should have agreed to be his heat partner because even if it had been the only time he would have had Laurent, it would have still been better than this.

They only spend half an hour together before Laurent claims he has a meeting he needs to assist. If it’s true or not, Damen doesn’t know and doesn’t want to know either.

“Don’t worry, I’m paying,” Laurent says when Damen starts to take his credit card out.

Before Damen can interject, he sees the name on the card that Laurent is holding, and the pain in his gut prevents him from saying anything. He just watches as Laurent pays for their meal with another man’s money. His man. His alpha.

“I have someone to take care of me now,” Laurent says. “Might as well enjoy it.”

Damen doesn’t go back to work. He calls Nik to let him know he’s sick and gives a vague explanation before he heads straight home.

How can he lose Laurent? How could he let that happen? Laurent has never been his and yet Damen never belonged to anyone else but him. He can’t live like this. He can’t live knowing that someone else has Laurent, that the only person he ever loved can barely stay in the same room as him for a few hours.

Laurent asks to see him again less than five days later.

He sends him a text asking for a Private workout session at the gym Damen always goes to, and Damen agrees to it before Laurent even gives him the time.

He sleeps better than he has in days and wakes up before the sun. The shower he takes lasts more than half an hour, and he puts enough deodorant to almost asphyxiate him. The last time they saw each other wasn’t great, but Damen plans on fixing that. If Laurent asked to see him today, it means that everything isn’t lost, and that they still have a chance, somehow.

A chance for what exactly, Damen isn’t sure. Govart is in the picture now, and from the look of it, he isn’t going anywhere, no matter how much Damen wishes he would, but he would rather have Laurent as a friend than no Laurent at all.

Those past few weeks have been a living nightmare and if the hole in his chest will never close up without Laurent’s full love, he can try. He needs to try.

He gets to the gym at half past six and barely steps a foot in it before he spots Laurent.

Laurent has his back at him, but he turns around immediately, his eyes landing on Damen.

He’s breathtaking. Even like this, in gym clothes that are too big for him, with a face that shows little to no sleep, Laurent is the most beautiful omega in the building.

So much that it takes extra time for Damen to realize that he isn’t alone. His smile Damen disappears the second he sees that Nik is there, too, as well as Erasmus. He had thought they would be alone. Just the two of them working out together, like he had dreamt about so many times in the past, but instead, the two other guys are there and he tries not to read too much into it, not to imagine that somehow, in just a few weeks time, Laurent went from being his best friend to not wanting to be alone with him.

Could it be it? Could it be that Laurent no longer wants to be alone with him?

“We were waiting for you,” Nik says. “You force me to do this, and you don’t even come on time.”

“I forced you?” Damen says, confused.

“Laurent said you requested for me to be there. Can I remind you that I’m not at your disposal?”

“You love working out, stop pretending you don’t like being there,” Laurent says.

“And I thought you hated it.”

“I want to watch my figure,” Laurent says.

“Your figure is more than fine,” Damen says, too quickly, too confidently. It’s hard not to react this way when he has spent so long watching Laurent’s body.

He could trace it with his eyes closed, every curve, every inch. He remembers every detail Laurent allowed him to see: the little scar on his right upper leg. The freckles on his shoulders. The redness of his elbows. Laurent never shows his body, never wears revealing clothes, but he allowed Damen to see all of this, and Damen cherished those small revelations like the most precious treasure he ever had.

Except it’s not special anymore, is it? They all saw his freckles when he was wearing that dress the other night. They all saw the curve of his hips and the sweetness of his body, because while Damen spent years convincing himself that what they had was special, that it meant something to Laurent, the reality came back, hitting him like a rock.

Govart knows more about Laurent’s body, too. He knows the things Damen can only dream of: the curve of his ass, the color of his most secret part, the way it feels to hold his naked body against his. Govart doesn’t care that people see Laurent’s body: he has been inside of Laurent, has felt Laurent’s heat around him, and has welcomed Laurent’s love.

It makes Damen sick. It shouldn’t. He had numerous lovers over the years and it’s only fair Laurent does the same. But he only had one sexual partner over the past four years, and it had been Jokaste, a pale imitation of Laurent. They stayed together for four months, and since then, he hasn’t touched anyone.

Nobody knows that. Not Nik and certainly not Laurent. How could he explain that the thought of having anyone else in his bed but Laurent makes him want to throw up? He used to love sex. Used to see it as something easy and free of anxiety. But he fell in love with Laurent and his life was turned upside down, his principles thrown in the trash and his heart stolen away.

“I want to lose weight,” Laurent says, more firmly.

What weight? Damen wants to ask. Laurent is thin, too thin even. Has he gotten skinnier since the last time Damen saw him? It does look like it. He’s still beautiful. So damn beautiful. When he wore that stupid dress, Damen had seen the fat of his stomach for the first time, and it had driven him mad. If he could have done it, he would have kissed it, right there and then, in front of everyone.

He doesn’t care that alphas are not supposed to kneel in front of omegas. He would worship Laurent’s body in a heartbeat and give him his heart on a golden tray on the same beat.

“You’re going to wear your dress again?”

The look Laurent sends him is enough to make Damen regrets even existing. Nikandros and Erasmus look equally confused.

“Fuck you,” Laurent splits out, the words full of venom. His scent is full of anger and they can all smell it, which only seems to make Laurent angrier. His face is red, ready to explode.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

“The fuck you did! I knew this was a mistake. Erasmus, we’re leaving. Now!”

Erasmus follows like a lost puppy, and Damen realizes that he isn’t the only one being thrown around by Laurent.

“I woke up at six for this?” Nik says in disbelief. “Your omega is an asshole.”

“He isn’t my omega. Why did he bring Erasmus?” And you. He doesn’t add the last part.

“Govart doesn’t want him to be alone with an alpha or something like that. I don’t know, Erasmus started talking but Laurent cut him off. See, I told you it wouldn’t take long before Govart realized that Laurent wasn’t so docile after all.”

But Laurent is docile with Govart. Damen saw it with his own two eyes.

“I’m glad he’s putting an end to your friendship. I know you can’t see it now, but it’s a good thing.”

Damen feels like his brain is about to burst and Nikandros’ voice is making it worse. He rubs his eyes roughly, hoping that when he opens them again, Laurent will still be there.

It doesn’t work.

“How is it a good thing?”

“He had you on a leash. He was castrating you and you didn’t even realize. You’re an alpha and he was making you look weak.”

“But you told me to confess,” Damen says, “multiple times.”

“I didn’t think he would say yes, or if he did, I knew you would have realized very quickly that he wasn’t for you.”

But who is for Damen, if not Laurent? He can’t think of anyone better for him than him, even now when Laurent hates him. He will take the hate, if it means keeping Laurent into his life.

“I always felt like he was using you to make his dad angry,” Nik adds. “Not to mention enjoying your money. All the shit you’ve paid for him. It’s insane, Damen. Do you realize it now?”

Once, they were shopping and Laurent had made him pause in front of one of the store's windows. He had been mesmerized by one of their clothes and it wasn’t hard to guess which one it was: between all the beautiful clothes, there was one that stood out for its weirdness. A dark blue sweatshirt with a horse on it that looked like it had been drawn by a six years old.

Laurent had thanked him twice that day, then by text the next morning. From the moment he bought it to the last time they spoke, every picture Laurent sent of him chilling at home featured that stupid sweatshirt.

“I guess,” Damen says, although he still doesn’t see it. All he sees is Laurent’s sweet smile and shining eyes whenever he wears the sweatshirt he gifted him.

Govart gifted him a dress. An expensive one, with diamonds and pearls, because he knows Laurent only deserves the best, and Damen wishes he had done it. He wishes that he had been bold enough to buy something so provocative and sexy for Laurent. Instead, he had thought - he had thought comfort was good. He had thought buying Laurent an ugly sweatshirt with an ugly horse on it would somehow convince him that he was alpha material, when it probably just confirmed that Damen was immature and not worthy. He wishes he had done things differently. That it was his hands around Laurent’s waist and his mouth on his neck.

He didn’t even know Laurent loved dresses. He never mentioned it before, and Damen realizes that it must be one of those things you only learn when you’re intimate with someone. Maybe Laurent told Govart this while they were lying in bed, covered in sweat and still drunk from sex. Maybe that’s why Laurent never told him. Because this part of Laurent has always been forbidden to Damen.

I bet he fucks rough and dirty, Ancel had said. I bet Laurent loves it. Damen wouldn’t have done it like that. He would have been sweet and slow, he would have worshiped Laurent’s body and taken him apart with his mouth.

Even if they had been something, even if Damen had somehow convinced Laurent he was good enough - it still wouldn’t have worked out.

“Maybe he’s pregnant,” Nik says. “That would explain his reaction, and why he suddenly wants to work out and get married. He probably doesn’t want to gain any weight before the wedding. Shit, his dad must be losing his shit if it’s that!”

No. No. Laurent isn’t pregnant. He can’t be pregnant. Nikandros must be wrong, he must - Laurent can’t be.

“Damen, do you need a break?”

He doesn’t need a break. He needs Laurent to come back and not be pregnant with Govart’s child. Can it truly be possible? Can it be the reason why Laurent is rushing into mating and marrying?

He should have confessed again. More intensely, with more determination. He should have made Laurent understand just how much he loves him, how much he cares for him. Instead, he stayed quiet, and he let another man steal his heart.

“Damen? You’re freaking me out, are you good?”

Kastor had told him once, “it’s mad to see that you had everything to be the perfect alpha, and you just wasted it.”, and Damen had only nodded, not wanting to cause a fight. He had thought Kastor and his dad were the only ones thinking this way, thinking so little of him, but he was wrong. Everybody can see what a weak alpha he is.

“I need to go home. Sorry.”

He hears Nikandros calling his name behind him, but he’s already gone.

In his heart, the hole has started to grow even bigger, and he wonders how long it will take before it swallows his heart completely.

He almost misses his flight to Montreal the next day. The only reason he doesn’t is because Nikandros reminded him via text to print some slides of the presentation, but by the time Damen sees the text, he only has time to rush into his car and drive to the airport.

It’s only once he’s on the plane, sweat running down his back, that he remembers to check if he took his laptop. He curses himself out and gets up to take his bag back from the cabinet, which earns him a few bad stares from the other passengers. He starts digging into his bag, the clothes he had thrown in a hurry just a few minutes ago flying back out in the process, until he finally sees the dark laptop. His neighbor makes a sound to show his annoyance, but Damen ignores him.

“Damen?”

It’s a woman’s voice, but he can’t figure out who it is. That’s until he turns around and two blue eyes stare his way. They’re the kind of eyes that are hard to forget, the ones that can see right through one’s soul and even beyond it. It’s not only the eyes that are pretty. She is one of the most beautiful women he ever saw, and even after all those years without seeing each other, her sighs still make him pause.

“Jokaste,” he finally says.

“I was wondering if you would remember me,” she says with a laugh. “Come sit next to me, there’s no one there.”

Damen’s neighbor seems relieved when he takes his belongings back and walks to Jokaste, and Damen tries not to take it personally.

Jokaste had looked like Laurent, physically at least. The same blond hair, blue eyes and sharp tongue. Kastor had introduced them. She was a friend of his girlfriend at the time, and he was convinced that she could help Damen « improve » and, most importantly, forget Laurent. Back then, Laurent and him had only known each other for a few months, but it was clear for everyone that Damen was a goner. It was also clear for everyone that Laurent was not into him, and so Kastor decided to help, in his own way.

He went on four dates with Jokaste before kissing her. He did it with his eyes shut down tightly and a taste of acid in his mouth.

He sent her an apologic text the next day, to which she replied with a thumbs up, and he never saw her again after that.

“She wasn’t your type?” Laurent had said. “I thought you liked them blonde.”

“It doesn’t mean I like every omega or beta who’s blonde. I’d rather go out with a brunette rather than a blonde I don’t like.”

Laurent's face had done something, then. A twitch, maybe, or something else, Damen wasn’t entirely sure, but he had left shortly after that.

“You’re meeting with a client?” she asks him.

“Yes, how do you know?”

“I think your tie slides from your bag.”

On the floor, in the middle of the alley, his blue tie is lying on the floor, asking to be stepped on. He hurries to take it back and carefully cleans it with his hands. Laurent got it for him. There wasn’t a particular reason, he just gave it to Damen and said I thought it would fit you. And even though blue has never been Damen’s favorite color, not really, the tie had been the same color as Laurent’s eyes and he’s been wearing it several times per week since then.

If Jokaste hadn’t said something, he would have lost it. It’s just a tie, Damen reminds himself. It wouldn’t have mattered. He could have gotten the exact same one, if he had wanted–but it wouldn’t have been a gift from Laurent anymore. It’s just a tie, but he almost lost another part of Laurent once again.

They spend the flight catching up with each other, and Damen tries to carefully avoid asking Jokaste if she’s still single. There’s no ring on her finger, no mark on her neck, but asking would be showing interest, and he doesn’t want to do that.

Jokaste is nice. She’s sassy in the best way and her laugh is loud and a bit weird, which makes Damen laugh harder. He wishes he could have loved her, and he wonders if it’s possible. If maybe he could force himself, just a bit, and fall in love with her.

Love is for the weak, his dad told him once, and maybe he was right. Maybe, it's a partnership he should be looking for, rather than a big love story.

When the plane lands, Jokaste holds on to his hand, pretending to be scared, and Damen lets her do it.

“We should see each other again soon,” Jokaste tells him once they’re off the plane. “When are you heading home?”

“In three days.”

“Next week, then? On Monday?”

Monday is Laurent’s day. They have lunch together and more often than not, also dinner. It’s almost a full day with Laurent.

It was.

Not anymore, and Damen needs to let go.

“Sure. I’ll make a reservation somewhere.”

“I’d love that.”

She takes a step forward, as if she wants to kiss him. Damen doesn’t move and lets her do it. Instead of aiming for his lips, she puts her lips on his cheeks, and Damen feels nothing.

He lost the contract.

It doesn’t come as a surprise, of course. He was barely able to form a coherent sentence and he couldn’t answer one single question the client asked. He should have brought Nik with him. Hell, he should have said he was sick and canceled the whole thing. He should have but he didn’t, and now the contract isn’t theirs anymore. Kastor is going to give him shit for it. Nik too.

There’s a bar next to his hotel, dirty and too crowded, and he almost turns back when he sees the smoke cloud inside of it, but then he gets a text from Nik asking how the meeting went, and he orders four beers in a row.

It’s cheap and his body has long gone accustomed to alcohol, but it's still enough to do the trick and makes him forget about Jokaste kissing him and about Laurent.

Well, not Laurent, of course. Laurent, he can never forget, no matter how much beer he drinks, how much omegas he meets. Laurent is the first thing he thinks about when he opens his eyes in the morning, and the last thing that will be in his mind on the day he dies, and he has known that from the moment he met him. He had hoped that during his final moments, Laurent would have been next to him.

He gets back to his room at 10, takes a scalding shower until he feels like his skin is going to melt, and then he lets himself fall down onto the bed.

His phone buzzes next to him, but he doesn’t have the strength to look at it. He wonders what Laurent is doing right now. Is he thinking of him? Because Damen is. He’s always thinking about him.

Will he tell him that he’s pregnant before the Christmas party, or is he planning on doing the big reveal during it? There’s no point hiding it: Damen will be able to smell it and so will everyone else. Except if he wears heavy perfume that can suppress his natural smell, but even then - even then, Damen will know. Despite everything, he still knows Laurent better than anyone else, he’s sure of it.

He knows that Laurent loves to put honey on his pizza, no matter the topping.

He knows that Laurent is deeply afraid of the dentist, even if he will never say it out loud.

He knows that Laurent was hurt when he was a kid in ways that Damen can’t even imagine, and that it left him with scars deeper than any physical wounds Damen ever had.

He knows all that and a thousand other things: his favorite color is blue, he snores when he sleeps, he loves cats better than dogs but not better than horses. He loves Govart, and not Damen.

His phone buzzes again and Damen makes a loud noise, showing his annoyance to the universe, but it dies the second he sees his screen.

Laurent (11:13): What are you doing?

Laurent (11:30pm): You’re in Montreal?

Damen (11:50pm): Hi.

Damen (11:50pm): Yes. Why?

Laurent (12:00): You’ll bring me a souvenir, right?

Fuck off, Damen wants to text back. Laurent has been ignoring him for weeks now. The only time they’ve spoken, it was unpleasant and left him angrier and sadder than he ever felt in his life. How can Laurent ask him for a souvenir now?

He calls Laurent’s number.

One, two, three rings, and when he’s about to hang out, Laurent picks up.

Damen is so surprised that he doesn’t say anything.

“So? How was your client?”

“I lost the contract.”

“Oh.”

Laurent sounds genuinely surprised, and he should be. Damen doesn’t remember the last time he lost a contract, if ever. From the very first time his dad allowed him to work in the company, he had been clear that under no circumnstances was Damen allowed to lose. He could refuse a contract, but never, ever show weakness in front of the client.

“Why?” Laurent asks. “What happened?”

“I got distracted.”

“It happens, even to the best of us.”

“Not to me, no.”

“Were you distracted?”

“Yes.”

He hears Laurent swallows and the image haunts his mind.

“Why?”

Because I think you’re pregnant and it’s not my child.

He wants to say it. Wants to say it so bad. He needs Laurent to tell him he’s wrong and that he isn’t pregnant. That Govart never touched him, not like that, and that he doesn’t even love him. He wants Laurent to lie and tell him that he loves him. He wants Laurent, plain and simple.

“I saw Jokaste before the meeting, so I wasn’t fully concentrating.”

It’s a lie, of course. Jokaste hasn’t crossed his mind since they saw each other ON the airplane, but Laurent doesn’t need to know that Damen hasn’t been able to think of anything else but him for the past days. Weeks. Months. Years, if he’s being honest.

“Oh.”

Laurent stays silent after that, but his breathing seems to pick up, and Damen wonders if it’s because Govart is next to him. If maybe, as they speak, Govart’s head is resting over Laurent’s heart, listening to the sound of it, knowing that it only beats for him.

“Are you going to see her again?”

“Yes. We have a date next week.”

He doesn’t know why he said that. Or maybe he does, kind of. He wants to make Laurent jealous, maybe. Or he just wants him to know that he, too, can find someone to love and someone to love him. Someone who won’t care that he isn’t a typical alpha, that he’s a bit too soft and sensible. He wants to lie to Laurent and to himself that it can happen. Someone will love him, one day.

“That’s good,” Laurent says. “She was pretty enough.”

“Yeah, she is.”

They fall into silence after that, their breathing the only sound proving that the other one is still there. Is Govart there, too? Damen needs to know. He needs to know if the alpha is there, listening to their phone call, or if Laurent isolated himself to call him. If not, what excuse did he give? How could he justify calling Damen so late, when Govart doesn’t seem to want them to be alone in the same room anymore?

He hears Laurent sniffle, and immediately gets out of his thoughts, worries taking over.

“Are you crying?” Damen asks.

“Of course not. I’ve got a cold.”

Omegas get more sensitive during their pregnancies. He imagines Laurent in his bed, a hand on his belly, rubbing the little bump that must have started to form. Damen hadn’t smelled his pregnancy when they saw each other, but it had been too soon. Next time they see each other, he will be able to tell.

If there is a next time.

“Ok. Well I have to go. I’ll bring you something.”

“Damen?”

“What?”

“Can we stay on the phone? I -”

Damen waits for him to finish his sentence, but the pause becomes bigger and bigger until it’s clear Laurent isn’t going to speak again.

“Govart isn’t there?”

“We don’t live together. He came for dinner tonight, but he wanted… He left. I’m alone. I’m always alone.”

Laurent had been a lonely kid and he became an even lonelier adult. Ancel and Erasmus, he doesn’t consider them like his friends, not really, not yet. Damen had been his only friend. Or so Damen thought. He doesn’t know anymore.

“How’s Canada?”

“Boring.”

“No, it’s not,” Laurent calls him out. “It’s one of my favorite places.”

“Because you have never been to Greece.”

“Correction: you never took me there.”

“I’ve told you we should go on holiday. You refused.”

Because I’m not your alpha. Omegas don’t go on holidays with alphas they haven’t mated with or are not, at the very least, dating. Maybe Govart will take him to Greece for their honeymoon.

“What would we do?”

“Go to the beach, for one.”

“I’ll burn.”

“I’ll buy you sunscreen and apply it myself every half hour.”

“Ok,” Laurent says. “And then?”

“Then we will go to a nice restaurant and eat so much that our stomach will be hurting. We will still buy ice cream after, because I know you like it, and then we will walk home.”

“Home?”

When Damen closes his eyes, he can almost feel it: the wind against his face, the smell of the sea, the sun against his eyes. The family house, too, the one he hasn’t seen in years, that holds so many memories of his mother. His dad sold it the moment she died and threw away everything that was inside, but the walls still hold her soul, Damen knows it. The house is still there, and every once in a while, Damen checks to see if it’s up for sale.

Laurent and he could live there. Their kids would grow up by the sea, just like Damen did.

“Talk to me in Greek,” Laurent asks when Damen fails to answer. “I love when you do it.”

“And say what?”

“I don’t know. Anything. I miss your voice.”

The words hurt like hell, days of effort to forget Laurent being thrown away in an instant. If Laurent was in front of him, Damen would fall down to his knees. He would worship Laurent’s body until the day came, and probably even longer after.

He missed Laurent too. He missed his voice, his jokes and their conversations. He has so many things he wants to ask him, so many things they’ve missed about each other's lives over the past few weeks, and so many things they will miss in the future, too.

“How come,” Damen says, “that you always find your way into my life, even when I try to forget you? You’re just like the sun. Too hot, too warm, too welcoming, and you burn my wings every time I come too close. I love you so much. I wish you could love me, too.”

“It sounded pretty,” Laurent says. “Did you insult me?”

Damen laughs. Only Laurent could think of that.

“Of course not. Why would I?”

“You wouldn’t be the first one tonight. I think you've got plenty of reasons, though.”

“Govart insulted you?”

“No. Of course not. I’m just tired. You’ll stay over the line, right?”

“Yes.”

“Goodnight, Damianos.”

Laurent’s nose moves, just slightly, but Damen knows he smelled him, even in this room full of omega, alpha and beta. Laurent lifts his head and smiles, and Damen has to take a step back, his chest suddenly feeling too small for his heart.

“Hi. You’re here early,” Damen says when he sits down.

“I’m hungry,” Laurent says, the menu already in his hands. “Are you paying?”

“Of course.”

Monday’s lunches are always on Damen, with the only exception being the week of his birthday, and yet Laurent asks the question every time, and Damen answers it, every time too.

When they see each other at different times during the week, Damen still pays 90% of the time, but sometimes Laurent insists on doing it, and because Damen can never say no to him, he agrees, but makes sure to book a more expensive restaurant next time to cancel the balance.

“There’s an alpha looking at me since I arrived,” Laurent mumbles through his clenched jaw. “Fucking asshole. All of them.”

“Even me?”

Laurent shushes him with a « tsk », but his face is already less angry, the crease between his eyebrows less visible. If Damen was his alpha, that crease would never exist in the first place, he would make sure of it, but he isn’t and the best he can do is try to make it less important, to make Laurent’s life just a bit easier.

He turns around and surely, just as Laurent said, there’s an alpha looking their way, his eyes glued on Laurent. The second their eyes meet, Damen frowns and puffs out his chest to send a clear message. Even for an alpha, Damen is big and strong, more so than most, and that little action is all it takes for the stranger to look away, visibly shaken.

“Are you two going to fight?” Laurent asks. “I’m putting my money on your name if you do.”

I will fight him for you, Damen wants to say. He’s never been prone to violence, despite what his appearance might suggest, and he can count on one hand the number of times he had to fight someone in his life. Two of them had been his brother, and he hated every second of it, but for Laurent, he would fight Kastor or anyone else a hundred times more. Right there and then, and God be his witness, he would win in less than a minute and offer the guy’s head to his omega.

They go on with their lunch without further interruption. They talk about the latest book Laurent read, the one that Damen recommended, the gossip going around in their companies and the upcoming business trip Damen will have to take.

“One whole week?” Laurent says. “What kind of deal is it? Are you proposing to someone?”

Sometimes, when he asks questions like this, Damen wonders if it’s jealousy he can hear behind the indignation. He wishes it was, even when Laurent’s face stays the same, unbothered despite his words.

Of course Laurent isn’t jealous. Damen knows that. But he holds into the possibility nonetheless.

“I’ll bring you a souvenir.”

“Can’t I come?”

“Of cou - you’re trying to steal my client?”

Laurent hides his smile with his glass, but Damen sees it and shakes his head in disbelief. He wishes Laurent would truly come with him. They’re friends, best friends even, if Damen is honest, but they have boundaries that they don’t cross, as much as Damen likes to pretend their second genders don’t have any kind of importance. He wouldn’t feel comfortable going away with Laurent, knowing he has feelings for him that he doesn’t know about. Yet he would still say yes. He would always say yes to Laurent

“What dessert do you want?”

He knows Laurent and his love for sweetness. Asking him to choose between a cheesecake and a chocolate cake is like asking a parent who their favorite kids is, an impossible choice that is both heartbreaking and forbidden.

“We could split,” Damen offers.

“You hate cheesecake.”

It’s easy to forget, sometimes, that Laurent knows him just as much as Damen does. It makes Damen feel warm inside to know that Laurent knows every stupid little detail about him. It’s nothing life changing, nothing that important, but Damen must have mentioned it once and Laurent remembered, like he always does.

“There’s lemon pie, too,” Laurent says. “Can we share those two?”

“Sure.”

The desserts arrive shortly after but they don’t cut it in half. Instead, Laurent places one of the plates in the middle of the table and they both dig into it at the same time, and it’s nothing, surely, but they’re sharing a dessert, like so many couples would do, and for a moment, Damen lets himself dream about it.

When he’s with Laurent, he feels like a teenager discovering love for the first time, when holding hands and exchanging looks was enough to make him blush and give him a boner. Things are different now, and sometimes he doesn’t get hard, even when the person in front of him is kissing and touching him, but then he shares a dessert with Laurent. He watches him put the spoon in his mouth, licking it until it’s clean before putting it back in the plate, and Damen knows he won’t be able to stand up for a few minutes.

“I had something I wanted to tell you.”

Laurent’s voice is serious - too serious, but Damen doesn’t comment on it.

There’s cake on the corner of his mouth, right above his lower lip, and Damen wants to reach out and clean it with his thumb. He can’t do that, of course, and so he just motions it to Laurent. He watches, then, intensely, as Laurent’s tongue makes its apparition, catching the little piece with a dexterity that only makes Damen beg for more.

“I’m listening,” Damen says when he remembers that Laurent meant to tell him something.

“I need to have a heat.”

The water in Damen’s month takes a wrong turn and makes him cough, once, twice, and then forces himself not to cough a third time when he sees how annoyed Laurent looks.

“Sorry,” he blurts out. “Why? I thought you were on suppressants.”

“Doctor’s orders. I haven’t had a heat in too long, he said I need to take a break, or the suppressant will stop working.”

“And we don’t want them to stop working,” Damen asks, tentatively.

It’s so easy to imagine Laurent pregnant, a round belly underneath his shirt, a hand rubbing it softly, reassuring his baby. He would hate him, if he knew Damen was imagining that, but he can’t help it, no matter how much he tried over the past few years.

“Of course not,” Laurent’s voice is a bit too harsh, but Damen doesn’t take offense. He never does when it comes to Laurent. “But I’m gonna need someone. An alpha. I’m not looking for a boyfriend, or any kind of - love, or whatever you want to call it.”

He says the word “Love” like it’s physically painful, like the thought of it only is enough to make him gag. He looks cute when he does that. Like a little kitten afraid of its own shadow. He would kill Damen if he knew this is what he thinks about when he’s talking to him, especially about such a delicate subject.

“So?” Laurent asks.

“So what?”

“Do you want to do it?”

“Do what?”

Laurent clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, but the redness that is starting to appear on his face betrays his cold composure.

“I need an alpha to spend my heat with me. It’s just sex, nothing more. Do you want to do it?”

Something collapses in Damen’s brain, his mind going completely blank, all of the sudden. Once Laurent mentioned it, the idea doesn’t go away, the images floating to Damen’s brain: Laurent, his face hot, his body even hotter, tucked under Damen’s body, a soft gazing expression on his face. It’s easy to imagine it, when that’s all Damen has been thinking about for the past four years. It’s easy, and it shouldn’t be, a forbidden dream Damen knows will never come true.

In his dream, Laurent is in heat, but then he isn’t, and he stays in Damen’s bed, day after day, night after night.

The idea is there, tempting, and yet Damen knows he can’t say yes. His love for Laurent is too big for it, too intense, so much that having to share nothing but a few days and nights together will be enough to ruin him forever.

“I can’t do that,” Damen says, the words painful in his mouth. He wants to take them back the second they leave his mouth, but he cannot, not even when he sees the hurt on Laurent’s face. It’s gone before he can even recognize it. “I’m sorry, Laurent. I can’t do it.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, listen -”

“I said it’s fine. I will ask someone else.”

Laurent’s voice doesn’t leave room for any kind of negotiation, and even if it did, Damen wouldn’t know what to say, his own brain splits in two parts, one begging him to say yes, the other standing firm on his decision. It would be a bad idea. The worst of all ideas, surely, and a betrayal to Laurent.

“I need to go,” Laurent says, even though the desserts are still sitting there, half eaten on both ends but unfinished. Damen had waited for them to meet in the middle. Laurent would have eaten the last bite of the lemon pie, and he would have taken the chocolate cake, on which Laurent had put his spoon just before. “I’m visiting Auguste this afternoon.”

“Ok. See you soon?”

Laurent doesn’t reply and is gone in an instant, but he barely made it outside of the restaurant when Damen already regrets his decision.

He could have Laurent. Just for a few days, just to help him out, but it would have been something.

Imaging Laurent with another alpha seems like a crime. They don’t talk about sex ever. Or, more accurately, they don’t talk about Laurent’s sex life, and Damen only talks about him when Laurent presses him about it. He never smells any alpha on Laurent, never saw so much as a hickey on his neck, never heard Laurent mentioning someone. He knows that Laurent must be having it, sometimes, but the truth is, he would rather not think about it and imagine that Laurent has never been with anyone and will never be.

It’s unfair and disgusting of him to have those thoughts, but imagining Laurent with someone that isn’t him is enough to make him want to puke.

He wonders what kind of Alpha Laurent will choose for his heat. Will he pick someone based on looks or character? He never mentioned liking anyone, but he would sometimes throw comments here and there when they were together, always in the direction of omega or beta, which Damen never truly understood.

Sometimes, they would be sitting in a restaurant and Laurent would go “what do you think of this one? Isn’t she pretty? You should get her number”, and Damen did, sometimes, just to please Laurent and the whatever weird little game he was playing.

No one is ever remotely close to being as beautiful as Laurent, but Damen would play the game. He would hit on them if Laurent asked him to, would ask for their phone numbers if they Laurent wanted him to, and then, he would lie to Laurent and tell him that he went on imaginary dates, and Laurent would look satisfied.

They don’t speak after that. Usually, they have never-ending conversations, thousands of texts exchanged everyday about the smallest thing that happened to them, from a broken tire (Damen had driven to the other side of town to help Laurent that day), to the lack of dessert at the cafeteria (Laurent delivered homemade muffins to him when it happened). Their texts don’t even always call for acknowledgement, but they’re still there, constant. Damen can’t remember a time where he looked at his phone and didn’t see a notification from Laurent until today.

There’s no text from Laurent following their lunch, not even to tell him that he arrived safely at the facility where Auguste lives. He brushes it off, blaming it on the fact that Laurent is too busy, and maybe a bit embarrassed following their lunch, but then he doesn’t get a text at night, nor in the morning.

At night, he wakes up every hour to check his phone and during the day, he’s too distracted by the lack of text to concentrate properly.

It’s strange, going from speaking to someone daily to nothing, all of the sudden. It’s like a part of Damen’s life is missing, like the days never really end, continuing endlessly with no clear distinction between one to the other.

Damen doesn’t text either. He’s not sure why. He wants to give Laurent the space he needs. He’s scared of pushing him even further away, too. He wrote him a text a few times but deleted it before he could hit send. What is he supposed to say?

Sorry I said no.

Sorry I’m not capable of helping you out, when all I want in life is to cherish you.

Sorry I’m not good enough of an alpha for you.

Sorry for being in love with you.

He wishes he had asked Laurent when his heat was due.

On Monday, Damen goes to the restaurant they had picked up for this week. He could never sleep the night before seeing Laurent, too overwhelmed with excitement, but last night was different. He didn’t sleep because he knew there was a chance Laurent wouldn’t show up, considering they haven’t spoken in a week now.

Still, Laurent never missed their lunch. Not when he was sick with the flu (that he then gave to Damen), when he had the biggest pimple on his face, not even when Auguste had another stroke, despite Damen assuring him that they didn’t have to do it.

Laurent always showed up because their lunches are not just lunches. They’re more than that, far more than that. It’s their moment, just for them, the one during which nothing else matters and they can talk for hours without getting disturbed.

Laurent isn’t there when he walks into the restaurant, but Damen doesn’t panic. He’s ten minutes early and even if Laurent has a tendency to be early, it doesn’t mean he always has to be.

At twelve, he puts his phone on the table and checks for any upcoming texts from Laurent, but their latest text is still the one from one week ago.

At one, the waitress comes to see him and asks him if he’s still waiting for someone to join him.

At one and a half, when the poor girl starts to clean everyone else's tables, Damen offers her an apologetic smile before getting up and putting some cash on the table.

His ears are burning when he walks out of the door, and the alpha in him is going crazy at the idea that something might have happened to Laurent. He knows it isn’t the case. Laurent stood him up. Four years of friendship but one disagreement and it doesn’t mean anything anymore.

He doesn’t blame Laurent. Of course he doesn’t. If he was enough of an alpha, none of this would have happened. He would have said yes to his offer and that would have been it. Better, if he had been more of an alpha, maybe Laurent would have changed his mind and agreed to mate with him. Everything would have been different. Everything would have been better.

He’s tempted to text Laurent, but he stops himself at the last minute.

If he texts Laurent, then he will know Damen came there. He will know that Damen is pathetic enough to have waited for him for so long, alone and sad in the restaurant, while Laurent is probably out there, looking for an alpha to share his heat with him.

His dad and Kastor would make fun of him if they could see him. He’s not alpha enough, has never been. His appearance is one of a strong, leading alpha, but it’s his mind that causes the issue. He’s always been too sensitive. Too soft. He cried when his fish died when he was ten and begged his dad not to throw him into the toilet. When he still did it, Damen refused to eat for two whole days, but had to give up when he realized his dad didn’t care.

His dad was a real alpha. A real man. Two years ago, when he got sick, he chose to disappear instead of having his sons look after him. Damen looked everywhere for him, but Kastor barely raised an eyebrow. His brother is an alpha, too. The kind their dad wished Damen was. The kind Laurent deserves.

He sees Laurent again two weeks later.

The Devere have organized a “pre-Christmas” party, which sounds insane to Damen. In only a couple of weeks, they will have a Christmas party, and it’s hard to see the purpose of those two events being so close to each other. Yet, Aleron’s love for parties has never been a secret, and the reason for those parties is there. It was worse when his brother was still there. Damen didn’t know them personally back then, but everybody had heard of the Devere’s parties and how scandalous and “free-spirited” they were. Omega were paraded like pieces of meat, wearing clothes that could barely be qualified as such, and the quantity of drugs was enough to make a cartel blush.

They don’t do such extravagant parties anymore, partly because Aleron’s brother left, but mostly because of Auguste’s accident.

Still, three or four times a year, Aleron will use the company’s money to satisfy his need for fun. The parties are much softer now, and Damen had made it clear when he started helping them that he didn’t want to be associated with that kind of thing.

Usually, Laurent and him would send each other pictures of their outfits. They never went to those events together, knowing that the scandal it would cause to have an unmated alpha and unmated owith no prospect of getting married ried walking in together. Despite that, they always end up sitting next to each other and spending the night together.

He hopes that tonight will be no different. Missing Laurent is physically painful. It makes him agitated, on edge, angry and sad at the same time. He needs to have him next to him. He needs to see and talk to Laurent. Tonight, he will get Laurent alone and will tell him that he made a mistake and that he agrees on spending his heat with him. It will kill him to have to leave Laurent after that, to only have this little break with him, but it’s better than nothing. It’s better than losing him.

“We’re not staying late,” Nik says when they enter the building. “We’re gone by nine, max.”

Damen ignores the comment and scans the room in search of Laurent. Most people have already arrived by then and he sees Ancel, Laurent’s assistant, gesticulating in his direction, but one quick look confirms that Laurent isn’t with him.

“I don’t want to be with him. He scares me,” Nik says.

“He weighs about 110 pounds. I think you’ll be fine.”

“You don’t follow him on Insta, do you?”

Damen frowns and turns to his friend with a confused expression.

“No, why would I? And most importantly: why do you?”

“It’s not like that! We - Oh fuck.”

Nikandros has stopped talking, all his attention drawn away by whoever just entered the room, and Damen knows before he even turns around.

Laurent is there, and the sight of Laurent’s outfit is enough to make Damen’s knees go weak.

For the first time in four years that he has known him, Laurent is wearing a dress. One so scandalous that Damen has to double check if it’s truly is Laurent, as if it was possible for him to mistake him with anyone else. The dress is green, barely long enough to cover his knees, giving a full view of his beautiful and long legs. It’s almost transparent in the middle section, allowing anyone to see his soft belly, and the plunge neckline gives a full view of his flat chest and fair skin. Even his arms are naked, and despite how beautiful he looks, Damen can’t help but notice how wrong it feels.

Laurent hates to be naked. He hates it when people see his body, hates it when he’s the centre of attention. He hates green, too, and he’s always cold, even in the middle of summer; something Damen always makes fun of him for.

Despite how unnatural it looks, Damen can’t help but agree that Laurent looks stunning. So stunning, so deadly beautiful, that it takes Damen extra longer to notice that he isn’t alone.

By his side is an older alpha, his arm firmly wrapped around Laurent’s waist, his hand too low for Damen’s liking. But Laurent doesn’t take his hand away. Instead, he tucks himself deeper in his arms, and even extends his cheek for the man to kiss

There’s a pain in Damen’s chest, so heavy that he feels like he could collapse any moment from now. His brain doesn’t work anymore and he feels his face burning up with anger, betrayal, and sadness. Laurent has a boyfriend, one that isn’t Damen and that Damen didn’t know about. A man - an alpha - who gets to kiss him and hold him so close, when the closest thing Damen ever got was Laurent putting his head on his shoulder.

He doesn’t have any right to feel angry at Laurent. He doesn’t owe him anything.

It doesn’t make the pain go away.

“We should leave,” Nik says next to him. “Come on, we don’t need to stay there.”

Laurent never wanted to date. He made a big deal out of it, telling Damen more times than he can count how he wishes to stay alone all his life, despite the society and his parents' pressure. Laurent doesn’t like men. He doesn’t like women either. He particularly dislikes alpha, with Damen being the only exception.

Not until today, it seems.

Damen doesn’t take his eyes away from Laurent, no matter how much the vision hurts, but Laurent doesn’t reciprocate. He barely looks in Damen’s direction, and when he does, there’s no trace left of his friendly smile or his warm eyes. Instead, Laurent looks cold, detached, like he did all those years ago.

“Do you know him?” Nik asks while looking in Laurent’s boyfriend's direction.

“I don’t, no.”

Instinctively, Damen starts walking in Laurent’s direction, and he feels Nik following him closely.

The closer he gets, the faster his heart starts to beat, and he tries his best to control his scent, to not let his alpha take over. Laurent’s eyes never leave him, and it’s easy, so easy, to imagine that the light in them is begging Damen to sneak him away from that old alpha. It’s easy, but it’s a lie. Once he is in front of them, Damen doesn’t speak, unable to find the words. Unable to say anything that wouldn’t destroy what little there is left of their friendship.

“This is Damen and Nikandros,” Laurent says when none of them seem to have decided to talk.

“Alphas,” Govart notes.

“Yes,” Damen says, and he didn’t mean to straighten up his chest in such a way, but he’s glad he did when he sees Laurent’s cheeks reddening.

“I need a drink,” Govart says, tightening his grip on Laurent.

“I’ll be right back,” Laurent says to the alpha. “I want to catch up with those two a bit, if you don’t mind.”

Govart doesn’t answer, not with words at least, but the expression on his face says everything Damen needs to know: he hates them and the feeling is reciprocal.

“Please,” Laurent pleads, and Damen - Damen wants to burn the whole building because Laurent shouldn’t have to beg - not even ask before doing something.

He doesn’t like the voice Laurent uses, or the expression on his face, something Damen can’t quite read. Is it love? Is this what’s the expression on Laurent’s face mean?

“Fine, but not too long.”

Govart leaves, but not before dropping a kiss on Laurent’s cheek, his eyes never leaving Damen.

Does Govart know who Damen is? What did Laurent say?

He’s our biggest competitor.

He helped us out.

We’re friends.

He’s in love with me and pathetic.

Damen has trouble speaking. His throat is all closed up, his stomach upside down and he wants to cover Laurent’s body with his own because if Laurent truly chooses that dress, he is obviously regretting it with the way his arms are wrapped around himself in a failed attempt to hide his figure.

“So, new boyfriend,” he finally says. The words taste like acid in his mouth. Laurent has a boyfriend. An alpha. Someone who isn’t him. Someone that Damen already hates.

“Yes.”

“I’m happy for you,” Damen lies. “I knew it was just a matter of finding the right person.”

No one is good enough for Laurent, and Damen knows that. He spent four years trying to get better, to be good enough that he could one day pretend to be Laurent’s mate, but he never got close to it.

He didn’t think it was a possibility anyway. Laurent has always been loud about not wanting to mate. He didn’t want to be bound to someone, didn’t want to have to share his life with anyone. Govart must have been different. He must have been good enough to make Laurent change his mind.

Since when do they know each other? It’s barely been two weeks since Laurent asked him to share his heat with him. What happened in the meantime? Where does that man come from?

“Thank you,” Laurent says, finally, after a long pause.

“I’ll go grab a drink,” Nik says.

It’s been two weeks that they haven’t seen each other, two very small weeks and yet it feels like a lifetime ago. Damen’s world has stopped moving since then, his life has been put on hold and his heart has not beaten once. He needs Laurent like he needs fresh air, and he wants nothing more but to turn around and hold him close; to steal him away from the rest of the world, from that - that alpha, who got his hands on Laurent and probably doesn’t realize how lucky he is.

He wants to do all that, but he does not.

If Govart’s hands were on Laurent, it’s because Laurent wanted him to.

If he hasn’t spoken to Damen in two weeks, it’s because he doesn’t want to.

“Long time not seen,” Damen says, and mentally slaps himself from coming up with such a lame opening line.

“I’ve been busy.”

“I can see, yeah. It’s great. It’s good, I mean. Gavart seems nice.”

“Govart.”

“Hum?”

“You said Gavart. His name is Govart.”

“Right, sorry.”

Govart is old enough to be Laurent’s dad, or close to it. He has already started to lose his hair and there’s grey hair in his beard. Damen remembers when he almost dated someone eight years younger than him and Laurent gave him crap for it. He called him a weirdo and when Damen tried to explain that the boy was mature, Laurent had lost his shit and blocked him for two days.

He hadn’t even truly meant to date the boy - he just wanted to get some kind of reaction from Laurent, and he did, in the worst way possible.

There isn’t eight years between Govart and Laurent, but at least twenty, if not more. Govart is older than Damen, older than Auguste, and Laurent is mature for his age, smarter than any twenty six years old Damen knows, but alphas like this rarely date younger people for their maturity.

As if he was summoned, Govart walks back to them, an annoyed expression on his face when he notices that Laurent and Damen have been left alone.

“I’ve told you to stay beside me,” Govart says. “I paid for that dress for a reason.”

Damen brasses himself for Laurent to tell him to go fuck himself and to cause a scandal, like he did many times in the past when an alpha dared to speak like that to him. Damen loves it, his chest feeling up with pride every time Laurent stands up for himself, and if anyone tries to fight back, he doesn’t hesitate to step in to protect his omega. They always end up laughing about it when it’s just the two of them, when the annoying alphas and boring omegas are far away from their side and they can truly act like they’re true self.

Except Laurent doesn’t tell Govart to fuck off. Instead, he lowers his head like he’s fucking apologizing and he follows Govart without another word for Damen.

Govart has locked his arm around Laurent’s waist, his hand resting on his ass, petting him, and Damen is about to walk in their direction to separate them when someone stops him.

“Come,” Nik says, grabbing Damen by the arm. “Let’s sit. Don’t make a scene.”

“He’s not his fucking property,” Damen says through his teeth. “Did you see how he talked to him?”

“Laurent didn’t seem to mind, Damen. If he likes to be talked to like that, it’s his choice, not yours.”

Damen feels his body becoming weaker, as if a wave of pity suddenly washed through him. Pity for him, of course.

It’s no wonder Laurent didn’t want to date him, less alone mate. Damen is too weak. His dad and Kastor had told him so many, many times, and yet he never listened to them. He’s too soft, too sweet, the opposite of what an alpha should be, but he had thought that maybe Laurent would like it. He doesn’t really correspond to what is expected of an omega, and so Damen had let himself dream of it.

They sit at the table with Ancel. There are other people too, but Damen doesn’t look at them. He can’t do anything else but stare at Govart and Laurent.

Laurent is his. He was supposed to be his mate, his omega. They’ve been friends for four years. Damen has loved him for four years, and he knows Laurent doesn’t, knows Laurent isn’t Damen’s fucking property but he thought he knew him. He doesn’t, apparently.

“He’s old,” Ancel comments, looking in Govart’s direction. “But I can see the appeal.”

“I don’t,” Nik says.

“I bet he fucks like an animal,” Ancel says. “Rough and dirty. I kinda of like it, sometimes.”

“You’re gross.”

“Why? A good fuck never hurt anyone. And Laurent was probably the one who needed it the most. Look how docile he is now. He’s been lobotomized by Govart’s dick.”

He’s talking to Laurent, his arm around his waist, as if Laurent belongs to him. As if Laurent wasn’t Damen’s.His Laurent, his omega. He doesn’t have any right to do so and yet Laurent lets him do it. Damen lets him do it, too.

“Don’t look at them like that,” Nik says.

“Like what?”

“Like you want to fuck Laurent and jump Govart.”

“I have values.”

“No, you don’t,” Nikandros says. “Not when it comes to him.”

Govart says something and Laurent laughs, hiding his face in the alpha’s chest. From above his shoulder, their eyes meet, and Damen doesn’t look away. Neither does Laurent, not until the food arrives and Govart makes him sit down.

Damen has values but Nik is right that he would throw them all away for Laurent. He would fight Govart if Laurent wanted him to. He would sell his company, would sell his house and everything in it. He would burn the whole world for Laurent. He would do all of that, if only Laurent wanted him to.

“I told you to confess,” Nik says. “Many times, actually.”

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“I need fresh air,” Damen says.

He makes too much noise when he drags his chair away from the table, but doesn’t apologize for it and goes straight to the balcony.

He feels like he’s going to be sick. Like all the love he has for Laurent can’t be held inside anymore and yet all he can see when he closes his eyes are images of Laurent and Govart kissing. Touching. Loving each other in a way Damen dreamt of, so many times.

He did confess.

It was Damen’s birthday and Nik had organized a party with over one hundred people, from old college friends to their latest business partners, and of course, in the mix of it all, Laurent.

As always when Laurent is in the room, it had taken less than five seconds for Damen to find him. They could be in the middle of a concert, hundreds of people around them, the music so loud that even hearing himself think would be hard, and Damen would always find Laurent. It was easy. All he had to do was follow his heart, and it would take him to him.

He hadn’t been able to talk to Laurent all night long. Every minute, someone was calling his name, asking him something or trying to negotiate some deal with him. Parties are for business, Nikandros had told him, and he was right. He was right, but it was too much. It had been so fucking much that Damen had felt like he couldn’t breathe and the room had gotten too small all of the sudden.

He had gone on the roof, then, of all the places he could have gone, and of course Laurent was already there. He didn’t seem surprised when he saw Damen, but a knowing smile appeared on his lips. Could he feel it, too? That thing that always pushed them forward the other, that always brought them together? Did he feel more complete, too, when Damen was around him, and so empty when he wasn’t? Was Damen truly the only one so far gone?

“Not enjoying the party?” Laurent asked as Damen sat next to him.

“Too many people. You?”

“Same. Too many alphas, if I’m more honest.”

“And none that you could be into?”

The look on Laurent’s face had been confusing. A mixture of hurt, angst and - he didn’t know what else, but Damen had looked away.

There had been stars in the sky, visible despite the light emanating from the city.

“I hate it,” Laurent said.

“You hate what?”

“Being an omega. People always think they’re above me. Like I’m just some stupid pretty thing that they can play with.”

“I don’t think that.”

“You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“I…”

Laurent had laughed, then, the kind of Laurent that he only gave to Damen, when it was just the two of them and that the rest of the world seemed to fade away. He would have wanted to freeze the moment. To get locked into that memory forever, the two of them sitting on that dirty roof, a bottle of wine and some cheese as their only food; Laurent’s smile to keep him warm and nothing else.

“I thought you liked them blonde with blue eyes,” Laurent said when Damen failed to answer. “Why not me, then?”

Why not Laurent?

“I would have taken you as my mate,” Damen said.

“Would?” Laurent challenged. “Then why don’t you? I’m not dead. And you’re not, too. We’re both alive.”

“Would you like to be?”

“Would I like to be what?”

“My mate.”

Damen’s heart had been beating against his chamber, begging to be let free. He had been close. So close. Laurent was right next to him, their hands almost touching.

Images started to fuse in his head. His arms around Laurent. His lips on his. His hands against his body.

“No,” Laurent said after a while. “It would be a terrible idea.”

From the balcony, Damen sees Laurent, standing alone in the cold, his arms wrapped around him as he tries to keep himself warm.

There’s an exit stairway right next to Damen and he doesn’t hesitate before taking it. He takes his jacket off and starts to walk fast, too fast, in Laurent’s direction, but before he can reach him, Laurent turns around and smiles softly.The kind of smile that makes Damen’s heart skip a beat and makes him trip over his own feet.

Except the smile is not for him.

The smile is for Govart, who somehow got to Laurent quicker than Damen did, and whose body is now wrapping around his, pulling him in a tight embrace and Laurent -

Laurent lets him do it.

He lets himself be held and even holds back.

There’s not really a best way to bring it up, and so Laurent waits until a few days have passed. During that time, he observes Damen, and he wonders when he lost his famous sense of observation because there’s no way he hadn’t noticed that before.

It’s not just the surnames that sold Damen’s kink away. It’s all the other little things, like the way his eyes are always lingering on Laurent’s best and belly, how his hands always find their way over his round part. It’s in the way Damen’s eyes grow heavy when Laurent disputes one of their children, as if his alpha was ready to eat him up, right there, right then.

Laurent would be lying if he said he didn’t like it. Now that he has noticed it, he feels his body reacting every time he catches Damen looking at him or every time Damen calls him mommy. Unlike the general tendency, Damen and he never stopped having sex while Laurent was pregnant, but their sex life did change with it. More slowly, more carefully, a bit less regularly. Laurent had thought it was normal. That perhaps Damen didn’t like his pregnant body as much as he liked his “regular” one, and after each baby, they were back to normal, which proved him right.

He wonders if this is the real reason, or if maybe, just maybe, his husband has been holding back all this time.

Laurent is already in bed when Damen comes into the room, completely naked after his bath. His alpha is the most beautiful alpha to ever exist, Laurent is sure of that, and he feels his private part tingling just by looking at him.

He doesn’t know how to bring it up. They don’t have any secrets from each other and are free in their words, but even after so many years together, Laurent still finds himself shy about certain subjects. He usually lets Damen take the lead on everything related to the bedroom, because that’s how they both like it, but today… Today is different.

“We should start planning Louis’ birthday,” Damen says as he lets himself fall down on the bed next to Laurent. “It could be a great occasion to close some deals. What do you say?”

One of Damen’s hands is already working its way on his back, rubbing it gently with his fingers. Laurent always complains that his back hurts, and the touch of his alpha makes him melt on the spot, his body searching for some relief. Yet, Laurent forces himself to focus and keeps his eyes open as the words finally make their way out of his mouth.

“Do you have a mommy kink?”

The fingers freeze, and so does the expression on Damen’s face. It’s rare for Laurent not to be able to read the expression on his alpha’s face, but right now, he can’t tell if Damen is embarrassed, angry, or excited.

“Excuse me?”

“A mommy kind. Do you like - Do you like thinking of me as your maternal figure?”

Damen frowns, and Laurent has to prevent himself from putting his fingers between the crack of his eyebrows.

“I don’t like it when you say it like that, no.”

“But you do like to call me mommy and other things, correct?”

“I -”

It’s rare to see Damen being uncomfortable, especially around sex. Out of the two, Damen is always the more open-minded one, ready to test new things and to voice out his desires and fears. Where Laurent is hard work, Damen is easy and patient. It feels good that, for once, their roles are reversed.

“It’s not because I don’t have a mom,” Damen explains. “I don’t see you as a substitute for my mother. It’s more than… It’s that I think you’re fucking hot as mother, Laurent.”

It’s Laurent’s time to freeze, trying to make out what Damen is saying without his head bursting from the heat that has reached his face.

“I’m a hot mom,” he repeats.

“Yes,” Damen says, as simple as that. “I like to see you so big with my babies. I like it when you tell the kids what they can and cannot do, when you hold me against your heavy breast that smells like milk. I love how caring and loving you are with kids. I am jealous of our kids for getting the love I could never have as a kid, but it’s not what this is about.”

“You love that I’m bossy but loving,” Laurent says. “And that I’m fat, obviously.”

Damen straightens up and grabs Laurent by the hips, pushing him into his lap, until Laurent is straddling him, his imposing belly between them.

“I do. I love that when people look at you, they know that I was inside of you, that you let me come inside. I love how your body is changing, how hard your breasts are, and how delicate your nipples have become once again.”

To prove his point, Damen’s hands leave the comfort of Laurent’s waist and travel up to his nipples under his nightgown. When his cold fingers touch them, Laurent shivers and bites down on his lips not to moan loudly.

“You’re so beautiful,” Damen whispers. “The kids are so lucky.”

Laurent rolls his hips on Damen’s hard cock, and he feels his own fluid leaking through his underwear and into Damen’s lap. Pregnancies always make him wetter than usual.

“How does that make the kids lucky?”

“Because they can do it.”

“They can do what?”

“They can drink from your breast.”

Damen’s hands are cupping his swollen breasts now, four pregnancies back to back having forever altered Laurent’s body, his milk supplies never stopping once in the past five years. They had initially planned to hire a wet nurse, but when Henri was born, Laurent knew immediately that he couldn’t bear the thought of another omega feeding his child.

When Damen squeezes on them, Laurent feels a rush of milk leaking through his right nipple.

Immediately, Damen stops his movement and starts to profusely apologize. When they have sex while Laurent is pregnant, he is always careful not to touch his breasts, and Laurent had thought, wrongly, that it was because his alpha was disgusted by it, like many alphas are. If only they had talked about it earlier.

Laurent snaps Damen’s hand back on his breasts and makes him apply more pressure.

“Mommy didn’t tell you to stop.”

“Laurent,” Damen moans.

In lieu of an answer, Laurent lifts his nightgown over his head and takes it off. Damen isn’t looking at him anymore, and instead, his eyes are glued to his breasts, a hungry look on his face.

Laurent cups his face in his hands and rubs the skin slowly, until Damen finally looks up.

“Drink, baby. You must be starving.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice: Damen’s mouth immediately starts to lap at Laurent’s nipples, more milk coming out as Damen’s teeth bite gently into his skin. When Laurent cries out from pleasure, Damen almost takes a step back, but Laurent pushes his head right back against his chest.

“You need to stop not listening to mommy,” Laurent warns him. “Good boys always listen to their mommy. And you're a good boy, are you not, Damianos?”

With his mouth full of nipple and milk, Damen cannot answer, but the way his dick twisted under Laurent and the noise he makes are enough of an answer. He sucks deeper, and Laurent can’t help but throw his head back, rocking his body even harder against his alpha. He has always been so self-conscious about leaking, as he always tries his hardest for it not to happen during their intercourse, even when his breasts were on the verge of bursting from all the milk inside. It feels like liter and liter of milk are pouring into Damen’s mouth, and Laurent takes one of Damen’s free hands and starts massaging his other breast with it, stimulating it before all but slamming Damen’s face on his other nipple.

“Such a good boy. Making mommy feel so good.”

Damen sucks harder, and Laurent arches into the touch.

“It’s so good, mommy,” Damen says. “So delicious. You’re delicious. I want to eat you up.”

There’s milk drooling from Damen’s mouth, and Laurent cleans it with his finger before pushing it back into his husband’s mouth. With his tongue, Damen starts to lick and sucks on it, his eyes never leaving Laurent’s own.

“Baby, you need to fuck mommy now, before I come from you just sucking on my tits.”

With one smooth movement, Damen rips Laurent’s underwear with his bare hands, until his pussy is pushing against Damen’s cock. If he were to just lift his hips, Laurent could slide Damen’s dick directly into his pussy without much effort, and he could ride him until they both reach orgasms. But today isn’t about that.

“Good boy, don’t make their mommy do all the work,” Laurent warns him. “You’re gonna fuck me and make me come like you were meant to do, got it?”

“Yes, mommy.”

Suddenly, Laurent is being lifted from Damen’s lap and pushed back on the mattress. Instead of getting between his legs like he had expected, Damen gets off the bed and stands at the edge.

“What are you doing?”

The smirk on Damen’s face should have been enough of a warning, and yet when he’s being yanked forward by his ankles, Laurent still yells in surprise. Damen is standing firm on the ground, both of Laurent’s legs up against his chest, giving him total accessibility to his hole. He must be dropping on the floor, Laurent realizes, both ashamed and excited.

He feels the tips of Damen’s cock brushing against his lips and immediately clenches in anticipation.

“And you call me hungry,” Damen says.

“Shut - Fuck!”

Damen has slammed in without any warning, and Laurent feels his eyes rolling back inside his head. His cock is so big, it feels like it will rip him apart one day, and maybe today is the day because Damen doesn’t carry the usual carefulness he does when they make love with Laurent pregnant. Instead, he fucks him like he would do in normal time, slamming into him at a brutal speed. Laurent pushes back against him, trying to meet his thrusts, even when his body is too heavy from the pleasure he’s feeling. He tries to suck Damen’s cock in, tries to take him even deeper, and when Damen pushes on his legs more, almost folding him in two, Laurent ignores the pain from his legs and lets his head fall down on the bed.

One of Damen’s hands finds his clitoris and starts playing with it, rubbing and squeezing the little bundle of nerves between his fingers. Laurent already feels his orgasm building up, and he knows he won’t be able to last for long.

“You’re so naughty,” Laurent says. “Torturing your mommy.”

“Am I?”

Damen punctuates his question with a hard, well-directed thrust that hits Laurent in his most sensitive spot. Damen is ball deep into him, the sound of their skin slapping against each other filling up the room, as well as the awful sound of wetness every time he thrusts in and out of him. Laurent tries to muffle his moans, aware that the guards are right behind the door, but when Damen’s free hand grabs one of his breasts again, he can’t help but moan loudly.

“Fuck Damen,” Laurent pants, overstimulated. He puts his own hand on top of Damen’s and forces him to squeeze harder. “Fuck me, fuck me hard, baby, make mommy come.”

Damen’s grip on his breast is so strong that his fingers are turning white, and it hurts, it fucking hurts so good, that soon, Laurent is clenching hard around Damen, swallowing his cock inside his cunt. Damen accelerates his movement over Laurent’s clit and finally, Laurent’s orgasm washes through him, sending waves of pleasure through his body.

He feels his hole tightening ever more around Damen, until his alpha can barely move anymore, and, to his horror, milk comes pouring from his nipples, splashing all over himself and Damen’s face with the force of it.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he breathes down.

Damen’s tongue licks all the milk it can reach on his face, and, as best as he can with Laurent’s belly on the way, Damen gets closer to his face and kisses him firmly on the lips.

Laurent tastes his own milk on Damen’s tongue, sweet and creamy, and when his husband pulls back, he bites down on one of Laurent’s nipples again.

“Mommy is so good,” Damen says. “But I haven’t come yet.”

When Damen starts to move again, Laurent lets out a “Fuck” and lets his husband chase his own pleasure. The overstimulation after his orgasm is almost painful, yet not quite.

“Come for mommy,” Laurent encourages him.

Damen doesn’t make it last for too long: he thrusts hard inside of him and, without any kind of rhythm, encouraged by Laurent’s moans, his knot forms and becomes bigger and bigger, almost too painful to get fully inside of Laurent. Finally, the knot catches, and Damen comes; he does it so deep inside of Laurent’s belly that he swears he can almost taste it, his knot linking them together.

Damen doesn’t fall down on him, too conscious of hurting their babe, and so he collapses next to him and immediately drags Laurent into his arms.

Their bodies are sweating profusely, and Laurent can hear his heartbeat in his ears.

“You’re ok?” Damen asks after a while, his fingers tingling with Laurent’s hair.

“It was so hot. Did you like it?”

He’s scared that somehow, maybe, Damen didn’t like it as much as he did, but although they just had sex, he can already feel Damen’s cock hardening inside of him, just slightly.

“It was amazing. You were amazing. I never thought… I didn’t know I was so obvious.”

Laurent breathes out, satisfied with his husband’s answer, and snuggles closer to his chest, his eyes already closing.

“Say thank you to Nik. This is all because of him.”

He feels Damen’s body contracting against him.

“What?”

“Sleep, baby. We need some rest.”

He doesn’t wait for Damen’s answer, his body and mind feeling too relaxed to even form a comprehensive thought, and he lets himself fall asleep, his alpha’s strong body against him and his knot secured inside of him.

—

When Laurent wakes up the next day, he’s clean, inside and out, and he’s wearing a nightgown and a new pair of underwear. There’s a breakfast on his side of the bed, fresh fruits, toast, and a glass of milk, with a handwritten card.

To the best mommy ever,

Thank you for the feast.

I love you,

“Kastor, don’t scare the kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” Laurent says. “And I’m not scared.”

On his application, he told them that he was twenty, soon to be twenty-one. Kastor had run the interview and hadn’t asked for more details than what was written on his CV. He hasn’t even asked for an ID to verify his identity, which Laurent is thankful for: he had lied without thinking about a backup plan.

“The horse doesn’t need more care,” Kastor says, ignoring his brother. “Go back inside. The toilets need some cleaning.”

Next to him, the horse makes a noise, as if to plead otherwise. The poor animal has been in the family for ten years, but he still doesn’t have a name or anyone to ride him. Neither Kastor nor Damen had stopped to think that he deserved a name.

Back when his parents were alive, Laurent had had his own horse, too. A beautiful Arabian horse that he had named Ice Cream, because he was five and ice cream had been his favorite thing in the whole world at that time, besides Auguste.

He still remembers the day Auguste had to sell him: Laurent had screamed and cried until no sound could come out of his throat anymore and his eyes were dry from all the tears that had fallen on his face. He told Auguste that he hated him that day, for the first time in his life and, unfortunately, not for the last time. Just the thought of it makes him feel guilty.

He wonders if Auguste still remembers this, or if the thousands of other times that Laurent had told him that he hated him made him forget the first time.

They say words lose their powers when you use them too often, but not those ones. Auguste never failed to look broken when Laurent said them, three little words that he threw at his brother’s face time after time, hoping to hurt him more each time and somehow succeeding in it.

“Is my brother treating you well?”

Laurent shrugs. He had been treated much worse in his life, and though Kastor might not be nice, he’s not even at the top of his list.

“Well, I’m here now. I’ll take good care of you.”

Laurent frowns. Since he started working here, Damen’s presence has only been occasional, a few minutes every couple of days before he went back to God knows where. Damen is a busy man, Laurent knows, although he isn’t sure why. He tried to ask Kastor once, if perhaps Damen had a wife and kids somewhere, but Kastor refused to answer his questions and told him that the staff had no right asking for their employers’ personal information.

“I’m moving back home,” Damen says with a smile, as if reading his mind.

“I should go to your room in that case.”

Damen lifts his eyebrows and a smirk appears on his beautiful face. Only then does Laurent understand the double-entendre of his words. He feels his face turning red again and he quickly looks down, unable to hold Damen’s stare. “I need to get your room ready, like change the sheets and all that…”

The smirk doesn’t leave Damen’s face and when Laurent finally looks back at him, Damen winks. Something trembles between Laurent’s legs and he quickly presses his knees together to make the sensation stop.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll do it. Kastor is exploiting you by making you work so hard.”

“He’s literally getting paid to do this,” Kastor intervenes. God, how Laurent wishes he would just shut up.

“I don’t mind doing it,” Laurent says. “I’ll get to it before leaving, if that’s alright with you.”

“Of course it is. Don’t overwork yourself. It’s really hot today.”

The temperature was fine before Damen walked in, but now it’s like the sun is burning through Laurent’s clothes, setting the deepest part of his body on fire.

The brothers leave him alone shortly after that, and as they walk away, Laurent’s gaze never leaves Damen as he tries to commit every little detail about him to memory. He can’t believe that Damen will be there every day from now on. This seems like a dream.

Right before they’re out of view, Damen turns around and catches Laurent gazing at him. Laurent freezes, his brain unable to process what he should do now. Looking away would be stupid, but staring is disrespectful. Before he can react, Damen winks in his direction. This time, Laurent can’t maintain eye contact and quickly looks away, his cheeks burning.

“Do you think he likes me?” Laurent asks the horse.

The poor beast doesn’t reply, but Laurent knows better than to take it personally.

He finishes taking care of Gilbert (he couldn't let the poor beast go without a name) and hurries back to the house to get Damen’s room ready. He runs on the stairs, overly excited at the thought of going to Damen’s room, and he barely apologizes when Theomedes yells at him for waking him up from his nap, which is a lie: Laurent knows he never sleeps when Damen is around, equally as excited to see Damen as Laurent is, although not quite for the same reasons.

The few times Laurent had seen Damen, he had arrived late at night, so Laurent had never been able to give him a proper welcome. Today needs to be different, especially if Damen is staying for good.

Damen’s room is bigger than Kastor’s and far prettier; from the bed to the view, it’s clear that this room was designed to welcome royalty, and that this is how Theomedes sees his second born.

Auguste’s room used to look just like this, when their parents were still alive. It was big and fancy, almost the size of their current apartment. When Laurent was younger, Auguste would often playfully encourage him with the promise that if Laurent performed well at school, he would give him his bedroom one day. Laurent had been too young to know that Auguste’s bedroom would automatically become his once his brother eventually left home, and so he had worked hard, under Auguste’s close supervision. By the time that Laurent was old enough to get the room, the house was long gone, sold for a few thousand dollars in a final effort to buy their freedom.

Laurent doesn’t waste too much time in the room: he has a job to do and it needs to be done perfectly. He cleans the floor, dusts, opens the windows, and finally, prepares the bed.

He chooses his own favorite pair of sheets, the ones that are a light blue, almost the same shade as his own eyes. He hopes that it will make Damen think of him.

He makes sure the cover is placed correctly and even slaps the pillows a few times so that they’re fluffed and welcoming. Everything needs to be perfect for Damen. Then he takes the bottle Kastor had given him and instructed him to put on his brother’s pillows, ‘to help him sleep better,’ according to him.

Before splashing some on the pillow case, Laurent brings the bottle to his nose and sniffs it. Immediately, he moves it away with a grimace. The scent is so strong and so repulsive that it goes straight to his stomach.

Kastor said it was really important since, apparently, Damen hates the smell of fresh laundry. Laurent doesn’t speak to Kastor often, for a really simple reason: Kastor reminds him of Uncle. He knows better than to trust men like him, to whom everything is a game and nothing truly matters.

There’s no one but Theomedes in the house. Damen and Kastor left a few minutes ago in their cars and won’t be back until later. The idea in Laurent’s mind is dirty and insane, yet it is there and at that moment, it seems like a good idea.

Slowly, he takes the pillow into his hands and brings it to his face. He starts by rubbing it against his cheeks, first the left side, then the right, and finally, he presses his whole face to it, taking a deep breath and breathing out, exhaling to leave as much scent behind as possible.

He still doesn't think it’s enough. The clean scent is still there, and if that is what bothers Damen, then he needs to find another solution, quick.

He doesn’t take his trousers off to do it.

He doesn’t want to leave any physical proof, and he certainly doesn’t want to be caught with his pants around his ankles. This he could play off, somehow. He could pretend that he fell on the bed and ended up with the pillow between his legs, or that he was just checking that the pillow cover was put on correctly. He can find an excuse if it comes to it, but right now, he doesn’t care much about it, not when the pillow is between his legs and he is pressing into it, grinding his most intimate glands against it.

Damen won’t know. The smell will be light, barely noticeable, but whenever Damen goes to sleep, he will be welcomed with Laurent’s smell, even if it’s nothing but a trace of his scent.

Laurent had never had a strong libido, or maybe he had, but too soon for him to remember: he hadn’t quite reached puberty when Uncle took an interest in him. Because of this, masturbating or pleasuring himself is an unfamiliar act, something forbidden in which he doesn’t have any kind of interest.

Since meeting Damen, though, something awakens in him and at times like this, when the pillow rubs just the right way against him, he thinks that maybe, one day, he will be able to do it.

Not today.

He only rubs himself against it for a few minutes before putting it back nicely on the bed. He kisses it, too, for good measure, leaving yet another trace of himself on Damen’s bed. When he finally leaves the room and gets on with the rest of his duties, his underwear only slightly wet.

—-------

It takes him an hour to commute from his job to his house. When he applied for this job, Laurent lied about a few things, including his address. The house he shares with Auguste is located in the “bad neighborhoods” and Laurent didn’t want to jinx his chances at getting this job over such a small detail. He also lied to Auguste and told him that it was only a fifteen minute walk away and so far, he’s been able to maintain his lie with both parties.

Walking two full hours each day, back and forth, not to mention all the walking he does on the Akielos’ big property, can get really tiring, but when he arrives at his house, Laurent forgets all about the pain in his feet right away. Auguste’s unmistakable car is parked in the driveway. The wheels are rusted, the car full of dents, and on the windows, someone has written Clean me ! in the dust, and yet just the sight of it is enough to put a smile on Laurent’s face.

He doesn’t walk but runs inside the house and sure enough, Auguste is there in the living room, still wearing his dirty work uniform. For a split second, he doesn’t notice Laurent, and all his emotions are raw and written all over his face for Laurent to see: exhaustion, tiredness, sadness. His eyes light up when he sees his little brother, but Laurent has already lost all his excitement.

“Hi, sunshine.” Auguste opens his arms for Laurent to come between them. When Laurent does, Auguste buries his nose in his hair and takes a big breath. “Shit, I feel like I haven’t seen you in days.”

It has, in fact, been days since they saw each other, but Laurent knows better than to complain. Auguste has been taking more hours and more shifts to put more money on the side for him , and so for the last couple of weeks, he would only return home once Laurent already left for work, and vice-versa.

On days like this, when he can feel the absence of Auguste deep in his bones, despite the warmth of his arms and the musky scent from the factory Auguste works at, he wishes he wasn’t such a burden for his brother.

Auguste hums into his hair again and Laurent freezes in his arms, knowing too well what is to come. He breaks away from his embrace, but it’s already too late: Auguste’s face is harsh and angry, and maybe a bit disappointed, too. There was a time when the looks Auguste gave him were nothing but loving and tender, but over the last couple of years, he has gotten used to receiving this awful look that reminds him, again and again, that he’s the reason why his brother always looks so tired.

“What is that?”

“What?” Laurent says, pretending that he doesn’t know what this is about.

“The smell .”

Laurent chews on his lips. Once. Twice, until the taste of blood enters his mouth.

“The youngest brother is back home. He’s an alpha.”

Auguste stares at him, hard, as if he is able to see the deepest secrets in Laurent’s soul. He doesn’t keep a lot of secrets from his brother, actually, not anymore. He won’t talk about his crush on Damen, but he doesn’t really consider it a secret. After all, Auguste doesn’t talk to him about his crushes, either.

“I don’t like it. You never mentioned one of the brothers was an alpha.”

Laurent rolls his eyes.

“I only saw him once or twice. I didn’t know he was going to come back and live there. He’s nice, Auguste.”

One second. Two seconds. Laurent bites down harder on his lips and when it isn’t enough anymore, he bites down the inside of his cheek until more blood comes pouring, but Auguste nods, satisfied with the answer.

“Are they still treating you well? You look tired.”

“It’s Friday. Of course I’m tired.”

He didn’t mean to snap and yet, his tone is harsh and Auguste gets that look on his face again, the one that tells him he fucked up and made his brother sad again.

“I’m just tired,” Laurent says again, softer this time.

“Me too.” He doesn’t say why, exactly, and it’s easy for Laurent to blame himself for it. “Should we have a Be Happy night?”

The Be Happy night is a tradition they came up with a few years ago. Back then, they were living in an even shittier apartment, with barely enough money to feed themselves. Laurent’s health had been bad: his asthma was over the roof and the humidity in the apartment was only making things worse. Auguste was still beating himself over for the whole Uncle’s situation, as Laurent likes to refer to, and they were both slowly losing their sanity.

That’s when the Be Happy night was created. It was simple: for a few hours, once in a while, they would forget everything. They wouldn’t talk about money, work, Uncle, or anything that was even slightly negative. Instead, they ordered food out, put on a movie, and focused on pretending to be happy.

After pretending for a while, they both thought they would end up really feeling it. It never happened.

“Let me take a shower first. Can we order pizza? I’ll pay.”

“No, you won’t,” Auguste says with a flick of his tongue. “You’re working hard to get money for college. Not for pizzas.”

Auguste hadn’t been able to go to college. He wanted to, had more than enough competency and skill to do it, but mom and dad died a few weeks shy of him starting, and then the money was gone.

Every penny he made over the last couple of years had been for Laurent and Laurent only, but Laurent is tired of it. He wants to give Auguste his money back, in a way, and show him that he’s an adult too, and not the baby he used to be.

Auguste’s eyes cross from the lack of sleep and his hands are slightly shaking. He probably missed lunch today, just like yesterday and the day before. Laurent won’t pick up a fight tonight.

“I want cheese on mine,” Laurent says.

“It will make you sick,” Auguste says, but takes his phone out anyway.

Laurent thinks of Damen and Kastor, their big house and the pool in the garden. They have more money than he and Auguste could ever dream of having, and yet somehow, with Auguste by his side, Laurent thinks himself richer than them.

—-------

Despite his active crush on Damen, Laurent doesn’t actually know much about him.

They talked quite a lot whenever Damen would stop by, but it was never anything particularly significant. He knows that Damen is nice, funny, and that every time he came home, he would always take the time to speak to Laurent, if only for a few minutes. He loves his dad too, that much is obvious. Faced with his own father’s mortality, Damen always forces a smile on his face whenever his dad is around, refusing to reveal to his dad how affected he is by the situation. Yet after every visit, Damen’s shoulders are down, his eyes have lost their sparkle, and his lips are tightly pressed together in disapproval.

Theomedes’ health is declining with each passing day and it’s only a matter of time before his mind is gone and his body remains nothing but an empty shell. The house smells of death, despite Laurent’s best efforts to wash it away. He knows that smell too well: Mom had been sick for a long time, so long that Laurent barely has any memories of her that doesn’t involve her lying down on a bed. Dad had been different. He had shot himself in the head, painting the wall behind him with different kinds of red. The smell had been different, when Laurent had opened the door, closer to metal, stronger than with mom. He could have almost tasted it on his tongue and so he had bit on his cheeks, hard, and sure enough, it had tasted exactly as he had expected to.

Damen lives there now. The reasons why are still unclear, and Laurent doesn’t have any right asking. He knows Damen isn’t married and doesn’t have a kid, and he doesn’t seem like the type to cry over a heartbreak, the same way Theomedes doesn’t seem to be the type of dad who would console his child over such an insignificant matter.

“What are you thinking about?” Damen asks.

They’re in the garden together, by a great coincidence.

Laurent had finished taking care of Theomedes and when he looked outside, he barely noticed Damen was there, sitting on one of the chairs– he just thought the flowers could use some tending, that’s all. The gardener will be pleased to receive a bit of help.

“It’s hot today,” Laurent says. “I didn’t think it would be this bad.”

That morning, he dressed up accordingly for Damen’s presence: a pair of light and tight trousers, a v-neck white t shirt, almost transparent, a pair of sneakers that added a few inches to his height, and he had given up on wearing a hat, after deciding that he looked too much like a farmer with it. He had waited until Auguste was gone before leaving the house, knowing too well that his brother would have noticed his unusual attire right away.

If he does look more put together than yesterday in this outfit, it still isn’t quite right for the current weather. His head is hurting from how hard the sun is heating him and he can feel a few sunburns forming on his skin. He’s going to look like a lobster and he doubts Damen will find him attractive.

Damen is shirtless, which is probably not helping Laurent’s own state. His t-shirt has been abandoned on the stairs leading to the garden and for the past half hour, Laurent has been wondering if there is any chance he could take it without Damen noticing.

“Do you want to use the pool?”

The garden shears slip from his hands and almost end on the ground, but Laurent catches them at the last second. When he looks over, he sees Damen looking at him, his eyes caught between amusement and a challenge.

“It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“Why?”

“I’m your employee.”

“We had pool parties with the staff in the past.”

“But was your staff made up of omegas?”

This time, Damen looks away, and rightfully so. In the advertisement they put online, they specifically asked for a beta or an alpha. Laurent went in with all the hope in the world that his second nature wouldn’t be noticed: he wore Auguste’s clothes and had washed meticulously to hide his scent. Kastor hadn’t noticed. They had done the whole interview without him sensing anything, but then Theomedes had walked in, and Laurent’s hope of keeping his omega side a secret vanished.

The Akielos’ family never hired omegas, although Laurent still doesn’t understand why not. Theomedes had once said it had to do with their job, and not being able to ensure a safe environment, and because Laurent really wanted the job, he had said he didn’t care. Safety had never been in the cards for him anyway.

“Are you scared?” Damen asks.

“Of you?”

This seems to surprise Damen. Yet why would Laurent not be scared? Damen is an adult— a real one, closer to forty than to twenty. He’s also his employer, and an alpha, all big and muscular, and so tall that Laurent has to get on his tiptoes if he wants to see him properly. If Damen wanted to, he could overpower him easily, could take Laurent, right then and there, in the middle of the garden and Laurent wouldn’t be able to do much to defend himself. But Damen wouldn’t do that. Damen seems nice and respectful, which is part of the reason why he will never be interested in Laurent.

Laurent is dirty, touched by hands that share the same blood as he does, soiled by his Uncle’s body and broken by it, too. He hasn’t had a heat in years now. Sometimes, when the nightmares become too much, he has to restrain himself from going to sleep in Auguste’s bed. His brother would welcome him, of course, but it would pain him to know that even after all these years, Laurent is still dealing with the aftermath of what happened. Of what Auguste failed to protect him from.

“You can use the pool if you want,” Damen says. “I promise, I won’t let anyone come near you.”

The words come easily to Damen, as if they don’t carry everything Laurent has ever wanted, and when he says them, his eyes never leave Laurent: worse even, he looks at him with a gaze so intense that Laurent will remember it later at night, alone in his bed.

“Thank you,” Laurent says. The words are not enough, but he can’t trust himself to say anything else.

“Of course. I want you to be comfortable here. I also don’t want to be blamed for letting a kid die from the heat.”

“I’m not a kid,” Laurent defends himself, not for the first time.

He knows he looks young. Uncle used to tell him it was one of his favorite things about him— Laurent, at twelve, had barely looked older than a seven year old.

“Of course. You’re twenty one, right?”

Laurent feels his whole body freezing. He had lied on a few things on his CV: his address, for starters; his second gender, although this one was quickly discovered; and his age. A small detail, if you asked him.

“Yes.”

“So you’re in what, your third year of college?”

“I took a break.”

“Oh, did you now?”

There’s a smirk on Damen’s face, a clear indication that whatever lie Laurent is trying to sell him, he isn’t buying it.

It isn’t completely a lie. Laurent had skipped a grade when he was fifteen and he really had graduated high school a few months ago, which made him technically a college student. He hasn’t started college yet, and the program he had enrolled in won’t start for another few more months, but it is a small detail. Insignificant.

Laurent will be eighteen in a few months, anyway.

Damen is thirty-five. Or at least, Laurent thinks he’s thirty-five. He’d tried to look him up online once, but nothing came up, not even a LinkedIn profile. The Akielos are a very rich family and Laurent had thought it would be easy to find information about them, but he had been wrong— he couldn’t even find so much as a single picture of any of them online.

“Was your previous job a summer job? Or were you working during your studies?”

“Summer job,” Laurent says. “I was working in a hospice center, taking care of old people.”

Damen nods, satisfied with Laurent’s answer, which is a good thing because Laurent can’t remember what name he had made up on his CV. He had memorized it and if Kastor were to ask him, he could tell him the three different experiences he put on it, down to the fabricated stories he had made up during his interview. But Damen is not Kastor and in front of him, Laurent can’t follow up with his own lies.

“Why did you apply to work with us?”

I saw the job advertisement and it seemed to match perfectly with my competences , is what Laurent had said during the interview.

Now, the truth might have been a bit different.

Laurent had been sitting in a coffee shop, waiting for Auguste to finish his shift, when he overheard a conversation between two men. One of them was informing the other of interviews and a recruitment process that were going on, and Laurent hadn’t paid attention to it, not really, but then the other guy spoke, and the whole world stopped spinning.

Laurent had turned around and next to him, waiting in line, was the most handsome human being he had ever seen. Black hair, brown eyes, muscles so strong his top seemed to be on the verge of breaking, and a voice so suave that Laurent felt it echoing between his legs.

He had been looking for a job. Or, well, he had been thinking of applying, and it must have been destiny, to be in this coffee shop at the same time as Damen, didn’t it?

The guy next to Damen was his assistant, and Laurent just had to gather a few more details—and while Damen was still in the shop, Laurent started working on his fake resume.

Some people might think he’s crazy.

Laurent thinks he’s just overly motivated.

“No particular reason. I saw the job online and it matched with what I was looking for.”

He doesn’t look at Damen’s face to see if he believes him or not. Of course he does. Why wouldn’t he?

“The horse likes you,” Damen says after a while, pointing in Gilbert’s direction. “I heard you were taking him on a ride everyday.”

Gilbert didn’t have a name when Laurent started working there. He was called the horse and Kastor had forgotten to even mention him during the recruitment process. It had been a pleasant surprise for Laurent, almost as much as Damen had been, but he still had waited a few days before building up the courage to ask if he could take the horse out.

Kastor had said no and Laurent had been crushed and embarrassed. It had taken a few days for Theomedes to get Laurent to confess what was bothering him, and when he did, the old man had been furious and had told Laurent that in the future, he was to ask him and not Kastor.

The next day, Laurent gave Gilbert his name and took him for a three hour-long ride. It was just the two of them, running in the field, without a care or concern in the world for anything else except this feeling of freedom. Laurent felt like he was flying, like the last couple of years of pain, poverty, and insecurity, didn’t exist anymore. On Gilbert’s back, he was finally his old safe again, the one that thought the world would be kind to him, unaware of what the future held for him.

“I asked first,” Laurent defends himself. “Your dad said I could.”

“I know. He called me to let me know. The horse used to be mine.”

“Why did you never give him a name?”

The same expression of surprise as earlier appears on Damen’s face, but this time, there’s also amusement behind it. Laurent wishes Damen had given the horse a name. It would have made his crush on him even bigger, but knowing he didn’t care enough about his horse to name him is quite disappointing. His own family had five horses when he was younger. All of them had a name.

Uncle had killed three of them.

The remaining two had been sold, and Laurent still hopes that they had found a family caring enough to give them something so small as a name.

“I never really thought of it. I got him a few years after my mom died, I wasn’t…I never really paid attention to him, if I’m being honest. My father gave me lots of things so that I could forget about my mom’s death.”

“Did it work?” Laurent asks.

“No.”

When Mom died, Auguste took Laurent to Disney. Not immediately after, of course— he waited two weeks, until the funeral had taken place and after their visiting extended family left, and then he packed enough clothing for two days, and they went away.

Auguste had had a fight with their dad the day before, and even now, Laurent doesn’t know whether the Disney trip was the cause or the result of that fight.

“You named him, didn’t you?” Damen asks, a smirk on his face. When he doesn’t answer right away, Damen laughs— loud and easy, the sound vibrating in Laurent’s soul. “That’s great. Tell me more about him. I want to get to know him, too.”

After spending the entire afternoon with Damen, Laurent is sure of one thing: Damen is the love of his life, and he will do anything in his power to make him understand that.

They’re meant to be together, even if Damen can’t see it yet. It’s alright. Laurent has plenty of time, and none of them are going anywhere anytime soon. Well, except that at some point in the afternoon, Damen did, in fact, leave, but he promised he would be there the next day, and that he would have a surprise for Laurent.

“I think he likes me,” Laurent tells Gilbert. “Can you imagine if we ever get married? I will be with you all the time !”

The horse makes a sound and Laurent kisses his face. Damen told him that he liked the name Gilbert and then he listened as Laurent told him about his own horse, when he was younger, as well as the four others they had. He didn’t mention what happened to them - just that they were gone, now, and Damen had put his hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

His skin still burns where Damen touched him, and when he puts his hand on his own shoulder, he can almost feel Damen’s fingers on it.

“Laurent! I’ve been calling you for ages!”

Laurent breathes out loudly and turns around to face Kastor.

While the two brothers look alike physically, their personalities are quite the opposite. Damen is soft, kind, and caring, and Kastor is a walking advertisement for abortion.

“We’re not paying you to take care of the horse.”

They are, in fact, paying him to do that.

“Sorry.”

“Did you do what I asked you to do yesterday?” Kastor asks.

It takes a while for Laurent to remember what Kastor is talking about and when he does, his cheeks darken. He had humped Damen’s pillow, until almost reaching orgasm. Or he thinks so, at least. He had never gotten that far, but it did feel like it was going to happen.

The bottle Kastor gave him had been emptied in the toilets.

“Yes, sir.”

Kastor insists on having Laurent call him sir , which he finds absolutely revolting. He knows better than to say anything. He needs this job, even if it means staying quiet and accepting Kastor’s demands.

“Good. Very good. You’re a good omega.”

Fuck you, Laurent wants to say, but instead he just stays still in front of Kastor, not trusting himself to say anything to him that wouldn’t be deeply insulting.

“Ask your parents when would be the best time for me to meet them. I can be quite flexible with my planning.”

Kastor doesn’t have a job. He has been excluded from their family business, whatever it is, and although he likes to pretend he is important, Laurent had quickly realized that he isn’t.

Still, Laurent fails to understand where this sudden request is coming from. Why would Kastor want to meet his parents? Is Laurent in trouble? Could it be possible that Damen knows what he did on his pillow, and is now looking to get him fired?

“My parents are dead.”

“Ah, that’s a shame. An uncle, then?”

The word makes Laurent’s stomach twist with disgust.

“Dead.”

Kastor sighs heavily, annoyed by both the situation and Laurent's absolutely not helpful answers.

“Any relative still alive?”

“My brother. Why?”

“Well, I need to meet him. I want to request your hand in marriage.”

Laurent is so shocked that he barely keeps from grimacing. Kastor is forty-eight. Laurent knows that because Kastor had told him so when he first started working there, explaining that that was why Laurent should call him “sir.” Even aside from his age, Kastor is the perfect example of what Laurent isn’t looking for in a man. He’s disgusting, mean, pretentious, and for some reason, everytime Laurent looks at him, he thinks of Uncle.

“What is it? The eighteenth century?” Laurent says.

He doesn’t have time to process what is happening, that Kastor is suddenly already holding his arm, strong enough to leave a bruise there, and twists it so that Laurent has no choice but to bend sideways from the pain. He grits his teeth not to scream, refusing to give this pleasure to Kastor.

“Watch your tongue,” he warns him. “If I—”

“Kastor.”

Kastor stops immediately and his whole body freezes with fear when he hears his father’s voice. Theomedes is standing on the balcony, his posture big and imposing. He looks good, powerful even, and although he’s still sick, he’s better than he looked since Laurent started working there.

“You get your hand off that boy. Now .”

There’s no hesitation in Kastor’s body: when Theomedes gives him an order, he follows, without so much as a protest.

Freed from his grip, Laurent rubs his arms where Kastor was holding him, and joins Themedes back in the house without ever turning around.

His heart is beating like crazy, fear coating the inside of his mouth and cold sweat dripping from his forehead. He feels angry: at Kastor, but mostly at himself. He had promised himself to never feel powerless again, and yet it’s not hard to imagine what would have happened if Theomedes hadn’t intervened.

Theomedes is back in his room and when Laurent walks in, he immediately motions for him to sit down in front of him, which he does, with his feet on the chair and his knees brought up to his chest.

“Are you alright?”

“He’s an asshole,” he says, and then quickly adds, “No offense.”

“He is. I’m sorry. This won’t happen again.”

“How can you know that?”

Laurent doesn’t want to lose his job, but he also doesn’t want to get assaulted. There’s a bruise already forming where Kastor had held him, thanks to Laurent fair complexion. Auguste might see it, and if he does, it will be over for Laurent anyway.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

There’s no trace of hesitation in his voice and Laurent knows that what Theomedes wants, Theomedes gets. Just like Damen, the words are not in vain and hold the power of the alphas who spoke them.

As Laurent starts preparing Theomedes’ food, his mind wanders. Being an omega has never made him feel like he was less capable than anyone, nor that he was more at danger than anyone else. What Uncle had done to him has nothing to do with his second nature: some of the other boys have been betas, and another one an alpha. Still, there’s no denying that being an omega makes him an easy target: he’s naturally less strong than a beta, his body softer and his muscles less developed. There are omegas who can win easily against most betas, and even against alphas. It’s not a majority, but it is possible, and even if Laurent doesn’t want to get to that level, he still wants to be able to defend himself, if it’s ever necessary.

Once the mashed potatoes are ready, he sits down in front of Theomedes and starts feeding him. If Theomedes is now able to walk on his own, using his hands for delicate matters like holding a fork is still too complicated for him to do. Still, he is doing better and Laurent is sure that his state will only grow better.

“Did you make it yourself?” Theomedes asks.

“It depends. Who’s asking?”

“Me.”

“Then yes,” Laurent says with a smile, and Theomedes reciprocates it.

From time to time, Kastor cooks the food himself, for a reason unknown to most. When he does it, the food always has a strange consistency, the smell is bad and Theomedes refuses to eat it. Laurent tried to force him to eat the first week he was there, but quickly stopped. Instead, he pretends to feed him the food Kastor has made, but throws it away in the toilets.

“Something is on your mind,” Theomedes says. “What is it?”

“Could you teach me how to fight?”

Theomedes seems surprised, but doesn’t say no. Laurent gives him another spoonful of mashed potatoes.

“Why do you think I know how to fight?”

“Because you and Damen are not working a clean business, are you not?”

Theomedes doesn’t deny nor confirm it. On his face, a smile appears, softer than any smile he has ever given Laurent, and Laurent feels happy, awkward, a mix of both— and probably a few more emotions. He hadn’t expected that he and Theomedes would develop that kind of relationship. At first, the old man had been grumpy and borderline mean to him. Today, he reminds Laurent of a father he never had, but had always dreamed of.

He wonders, then, how Theomedes would have reacted if he had been his dad and he found out what Uncle did.

Dad was the first person Laurent confessed to— not because they were close, because they truly weren’t, but because he had needed a doctor and mom was already too sick to make that phone call. Dad didn’t call. He told Laurent not to speak of it again, and that they would deal with it later, when they had more time. Later never came, because dad shot himself in the head and left his body for Laurent to discover.

Theomedes wouldn’t have reacted like that. He would have gone to Uncle and would have tortured him to death. He would have cut off his dick and made him eat it first, too.

Auguste would have done it too, if it wouldn’t have meant that Laurent would go into the system. So instead, Auguste tried to go through the legal route, and failed miserably. Laurent hated him for it. Uncle won, took all their money, and Laurent had to humiliate himself in front of a jury, all for nothing.

It isn’t Auguste’s fault. It still feels like it, sometimes. It’s easier to blame Auguste, because the second he stops doing so, he realizes that he is the reason for all of this.

He wonders if Uncle is still alive. He told Kastor he was dead, but that was yet another lie.

“Why are you smiling?” Laurent finally asks Theomedes.

“I wish Kastor had been more like you.”

The words feel off when they reach Laurent’s ears. Although he knows Theomedes would never lie to him, he can’t say he believes him either.

No one wants an omega son, let alone one like Laurent. He’s broken, too smart, too crazy, not docile enough. He doesn’t understand what Theomedes sees in him that could make him say that. Kastor is a beta, and for that reason alone, he’s better than Laurent will ever be.

“Would you like it if I was your son-in-law?”

Theomedes makes a sound of disapproval.

“You’re way too good for Kastor.”

Laurent gathers another sponge of mashed potatoes and puts it delicately between Theomedes’ lips. The old man gums at the food loudly with his non-existent teeth. When saliva falls from the corner of his mouth, Laurent quickly cleans it away, without making a big deal of it. When he first started to work there, Theomedes would try and slap his hand away every time he tried to help him out. Today, he welcomes Laurent’s hand happily.

“Not Kastor,” Laurent corrects him. “Damen.”

“That would make me very happy. Has Damen shown you some interest? I hope he’s treating you right and courting you with all the delicacy you deserve.”

“I don’t deserve any,” Laurent admits.

Courting is for delicate and pure omegas, who have yet to discover the world and the atrocity in it, who have not been touched yet— or if they have been, then not by a member of their own family.

“You do, Laurent. And I’ll make sure Damen is well aware of it.”

“Don’t talk to him about it. I don’t think he’s interested.”

“How could he not? I have two sons and only one of them is a dickhead, and even he has fallen under your charm.”

Theomedes laughs but Laurent doesn’t follow. Kastor isn’t just a prick, he’s worse than that. And even if Laurent doesn’t have physical proof, he still knows it. What he doesn’t know is if Theomedes is ready to hear it.

“Theomedes,” Laurent says. “Do you trust me?”

The laugh dies as quickly as it has come. Theomedes’ expression is hard and serious, similar to the one he wore on the balcony, just over an hour ago. He must have been a handsome man, Laurent decides, similar to Damen. He might be old but the beauty is still there, fading away but not quite gone yet.

“I’ve never trusted anyone before in my life, except for my wife.”

“You said that before. Does that mean you trust me now?”

“I do. I’m not sure why, given your tendency to lie, but I do trust you.”

“Good,” Laurent says, ignoring the part related to his lies. “Because I don’t think you should be taking those pills anymore, but Kastor can’t know.”

“You think he’s poisoning me?”

Laurent nods.

“Why do you think that? Do you have any proof?”

“No. Except that I’ve been giving you smarties for the past few days.”

Theomedes stares at him and Laurent sees all the expressions on his face: surprise, denial, betrayal, sadness too, and finally, anger.

“I was able to walk over to the balcony without any help.”

“I know.”

“I ate real food, with barely any help.”

“I know, Theomedes.”

There are too many examples of his improving health, and mentioning them all wouldn’t do any good: his sickness, whatever it was, began disappearing the moment Laurent stopped giving him those pills.

“I can’t believe that you’ve been feeding me candy and I didn’t notice,” Theomedes says, finally. “Do you know what it takes to make me lower my guard?”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was a compliment.”

Laurent smiles, craving for the words of affirmation that he did, in fact, a good job.

“I’ll deal with Kastor,” Theomedes says. “And you, continue what you’re doing.”

—-------

When Laurent wakes up the next day, his body hurts everywhere. His white skin has turned red from the sun, and not a single inch of it was spared. He spent the night with the window wide open and his clothes off, but despite his best attempt, he didn’t succeed in cooling down.

Standing naked in front of the bathroom mirror, he looks at his body in disbelief. In a failed attempt to make himself look more attractive to Damen, he somehow made himself look even worse.

His fair skin had always made him look like a doll, an unloved, but pretty thing that could be moved around and played with, but even that is gone now. He’s red, all over, his legs are too tall, his hips too wide, his belly flat. Uncle had told him that men, alpha in particular, only love omega that look like children— soft, pliant, chubby. Laurent is none of that, hasn’t been for years now.

He was the prettiest before he turned sixteen. Afterward, he became ugly, although Auguste denies it. Men don’t look at him as much as they did before, something he is incredibly grateful for, if it weren’t for his crush on Damen.

He welcomed his ugliness with joy, taking comfort in the fact that he wasn’t a potential victim anymore. He even played with it: his clothes were never fitting, his hair never brushed, and he tried to stay as thin as possible.

He doesn’t want any of that anymore. He wants to be pretty. He wants Damen to notice him and to want him.

“What are you doing?”

In the mirror, he sees Auguste looking at him with a strange look and he quickly covers himself before slamming the door in his brother’s face.

“Oh my god, Auguste! Knock on the door, for fuck’s sake!”

Laurent closes his eyes, humiliation washing over him. He wishes they still had the house they lived in when they were younger, where each of them had their own bathroom. Now, they’re sharing one that doesn’t even have a lock. Even if it did have one, Auguste would have forbidden him from using it.

“You’re not going to work like that,” Auguste says from behind the door. “You need to stay home, you’re not well.”

Is he? He feels perfectly fine. A bit warm, yes, but it’s summer.

He can’t miss work. Damen will be there today and, yesterday, he told him he would give him a present. Or maybe he didn’t call it a present, per say, but he is going to give something to Laurent, and no matter what it is, it will feel like a present.

“It’s just a sunburn.”

“Have you seen your face? Your eyes are all wet and your face is pale compared to the rest of your body.”

“Shut up,” Laurent says, and although he meant to say it with more conviction, it came out as a whisper.

“Come on, get out of there. I’ll put some cream on your back before I go to work.”

His back took the worst of the sun, even though he had been wearing a shirt. Yesterday, Damen spent the whole day shirtless and he didn’t even break a sweat, let alone burn in the sun, because Damen is perfect and doesn’t suffer from human conditions like the rest of them. Kastor had been sweating profusely when Laurent saw him.

After putting on clean underwear, Laurent finally leaves the bathroom, hiding his shame as best as he can. It’s not the fact that Auguste saw him naked —his brother had seen him naked countless times, had even stayed in the room when he was examined at the hospital— but Laurent had been clearly checking himself out and Auguste must have noticed. Or maybe not. Auguste always seems to be blind when it comes to Laurent.

Still, he lays on his stomach, face down, and listens carefully as Auguste opens the bottle of cream and pours some on his fingers. The sweet smell fills the room immediately. Shea butter and aloe vera. It’s Laurent’s favorite.

When Auguste’s hand touches his back, the cold feeling causes him to flinch slightly.

“Sorry,” Auguste says. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

He wonders what Auguste is thinking. Does he think Laurent is uncomfortable? Does he think of Uncle? Laurent doesn’t, not right now. Or maybe he does. It’s hard to tell. Uncle is always here, somewhere in the back of his mind, and sometimes Laurent has to remind himself that Uncle is just a ghost, here to torture him.

He doesn’t think of Auguste how he thinks of Uncle, of course. But he’s laying facedown on his bed and he can’t see Auguste’s face, and he knows how easy it could be to think that this isn’t his brother’s loving hand touching him, but someone else’s.

“Is that a bruise on your arm?” Auguste asks, holding said arm in his hand.

He doesn’t grip him the way Kastor did yesterday, but it’s clear that he wants to: Auguste is worried, as always, but he knows how to keep himself under control.

“I knocked myself off the horse. I was wearing a helmet.”

“That’s not a bruise that comes from falling off a horse.”

Laurent shrugs.

“I don’t know. Maybe I walked into a wall, then. I can’t remember. It didn’t hurt.”

Auguste isn’t convinced, Laurent knows. His hands have gone back to rubbing his skin, petting small circles on it and massaging him at the same time, but his brother is quiet now. He must think Laurent is lying. And Laurent is.

“You used to love this when you were a baby,” Auguste says, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “You would whine and cry, but then I would put you on your stomach and the second I started rubbing your back, you were gone.”

Laurent doesn’t remember that, of course, although he wishes he could. That time of his life —free, innocent, full of love— is nothing but a blur in his mind, sketches of memories here and there shaped entirely by Auguste’s stories. Auguste could tell him whatever he wanted and Laurent would believe him, without question, without hesitation.

“Can I trust you to stay home today?”

“Yes, Auguste.”

There are tears running down his face, for a reason Laurent fails to understand. Auguste doesn’t see them and when his hand leaves his back, Laurent doesn’t try to move, pretending that the cream needs to dry.

Before leaving, Auguste cooks him a breakfast that he leaves on his nightstand, along with a glass of water and a glass of orange juice. He hears Auguste’s car driving away and for good measure, he waits ten more minutes before finally getting up.

He only stays on his feet for a few seconds before he has to sit back down. He does it a second time, then a third, and finally, he manages to stay up. His head is spinning and it feels like his brain is too big for his skull. When he starts moving, his stomach turns upside down and he feels like throwing up. He doesn’t slow down.

It takes one hour to go to the Akielos’ home, but almost two in his condition. When he enters the property, both Damen and his Dad are there: Damen is standing up, while his dad is sitting on a chair with his cane between his hands. They speak in hushes but the moment they spot Laurent, they stop talking.

Laurent’s mind races to the worst scenario.

He’s getting fired. What did he do wrong? He only lied a bit. Only stole one or two things that reminded him of Damen. Only humped his pillow once. It’s not a big deal. It’s small little matters, not anything worth firing him over.

“Deep breath, sweetheart,” Damen says, and when did he move so close to Laurent?

Theomedes and Damen both look worried, or maybe they look guilty. Maybe Theomedes told Damen that he has a crush on him, and now Damen is too uncomfortable to have him work there. Who did Laurent think he is? He’s good for nothing. A broken boy, a dirty omega. He isn’t worthy of Damen’s love and attention.

“I brought you this, but it seems it’s too late.”

Damen’s voice is soft and yet it echoes in Laurent’s head and makes him close his eyes in agony. When he opens them again, Damen is holding a cap in his hands, blue and with a horse and a heart on it.

Or maybe Laurent is making this up. Maybe it’s all in his head, just like when he thought Uncle loved him, when he believed every lie he fed him and even asked for more.

“Is it for me?” Laurent asks.

“Of course it is. Come. Let’s go lie down inside.”

“Kastor will fire me if I do that.”

Theomedes makes a sound in the background, but Laurent can’t understand its meaning.

“Kastor isn’t your boss,” Damen says. “I don’t want that pretty head of yours to even think about him.”

He’s in Damen’s arms, being held against his muscular chest, with Damen’s pecs acting as pillows for him to rest his head. Laurent thinks that this , right here, is exactly where he was always supposed to be. Damen is carrying him as if he weighs nothing, and Laurent’s mind, although blurry, immediately goes to all the things that Damen could do to him, all the ways that Damen could hold him and show him that he loves him.

They enter the house and when Damen starts walking in the direction of the stairs, Laurent’s heart speeds up again. He wants to stay in his alpha’s arm, surrounded by his smell. It’s not fair for all of it to end it so soon. He needs Damen in order to heal.

“Can I lay on your bed?” Laurent asks. “I haven’t done any of the guests' bedrooms. I’ll need to clean everything if I lay on it.”

It’s just another tiny lie. There’s no harm in it.

Damen doesn’t challenge him and simply takes him to his own bedroom, where he puts him down, so slowly, in the middle of the bed. Laurent holds on to his arms with the little strength he has left.

“Don’t go, please.”

Damen bites his lips, unsure, and Laurent’s eyes follow, watching that oh-so kissable mouth, and he wonders: What if? What if he had the courage to do it, right there, right now? Would Damen turn him down?

“I’m not going to get in bed with you, but I’ll take a chair and sit next to the bed. How about that?”

It’s not enough. Laurent wants Damen’s body next to him, wants him in him.

“I think you’re going into heat,” Damen whispers.

“It’s just a heatstroke.”

Damen isn’t fully convinced, but Laurent’s smell is unchanged and if he’s a bit wetter than usual between the legs, it’s all because of Damen, not because of his heat. He hasn’t had one of those in years, now. Only really experienced it twice anyway.

“Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Laurent wants to protest but his eyes are too heavy and the bed smells wonderful, just like Damen. He will close his eyes, just for a few seconds, then, just to please Damen.

The last thing he feels is the touch of a hand on his forehead.

It’s three o’clock when Laurent opens his eyes again.

He’s still in Damen’s bed and just as promised, Damen is on the chair next to him, with his laptop on his knees and a serious expression on his face. He’s frowning and biting his nails, a stress habit that Laurent never imagined him having. He looks younger like this, and not for the first time, Laurent wonders just how old Damen truly is. He wants to know that and a thousand other things: when was his first kiss? What is his favorite food? His favorite color? Does he think they will love each other forever?

“Blue,” Damen says.

He’s not looking at his screen anymore but directly at Laurent, a soft expression on his face.

“My favorite color is blue.”

It’s Laurent’s turn to frown, confused by this unexpected response.

“I didn’t ask you that.”

“You just did. I guess the fever hasn't gone back down completely yet?”

Before Laurent can react, Damen’s hand is on his forehead again, taking his temperature. The touch burns and Laurent leans into it, but before he can get used to it, the hand is gone again.

“I’ll drive you back home,” Damen says. “You’re done for the day.”

“I wish I could stay here forever.”

Damen makes his tongue click against the roof of his mouth.

“Don’t do this to me, sweetheart.”

“Can I take an Uber instead? You can take it from my payslip,” Laurent says.

In his delirious mind, he imagines the disappointment on Damen’s face.

“My brother won’t be happy if he sees me coming home with an alpha.”

That seems to do the trick. Damen orders him an Uber and Laurent breathes a bit more easily. He will just have to walk the distance between the address Damen put on the app and his actual place, but that’s better than having Damen see where he truly lives.

“I’ll get you something to eat. You can use the bathroom if you need to.”

Laurent listens, like a good omega would do, while he watches Damen leaves.

The room feels bigger without Damen in it. The bed is at least twice the size of Laurent's, and the same sheets that he had washed and put there himself, are unmade. He could see himself staying there, lost in Damen’s arms, and the idea makes him slide deeper under the cover, joy taking over him.

Slowly, he forces himself to get out of bed and walks to the bathroom. His bladder feels like it’s ready to explode, despite barely drinking any water in the past twenty-four hours, and because he doesn’t trust his body just yet, he sits down on the toilet, too afraid to fall down.

His business done, he cleans his hands, splashes water on his face, and then spends a long time contemplating himself in the mirror, not quite realizing what just happened.

He slept in Damen’s bed.

Damen had stayed by his side the whole time.

He hopes he didn’t snore.

He turns back to exit the bathroom but out of the corner of his eye, he catches something. There, laying on the floor next to the laundry basket, is a red university hoodie.

Before he takes it in his hands, he promises himself it’s just to take it away, but the second he’s holding it, he knows he won’t be able to. It belongs to Damen; it has his smell, strong and musky. He probably wore it after doing his workout, or even during, maybe. He didn’t wear it just once, Laurent can tell: this one hasn’t been washed in a long time.

No. He can’t do that. Damen will know, eventually, and he will get fired for it. Worse, maybe he will tell Auguste, in which case Laurent will never be able to leave the house again.

He can’t do it.

He won’t.

There are footsteps on the stairs, coming toward the room. Laurent hurries out of the bathroom, opens his bag, and shoves the hoodie in it.

He’s barely done closing it when the door opens and Damen is stepping in, a sandwich in his hands. He looks quite embarrassed: he doesn’t meet Laurent’s eyes and when he scratches his hair, Laurent has the urge to go and kiss him. He holds still.

“Here’s a little snack. I’ve never made a sandwich before. You might be sick if you eat it.”

“Of course not. Thank you, it’s really nice of you. I’m sorry for…well, everything.”

“It’s no problem. I only care about getting you back on your feet. The driver is here. Are you good to go?”

The hoodie lies in his bag, hidden from Damen’s view, yet Laurent’s heart is beating strong. It will be easy to say he misplaced the hoodie, if Damen asks. He’s in charge of the laundry after all; he can easily put it back if necessary.

“Yes.”

Damen, forever the gentleman that he is, walks Laurent down the stairs and opens the door of the car for him. Laurent follows without any complaint.

“Don’t come tomorrow. Take your day off, alright?”

“But I need to—”

“You don’t need to do anything. We will manage.”

Laurent remains quiet, knowing that there’s nothing he can do against it. When the door of the Uber closes, he sinks deeper into the seat of the car and turns off his mind, holding the sandwich Damen made close to his chest.

He doesn’t know how long passes before the car starts to slow down. He should start looking at his phone to see just how long it will take him to get back home, but he can’t bring himself to. It will be at least two hours, if he’s walking. He could call another Uber, but it would cost him money he doesn’t have yet.

If Auguste were there, he would probably tell him that these are the consequences of his own actions, and he wouldn’t be wrong.

When the car finally stops completely, Laurent takes his phone out and types his address in.

0 minutes.

He frowns and types it again, but the same result comes back: he’s already home, according to his phone.

“Is there a problem, sir?”

Laurent looks over the window and sure enough, he recognizes his own building. Auguste’s car is missing, with his usual parking spot empty for him to come back home later.

There’s no problem, in fact, because the driver took him to his real address. Not the fake one he put on his CV.

“Mister Akielos told me to get you food, too. I’ll deliver it in a few minutes. What do you fancy?”

Maybe Laurent’s state has been worse than what he initially thought.

The driver, who Laurent now realizes is wearing a suit, opens the door for him and waits until Laurent is safely inside his building before driving away.

Half an hour later, he’s back with the food Laurent ordered, and when Laurent closes the door back behind him, the burger and milkshake in his hands are the only proof he has that this wasn’t all just a dream.

—-------

Damen is there every day the following week. When Laurent arrives, when Laurent leaves, and all the time in between. They’re not in each other’s space all the time: Damen is a busy man and Laurent has a job to do. But even when they’re not speaking, Laurent always feels Damen’s eyes on him, no matter where he is or what he’s doing. He’s constantly watching him, and if it were to freak most people out, it doesn’t scare Laurent.

On Friday, he finishes work around four. Auguste had taken the afternoon off and offered to take Laurent out to a restaurant and a movie, which he couldn’t refuse.

The Akielos’ garden is a wonderful place, where trees and flowers bloom from all directions, carefully tended by the gardener and, whenever he wants an excuse to be closer to Damen, Laurent. In the middle of the alley, right where the cars enter the building, an oak tree stands proudly.