acclaim

by 님 (nymmiah)

Summary:

Aymeric only really has himself to blame for his current circumstances.

Self-indulgent ABO/heat fic.

Notes:

• Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: 【喵美丽/授权翻译】Acclaim by Chihara_Jasmine

Posting this in the hopes it’ll force me to finish my drafts. Will add to the tags as things come up.

Chapter 1

It had been many moons since Estinien’s departure from Ishgard and yet, Aymeric remained as he was, stagnant and unchanging. Yet the Lord Commander, yet the harried Lord Speaker… yet an unmarked omega, unwilling to differentiate back to the role that he had once taken. Mayhap it was a willful ignorance that had him remain as he was.

Most of Ishgard was under the impression that he remained an alpha, as he had been in his youth. The bright and talented Temple Knight, slated to become Vice-Commander of the Knights Most Heavenly—and perhaps he could return to such a state.

… But he would then recall surprise in Estinien’s eyes when, in the night that followed their retribution against the dragon that had killed their squad, Aymeric had taken ill with the sudden heat that had seared through him.

And he would recall the night that had followed, of youthful stupidity when Estinien had taken him, had marked him in this lapse of judgement and had entirely ruined him for aught else.

Perhaps it had been caused by the sudden shock of losing all of their squad, his body’s innate attempt at replenishing their numbers through birth. Either way, they had both stumbled into such a rushed mating with nary a thought to the consequences until after the deed had been done.

Estinien had never dared to mark him again after that particular day near a decade prior, but it yet haunted him as if a spectre.

His solitude in Ishgard would indeed be far simpler to withstand without the added difficulty of one’s fertile period.

Nevertheless, each time he considered it, forcibly returning to his state to that of an alpha’s, he would recall the touch of Estinien’s teeth grazing against his neck, the low rasp of his voice as he whispered his longing. The facsimile of a mating bite that would follow, teeth digging into his shoulder in lieu of the glands upon his neck, the unfulfilled groan that would leave them both at the tease of a true pair bond.

At times he would wonder why he waited. Aymeric was, after all, undeniably sought after in this city. Accomplished as he was, he could have his pick of mates from any tier of Ishgard’s social strata, whether alpha, omega or neither.

Estinien was unlikely to ever return to Ishgard. The precious few times that he had, he hadn’t lingered for long neither sending word nor visiting ere he departed once more. Each time, brought due to extraneous circumstances and never out of volition.

… That Aymeric would pine so longingly for a man that hated the land in which he had settled was truly folly. Even had he been the type to do so, he had no one to blame but himself.

He knew the kind of man Estinien was. Aymeric’s yearning was thus the result of his own foolishness and stubbornness. Had he been even just the slightest hint less obstinate, he could have let go of Estinien and allowed himself the pleasure of falling in love anew.

However, though Aymeric had made himself out to be practical and stern, he was ultimately a man made of dreams and foolish wants. He could not let go.

 

---

 

The thoughts of Estinien that ran rampant in his mind were most likely the cause of it all.

Aymeric, seated at his desk in his office, had slowly become aware of his increasing restlessness. He had then started pacing in lieu of working at his papers, hands sweeping through the thin layers of dust that covered his shelves.

And then, the crackling of the fire in its pit had started to irritate him. He took leave of his office, to the quieter chambers of his private quarters.

It was there that Aymeric realised he felt horribly exposed in spite of the four walls that enclosed him.

And it was there that Aymeric realised what was happening.

Swiftly did he send word to his manservant that his staff would be allowed to take a week’s leave after they finished their work for the day and stocked the pantry with supplies enough for one man. He also penned a hasty letter to Handeloup explaining that he would take a brief leave of absence and would return by the moon’s turn.

Matters mostly settled, inelegant though the method was, he could finally turn his attention to his increasing anxiety.

His den was too open, barely holding onto his scent. The weak sunlight that streamed through the gaps of the curtain made it all too apparent how close he was to the outside, to potential threats. It spurred him to gut his bed, ripping his sheets from the mattress and dragging it all into the only place he could think of at that moment: the dark and enclosed space of his closet.

In his haste, one of the down pillows was torn, sending feathers scattering all across the bedroom floor—but it mattered not.

With his blankets and pillows now haphazardly covering the wooden parquet of the closet, he stepped in. He closed the door behind him, feeling far more settled in the cozy cocoon he has now created, burying himself in the comfort of his new den.

The bright scent of his own pine and syrup was at odds with the mustier stale air and dust within the closet. He moved around, stirring the racks of clothing with brusque swipes of his palm.

He tore his clothing down from the racks, piling them onto the floor in a mess of furs and silks.

And after such movement, all he could smell now was his own scent, his heat-sick pheromones filling the small space as heavily as Ishgard’s brume.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was a far cry better than the cold expanse of his bed chambers.

He lay down upon his makeshift bed, though a far more apt term to describe the act would be collapse . His knees buckled in beneath himself, his body starting to tremble from the roiling hormones within him.

As expected, he had extremely little time between the forewarning of his heat and the onset of it. The sudden peak in anxiety was the short lived herald to the chaleur that consumed him for days on end.

He ever dreaded this. His heats were no simple beast to conquer unlike what most other omega experienced. Mayhap it was a consequence of his use of suppressants, Halone’s punishment for staving off what should have been a natural cycle.

… Or, mayhap, it was Her trial. He could have returned to his former state as an alpha, after all, and do away with his chaleur evermore.

But such speculation and possibilities mattered not at that moment when he lay upon his closet floor, panting as he tore at his own clothing to try to soothe the encroaching fever that took over him.

There was only one way to truly sate this, but Aymeric would never deign to find himself a partner to quench his heat. Not when he yearned for solely one man.

He stretched out, panting for breath in the increasingly muggy space in a futile attempt to cool himself down. Despite the early stages of his heat, he could already feel himself sweating profusely. His hair stuck to his face and neck, the clothing beneath him steadily becoming more damp.

It was still too soon to do anything more; his heat would only get worse as the bells passed. And if he already had to resort to the use of ice in the beginning, he would not survive the sennight.

In the dark of the closet, he could not tell the passage of time. He could only count the minutes passing by through the number of breaths he took, the agonising crawl of heat as it spread down his back and started to settle in his gut.

And how it ached .

He reached between his legs, pressing his palm flat against his cock. Hard as it was, as wet as it was, it could hardly compare to the slick mess that was beneath. Even from a distance of a few ilms, he could feel the sheer heat of it radiating from his cunt.

Curling his fingertips, he slid them across his folds, rubbing at the weeping hole almost timidly. In response, it seemed to spit slick back at his touch, dripping incessantly and pooling between his legs.

The pressure hardly alleviated anything, a mild pleasure that was almost completely drowned out by the discomfort of his body. But it did just enough that he continued at it.

Gently rubbing, palming at himself with a growing abandon, soon Aymeric was crying out recklessly as he wrapped his hand around his cock and pumped roughly.

It had been near a decade since he’d last expressed a knot; his hands moved to squeeze at his base regardless, a habit that had become essential to his self-pleasure.

And it was then that he suddenly felt a gust of cold air rush over him. Alarmed, he pulled his hand away from himself, scrambling to back and away.

“Who? Get out—!” Aymeric snapped, horrified and bristling at the invasion. Who would have the daring to enter his quarters? Precious few: Lucia, his manservant, mayhap Emmanellain de Fortemps—

Or an assassin.

The closet door was held ajar, a man shrouded in shadow just beyond.

Aymeric had not a weapon on hand; he was bare naked, surrounded by naught other than soaked furs and silks. Defenseless and weakened by his heat, he was suddenly all too aware of how precarious his den had become.

In a desperate attempt, he grabbed one of the wooden hangers that had fallen onto the ground beside him, intent on defending himself. Only, the figure spoke.

“So you were here.”

It was then that he registered the scent in the air, mixing in with his pheromones along with the cold breeze.

The crisp, sharp sting of furymint that was so opposed by the fiery warmth of cinnamon that accompanied it… Looking down upon him was the shrouded silhouette of Estinien. 

“I could smell you from the other room,” Estinien’s voice was rough, gravelly even beyond his usual tone. “I didn’t expect to find you like this, however.”

Aymeric sat there dumbfounded, the hand holding the wooden clothes hanger remaining half-raised. “Estinien… when did you—?” He cut himself off. At this moment, it was far less important when Estinien had come. “Why are you here?”

“Doesn’t matter. You…” Estinien drew in a deep breath. And he seemed to instantly regret it, shuddering intensely. “You’re in heat.”

“And you came into my chambers regardless. Why are you here?” Aymeric asked again in demand, all too aware in his unease that his back was just about pressed against the wall. The closet left him little avenue for retreat.

“Came to take a rest. Smelled you instead.” Estinien dropped down to his knees, eyes fixed upon Aymeric with great intent. “You’re unclaimed?”

… Estinien spoke with a sense of wonder in his voice. Why the wonder? There was little reason why Estinien would be pleased by such a revelation, unless… no. The furymint scent was surely addling his mind just as steadily as the heat was. Why would Estinien care for such things?

Chapter 2

Notes:

It was supposed to be two chapters but NO AYMERIC NEEDED TO ADD PLOT AND EMOTIONS.

“You’ve no alph—… partner . For this heat.” Estinien spat the correction out, the glint in his eyes only brightening in its intensity when Aymeric shook his head.

“I never had the time to find anyone else,” Aymeric excused weakly.

“Anyone else ?”

Estinien lurched forward suddenly, causing Aymeric to rear back involuntarily in surprise, raising the hanger up once more. But his movement was arrested just as suddenly; his hands had belatedly grabbed the closet door frame. Aymeric could see his knuckles turn white. He was preventing himself from getting any closer to Aymeric.

“Aymeric…” Estinien’s groan of his name was full of an agony of a quality Aymeric couldn’t quite figure out. It was perhaps yearning, if he allowed himself to have such delusions over Estinien’s frame of mind.

Nevertheless, Aymeric remained tense. In such a disrobed and discomposed state, he couldn’t feel anything but vulnerable. Estinien had cornered him in his makeshift den, addled by his heat and naked save for a rumpled shirt.

That Estinien was currently doing naught but questioning him didn’t matter. All signs pointed at Estinien’s interest in his body. The sharp intensity of his gaze, his heavy breathing, the heat of his scent…

Just as surely as Aymeric was at the beginning throes of his heat, Estinien was falling into rut.

However, Aymeric didn’t think he could bear it if that was merely all to his interest even if every molecule of his body screamed for Estinien’s touch. And so, despite the pheromones that he emitted steadily sweetening, Aymeric barked out a harsh, “Get out. I had no intentions of taking a casual partner.”

There was another pause.

He could see how Estinien’s expression went blank at his words.

“Casual?” He seemed to ignore Aymeric’s refusal. “Is that why you’ve been waiting this long?” Estinien’s brows furrowed, deep creases forming. “Who are you waiting for?”

In spite of Estinien’s long absence from Ishgard, it seemed that he still knew Aymeric. Knew enough to discern his longing for commitment, his longing for one specific person.

Aymeric was silent in his turmoil, hands releasing his impromptu weapon. As he sat there, clenching and unclenching his fists around the blankets upon which he sat, he had to consider this: he had ever been honest with his dearest of friends. However he couldn’t find it within himself to admit aught in this situation.

“Why should it matter to you?” He asked in response.

Estinien’s expression twisted. “It’s the Warrior. Isn’t it?”

Aymeric, startled by the guess, saw how the expression on Estinien’s face darted between fury and resignation.

“Couldn’t be anyone else. What couldn’t they give you?” Estinien continued to mutter. “No bloody wonder .”

The Warrior of Light. He couldn’t deny that he’d once entertained that whimsical dream—but in spite of their radiance and greatness, they had not become enrooted within his heart as Estinien had. Years upon years of shared triumphs and sorrows and memories .

“… Nay.” Aymeric denied quietly. He could not allow Estinien to depart believing this.. “It is not … It is not them.”

“Then who?” Estinien’s demand was curt, impatient, and full of clear disbelief.

Aymeric’s fingers curled against the floor, nails digging into the frail cloths upon which he remained seated. Drawing in a slow and deep breath, all he could think of in that moment was their scents mingling. Pine and furymint and cinnamon and syrup—

“There has only been one who can claim to possess me,” he murmured into the silence that hung between them. “And it has never been the Warrior.”

Aymeric, with his eyes averted, could see not the look upon Estinien’s face. However the other man remained wordless.

It was an imposing silence, one that could have been caused by a myriad of things. As seconds crawled by, he soon drew up the courage to raise his eyes to meet Estinien’s. 

Estinien’s eyes had turned red. His brows were furrowed, lips set in a snarling grimace. He was upset; enough so that it even permeated the scent of his pheromones. The warmth of cinnamon became sharp heat, hinting at anger.

“Fool,” he muttered.

Startled, Aymeric was about to ask what he meant by his word when Estinien dropped to his knees, crawling close enough that he could place his hands upon Aymeric’s shoulders.

“Why would you wait for me ? Why did you not say aught?” Estinien continued, tugging Aymeric into his chest. His arms were thick braces that encircled him, holding him tight without any give. Nails like claws prickled at his skin and he became all too aware of the sudden intimacy between them.

Less than a ilm of space between them while Aymeric was entirely nude and emitting the scent of his heat… memories from a decade past muddied the waters of his mind, half-remembered scenes of Estinien’s merciless conquest of his body. He shuddered, and in his wake he could feel Estinien tense against him.

“You were not ready,” Aymeric whispered into his ear. “You never… wanted this like I did.”

Estinien’s arms tightened around him. “I will grant that. I was not ready. But I’ve wanted this; always did.”

Aymeric could feel Estinien’s breath against his neck, curling the fine hairs at his nape. Prickling at his glands, making them throb with the instinctive need to be marked.

He drew in a steadying breath. He could not be swayed by his own body.

“Estinien, I cannot take this casually.” Aymeric reiterated. “If you will leave me after this heat, I will not… tolerate abandonment.”

There was silence once more.

“I cannot stay.” Estinien’s words were like an ice bath, only barely mitigated by his following words:  “But I can promise my return.”

Could Aymeric accept such a frail commitment? It was more than Estinien had ever promised him. It spoke naught of his feelings, whether he merely wished to continue this to swive Aymeric or if he felt anything else other than lust. But surely Estinien knew that Aymeric could not accept anything less than a pair bond. Nothing less than the deep love and care he’d witnessed between his lord father and mother.

“Would you mark me? Lay proper, lasting claim on this relationship of ours?” He asked in a low voice.

“You would allow it?” Estinien asked in return. The tail end of his words trembled, a subtle but telling sign of heightened emotion. “I have naught to give you as a mate that you do not already have.”

Estinien’s hand moved from shoulder to nape, palm cupping him where such a claim would be made.

Aymeric bit his lip, stifling his groan when that hot palm pressed firmly against his gland. The deep pressure stirred something deep within him, the sweet syrupy scent in the air becoming fuller.

There was something to read into regarding Estinien’s possessiveness yet lack of confidence in his worth. However, Aymeric was hardly in a state to think deeper. He wanted to believe in this.

“I would, but you must return. Time and time again, without fail. I need naught else from you,” Aymeric stated. “I have no need for coin nor glory. Just you and your heart… That has always been all that I wanted.”

Estinien let out a groan. A soft, pained sound from deep within his chest. “You have me,” he promised.

Aymeric could not tell who was the first to move in. Regardless of whom it was, they became entangled with one another upon the closet floor.

Mouth pressed hungrily to its pair, he kissed Estinien as if to devour him. The hand at his nape had become an ironclad grip, holding him in place as teeth dug into his lip.

The tang of blood came as no surprise for it accompanied the sting of fangs. Aymeric parted his lips wider, gasping for breath that Estinien stole away from him greedily. His skin was levin; the years of abstinence would have been enough to overwhelm Aymeric had he not also been affected by the haze of his heat.

He groaned deep within his chest, back arching up to press himself up against Estinien. To plaster every ilm of his yearning body to what called him, corporeally begging for aught that could be given.

A hand moved to hook under Aymeric’s leg, pulling it up until he wrapped it around Estinien’s waist. The sharp edges of the buckles upon his trousers dug into his flesh but he cared not.

He could feel Estinien’s groin press against his own, the heavy shape of his cock resting tantalisingly against his own. And when he canted his hips just so, he could feel it rub against his cunt, where he leaked ever so profanely in his lust.

Aymeric’s gasp was swallowed by Estinien.

“‘S hot,” he could hear Estinien mumble against his lips. “Need it that bad? I can feel you through the fabric.”

All that Aymeric could say in response was a wordless groan.

By the time Aymeric managed to break the kiss, he found himself pressed down upon the floor, Estinien’s insistent weight above him. The hand at his neck had moved to grip his waist, pinning him down.

Try as he might, Aymeric couldn’t wriggle his way out of his grasp. Without the pressure of Estinien’s cock against him, he felt cold.

“Nest, here?” Estinien’s growl was far deeper now.

“Yes,” Aymeric gasped out. Mayhap if he spoke fast enough, he would return his hips to slot against his own once more. “I wanted some place smaller.”

“Sure? You’ll smell of us for days.” Pleasure curled at the edges of his gruff voice.

It was only then that it occurred to Aymeric that his clothing had indeed been strewn across the floor beneath them. In the days that followed, he would wear clothes that had soaked in their entwined pheromones. Anyone who cared to do so would be able to catch the leaden weight of his heat, of Estinien’s rut; would be able to smell their fevered coupling.

The thought of it sent a thrill through him.

“ Please .” More akin to a moan, Aymeric’s plea was quiet.

Estinien’s hands released him to undress himself; Aymeric shifted up upright to watch him greedily.

The manner in which he undressed was perfunctory. However, with each wonderful ilm of skin that was revealed, Aymeric couldn’t help but to reach out to trace his fingers along it.

He chased the rising hem of his shirt with his hands, nails catching along the scars that lined his body akin to a bride’s lace.

Wyrm’s claws and fangs, man’s steel, the roughened edges of burns and rocks alike—Aymeric reacquainted himself with a body that had changed much in the decade since he’d last touched the other in this way.

His skin was deeper in colour, not merely tanned by a sun that was unfamiliar now to Coerthas, but neither sickly nor pallid in malnutrition. Indeed, Estinien had filled out since his days as a dragoon, better fed to the point that his ribs no longer stuck out in stark relief to his sternum. However, most striking now were the scales that bracketed his hips and sides:

Deep in colour, ere they caught the light they were unfathomable ebony in shade. However once alight, a deep umber hue emerged from within, akin to the rust of red jasper. They speckled Estinien’s skin not unlike the manner of jewels upon a duchess’ fingers. However, they surely weren’t merely decorative, for when the scales were touched they rasped at the touch, as tough as the pelt of any wyrm Aymeric had touched. They were most concentrated where Nidhogg’s eyes had once been, covering his shoulder and arm and masking where Estinien’s flesh had been hollowed out by the dreadwyrm.

His eyes followed their trail up the length of his body. Southward, his scales spread as if displaying how they might have taken over the length of Estinien’s thighs and legs. Heavensward, they became sparser; he could see how they flirted with the base of his neck… hiding barely out of sight beneath the collar of his shirts.

When he raised his eyes farther to look upon Estinien’s face, Estinien’s lanner-like eyes stared back at him, intent and dark, full of promise.

“Not continuing?” Estinien asked, a hint of impatience painting his voice.

Aymeric shook his head. “I can… explore another time. I need you in me,” he added, shyness leading him to breathe his words out.

Estinien paused. Their close proximity allowed Aymeric to see how his pupils, though strangely narrow and slit-like, dilated.

“Turn around,” Estinien commanded.

Aymeric shook his head once more, knuckles turning white as his fingers gripped the cloth beneath him. “I want to see you.”

“Do you?” Estinien then fell silent as he reached down, unbuckling his trousers.

From the periphery of his vision, Aymeric could see dark flesh being revealed, something entirely alien from what he’d once seen in the past. He couldn't help his momentary glance down, startled by the sight of scales covering even his cock. Though Aymeric dearly wished to examine it, he quickly raised his eyes again, keeping his gaze doggedly fixed to Estinien’s.

Aymeric swallowed thickly, a sense of jittery anticipation growing within the longer Estinien remained silent and he forced himself to disregard his own curiosity. Estinien was clearly uncomfortable, he could see the tense line of his jaw.

How did a scaled cock work ? How would it feel? His mind raced with conjured imaginations that would surely fall short of the reality of it.

“Would you prefer it if I turned?” Aymeric asked finally, only distantly aware of the breathless quality to his own voice.

The man let out a grunt.

“… Doesn’t matter, but I can’t mark you like this. Which do you want more?”

Aymeric pursed his lips. With the question phrased as such, it wasn’t hard to decide; he didn’t know if Estinien was truly alright with Aymeric facing him as he was now. It was inevitable that he released his grip to roll onto his belly.

“Mark me,” Aymeric murmured when the silence drew on far too long.

With his new position, he couldn’t see aught of what Estinien was doing. He pressed his cheek to the sheets upon which he had been sat, suddenly all too aware of the heavy scent of his own lust that rose from the damp fabric.

He raised his head off the mattress, trying to place some distance between his nose and the source of the smell. Even knowing that it was the product of his heat didn’t make the embarrassment any less fierce.

He was taken by surprise when his hips were then grabbed and pulled up high. A loud whine then escaped his throat as a hot tongue pushed against him, the tip of it viciously swiping through his slick. Estinien licked him as if he were a treat to be savoured, or mayhap more akin to the manner of a wolf and his meal.

Thin lips closed around the base of his cock, sucking hard at where he had once expressed a knot. It sent a jolt straight through him, levin sparking up from his cock all the way up his spine.

“Last chance to change your mind,” Estinien murmured against him, his breath hot where it stirred his cunt.

Change his mind? Aymeric wouldn’t dare even consider it.

“Please, Estinien,” he moaned lowly. “Be mine .”

Chapter 3

Estinien was swift to respond to Aymeric’s plea. However, it was hardly fast enough to satisfy the ceaseless cries of his body.

Estinien’s lips left Aymeric’s cock, pressing a series of demanding kisses up his spine. His hands moved to grip his waist, pulling his arse flush against Estinien’s groin.

Aymeric could feel the length of Estinien’s cock, hard and wanting, throbbing against his thigh. The cooling strips of skin where his leaking tip had left behind licentious trails. When he shifted his hips just so, he could feel the it slip past his weeping entrance, eliciting a moan from each of them.

He continued to grind back, trying to blindly coax Estinien’s cock inside. His method was too clumsy, his impatience too great; Estinien slipped out of him far more often than he caught against his slit. 

“Still, Aymeric. Allow me,” Estinien murmured into his ear. And even before the words could fade from his ear, it was bitten at, sharp teeth feeling as it they could pierce the soft skin at any moment.

Aymeric gasped aloud, cheek pressed against the mattress by the firm grip that had suddenly been placed on his hair. With his neck now fully extended, he could feel the hot puff of his breath against his shoulder. The proximity was intoxicating, however the grip on his hair prevented him from straining up into his mouth. He tried nevertheless, gritting his teeth at the sting of his hair being pulled in consequence.

Estinien’s mouth, his teeth, were so damnably close to his neck and he needed them in deep. Until his brand was seared into his flesh, until their pheromones had intertwined irrevocably.

“Estinien, please.” He could only speak his name over and over, verbosity forgotten in the face of wanton desperation. “Hurry!”

“I’ll mark you, stay calm,” the alpha continued to say in his low growl, as soothing as he could ever possibly be.

It barely took a second for Estinien’s mouth to switch from ear to shoulder to gland; Aymeric let out a strained noise when teeth dug into his neck, unrelenting in spite of Estinien’s carefulness.

The slowness of his bite was due to Estinien’s worry about any pain that would be caused. All it did was rule Aymeric further, his body trembling from his desperation. However, the moment his teeth dug in hard enough and applied a deep enough pressure to his gland Aymeric cried aloud, one born out of an intrinsic fulfillment than any ache.

Overtaken by instinct, Aymeric became oblivious to aught beyond the sharp tang of Estinien’s teeth and the forge-hot contact between their skin. From his lips spilled a litany of pleas, full of broken want and instinctive submission; anything to get his alpha to break through the skin and sear his brand on him.

Estinien’s growling breaths sounded heavier the more Aymeric struggled beneath him. Eventually, Aymeric found himself restrained by an iron grip, preventing him from thrashing in his helpless need. Only once he was no longer at risk of moving did Estinien seem to deem them both ready.

Aymeric couldn’t even gasp as Estinien finally, finally closed his jaws.

Distantly he became aware that the sensation of being filled was a metaphysical one: it was neither pheromone nor teeth nor cock that penetrated him but Estinien’s very aether. Entwining with his own and making them become one. The bite was merely an instinctive mnemonic that would trigger their bonding.

He was as if filled by Estinien’s fragrance, covered from the inside out by his painter’s brush. The sharp pain of teeth cutting through skin hardly registered to him when a holistic sense of belonging finally settled over him. Placating and soothing a wounded part of him that he’d never noticed, one that begged to belong to something.

Rendered as overwhelmed as he had, Aymeric didn’t return to his senses until well after Estinien released him from his teeth. 

He now lay on his back, fully able to see how Estinien was panting heavily above him. The iron grip that had held him had long since been released, Estinien’s hands instead bracketing him on either side of his head.

Aymeric raised his eyes to gaze upon Estinien’s face.

The slate-grey of his eyes were barely discernible behind how they glimmered in the dim light of the closet, the tips of his fangs lined red with blood. His lips moved; Aymeric’s gaze followed how they shaped words, his own mouth parting to echo their form. It was only when Estinien took hold of his chin in hand that he realised he was being spoken to.

“Good?”

“Good… good,” Aymeric’s response was breathless and stammered as he tried to recall how to speak beyond the desperate whines that creeped out from deep within his chest. “Is it—?”

“I’ve marked you,” Estinien confirmed quietly. “You are as much mine as I am yours.”

Aymeric let out a quiet noise, eyes closing briefly in his all-encompassing relief. Blindly he reached up, grasping at Estinien to pull him down. The breath was subsequently knocked out of him; though they were similar in height, Estinien settled atop of him heavily, covering every ilm of his body with his own.

This, too, was good.

A haze soon settled over him, one of deep calm and satisfaction. The bite on his neck throbbed with his slowing heartbeat, each pulse pronouncing all too well of their newly mated state.

“Aymeric…”

He felt how Estinien nuzzled the side of his neck, his aquiline nose dragging against the edges of the sore wound over his gland. He felt how Estinien’s hands grasped his wrists, grasped his hands, entwined their fingers together, then brought them both above his head to rest upon the mattress above them both. And last, he could feel how Estinien’s powerful thighs pushed their way between his, spreading them into a willing and welcoming arc for their hips to meet.

Though he would have loved to spend hours upon hours like this, the incessant roiling of his heat arose once more. Aymeric squirmed, quiet noises becoming louder gasps full of unfulfilled need.

“Estinien… Estinien, don’t wait,” he pleaded.

The thick, near-pulsing heat of Estinien’s cock was too close to his to bear. Their hands entwined became one hand restraining Aymeric’s wrists. Now pinned down akin to a morpho, Aymeric could do naught else but wag his hips in a futile attempt to feel more than the resting weight of his alpha.

Estinien drew his torso back to gaze down upon him with a righteous and proud possessiveness. But instead of torturing him with any longer a wait, Aymeric could feel Estinien guide his cock into him, the tip of it painting pre across his lips as it finally slipped into the slicked folds.

Aymeric gasped, pressing his head back against the mattress.

Had it always felt like this? A thick, blunt intrusion that pushed him open without any sense of graduation; it felt foreign, nothing alike what he had felt the first time around.

It could have been the changes wrought upon Estinien’s body since. Then again, a decade was more than enough time to wipe the slate of sensations clean. He didn’t know what to expect to feel beyond… beyond this.

He could feel Estinien rocking back and forth in small, minuscule movements. Each increment forwards and backwards brought with it the sensation of bumps, scales , catching against the rim of his entrance. Each bump another quarter-ilm deeper, a relentless conquest of his body.

His alpha stared down at him with dark eyes, teeth bared in a grimace. “ Fury , Aymeric… relax,” he murmured in his deep growl. “I’ll give it to you even if you don’t squeeze me like a vice.”

“I am trying,” he managed to say between his gasping breaths, spreading his thighs wider to either side. “Fury… it feels too large to fit.”

Estinien let out a rasping laugh. He shifted more weight onto the wrists he had pinned above Aymeric’s head, his free hand moving between them to grasp at his own cock. Aymeric could feel how he was steadying it, holding it in place as he slowly pressed forward.

Then, as he drew his hips back, Estinien murmured, “You’ve yet to take it all.”

It took an embarrassingly long time for Aymeric to comprehend his words. 

He had more left. He hasn’t even felt the base of Estinien’s knot. He already felt akin to a cup plein to the brim, and he yet had more to be poured into him. He would be overwhelmed, overfilled, moulded around the shape of him.

Estinien drew himself farther out, fingers swiping through the slick that continued to spill licentiously from his body. Aymeric let out a strangled, stifled noise, trembling.

“Breathe, Aymeric,” came Estinien’s firm words.

He gasped on command. And cried out as Estinien thrust deep into him, the round bulge of his knot finally hitting his flesh. His body was pliant, but not yet enough to accept such a large intrusion. It had to be made to yield.

Aymeric grit his teeth, his head spinning with the mere imagination of it. “Harder! I want it all!” The exclamation was weak, too breathless to sound commanding.

However, Estinien didn’t swive him as he demanded, instead rolling his hips slowly and grinding that knot into him, slowly forcing him to part and accept him under far gentler terms.

This was hardly the fevered rutting of their first time; the memory of it, of that time many winters ago, became increasingly faded the longer Estinien took to fit that bulbous head within him.

Aymeric could feel each ilm of his cock rubbing inside of him, sending levin straight to his gut. In any other circumstance, he could easily achieve another end like this, feeling Estinien pressed up against him so intimately. However the only thing he wanted in that moment was Estinien tied inside of him, joined together in an irrefutable and irreversible manner.

He lost track of time; he counted the seconds through the upward thrust of Estinien’s cock, the maddeningly slow pressure of his knot being pushed against him. From his parted lips came increasingly desperate and frustrated pleas and demands.

“Deeper, deeper , please Estinien,” he moaned in a wretched voice. He wanted so much it hurt him to be denied any longer. “I need it! Take me harder!”

But it wasn’t until he tensed his abdomen to clench down ‘round him that he could hear Estinien growl; his alpha was finally spurred into action. 

Aymeric found Estinien’s hands closed around his hips, raising it up and off the makeshift bedding of his nest. With his own hands now freed, he could scrabble at and grab at Estinien’s silvery locks, pulling at him in a desperate bid to ground himself as Estinien used that inescapable grip to swive him with single-minded and brutal force.

He writhed, crying out; Estinien attempted to bottom out with each forward thrust but it was thwarted each time.

He lost track of aught in the midst of the noise and feel and smell of it all, the fire of cinnamon invading his mind and leaving him… insensate, an omega wholly possessed by his heat.

It felt like catharsis when finally Estinien’s knot slipped into him. They both stilled, ragged gasps punctuating the sudden silence. Aymeric stared up at Estinien wild-eyed and stunned.

Estinien’s pupils were slitted, pale ice bleeding into aetherial red as his control slipped. The umbral scales covering his skin had spread, framing his body. However, he yet remained oblivious to the changes to his own body, so wholly focused was he on Aymeric.

“I’m going to mate you.” Estinien announced in a low, deep voice, the hand of his hip moving to splay across his abdomen where his cock lay beneath Aymeric’s skin, pulsing and inevitably his. “You’ll take all that I have to give you.”

And it was through the verbalisation of it that it finally seemed real to Aymeric.

“Oh… oh Estinien ,” Aymeric gasped out, trembling from head to toe. He could feel Estinien grinding his knot into him, each minute drag of his cock seemingly piercing through his thoughts and destroying any semblance that he had of reason. “I love you, gods above—I love you.”

The hand on his belly curled, nails digging into his skin.

Estinien grunted, each knock of his hips stirring his knot up further. He could feel it swell, how luridly wet it was where they were connected. Where Estinien finally caught against his rim, too swollen to fit past the opening. Estinien couldn’t pull back at all without tugging intensely against Aymeric.

Aymeric could hardly explain the mounting pressure within him, how it ached in a way that felt incredible; he tossed his head back, mouth falling open as they were finally tied to one another. All at once, the desperation driven by his heat faded; a brief moment of perfect absolution washing over him.

He was mated, in every sense of the word.

Estinien curled over him, body trembling as he came and came inside of Aymeric, taking harsh and ragged breaths against Aymeric’s neck.

Aymeric could feel it, how he pulsed within, each twitch of his cock filling him more. And how, even then, Estinien continued to grind into him, hips rubbing against his ass, as if desperate to ensure each drop of his seed was spilled within.

Countless minutes passed before Estinien unfurled, hands releasing Aymeric’s body to nudge him meaningfully. “Turn. Onto your side now. We’ll be here a while.”

Aymeric’s hand dropped from Estinien’s shoulder, falling to rest over his stomach. Exhausted as he was, Aymeric was soon situated upon the floor of his closet with his waist held tightly within the embrace of Estinien’s arms. His back was pressed flush to Estinien’s chest, his cock still wondrously buried inside of him.

He could feel Estinien nuzzling the back of his neck, mouth slotting gently over where he had bitten into Aymeric’s gland. How he licked at the sore and reddened flesh, all but purring in his satisfaction. It had Aymeric shivering, each lick another jolt of levin down his spine.

In the growing calm of it all, he became aware of their entwined scents; how pine accompanied furymint, how cinnamon was sweetened by syrup. It was, at once, all too licentious and heartwarming; he had never noticed how complementary their pheromones had been.

“Aymeric.” Estinien murmured quietly, when the sweat on their bodies had cooled and the haze had mostly left Aymeric. His hand moved to cover Aymeric’s, fingers entwining. “It’s far too late now for you to regret tying yourself to me.”

“I don’t. And I will not,” Aymeric murmured softly in turn. “If it means you will return to me, time after time.”

Estinien grunted. Then he buried his face into the crook of Aymeric’s shoulder, his silvered locks tickling him as it spilled over their faces in a facsimile of moonlight. “Remember your words once your heat is over. I will not allow you to shirk your responsibility for me.”

Such coy words should’ve been reserved for omega alone; Aymeric couldn’t stifle his startled laugh.

“You find it amusing?” Estinien asked in a gruff voice, clearly affecting at offense. “It is a serious matter. You’ve taken me as your alpha.” However, he could feel the curve of Estinien’s smile where it hid against his shoulder, even as his hands moved to pinch him where he was most sensitive.

Aymeric gasped, flinching and pushing at Estinien’s hands. Unable to pull away from him, tied up as they were, it was only by Estinien’s mercy that he was able to fend off those questing fingers before his giggling became torturous for them both. Nevertheless, Aymeric could already feel his heat returning with a vengeance, but Estinien had yet to calm.

“I will remember it. And I will not forget my words,” Aymeric promised, even as he stifled a moan. Estinien’s hand had moved between his legs, fingertips following the curve of his cock where it lay swollen against his thigh. “--Mayhap… mayhap you would accept my hand and wed me before the Fury Herself. Would that reassure you of mine… mine intent to take responsibility?”

It was here that Estinien paused.

His other hand moved to take hold of Aymeric’s chin, turning his head to press a gentle kiss upon his lips.

“... It would. It would very much.”

Notes:

Look. I know the ending of this fic is lame BUT IT'S FINALLY OVER. I am so glad I've managed to actually finish it after so long.
Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! :')

Notes:

I'm also found on bsky @ nymmiah, where I occasionally upload sketches and ideas.