Chan eil tuil air nach tig traoghadh

by Crankcaser

Summary:

Doctors have deemed Simon unable to continue working unless he goes through an unmedicated heat—something he’s spent the last ten years avoiding. If he wants to survive it, he’ll have to allow someone to help him. Maybe someone like Soap.

Or

Four chapters of pure whump, angst, and occasional smut between a heat-sick Simon and loving Johnny.

Notes:

My first attempt at an omega verse fic. Wanted to focus more on the dynamics than Johnny and Simon screwing each other stupid. Don't worry, there's a bit of both.

Chapter 1: 1

  Simon could feel it creeping up on him gradually, and with it came a long-forgotten terror that crept up just as slowly. His muscles were tighter, he was starting to run a fever that was only going to increase, and despite his nausea from discontinuing the heat suppressants, he was craving calorie-dense and heavy foods. He’d lost track of how many bags of chips he’d gone through in the last two days. 

  He was also beginning to grow self-conscious about his scent. Heat suppressants helped him blend in—he lived as a beta, and no one needed to know otherwise. He could feel eyes on him as he passed alphas in the hallway, despite the infirmary insisting that he wouldn’t start to noticeably release pheromones until his heat actually started. Tomorrow, maybe, they had predicted. Maybe the day after. 

  He had a day to live in terror of what was to come, he decided. Maybe this meeting with Price, whose office he came to stand in front of, would offer him a brief distraction from his impending doom. Or maybe he was about to be discharged for “health reasons”. He’d seen that happen before. The military had little patience for heats and ruts, and his high rank may not be enough to save him this time. 

  Simon raised his hand to knock, but couldn’t bring himself to actually do it for a few seconds. As soon as he did, Price opened the door, and his expression was unreadable. He seemed worried, at least. It wasn’t looking good. 

  “Come in, Simon,” was all he said, trying to sound friendly. He was trying to remember that Price had never been the enemy; Price had always been a father figure to him, someone he could wholly rely on. Price was the best person to tell him that he no longer had a life in the military.

  Price motioned to the weathered leather couch against the wall opposite his desk for Simon to sit in while the captain closed the door. It was painful for him to sit, to stretch his back that far. It was painful for him to do anything now. This heat was going to suck, and it was all thanks to his employers.

  Price was quiet while Simon sat, noticing his wincing above the medical mask he wore on base. The captain leaned against his desk and crossed his arms over his chest. Whatever he was going to say, he was going to try to make it sound non-chalant.

  “How’re you feeling?” He started.

  Simon leaned over with his elbows on his knees and stared at the ground. “Sore. It’s gonna be rough.”

  “When was the last time you had a heat?”

  “I started suppressants as a teenager. Twenty years, maybe?”

  Price shook his head, mostly to himself. “And they want you to go through one now? Unmedicated?”

  “They basically said my system’s getting old. Not supposed to be on suppressants for more than a few years at a time. They say it’s to ensure that I don’t irreversibly fuck up my body, but that’s probably done already.”

  John glanced out the window and thought. He could smell Simon—the omega Simon—now, faint, but growing stronger by the hour. There was terror in that scent, enough to have John’s hair standing up and his own anxiety rising. This wasn’t fair to Simon, and this wasn’t fair to the team. They couldn’t care less that Simon was an omega, but Simon himself certainly would. John knew him well enough to know that. 

  “You staying on base for it? In the designated barracks?” Most government facilities had rooms for surprise heats and ruts. On base, they had a separate building just for this.

  “Not like I got anywhere else to go.”

  “Who’s staying with you?”

  “W’d’ya mean?”

  Price stared at him for a moment. “…For your heat. You’re not crazy enough to do it alone—“

  “Who the hell am I gonna get to have sex with me? ‘Yeah, guys, by the way, I’m looking for a prostitute for the next week. Anybody down to fuck their lieutenant?’ . I can do it alone. I’ll be fine. I did it when I was a teen.”

  Captain’s arms dropped and he released an exasperated breath. “No, Simon, you can’t. You can already feel how bad it’s gonna be. Having your first heat in, what, ten years—it’s like an addict going cold-turkey. It’s hell. You know this.”

  Simon dropped his head and shook it as if he couldn’t believe what John was telling him. He didn’t want to believe it. This couldn’t be happening. Really, he was terrified of doing something like this alone. He’d rather be dropped on an active battlefield than re-learn how to survive a heat. 

  “What if one of us helped you out?”

  He shook his head. “It’s—it’s my team. I’ll never be the same, John. I’m ruined. It’s already over. I just… want to go away. I want to fly back to Manchester and do this myself, and if I survive, then I’ll fly back, and I’ll get back on my suppressants.” There was some truth to what Simon was saying. Omegas (ones who decided to suddenly go through a heat for the first time in, say, ten years) had died before, either from fevers that were too high, or dehydration. It was a stupid game that most of them had been forced into by shame or social isolation. John wouldn’t let Simon do the same.

  ”I always help Gaz out with his heats. Johnny does, too. What if one of us stayed with you?”

  “Soap isn’t gonna wanna do that. Not for me.”

  “Why not? Simon, you can’t leave the base. You know how big of a toll this will take on you, and you’ll never be able to come back if you leave. You either let one of us help, or this life you’ve always known is over, and there will be nothing that I can do for you.”

  Simon hated how emotional he was. His chest was so tight that it felt like fire, but his eyes were even hotter with those tears that bubbled up. He was never this emotional. He was never this hormonal on his suppressants. The stench of despair filled the room. Price tried to hide the way he covered his mouth against the smell.

  “I’m…” Scared . “I can’t do a heat. I can’t. I don’t know how to survive it anymore.”

  At this, Price slowly stepped forward and placed a hand on Simon’s trembling shoulder. He flinched at the first touch, but didn’t lean away. Ghost was always a force to be reckoned with in the field, an unyielding power that everyone on base looked to for direction in the toughest times. John never thought he’d live to see him so scared. 

  “Soap will do it. If I ask him. He will, and you know it. And if you don’t want him to, then I’m your last option.” Now, his voice was low and final.   

  Simon shuddered again. Then, a choked, “Yeah. I know.”

---

  Simon had been drifting in a haze of ache and fear for what felt like a long time. It couldn’t have been that long, because when he was startled out of it by a knock on his door, the pain hadn’t gotten much worse. Still, he held a fistful of his bed sheets in an iron grip as if they could hide him from what was coming. He hadn’t even undressed, like part of him wanted to do, he just collapsed on top of the sheets. His skin was starting to feel raw against his clothing. 

  It took him a minute to gather the strength and roll off the bed. He cracked open the door. Whatever Johnny saw or smelled didn’t seem to faze him, because he just gave his little smirk. “Hey, LT. How ya feelin’?”

  “Like shit.” He deadpanned down at him.

  “Well, you’re still vertical. That’s something.”

  Simon shrugged. Soap motioned past him. “Did you wanna chat? Captain said… well, I dunno if you’re on board or not. But… if you want to lay down for a bit, we can go to my room.”

  The haze wasn’t lifting. Soap’s words ebbed through his mind like honey, and he wasn’t able to process most of it. Simon had to close his eyes and lean his forehead against the door for relief. The cold wood was incredibly soothing. Soap had that concerned look in his face that Simon couldn’t be bothered to notice—he was spiralling fast. 

  “Your room?” was all he repeated.

  “Yeah. I can close off the vents and open the window if we need to. It’s smaller, though. Further away. No one’s using the rooms around it. Gaz likes it for nesting; it’s cozy.”

  Simon nodded lamely. He hadn’t listened to a thing that Johnny said.

  “Can I come in, Si? Can we pack some stuff for you?”

  Simon stepped back and leaned against the wall with his eyes on the floor. The heat scent was getting stronger. Johnny tried to release those calming alpha scents that he’d spent so long perfecting with Gaz, but it didn’t seem to touch Simon. 

  “Simon? You okay? Do you have anything to pack?”

  “Like what?”

  “Comfy clothes? Blankets?”

  He shook his head. 

  “Oh. Okay. Well, I’m gonna bring some clothes for ya. And—if ye have anything ye want to eat, I can get that, too.” Johnny went about the room to find anything resembling sleepwear for Simon—how did he expect to wear fatigues for the next week? He’d sweat right through them, and Johnny knew that they would already be making his skin crawl. 

  He just shook his head. “Don’ feel good. Not hungry.”

  “Well, we can work on that. You’ll have to eat something eventually. Uh… Simon?”

  “Mm?”

  “Are you… can you smell me at all ?” With the amount of effort he was putting into his scenting, Simon looked more stressed than ever. By now, Gaz was usually melting. 

  With his arms crossed in front of his chest like a shield, he shrugged and shook his head. “Broken my nose half a dozen times. Doesn’t work well anymore. Don’t need it.”

  “Oh. So that’s a bust… um, Price told me about your past with… Roba. Not everything! Just—that it changed you. Your body. He said you can’t sit in a presenting position anymore.”

  “Hurts.” For a moment, those memories flashed behind his eyes. He’d been with Roba for close to a year before he escaped. During those months, the omega in him rotted away, and everything his body knew had been destroyed by the torture. Now, he could remember being tied into that presenting position on his knees for days. Instead of comfort, alpha commands made him unbearably anxious. 

  Gaz always loved that presentation position. It was a sign of trust in Soap, and opened himself up to whatever his alpha was willing to offer. Despite the sense of utter submission, the pose offered comfort when an omega presented to their trusted alpha. Simon had lost that. He was running out of ways to avoid a drop, which seemed increasingly inevitable. 

  “Okay. That’s alright. I’m just… trying to make sure we avoid a drop. That would suck, and I dunno if I would be able to bring you out of it.”

  “It’s not happening already?”

  Soap’s eyes softened. Ghost had no idea how to be an omega. He didn’t know what to do during a drop or how to prevent it, he couldn’t be scented traditionally, he didn’t understand his urges to nest, and he allowed himself nothing of comfort. He acted like this was a mission that he expected he could survive with determination. 

  “Simon?”

  It took him a moment to look up at Soap. He struggled to keep his eyes open. 

  “I know you’re not okay with this. Your heat. But are you okay with me… helping? Knotting…? I can’t ask permission during the worst of your heat, and I don’t really know if you’re understanding me now. But… do you trust me?”

  Simon deflated as if Soap had asked him a stupid question. “You don’t need my permission. Alphas don’t…”

  “Well, I do. And I’m asking your permission now. This is your choice, but I think you need my help, and I’m gonna be pissed if you decline it because you’re so stubborn.”

  Eventually, Simon met Johnny’s gaze. His eyes were pleading, as if silently begging Soap to make this whole situation go away. Johnny wanted to do so more than anything. 

  “I’m scared,” Simon admitted in a whisper. He couldn’t actually look at Soap when he said that word— scared.

  “I know,” the alpha replied, “I can smell that. But, if you let me, I can be with you through the whole thing. You’re allowed to be scared, but you’re not allowed to be alone.”

  Soap waited for Simon to respond, or even move. Eventually, he leaned forward slightly, readjusting the duffel of Simon’s clothes over his shoulder. “…Deal?” 

  At this, Simon gave a tiny nod. He still wasn’t sure, but he did trust Johnny. The younger man held out his free hand to Ghost. “Come on. Let’s go up the hall.”

Chapter 2

  Simon found himself leaning into Soap while they walked through the barracks—empty at this time, thankfully—and to the end of the hallway to find Soap’s private room. As promised, the vents had been closed, an electric fan allowed circulation in the room, but the window remained closed for now. Gaz always hated the thought of a random alpha catching his scent if they happened to walk by the window. 

  When Johnny dropped Ghost’s arm inside the room, Simon just stood there, unsure, but obviously uncomfortable. Soon, Soap would have to take control and tell him what to do , or Simon would be stuck standing there forever. 

  “I think you should shower. Get out of those fatigues. Wha’d’ya think, LT?”

  He nodded. Soap led him to the cramped bathroom.

  “It’s okay. It’s me. I’m gonna strip you, yeah? We got fresh clothes for after.”

  “I’m hot. Really hot. Please, cold water.”

  “That’s because you’re already heat-sick. And you got a fever—that’s normal. I got ice packs for after, okay? But a little bit of warmth will help relax.”

  Simon nodded. Soap was surprised at how easily he accepted the alpha’s words. Maybe his omega did have some sense. 

  With Simon sitting on the toilet lid, Johnny unlaced his boots, removed his socks and shirt, and went to unbutton his pants, but Simon’s strong hands wrapped around his wrists without looking up from his lap. There was a mental battle that Johnny could see happening behind those tortured eyes, so he waited for Simon to make the next move.

  “I’m just taking them off. Nothing else,” he whispered. 

  The omega nodded and swallowed down his fear. 

  As promised, Johnny quickly removed his pants and boxers and immediately took Simon’s arm to stand. For the moment, Johnny wouldn’t ask why Simon wasn’t slicking, which he should have started doing hours ago. He worried that if he mentioned it, Simon would only get another excuse to think of himself as broken. He’d experienced a lot with Kyle and learned a lot from Price, but this was new. 

  “Do you want me with you?”

  The omega immediately shook his head, no. He’d showered with alphas before, and every shower turned out the same. Maybe Johnny had good intentions. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe Simon wanted him to do something wrong, so he could justify how horribly he was treating the alpha. Despite his inability to do so, he kept trying to smell for him, to decipher Soap’s intentions. Through all this, his head was pounding, his back ached horribly, and the air leaving his lungs seemed to scrape his windpipe. Every touch from Soap made his skin burn—not a pain, but a firm reminder of his weakness. Even the steam that was gathering from the shower was aggravating his skin. Would he survive actually stepping inside?

  “I’ll be right outside. Take your time. Yell if you need me, Si.”

---

  He waited a few minutes after the shower turned off to go in and check on him. Thankfully, he didn’t have to, because Simon emerged in his boxers with his head hung low. Johnny sat on the bed to wait for him.

  “Feel better?”

  Simon nodded. “Mhm. Clearer. Just… hurts.”

  “Your back?”

  “Everywhere.”

  “Come sit down?”

  The omega found himself doing so, hating himself for liking the idea of Soap’s soft bed. He studied it first. Blankets had been added. Soap had taken Simon’s pillow from his room. 

  “You don’t nest?” 

  Simon sat beside him and shook his head. 

  “I figured that. I brought some of Gaz’s stuff. Price gave me some clothes. Maybe they’ll help.” All omegas nested. Ghost didn’t because the instinct had been tortured out of him a long time ago. Soap was determined to change that.

  Across the room, Soap grabbed some articles of clothing from a new bag and retrieved a small cooler bag as well. He gave Simon the clothes first. He may not be able to smell the pheromones well, but from what he could smell, he enjoyed it—especially Price. His scent alone seemed to calm Simon. While he held the clothing to his chest, Soap rifled through the cooler bag on the bed.

  “Here. Drink. And you’re gonna try to eat.”

  “I’ll throw it up.”

  “ Try. ”

  They sat together on the edge of the bed in silence while Simon drank water and tried a few bites of the crackers Soap had stolen from the chow hall. 

  “How much did Price pay you to do this for me?” Ghost interrupted the silence. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was, and the crackers weren’t making him immediately sick. Johnny’s presence was comforting. 

  “Nothing. I’m here ‘cause I want to be, believe it or not.”

  “Right. So just for sex. Congrats, you’ll get to knot a bitch.”

  For a moment, Johnny couldn’t speak. Simon ignored his horrified eyes on him and focused on his crackers. He wanted to believe that Soap was there as a kindness—the Soap he knew would never take advantage of him in that way—but Simon was also sitting beside an alpha. He knew alphas. Once his heat really set in and his pheromones flowed heavily, Johnny wasn’t going to be able to control himself. Was this worth it, to have a chance at staying in the military? He was dead otherwise. He’d learned how to survive an alpha’s brutality. He could do it again. 

  “Simon?”

  He didn’t say anything, so Johnny continued.

  “Why the fuck would you say something so horrible?”

  “What, you’re just gonna stand in the corner?”

  “I don’t—“ Soap breathed a frustrated sigh to himself, “Simon, I can’t make ye do anything. You’re going to want a knot. Ye remember enough about heats to know that. But I’m here to make sure ya drink water and keep ye as comfortable as I can, and if that includes knotting, then I’m happy to. It’s your choice .”

  “It was never my choice,” was Simon’s mumbled reply, low enough for Soap to struggle to hear it. 

  ”I know you’re scared and angry. I don’t blame you. But if you don’t trust me, then there’s no reason for me to be here. I’ll only make it worse.”

  Of course, Johnny could smell Simon’s fear and frustration, even if Simon couldn’t himself. It was impossible to blame him. 

  He set the half-empty box of crackers between them and hung his head in shame. “I… do trust you. I’m sorry. I… don’t want to do this alone. Please.”

  Soap was thankful that Simon couldn’t detect his shame and regret. He hadn’t meant to make the omega feel so bad for acting out. He was expecting Simon to fight him the whole way, until he physically couldn’t. All he could do to make Simon feel better was give him a kind smile and say, “It’s okay. I know. I’m not going anywhere.”

  With this, Simon breathed a long, pained sigh and leaned his shoulder into Soap’s. The sudden closeness surprised the alpha. 

  “How ya doin’?” he asked after a moment of calm silence. 

  “Head hurts. Stomach hurts. Everything hurts.”

  “You wanna lay down?”

  He was already doing so without answering. Everything in him pulled the omega to bed, and fighting it only left him more exhausted. Simon pulled his legs up and curled himself to face the wall. With the blinds and curtains closed, the room was mostly dark, and it helped the sleep come easier. Still, he could feel Johnny at his back, mirroring him just a few inches away.

  “Can I try something, Si?”

  Simon just hummed. Johnny rolled to face the omega’s naked back and studied it for a brief moment. 

  He could see countless scars there—knife wounds, shrapnel, a dog bite on his shoulder. There was a bullet wound through his waist and another in the back of his bicep. Underneath all this torture, he could see how tight his muscles were, pulled impossibly over bones that were more evident as Simon continued to not eat. His muscle mass was waning. He’d lose at least ten pounds over the next week, Johnny predicted, even if he fought to keep him fed.

  Johnny first pressed both thumbs into the dimples on either side of the base of his spine and kept the pressure as he pushed up, stopping just under his sensitive kidneys. At first, Simon took a deep breath in pain and tensed even further, but when Soap removed his hands momentarily, he realized how good they had felt. Soap did it again, this time using his knuckles to dig into the muscles. He felt victorious upon hearing Simon’s deep sighs and smelling the fear disperse from the air between them. 

  He could see Simon’s scent gland sitting between his right shoulder and neck. Normally, glands weren’t visible other than being slightly off-colour and detectable by smell, but Simon’s was an inflamed circle about the size of his palm and cherry-red. If Soap were to give into his instincts (which he’d spent his lifetime learning to suppress so he could focus on his omega) and mark Simon, it would be as painful as it would be relieving. 

  Gradually, Simon seemed to relax. His skin was still hot and damp and his fever wouldn’t break for a few days, but the massage would allow him to evade the worst of the muscle cramps for now. Soap wouldn’t be able to do anything about the abdominal cramps once they were at their worst. 

  “Feel better?” Johnny whispered as he created a rhythm. 

  Simon was already asleep, so Johnny’s response was silence and the occasional deep breath.

Chapter 3

  The sun disappeared from behind the curtain over the next few hours. When Gaz was at the peak of his heats, he couldn’t stand to be alone or without physical contact. Simon may be the opposite, but Johnny didn’t want to risk waking him by getting out of the bed, so he stayed there scrolling through his phone in the darkness. Thankfully, the base was quiet tonight. 

  Simon’s scent grew stronger as time went on. It turned into a more earthy version of his gunpowder and wood smell that always made Soap’s mouth water when it passed. He reeked like sweat, too, but the alpha didn’t want to risk opening a window for that. Kyle always felt better after a shower, and he took them every couple hours when he was miserable. Soap planned to offer the same to Ghost, but didn’t expect him to be able to stand, let alone bathe. He knew that experiencing this heat without medication was intentional—forced—for Simon, but he knew that Price was still trying to get some kind of support from the pharmacy. The stomach cramps alone would debilitate him. Soon, the nausea and worsening agitation would follow. There had to be some kind of pain medication that didn’t act as a suppressant. 

  With his free hand, he diligently kept pressure up and down Simon’s back. It had been enough to keep him asleep so far. He’d even snored a few times.

  Still up? Soap texted his captain slowly with just the one thumb. 

  Pharmacy can’t do anything for him unless he really goes downhill. They suggested herbal tea. Fucking tea. How is he?

  Sleeping

  Good. Keep me posted. I can bring anything by. 

  Soap sighed and then looked over at Simon, just barely able to see his massive outline in the darkness. For a moment, he enjoyed the quiet, but then frowned and momentarily removed his hand from Simon’s back to feel the bed between them. By now, Kyle had always soaked through his boxers and to the bed, and he didn’t even produce that much slick. Simon was completely dry. It was an equally alarming and confusing realization. 

  Can I ask an inappropriate question?

  If I’m allowed to answer it, yes.

  Does Simon slick? Did he have some kind of injury?

  He’d heard omegas experiencing violent assaults and walking away with irreversible damage to reproductive organs, especially during their sensitive heats. As much as he didn’t want to think about it, he didn’t know what to do if Simon had that kind of history. Price would know. He always knew. 

  No, he doesn’t. It’s exactly what you’re thinking.

  He stared at the screen for a moment. Then, What do I do?

  He’ll tell you. You’ll know.

  He could barely talk to me before. 

  You’ll know.

  Simon stirred, and Soap realized that he’d forgotten to return his hand to Ghost’s back. His sharp inhale and harsh swallow ended in a low whine. When he moved, it kicked up more pheromones that reeked like heat-sickness. 

  “Hey, Si. Sorry, you can go back to sleep.”

  The omega rolled over and set his sweaty forehead against Soap’s shoulder. It felt like he’d been set on fire. His blond hair clung to his scalp, soaked through and dripping. Soon, Soap would have him drink as much water as he could, and maybe wash him down with a cool towel, if he’d allow something so rough against his sensitive skin. 

  The first thing Simon did upon meeting Johnny’s shoulder was take a large inhale, get an abstract whiff of Soap, and grind his painful erection against Soap’s thigh. He even pushed a knee over Soap’s. Then, he whined and clenched his fists against his chest.

  Maybe he was awake, but Johnny didn’t think so. His eyes flickered partly open for a brief second, but never seemed to register anything. He ground down against the alpha’s thigh and whined again. 

  “Si—.” Johnny raised a hand to the omega’s side, but it was quickly grabbed and redirected to Simon’s groin. Before he could object or pull away, Soap was cupping Ghost’s pulsing erection through his boxers. He was huge for an omega—maybe bigger than Johnny. No, definitely bigger than Johnny. If he wasn’t so obviously in heat, no one would believe Simon to be an omega at all. 

  Maybe Simon wouldn’t have wanted this if he was capable of rationally thinking, but right now, Simon’s mind was completely clouded by what he needed as an omega in that moment. The first wave of his heat was upon them, and it was only going to get worse from here. 

  He swept his boxers down and allowed Simon to spring free. There was a trembling sigh when Soap began stroking him, like part of a fire had been extinguished. Still, it wouldn’t ease the aching itch at the base of his spine that told Simon exactly what he needed. The pleasure Soap was offering him could only do so much. 

  Simon whined again. This time, it sounded more like a desperate sob than a request. His body knew what it needed. 

  “Okay, Si. You’re okay.”

  Pheromones wouldn’t help if Simon couldn’t smell them, despite Johnny’s attempts. Maybe it would help if he scented him by rubbing against the gland on the back of his neck, but Soap predicted that it would only cause more pain and distress. It was times like this—when he knew what had to be done but wanted more than anything to avoid it—when he wished that Price was there with him. One day, he’d be confident in himself. Today was not that day.

  He rolled away from Simon to rifle through the bedside table’s drawer. The omega followed him, grabbing for his hand and trying to grind against any skin he could find despite Soap being dressed in a t-shirt and boxers. He found the bottle he’d been looking for and immediately pulled Simon back to him. His breath was hot against Johnny’s neck where his own scent gland was, strong and comforting. Something seemed to get past Simon’s broken nose, because he released a deep, relieved sigh. 

  Soap pulled Simon’s boxers completely off, discarded them on the floor, and quickly dribbled lube into his fingers.

  As soon as he reached between his legs and pushed two fingers into Simon, he could physically feel his muscles slacken. His whining immediately quieted. Then, he rocked back against Soap’s fingers, looking for more.

  “Sh,” Johnny cooed before kissing Simon’s shoulder. His entrance was puffy and tight, but pulled him in for more. He added a third finger. The noises Simon was making into his shoulder made Johnny’s own erection turn painful. 

  Price wouldn’t have allowed him to help Simon if he thought that his heat would trigger a rut. He didn’t plan to lose control and let the captain or Ghost down. 

  With his fourth finger, Simon released a long moan and came against Soap’s thigh. He buried his face as deep into Johnny’s shoulder as he possibly could and feebly whined, hips bucking. 

  Hot dampness spread over the alpha’s boxers. He pulled his hand out of Simon (followed by an immediate loud whine of objection) before he added his thumb and pressed his hand back in with the sensation of a pop when his knuckles breached him. It was a painful stretch, but his fist was the best way he knew to simulate a knot. 

  He could tell that Simon had been sated as soon as the base of his thumb rested inside him. Simon was hotter than fire and tight enough to make Johnny’s hand hurt, but he continuously pulsed around him in pleasure. Soap hadn’t even noticed how tightly the omega was gripping his arm and how strained his breathing was, like he was choking on his orgasm. 

  Still, Soap could feel the tension completely dissipate from the omega. His shoulders slackened, his knee removed its pressure on Soap’s hip, he pulled his nails up from where they’d dug into the alpha’s skin, a wave of calming pheromones erupted from him—Soap had successfully flipped his switch, at least for the next hour or two. 

  His fist stayed inside Simon even as he lay in silence against his alpha, breath evening. Like an actual knot, he would wait a moment. His worst fear had always been ripping out a knot too soon—that had happened with Kyle once, and he’d never repeat his mistake. Knots were meant to stay for as long as possible before they could slide out on their own. Sometimes, it took up to ten minutes. This time, Soap let them breathe each other's air for about five before he very slowly unfurled his hand and pulled it away.

  Simon still objected. His back arched at the movement. Once it was over, he returned his face to Johnny’s neck and looked as if he was sleeping again. He could feel something else besides Ghost’s textured scars, though, as hot tears accompanied the sweat dripping down his shoulder. 

  Maybe there was a twinge of panic in the air. It was an intoxicating mix of relief and fear. Maybe Simon was through the worst of his self-loathing. Maybe he’d give himself wholly to Johnny, like his instincts urged him to. Maybe he would hate himself for how quickly he gave in and begged for relief. Either way, Simon was still crying, and he could feel his sniffling against his skin.

  “Si?” Johnny whispered. His hand, still lubed, lay between them. 

  “Mm?”

  “You with me?”

  For a moment, there was quiet breathing. “Mhm.”

  “That was a lot. You cold?”

  “Stomach still hurts.” The rush of hormones coursing through him now may be responsible for the way the omega was shaking. 

  “You’re back, though, a little bit. Try to sleep for a bit? Ye hungry?”

  He just shook his head, eyes closed, and continued shaking.

---

  Soap exited the shower dressed in fatigues. He felt normal in them. Maybe any rookies that met him in the hallway wouldn’t stare as long when they smelled him. 

  The table lamp was on in the corner of the room, illuminating Simon’s figure under the covers. Soap had offered a shower. He was conscious enough to decline, at least, and roll over to sleep. He still seemed guarded, frustrated at himself. Johnny hoped that some time alone might help now that he could think more clearly.

  “I’m gonna go out and get something else to eat. You gonna be okay, Si? Did you want anything?”

  “Mm-mm,” was his muffled reply. 

  “Okay. Just—stay here. Lock the door behind me if you want.”

  He slipped out of the room quickly, careful to try avoid letting a cloud of heat-sickness into the hallway. The halls were silent. Most soldiers were asleep. The kitchen, attached to the chow hall, was empty when he entered. He put on the kettle to boil and went about looking for Simon’s favourite—earl grey.

  A familiar face poked around the doorway. Soap hadn’t heard him coming down the hall.

  “Johnny?”

  “Hey, Kyle. What’re you doing up?”

  He could obviously smell heat on Soap, and he gave him a side eye as he entered the room, revealing the empty cup of tea he was returning. 

  “Uh—dishes. Why…? Uh.” Soap could smell Kyle’s spike in anxiety. Smelling his alpha—the one he’d spent almost every one of his recent heats with and whom he didn’t expect to be spending heats with other omegas—made him instinctively hurt. He was trying to fight it, to get answers without sounding accusatory.

  Kyle stepped closer and diverted his eyes while he took a deep breath of Johnny. He felt even more betrayed when Soap stepped away from him with pure apology on his face.

  “I’m sorry. It’s… Simon. I just don’t know if he’d be okay if I smelled like you. Not that he can… Anyway, I’m sorry. Can you understand?”

  Suddenly, his anger was gone and worry was his only expression. “Simon’s an omega?”

  “Yeah. It’s complicated. He hasn’t had a heat in years. I’m helping him—or, trying to. It’s rough.”

  “Jesus. I never knew. Is he okay?”

  “Like I said, it’s rough. Maybe he’d be happy if you joined him, but I don’t know, and I don’t want to risk it.”

  “Does Price know?”

  “Yeah. He thought Simon might do better with me.”

  “Can I do anything?”

  Johnny took a moment to study his omega with love in his gaze. He hadn’t marked Kyle—yet. Maybe one day. For now, it just didn’t feel right, but it was times like this when Johnny wanted more than anything to call Kyle his. For now, Price had held off as well. Johnny could see Price marking him long before Johnny was allowed to. The pack’s primary alpha came first. 

  “Actually, Si likes earl grey. You know if we have any?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Kyle reached up, opened the cupboard beside the fridge, and a wave of tea promptly cascaded onto the floor. They tried to catch it. Most of it ended up on the floor, and they laughed as they picked up the individual packets of tea flavours. 

  “Jesus. Fuckin’ Brits, man.”

  “Here. He likes this one best. The other brand is old. Stale.”

  “Thank you, Gaz. I dunno when I’ll be free… you go to the captain if you need anything, okay? I’m serious.”

  He dropped his mug in the sink and stood in the doorway to say goodbye with that lovely smirk. “I’ll survive a few days without you. Tell Simon that I’m thinking of him. I’m here if he wants. Any time. Sometimes… well, you know this. Sometimes another omega can help.”

  “I’ll see what he thinks. Have a good night, mo ghraidh.”

---

  Next, Soap was standing in front of Price's office with two steaming cups of tea. He had a habit of using his office as sleeping quarters. Johnny tapped the bottom of the door with his foot, and Price must have been expecting him, because the door opened quickly. He motioned him inside and his first question was, “How is he?”

  He didn’t even thank Johnny for the tea, he just took the cup offered to him and set it on his desk. Johnny found it endearing, how concerned Price was for the oldest member of his pack. 

  “He’s okay. Just getting him tea. I think he’s in a bad mood. He’s miserable.”

  “Figured. Is he really sick?”

  “Uh,” Johnny swallowed, “I think a knot helped. In-between, though, Kyle is always alert enough to talk. Hell, we played cards once. Simon can’t even move. He’s not purring like Kyle does.”

  “I think a lot of that is his mood, like you said. His hormones are everywhere. The depression is hitting him hard. And… he can’t… purr. His vocal chords were fucked up a couple years ago.”

  “But what else can I do? How do I stop it?” Johnny was desperate to find relief for Simon. He felt useless, just bringing him tea like it made everything better. 

  Price shook his head somberly. “That’s what happens when you take suppressants for years. The fact that Simon is an omega has been used against him his entire life. He’s scared of himself. He hates it, but he knows that you’re the best person to help him right now.”

  “And what if I fuck it up?”

  The older man sighed at Soap, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed. “Do you think he’s dropping? Johnny, you know how to do this. Kyle’s had bad ones before, too.”

  “Not like this. He is dropping, even though I’ve done everything I can. I’m kind of—freaking out. Simon can’t sense it, but still.”

  The captain closed his eyes. “Yeah. That.”

  “How am I supposed to help him if he can’t even register a scent? Y’know, that’s the only thing that calms Kyle down sometimes.”

  “I’m glad you came in here to freak out.”

  “Well? Captain, Simon’s—“

  “Simon’s going to be okay. I promise, Johnny, you’re doing everything right. You keep him hydrated and cool. If he has a seizure, you get me and medical. Hell, maybe he’ll surprise you and start nesting or something. For now, we have to trust his body to keep him whole.”

  Johnny stared at his captain, licking his lips as if the words he wanted to say tasted bad. Price was right. He was always right. Now, Johnny was also glad that he’d checked in while he was gone, because the conversation certainly would have gone different if he expressed it to Simon.

---

  The door had been left unlocked. Maybe that wasn’t such a good sign. Johnny opened it slowly, slipped inside, and quickly closed it behind him. 

  At first, he was alarmed to see that the room had changed. One of his dresser drawers had been ransacked and left open, the clothes from Kyle and Price had been removed and the duffel bags left on the floor, the extra blankets had been tossed across the bed. It took him a moment to realize that they hadn’t just been tossed—they had been meticulously placed around Simon, who was curled facing the wall in the centre of the ring. Maybe it wasn’t a good one, but it was a nest.

  “Simon?” He stood at the edge of the bed. He’d already joined Simon once, but conditions had changed, and intruding on Simon’s chaotic nest could certainly ruin any comforting benefits that it once provided. 

  “Don’ wanna do this anymore,” Simon’s low voice came, broken and strained. 

  “Oh, Si. Can I sit with you?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached a shaking hand behind him, searching for the alpha. He immediately allowed Simon’s arm to guide him forward. He brought the cup of tea with him, but set it on the bedside table when he decided to lay next to Simon. Johnny made sure to pull the covers over both of them once Ghost’s face was buried in his neck.

  Once comfortable, he sighed. He gently rubbed at Simon’s arm. It still felt hot despite his shivering. 

  “S’like withdrawal. Hurts. M’so cold.”  Even the omega’s teeth were chattering. 

  “I know. A bath isn’t gonna help. I’ll stay here. Try to keep ya warm.”

  “When’s it over?”

  “A while, Simon. It’s gonna be a while. But I’ll be here.”

  The room smelled like terror; it made Johnny’s skin prickle. He pulled Simon closer. “Y’know, the nest is nice. Make ye feel a little better?”

  Ghost sniffled. “Never nested in my life. Don’ think I did it right.”

  “Does it feel like you did it right?”

  The omega nodded hesitantly. Johnny felt victorious.

  “Well, then ye did it right.”

  There was a period of silence in which Soap did his best to rub Ghost’s back. The stench of fear was waning, at least, but Simon was as tense as ever, and it wasn’t helping the body cramps. He had another forty-five minutes, Soap predicted, before the omega devolved again. 

  “I don’t want to go back.”

  “Back where?”

  “It’ll happen again. It hurt so bad—“

  “Did I hurt you?”

  Again, Simon shook his head, no.

  “Look, Si, the best thing to make that pain go away is a knot. What I did… I can do it again. But a real one is the best. I can help ya, if ye let me. If you trust me.”

  Johnny felt terrible for saying anything at all, because Simon’s lip promptly began wobbling. He hid his face in Johnny’s shoulder, but he could still feel those tears returning. 

  “Ye know who I am, Ghost. Ye know that I wouldn’t hurt ya. I know that alphas have before, but that won’t happen here.”

  At least there were no more tears on his skin. Maybe Ghost was considering his words. 

  “Oh, hey, you want some tea? Kyle recommended it. Ye know, cause I drink so much a’ the stuff.”

  “Beer doesn’t count as tea.”

  He momentarily paused, unable to believe that Simon made a joke. It took him a moment to actually laugh. 

  “Seriously though… when the time comes, did you want it…? A real knot—it holds off the next wave for longer. Might keep the fever at bay, too.” He couldn’t help but feel as though he was pressuring the omega into allowing Johnny to knot him. Was it pressuring if Soap needed him to make a decision now, before he went under again? Although he never wanted to force himself onto Simon, he knew that it was the best option, and all he could do was try to convey that to him.

  Simon was thinking. Johnny could see it in his eyes when they flickered open and studied the alpha for a moment. 

  “I had it before.”

  It was still hard for Soap to hear his mumbling.

  “Hm?”

  “Roba. He hurt me. I can’t do it again.”

  Soap had heard tales of Manuel Roba, a whispered name that rookies shared to scare each other. He’d been killed a long time ago, but his connections and power still lived on within Mexican drug rings. Roba’s death had been a great victory in the war on drugs, but it obviously hadn’t come soon enough for Simon. 

  All Johnny knew was that there had been a brief period in his service during which he’d been held as a POW. Two months later, Roba was shot and killed in his mansion before the entire thing went up in flames. Simon was invited to join the 141 a week after that. 

  It wasn’t hard to believe that an omega held as a POW would have experienced horrors beyond an alpha’s comprehension. 

  “Roba’s not here. I am, and I’m not going to hurt you,” was all Soap could say. How else could he convince Simon, one of his oldest friends and cherished pack-mates, that he wasn’t going to brutalize him? At some point, Simon would have to put his trust in him. 

Chapter 4

  Simon sat up for a while to drink his tea. It seemed to relax him like nothing had before—at least for the first half of it. He leaned against a ledge of pillows and blankets while ensuring that the comforter stayed around his shoulders. 

  “I want a smoke,” Simon mumbled. His fever was returning, turning his mind into a lethargic mess and bringing back that terminal chill. Soap had been leaning against the headboard with a computer in his lap and a soccer game playing quietly. 

  “Did you bring any? I’m sorry, I didn’t think of it. We’ve been distracted.”

  Ghost shook his head and closed his eyes. Despite his cravings, a cigarette didn’t sound as good when a sudden wave of nausea hit him. It accompanied a new sense of fear. He was losing control of himself again.

  “I can go get some? Where are they? Maybe Price will share a cigar.”

  Johnny discarded the laptop to the side and sat up, but Simon didn’t respond. He shook his head and closed his eyes in pain, but also sat up quickly, and Johnny thought that he was fighting a new fever. He was, but instead of curling up and shivering, Simon swallowed thickly, grimaced, leaned over the side of the bed, and vomited into the trash can there. The progress he’d made on his tea was gone. 

  He didn’t have the strength to hold his head up when he began dry heaving—Simon hadn’t eaten anything since those crackers six hours ago, but his body was desperate for relief, thinking that emptying his stomach would fix his problems. It wouldn’t. Tears sprung to his eyes. Johnny put a hand on his shoulder. 

  “Save your energy. Try to breathe.” He didn’t realize that Ghost’s hand was searching the bed for his until he found it. His grip was weak. Soap did his best to keep pressure. A moment later, Simon laid his cheek against the mattress and focused on long, even breaths. Johnny swept back sweaty hair from his forehead. He watched the omega wrap his other arm around his middle. The cramps were back. Everything was back. 

---

  They curled against each other under the comforter for another thirty minutes. Simon didn’t throw up again, but he didn’t really regain consciousness, either. Soap tried to offer him a cigarette again, and even that didn’t rouse him. He was only able to coax him into drinking some water by holding it up to his lips until Simon surrendered. 

  He felt no threat of a rut despite the air around them. He was so grateful for his sense of control—the first time he’d spent a heat with Kyle, it had triggered a rut, causing him to forget nearly everything he’d worked so hard for. Thankfully, Kyle hadn’t been hurt. 

  Soap held a damp cloth to Simon’s forehead. He was shivering and complained of cold, but the excessive sweating and heat radiating off his skin said otherwise. He also tried to make conversation, which Simon clearly wasn’t interested in participating in while he laid on the pillow beside Johnny. Still, he pressed on in an effort to distract the omega.

  “I don’t think you’d appreciate if I sang to ye. Me ma’ used t’sing old ballads to me. Care for some Loch Lomond?”

  Simon shook his head, still floating just beneath consciousness. Johnny wiped away a few beads of sweat on his neck. There was a pool of sweat staining the sheets beneath him as well.

  “Oh, I forgot to mention that Kyle says hi. Maybe when you’re up, he can come and hang out. Ah dinnae ken, maybe it would be a good distraction.”

  Simon mumbled something into Johnny’s side. He immediately leaned in to hear. “What was that, gaol?”

  “Like when you… Gaelic.”

  “Tha mi toilichte, a Si,” was Johnny’s whispered reply. 

  Ghost seemed to suddenly become rather uncomfortable beside him, his laboured breaths growing quicker. Johnny continued to keep the cloth on his forehead, but sat up to rub at his back. Simon’s eyes fluttered. Johnny frowned. 

  “Ya doin’ okay, LT?”

  Of course, Simon couldn’t respond. He did, however, release a long whimper. Soap was still having trouble believing that a sound so feeble could come from a man with a reputation so large and strong. He wondered what Simon would do once he made it out of his heat—maybe he would let it break him, and he’d never return to service. Maybe he’d go back on his suppressants and pretend it never happened. Maybe—and this was what Johnny hoped for—Simon would stay off the suppressants and stay in service with his pack. He had to understand that this heat would be the worst and longest. If he stayed off the suppressants, the next ones would be much more bearable.

  “Si?” he called again. He removed the cloth, now warmed and unhelpful, and set it on the bedside table. 

  Simon had dropped again, right on schedule. His shivering was back. He moaned and ground himself against the bed, searching for stimulation. Johnny could almost see his mind leave him and his fevered instincts completely take over. 

  He removed Ghost’s boxers, which had just been replaced because of how soaked with sweat the old ones were, and leaned into Simon. He seemed to gain confidence when his face was in Johnny’s neck—maybe he could just barely smell him where his scent was strongest. It was a good sign. 

  Soap wrapped a confident hand around Simon’s erection and kissed his shoulder when the omega whined at the touch. He seemed to be welcoming to it, judging by how he tried to thrust into his palm. Johnny palmed himself through his own boxers. 

  “Here—roll over, gaol,” he said quietly. Simon didn’t do it himself, but allowed Johnny to push his shoulder and roll him onto his back. He could see the indent and rise of his stomach as he panted. That familiar scar that ran halfway across his torso under his ribs—definitely from something big and sharp—was a light purple colour and could be seen clearly glistening in the low light.  

  He grabbed the lube left on the bedside and removed his boxers. Part of him was hesitant to take up space between Simon’s legs. Would it scare him, to have that heavy, imposing figure over him? Would it remind him of what he’d been working so hard to escape? Could he decipher between Soap and Roba? Soap’s own insecurity burned his chest when he swallowed it down.

  Obviously, Simon didn’t have time for hesitation. He wrapped his legs around Johnny and pulled him close, whining for his knot. Strong hands grabbed blindly for his shoulders.

  “S’alright, Si.”

  With a condom donned, lubed up and aching to feel Ghost, Soap found himself pausing with the head pressed against Simon’s pulsing entrance. The ring of fire that tried to pull him in was unlike anything he’d had the honour of experiencing. Hell, his knot was already growing. The hormones Ghost’s body was releasing were intoxicating, and it took everything in him not to pummel the omega.

  Instead, he pushed in slowly, not allowing himself to stop until his knot popped past that final ring of muscle. He sat back on his heels to study the omega under him as he huffed and moaned. He had to take a deep, steadying breath himself. 

  Simon reached up and grabbed the pillow under his head. His other hand reached for Soap and found his fingers. Their hands intertwined just before Soap was gathered enough to pull out and push himself in, agonizingly slow. 

  “Fuck, Simon,” he breathed. His omega was a vision that left him in awe. 

   They found a rhythm. Soap was scared to move a hair faster, but Simon seemed to be satisfied with his pace. Kyle liked it fast and rough—he liked when it hurt. Simon was the opposite, Johnny realized. For the first time in Simon's life, he was allowing himself to be slow, to listen to what his body was telling him. Every thrust was a new experience. 

  He swept his thumb over Ghost’s knuckles. “Jesus. So pretty, Si.“

  It was most likely that Si was too lost to register his words, but he did whine back. His back arched and the room filled with his gunpowder smell and something muskier. The alpha breathed Simon in deeply with his lips against his ribs, memorizing the scent of Simon’s orgasm. Kyle’s was sickly-sweet, like burnt sugar, while Simon’s was earthy, albeit bitter due to the heat-sickness. 

  Johnny’s knot caught in Simon for the next few thrusts. Simon’s orgasm spewed across his quivering belly. He wanted to avoid the torture of overstimulation, so Johnny gave a few more thrusts, took a deep breath of Simon’s air, and he was pushed over the edge with the omega.

  It was a big stretch, almost painful and still twitching. His forehead fell onto his rippling stomach and their sweat mixed together—with the bed no longer creaking, they could hear each other's heavy breathing. If Johnny focused, he could feel Simon’s heartbeat through his knot, slowing gradually. 

  It was bordering on painful. Again, Simon whined and squeezed Johnny’s hand. 

  “Sh. I know. It’s gonna be a minute, love.”

  He readjusted his head on the pillow so he could look down at Johnny, whose cheek was pressed against his torso. There was recognition in his gaze now. The knot had cleared his mind from the suffocating fog in just a few moments.

  “You feeling okay?” Soap fretted.

  “Hurts.”

  “We’ll get you a shower after this. And some water. And a smoke.”

  “We can stay, though?”

  “Hm?”

  Simon rubbed his eyes. “We can stay here? Until the heat’s over?”

  Johnny lit up in that bright smile that Simon had always fallen in love with. “‘Course, gaol. As long as you want.”

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Simon Riley the Omega