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When it comes to the hierarchy of secondary statuses, Alphas reign above Betas and Omegas— traditionally. In military organizations with an order to how everyone is lined up, there is no need for that. One of the regulations upon entering the military is that any agent capable of producing receives mandated medication to stifle their cycles or entirely render them infertile with other methods.
Here, the ranking starts with commanders at the top of the food chain and continues down to agents.
Very rarely, there are exceptions— generally only necessary when the highest ranking officer is incapacited for any reason. Intoxication, poisoning, unconsciousness, or anything else can warrant a mutiny of sorts, or a change in command.
Right now, McCree can feel his hackles bristle as he watches his commander stalk through a crowd, about ready to blow their cover because he thinks he’s too good for the layman’s medications.
Reyes’ rut started in the midst of the mission, making it impossible to extract the current ops team and replace them without being noticed. Ordinarily, it would happen anyway, seeing as a rutting Alpha male does nothing but draw attention with heightened aggression, impulsivity, and lack of lucidity if the affected cannot keep themselves under control. Fortunately, they haven’t lost Reyes to the brothels, as he’s gotten a fairly good handle on his rut-haze, but that hasn’t stopped him from lunging at the smallest sound, snarling at the quickest glance his way.
He’s about to cost someone their life, be it one of his agents or a civilian.
Since it started, McCree has made the conscious decision to stick closer to him, much like a guard dog. It’s noticeable, something that Reyes has snapped at several times and tried to dissuade, but McCree doesn’t care. Not that he’s… protective or territorial over Reyes, he has no right to be— they’ve never even glanced at each other twice in the context of a relationship.
Maybe he has, but Reyes has never humored the jokes.
It just offers a sense of security, being closer to his commander and being able to supervise the rutting male closely. He notices the small ticks and tells other agents can’t because he’s not like other agents in relation to Reyes. Being his charity case and protegee for years on end, almost a full decade now, and seeing him through countless missions as his right hand man has let the notion of equality get to his head a bit. In his eyes, he is on the same playing field as Reyes, so he should be the one to tell Reyes to back down when his rut is clearly cutting through his critical thinking.
That, and he fears that being so close to any of the other agents might trigger an Omega’s heat, and his rut would blind him and make him near nonfunctional.
Jesse is an Omega, but… his body doesn’t function the way it should. Heats can happen, but only potent arousal and sex pheromones result from it— no burning drive to be knotted or knocked up ends up blinding him, and nothing can result of the sex he does partake in. In some ways, it makes him feel superior to other Omegas, seeing as no rutting Alpha can really affect him. On the other hand, in private, it makes him feel… undesirable, seeing himself as broken or faulty for what the trauma in his early life has done to his biological processes.
Not that Reyes knows any of that. For all he knows, his commander thinks he’s an Alpha like him, or a Beta. Whatever he thinks McCree is, he’s not trying to bite his head off for staying glued to his side, at least not the same way that he’s chased other agents off.
“I don’t need babysat,” Reyes bites out, the words clawing out of his throat in thinly veiled anger. They’re working their way through a thick crowd in a local marketplace, and Reyes is scarcely looking out for their target or any red flags. Truly, he’s being moved by the crowd, fixated on keeping his feet moving forward and away from the mass of bodies.
“Well if you didn’t act like such a child,” McCree starts, casting his eyes about to make sure they weren’t drawing attention to themselves, “then I wouldn’t have to.”
“I don’t care to hear this, McCree.”
“We’re going back to the motel room.”
Reyes nearly falters in his stride as he shoots McCree a look of rhetorical surprise, questioning whether he had the gall to boss around his commander at the present moment.
“You can’t handle yourself—”
“Like hell I can’t,” Reyes growls, his pace slowly stalling to a standstill as he bristles at McCree. Alarmed, he starts to usher the other man towards the outskirts of the crowd at least.
“Yeah, and that’s why you’re tryna start a pissin’ match with me in the middle of the street,” McCree grumbles, loud enough to be heard, “right.”
Begrudgingly and barely, Gabriel manages to stay quiet. His anger is still easily felt beneath his clothes, beneath his skin as McCree guides him into an alleyway, hoping that the distance from all those people will ease some of the tension from Reyes’ shoulders. He looks poised, ready to strike at any moment, or ready to stand off with an opponent.
“Christ, could ya at least look like ya ain’t ready to blow somebody’s head off?!” McCree finally snaps, watching the older man stalking back and forth uselessly for a couple minutes.
“You better shut your mouth, agent.”
“I’m agent now, huh?” McCree snipes at him, crossing his arms and leaning against the brickwall a distance away, “not good enough to call by name no more?”
“What, McCree?” Reyes snaps, and it’s harsh enough that the cowboy flinches. The older man stalks towards him until he’s all but pinning him to the brick wall, blood boiling as Jesse trips over his last nerve. “You want me to call you babe? Pup ? Is that why you’ve been up my ass since I’ve started rutting?”
McCree is stunned into silence by the direct attack, and his cheeks burn with humiliation and shame. He can’t conjure anything, not even something half-baked, to defend himself. For something as delicate and personal as his quiet crush on his commander to be torn apart by that very man rends his heart to pieces in one fell swoop.
Something shatters in him, and he’s left scrambling for the pieces as Reyes slowly starts to realize what he just said. Watching the younger’s face distort into abject agony and despair before hardening over his vulnerability makes his gut twist up in guilt. This close, he sees every detail perfectly. The pain of his words like glass shrapnel, his tone just salt in the open wounds.
His own face falls, snarl dropping and eyes widening while McCree bristles.
“Shit. McCree, I—”
“Don’t,” McCree bites miserably, bodily shouldering past his commander, “Find your own goddamn way back to the motel, and for Christ’s sake— fuck something. I don’t care.”
He feels the Alpha’s gaze boring holes into the back of his head as he ruffles his hoodie collar up and joins the busy marketplace crowd again. He knows that Reyes could easily scent track him— something only achievable with close proximity for a long time, such as parents with their children, romantic partners, and in his case, his commander— but he doesn’t, opting to let the younger go with a fight.
The few hours spent sulking in the hotel room was largely spent bristling and angry. There’s no reason for Reyes to be gone as long as he has been unless he was heeding McCree’s advice and taking care of his rut on some lucky escort. Nostrils flaring, he tries to ignore the gnawing possessiveness and jealousy chewing at his guts and instead tries to stare at the files and reread them for the tenth time, something Reyes likes to do with nothing else going on.
Shuffling picks up outside the doorway, and the door lock disengages with the keycard. He doesn’t even bother offering Reyes a second look after he identifies his commander as a non-threat. The scent of rut has flagged minutely, edged with regret. It’s thick, heavy in his nose, and unavoidable. Reyes hangs in the doorway for a moment, uncertain, before finally inching into the room and locking the door behind him.
“Figure somethin’ out?” McCree says flatly, making it clear what he’s referring to. His eyes flick up just in time to see Reyes cringe and sigh.
“...No.”
“Why’d you come back, then?”
He watches as the older man skirts around the perimeter of the room, trying his hardest to avoid any close proximity to McCree. Setting his gear down by the nightstand for his side of the room, he stills where he’s kneeling and scrubs his hand over his face.
“Listen, kid—”
“Save it, don’t wanna hear it.”
Some of Reyes’ stern lines come back at the quick interruption and dismissal, although softened with his apology.
“I… I shouldn’t have said what I did,” Reyes starts slowly, rising to his feet and crossing his arms, rubbing his biceps idly, “it was uncalled for and… out of pocket of me.”
“So you know.”
McCree has long since turned the holo-tablet off, instead staring at the blackened out screen with a stiff jaw and furrowed brows.
“I’ve known, yes.”
“You goddamn bastard,” McCree grits, now unable to keep his roiling anger beneath his skin, “how long were you keepin’ that in the back of ya mind?”
Reyes startles at the jump in aggression, something his rut-addled mind doesn’t take too kindly to. His hackles raise defensively, and he has to physically bite his tongue to restrain another off-hand comment from slipping loose. Flexing his jaw, he lowers his head and lets his combativeness culminate in his stance and gaze.
“Ya just know that I got something for ya, and what— you wait to bring it up when you’re mad ?” McCree seethes, throwing the tablet beside him on the bed. His nose crinkles at the pheromones in the air, and he scoffs. “You’re really somethin’, boss.”
He slips off the bed and makes as though he’s about to leave. In his mind, that’s all he can think to do. He doesn’t want to be around his commander any more than he has to, and while they’re in a dull spot in the mission he can afford to straggle and wander about the city as long as he behaves.
“McCree.”
“I ain’t hearin’ it,” Jesse puffs, shouldering his bag just to have ripped from his shoulder again. In his haste, he failed to hear Reyes cross the room over to him, and he’s caught off guard by the display of physical hostility. His eyes, then wide with surprise, sharpen into acute distrust as he meets Gabriel’s eyes, softened.
“Just— listen.”
Where McCree had begun to retaliate and knock Gabriel’s hand away from his shoulder, he stills, expectant. In a place where ordinary Omegas will cower and tuck their tail between their legs, McCree levels Reyes with a glare— if anything, he squares his shoulders in the face of the rutting Alpha, nostrils flaring in agitation.
He doesn’t know if he trusts the flippant switching between soft edges and hard lines in the other man’s face.
“I… couldn’t stand to have you so close to me anymore because… I didn’t think I could control myself.”
“You can’t scent me,” McCree says slowly, eyes narrowing with suspicion, “you don’t even know my status.”
“It doesn’t matter because it’s you.”
“Me?”
“You— it’s just you ,” Reyes says, voice pitching closer to a plea.
Jesse’s mouth runs dry as it hits him all at once, and he has to swallow thickly to get his tongue in working order again. Shifting to bodily face him, McCree gently takes the wrist of the hand on his shoulder, holds it tight for a moment as he tries to work a response out of his throat.
Reyes has been tripping over him the entire mission.
“How long?” McCree says, voice heavy. The prospect of being a point of fixation for his commander is almost nauseating, how fast it hits him in the guts.
“Too long— years.”
“Jesus,” McCree rasps, unconfident and uncertain. Reyes’ hands settle on McCree’s biceps, unsteady and clamping down too tight. His fingers feel feverish, even through the material of Jesse’s hoodie.
“Jesse,” Reyes says, crowding McCree against the bedside table, careless as pushing the younger into the edge rocks the lamp, “I need something .”
“I gotcha, boss,” Jesse breathes out, air catching in his throat as he feels his commander’s hips weakly push against his thigh, the faint outline of his cock evident through contact. The tentative movement gains confidence as Gabriel takes the leeway he’s given and greedily grinds against his agent— unmannered and animalistic.
It instills a sense of power over his commander, how he’s able to maintain his cool with a face full of pheromones. He’s never once before seen Reyes so pliant, desperate and aching for anything in his life, not even when he’s beared witness to his extreme examples of torture and capture he puts himself through like a point. Not even the deprivation of food, water, and human kindness has ever reduced Gabriel to such low points of pleading, he believes.
Makes McCree feel light-headed with the feeling of control where he shouldn’t.
“Need to breed you, Jess.”
“I know—” McCree says, hands framing the older man’s hips to guide his reckless movements, “ask nice.”
Even through the haze of arousal clouding his mind, Jesse can feel the twist of vexation in Reyes’ brow, pressed against his collarbone.
“Please.”
McCree pushes at him until he’s at arms length, thinly veiling the look of frustration as he’s removed from his source of stimulation. Turning them both, McCree settles on the edge of the bed and makes quick work of his civilian pants, leaving just briefs.
Reyes swears, deep and rolling in his chest like a growl, not waiting for further permission before he’s pressing McCree’s thighs open further with his bulk. The realization that Jesse is Omega goes straight to his cock, as it throbs and starts to fill out in full. Rutting his hips down, he presses the outline of his arousal against McCree’s clothed slit.
He had placed no expectations on his agent, never assumed much of his secondary status past the fact that he has never seemed to engage in cycles yet behaves on both lines of the spectrum.
“Are— are you on blockers?” His voice cuts out as he has to focus on his words, overwhelmed as he presses against the other.
“Don’t need em,” McCree says, shucking his hoodie up to his chest, watching as the other male grinds against him with reckless abandon, the way his cock slips between the outlined folds of his cunt. The response results in a falter, and Reyes growls in frustration.
“I can’t fuck around and knock you up, kid.”
The thought makes McCree’s heart jump out of his chest, then shoved back down by a pang of frustration.
“Ya can’t, I— it’s…” Jesse clears his throat, shaking his head to dismiss the line of conversation, “it’s fine.”
“Okay,” Reyes breathes unsteadily, unable to stop rubbing his cock against McCree for two seconds to formulate any intelligent response. He doesn’t even stop to think about whether Jesse was merely lying to his face to get his hole filled. The commander is sloppy where he’s overtaken by pheromones, so desperate and so pathetic that he quickly resorts to begging.
“Shit, McCree— please,” Reyes gasps as Jesse reaches a hand down to grope his length, “I need you— need to breed.”
“I know,” McCree all but purrs, hooking his fingers into the waistband of his sweats and boxers, “you’re gonna listen to me, yeah?”
“Yes— fuck, kid.”
Reyes is already blood-swollen and dripping onto the younger’s briefs as soon as he’s freed from his clothes. Laying heavy against McCree’s slit, the agent chuckles nervously at the sheer size of him— thick all the way throughout, and long enough that pressed flush, the tip that peeks out of its hood almost grazes his navel.
“Christ— you’re a fucking bull .”
Reyes only pants heavy through his nose, playing the part. He feels as though he’s dying— arousal like fire in his belly with McCree’s skin cool to the touch of his feverish body.
“Don’t move.”
“You’re gonna kill me,” he groans, deep and rolling in his chest. It makes McCree huff a laugh, and Reyes flushes— almost embarrassed with himself.
Stroking his length once, he brings his fist back up to the tip and sweeps his thumb over the slit. Gabriel puffs, trying to hold still, an almost impossible feat as Jesse toys with him— playing with his frenulum and hood.
“Be good and I’ll letcha fuck me.”
Reyes growls, a string of drool clinging to his teeth as he glares daggers down at the younger. They both have an acute understanding that if Reyes were to truly lose his practiced self-restraint, he’d take McCree without any of the play he likes. McCree grins, knowing full well that Gabriel will listen to him.
“Fuck my fist.”
Finally granted permission to move, Reyes shifts and settles his weight on his hands on either side of Jesse’s waist as though he were a breeding mount, and as though it were McCree’s tight heat, he immediately starts to pump his cock hard and fast. It makes McCree’s eyes widen in surprise, his self-satisfied smile falling off his face into a look of nervous awe. It takes both fists around his cock to give his commander something tight to fuck through as he kept knocking just the one hand loose.
“Jesus, look atcha…” Jesse drawls, feeling his body respond to the sight. Surely, Reyes would be able to smell his arousal catching up to the situation in time, only spurring him on. “Just achin’ to breed, huh? Swollen an’ leakin’.” What he gets is a pathetic groan, close to a low baying, as precum spills onto Jesse’s stomach. A stubborn string stays connected even as the tip disappears in the tight channel of McCree’s fists. His hands are wet with precum, the man producing more than enough to slick the way.
Then Reyes’ fingers toy with the elastic band of his briefs, and McCree lifts his hips to allow for them to be slid off.
“Easy,” McCree bites, seeing the hunger gleaming in Reyes’ eyes as he lays his sights on McCree’s cunt— cock hard in its hood and slick already wetting his folds. Prettier than Gabriel could have ever imagined in his sleepless nights, Jesse’s flushed and pink and plump. Perfect for breeding.
He growls in the lieu of being able to produce any other sounds, let alone any intelligent conversation. McCree has half the mind to fashion a collar and leash out of their belts just to have that extra layer of security. That last thing he wants is for Reyes to snap and hurt him in his rut-addled mind.
“Fingers first,” Jesse says, keeping the heavy weight of his commander’s cock warm in his palm as he spreads himself open with the other hand. He knows that the scent of his sex has been picked up by the Alpha, seeing as his cock throbs in his hand and steadily leaks even in the absence of stimulation.
Reyes’ eyes are neigh-unrecognizable— dark and animalistic in how his pupils are blown wide under low lids. Flushed and drooling, not a shred of dignity left to preserve.
Unkind and hurried fingers hardly take the time to rub through his slick before two are being pushed all the way to the third knuckle. It makes McCree’s breath catch in his throat, Reyes’ fingers thick and big as the rest of him. Brutish in the way they press against his walls, rough and searching, Jesse squeezes the base of Reyes’ shaft in a show of control.
“ Easy, ” he grits, voice strained and high, as though it will do anything to discourage the Alpha. It hardly does— Reyes growls lowly at the leash being pulled but he does heel. Slower, he pumps his fingers in and out of McCree’s sloppy hole. The new pace makes a shiver tingle up his spine and a sigh slip loose before a moan, his commander pressing a third finger in.
The Alpha above him is largely still, save for the flicking of his gaze between where his hand works and the younger’s face. Reyes is at least cognizant enough to recognize that it isn’t just his pleasure at stake but McCree’s comfort as well.
“Alright, big boy,” McCree drawls, pushing at Reyes' hand until his fingers slip free, “think you can be nice?”
Gabriel can only nod fervently, pleadingly.
“Slow.”
Letting loose a shaking breath, Reyes lines himself up with McCree’s tight heat. Watching Jesse’s face as he slowly pushes in, he gauges the other’s reactions as he sinks into that beautiful, wet heat. He can only study for so long before he’s squeezing his eyes shut and willing himself to keep it together, to resist the urge to drive himself home and fuck to the hilt.
“G-Good boy,” McCree says unsteadily, the breath slowly being pushed out of him as Gabriel’s cock fills him up slowly but surely. He’s massive in his rut, enough that even taking three of his large fingers didn’t stretch him enough to eliminate that ache of overwhelming fullness.
Bottoming out, he tries his hardest to remain still as the cowboy fists his hoodie, drawing in deep breaths as he tries to accommodate the Alpha. It’s no easy feat— he's certain he can feel Reyes in his lower belly where he presses his other hand down.
“Gentle,” he puffs, half expecting the rutting male to completely neglect his instructions, seeing as he’s behaved this far. Surprisingly, he doesn’t. He instead draws out to the tip and pushes back in, groaning throatily as McCree’s silken walls milk him with every movement. It's a beautiful relief to finally get his cock inside, the edge of his rut somewhat curbed with the proper stimulation.
“Thank you,” Reyes says— drools, rather. Spit clings to his teeth where he pants openly and sticks to his lips where they drip onto McCree’s stomach. It makes the agent manage a short chuckle, a sharp, nervous noise, as he can only nod an acknowledgment.
Experimentally, Gabriel bucks his hips a little harder, driving a gasp out of the younger’s lips. It promotes no reprimandation, no displeased grimace, so he makes it a habit. Each thrust getting a little rougher, he settles his hands on McCree’s hips more firmly so he doesn’t get too far with the force of his hips.
“Shit— Gabe…” McCree groans, and it’s clear that he’s losing his steady grip on the situation. His eyes are pinched closed and his brows furrowed as he moans open and quiet. “C’mon, use me.”
Whining, almost, like an eager dog about to be unclipped from a leash, Reyes adjusts his stance. In lieu of movement, McCree fists his sweatshirt at his chest, breath baited.
Burying his face in McCree’s neck, his hands pushing beneath his knees to spread him open, Gabriel growls as he starts to jackrabbit his hips into the Omega. Short, shallow, and fast, it makes McCree whimper as he’s fucked too full over and over.
It doesn’t seem to be right, not for Reyes, as he straightens up almost immediately and pushes down even more on Jesse’s legs, until he’s all but pressing down on him with each stroke. Completely split open, held just right to where he can see the vague outline of Reyes’ cock bulging his lower belly, McCree swears and moans lowly.
It’s almost too much— not that he’d be able to get the rutting Alpha off of him if he even wanted— and it makes his head swim with primal euphoria as the start of Gabriel’s knot tugs at his hole. It bulged and pressed against his sweet spot just right, to the point that each time Reyes sheathed himself in his cunt, he felt a shock of pleasure shoot through him.
Root to tip, being forced to take the length again and again, quickly draws McCree’s own end to the surface far faster than he’d ever admit. His moans hurry into whimpers, tight and reedy as he cunt bares down around Gabriel, simply spurring him on. Then he locks up and shivers fiercely, swearing uselessly and biting down on his knuckle hard enough to bruise.
Having the Omega work his cock so wonderfully, his tight cunt working his knot to fullness in his orgasm, hurries Reyes along as well. Once gentle, he now drives into McCree with a purpose; the sound louder than the slip of slick between them or even their combined noises, as Reyes lays into him with everything he’s got.
Abruptly, he snaps his hips forward and stills with a rumbling snarl. McCree, in his overwhelmed post haze, blearily mumbles in question and starts to shift before he has snapping teeth and biting nails in his knees shutting him down.
“Easy, big fell’a,” McCree coos, confused as to why Reyes wasn’t finishing in him.
Then he moves where he’s knotted McCree, grinding the swollen bulge right where he knows McCree to be sensitive, and it rips a shrill noise from the younger’s throat. The grinding turns into desperate little humps where Gabriel works with what he can, seeing as he’s stuffed himself inside with no hope of deflating soon.
McCree sees, through his bliss, the carnal instinct to claim in those empty eyes of Gabriel’s. There’s nothing behind them anymore, zero intelligence in those warm, dark eyes.
“You wanna breed me up good?” Mccree pants, a brave hand reaching out to cup Reyes’ cheek. The Alpha nuzzles it, breath shallow and labored as he works himself to completion. “Got’cha all stupid, don’t I?”
Gabriel whimpers, eyes squeezing tight as his blush grows to his ears. His hips are stuttering, struggling to keep going, so close to finishing.
“Ah- that’s a good Alpha. Don’t know nothin’ but to fuck.”
The praise is too much for him, the coddling and patronizing nature too much for Reyes to last any longer. Groaning like a wounded animal, he stills save for the throbbing of his cock as he pumps his load inside the hot body beneath him. There’s enough cum to warm McCree’s belly and spill from around the swollen knot.
“Good boy,” McCree hums, guiding Reyes to lay on top of his chest as the Alpha runs himself into the ground. Panting lightly, Reyes blinks at McCree with a hint of clarity in his eyes, past the thick glaze of rut lust. There isn’t enough there to make him straighten and remove himself from the situation as any proper commander ought to, after realizing that they’ve laid with an agent, but who’s to say that it was simply the rut making it hard for him to scramble the self-discipline together?
McCree relishes the ten minutes or so that he’s got with Gabriel before he catches his second wind, seeing as he still feels the older man’s cock throb inside him, knowing that as soon as his rut clears and the mission continues, they’ll be forced back into business as usual.