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Mollymauk Tealeaf has never liked the natural cycle of the omega. He doesn’t mind the shitty place in hierarchy, and he can even handle a monthly bleed because that sort of thing gets lessened with his suppressants. He willingly can and does handle the jeers and leers of being a tiefling omega, and scrubbing blood from his trousers, and he doesn’t even mind the natural, gravitational pull towards alphas he gets sometimes. Honestly, who didn’t want to be protected in the way alphas promised their pack? It had always felt secure in the circus. It had started to feel pretty secure with the Nein, too.
But Molly hates going into heat.
He’d thought he’d been dying, the first time, when he had clawed his way from the ground and had to have the circus explain to him what an omega was. And every time had pretty much subsequently sucked from there, but at least in a group of so many people, you could always rely on someone to have or be able to steal suppressants, or give a helping hand when the heat kicked in. He still misses the toys from the circus. He hasn’t found a specialty shop that sells them on their travels yet.
But, anyway… anyway. Molly draws in a shallow breath, and flexes his bound wrists where they are trapped above his head. You would think this would be the precursor to something fun, something nice. It could be, anywhere else. But not here, not now, days on after being dragged kicking and fighting from his way back to the Nein after a night of drinking and revelry. His fault, for being caught so off guard. But, he thinks, surely they are looking for him by now. Surely…
He’s been here for days, purposefully denied his medication, and Mollymauk is going into heat.
Bad enough on its own! The instincts are kicking in and being trussed up here is giving him anxiety; he wants to run and flee, to somewhere warm and safe and curl up beneath a mountain of blankets and pillows and coat. And he’s so hungry, such a stupid, normal thing, which would be fine, would be great, except he’s been fed barely enough to keep a cat alive and– he wants to have a nice meal, after this. If there is an ‘after this.’
He’s been trying to ignore it. He’s been trying to sleep, a lot, but it’s uncomfortable, and he’s been hot and sweaty and– fuck, he hates these people. He hates these people, and he hates that they’re alphas, and he hates that he knows why they’re keeping him from his suppressants. He doesn’t know why they want to mate with a tiefling, why they want pups from a tiefling, but wouldn’t the world be rosy if everything had an answer?
Gods. He thrashes his tail, which earns a sharp whine when he remembers, again, that it’s restrained, too. Fuck.
Fuck, they have to be coming for him. Caleb has to– Caleb has to be coming for him.
He’s just an omega, something nasty whispers in his head. What can he do? Molly tries to ignore it. He closes his eyes and tips his head back and takes another tiny breath, and tries to swallow back the panic threatening to rattle his bones where he’s kept.
The chills sweep in come morning, and it puts him into gasping for air, hyperventilating as he feels the telltale sign of fever crawling into his body. That is not good. That is not good. He tries to get a hold of himself, already exhausted, but he spends a fair bit of time trying to breathe, and knowing it’s just putting– putting more pheromones into the air. He’s a trapped omega, on the fringes of heat. And–
It is in the middle of his panic that the taste of the air changes. He can feel familiar scent on his tongue in a way that he’s not able to literally any other time than during heat, and he smells the Nein. He smells the Nein, and he panics harder, and shouts with a renewed strength, even though the sound of it is lost through the gag. He whines, and thrashes, and inhales the scent of Caleb– CalebCalebCaleb– before there is a commotion in the room, and there are his– blessed friends. Fuck.
Mollymauk cries, just a little bit, as they untie him and give him his coat, and Caleb strokes his hair and whispers with distress on his face. For a second, it threatens to overwhelm him. And then there is a noise, a soft, rumbling croon that comes from– somewhere– and Caleb is wiping his tears and Molly is able to breathe again. The world stops spinning. He takes a deep breath, and buries his face into Caleb’s hair.
“He’s going into heat,” Yasha murmurs, as the crooning stops.
“Yeah–”
“Fuck.”
“Scheiße,” Caleb whispers, and scratches at the base of his horns. “Mollymauk–”
“Hi. Hi,” he murmurs, without removing his face from Caleb’s dirty hair. “I knew you’d come. I hoped you’d come.”
“Always. Always, ja? You are one of us. You are very dear to me, too.”
He wants to joke, wants to make light of this like it’s nothing, like it hasn’t affected him at all. Wants to tell Caleb he’s flattered, wants to… do something, anything, besides gasp and shiver in his arms, but… he can’t make his body work. He can’t make his mind work. The fever is making him weak, and the heat is making him emotional.
“Can you get upstairs, Mollymauk?” He whines at the thought of having to get up, and Caleb continues, “there’s beds upstairs. A little lodging quarters. We can stay here.”
He whines a little louder. “I don’t wanna stay here.” His tail thrashes. He really doesn’t. This terrible place, with these terrible– hopefully dead– people that had brought him here.
“You do not want to have heat in the back of a cart,” Caleb interrupts, something that sounds like a wry smile on his face. “Trust me on this, Mollymauk. It is not comfortable.”
Gods, that seemed like so long ago. Caleb’s heat. “I tried to help,” he mumbles. “I tried to help you.”
“Ah– that is not what I meant. You made it much better. I promise.” He scratches a little harder at Molly’s scalp, and he just practically arches into it. Into that momentary speck of pain. So familiar, so comforting, in its way. He wants his swords. He wants the familiarity of blood on his skin. “I’m going to try and help make you feel a little better, too,” Caleb continues, awkwardly. “But we need to go upstairs, ja? All of us. Can we do that?”
Fine… fine. “Alright,” he manages to say out loud. “Alright.”
To his left, a quieter voice. Also familiar like the sting of steel on his skin. Love, his mind sings, and he purrs even as Yasha asks, “do you want me to carry you, Molly?”
He nods helplessly, and gives up the halfhearted attempt at getting his feet under him. Yasha picks him up like he weighs nothing– she’s always done that, always been able to do that, comforting and encompassing– and Molly tucks himself in, and has to remind himself every few seconds not to nuzzle her skin. Not his alpha. Not his partner, just his best friend.
Time passes a little indeterminately, after that. He thinks he dozes again, in between being coaxed to drink some water and getting half dressed, because the next thing he really comes back to is being tucked into a bed that smells of body odor but is surprisingly soft, and Caleb is grabbing pillows from the other beds in the room and throwing them onto Molly’s bed.
He feels conscious enough to make an effort, and his throat doesn’t feel quite as dry for speaking. “Hey,” he rasps, and Caleb immediately stops what he’s doing, and doubles back.
“Mollymauk. Back with me?”
“Sure…” He can’t have slept long. He still feels so wrung out, degraded down to something small and weak and shivering uncomfortably in the cold. Caleb tucks a blanket closer to him, and Molly quietly asks, “how long have I been out…?”
“Just an hour, ja. Nothing more.” Caleb rests his weight against the bed, and tucks some of Mollymauk’s hair behind his ear. “How are you feeling?”
The polite question. A worried one, but still the polite question. He curls his tail around himself, not even feeling up to faking a laugh. He’s just… beat down pretty far right now. “Pretty shit,” he admits, and hunches his shoulders. “It’s kind of been a time, love.”
“Ja…” Caleb’s face crinkles, and he reaches to take Molly’s face in his hands. And, yeah, Molly’s going to lean right into that. Thank you very much. “I am so sorry, Mollymauk. I am so sorry.”
“Aw.” He pats one of Caleb’s hands, and leaves his fingers there. “‘s alright. They hadn’t done anything.”
“They had you tied up,” Caleb whispers. “Hurt you. They didn’t do ‘nothing.’ That was not ‘nothing.’”
“They hadn’t fucked me yet,” he says, and feels bad when Caleb winces. Just a little. It is true, though. They all know it. “They wanted me in heat. They wanted to breed me.” Caleb swallows, and Molly squeezes his hand. “It’s okay, love. Really. You came. All of you. Heat sucks, but–”
“Wait.” Caleb pulls back, fumbling in his coat. “Wait. I wanted to, earlier– have these,” he says, and produces– produces his godsdamn suppressants. Something seizes in Mollymauk’s throat. “I know it’s– I know it’s close, but, can you, maybe…?”
Oh. Oh. Molly hadn’t even… back when Caleb had been going into heat because he hadn’t had any suppressants… Molly hadn’t even offered any of his own to him because he’d been selfish. Selfish, and scared about going into heat himself, and… he’d sat by and watched all the telltale signs of Caleb’s body preparing for that, and he hadn’t offered. But now Caleb just…
Oh, there’s proof Caleb’s a much better person than he’ll ever be.
And Molly, dammit, is going to– get emotional again. Fuck, he hates going into heat. This is going to mess him up so bad. The tears sting his eyes, and he has to turn his head to scrub his hands against them, and pretend Caleb isn’t watching his every move. “Appreciate that, sweetheart,” he rasps, and doesn’t look back yet. Not until the wetness dries up under his eyelids. “But ‘m too far gone. You can tell that yourself.”
“Ja… I figured. I know.” Caleb sighs, and there’s a faint rustling as he must put the pills away. “Scheiße, if we had been earlier…”
“Would’ve been great, love, but, you know. If wishes were horses.” He finally drops his hands, and tries to give his best smile. It’s a weak interpretation, but… he needs to sleep. “I am forever grateful that you came when you did, so that’s enough. Trust me.”
“I am, too, but…”
“But it doesn’t help the guilt?”
“Ja.”
Closing his eyes, Molly manages a breathless chuckle. Caleb goes back to stroking at his hair, and it feels so nice. It has no right to feel so nice. Tomorrow is going to be hell, but right now, Caleb feels so nice. “I know, love,” he murmurs, and drifts off to the feeling of Caleb’s fingers combing through his matted hair.
He doesn’t make it through the day before the heat kicks in in full. On the fringes of his mind, he just keeps thinking, that was close, that was close. He thinks of the hands that had tied him up being on him, sending the nausea and anger curling into his gut, which kind of clashes spectacularly with the deep seated arousal that kicks in halfway through the day. It’s unfortunate, really. He feels weird. He feels so weird.
“Mollymauk.”
He sucks in a sharp breath, realizing he’s– breathing a bit weird. Everything smells. Like sweat and piss and rot and not like the familiarity of his traveling home. This is his first heat away from the circus, and that’s– that’s a little terrifying. The anxiety from pre-heat is still there, bubbling up from where it’s being smothered by the urge to fuck.
“Molly, Schatz–”
The hand that rests against his cheek both makes him flinch and want to lean into. Oh, shite–
“Sorry,” Caleb says quickly. “Ah–”
Well, that does enough to get him out of his head, at least. Molly cracks his eyes open, and squirms against the slick soaking his thighs. “Well, that is going to be annoying. Sorry, love.”
“Nein–”
“I think I’m still a little jumpy. Heat messes me up. I get–” Fuck, he doesn’t know if he wants to talk or sleep or cuddle or fuck. Or cry. Shite, he’s absolutely going to cry before this whole thing is done, and that thought terrifies him a little bit, too. “– my emotions get all messed up,” he admits– warns.
“You’ve been through it, Mollymauk. I don’t blame you.” Caleb rests his elbows on the bed, leaning in a little. He smells– good, in the way that’s a combination of earth and fire and something just faintly sweet. Omega, Caleb, mine. “And you do not have to apologize for whatever happens during your heat,” Caleb continues. “I mean, I was a mess, too.”
Molly swallows, seeking the taste of Caleb’s scent on his tongue. “You were beautiful,” he says without thinking.
“Ja, you are beautiful, too.”
The compliment lands smack in the middle of all the parts of him that need to preen, and, combined with the scenting and the slick on his skin, Molly gives a tiny little whine under his breath. And then shoves his hand into his pants, unable to ignore the throbbing deep in his prick that he needs to– needs to do something with, anything with. He’s still so tired, and he aches from being restrained for so many days. His wrist twinges on every pass along his cock. He’s still– anxious, his breathing still coming out a little too close to a whine as he works to get off. But it feels better than not, to have his hand on his prick and release threatening to shake him apart. That feels good, feels right, feels normal. Like maybe it can get him back on track.
“Pretty Mollymauk,” Caleb says softly. “I am, uh, I know it is a shitty situation, but you are– very hot like that.” He sounds awkward, which is just ‘Caleb’ enough to pull a smile onto Molly’s lips. Some things didn’t change. Gods, he adores Caleb’s awkward sincerity. It is so cute and refreshing and kind.
“Am– am I?” he manages. He just wants to hear Caleb say it again, and again, and again. Because, well, right now? He feels pretty shit. Overarching confidence only went so far in the middle of heat and narrowly avoiding your own assault. He needs to hear it. He wants to hear Caleb say it.
“Ja,” Caleb whispers. “Very gorgeous, circus man.”
Unsurprisingly, Molly spills over his own hand at that. Caleb’s compliments always do a thing, and– he’s in heat. He could come from a weak breeze. But it wouldn’t be satisfying, just like it barely is now, and, for a moment, it is so unsatisfying that he can barely withhold a whine of annoyance. Shit. That’s– oh, he needs to get a hold of himself. Shit. He lashes his tail, and feels his face pinch in distress.
“Molly.” Caleb leans a little closer, palms on the bed. “Mollymauk. I want to touch you, is that okay?”
He nods, because he definitely… definitely wants Caleb’s hands, and mouth, and body against him. He wipes his hand on his pants and reaches for him. “Course, love. Always.”
Caleb connects, leaning in to give a quick kiss to his lips and letting Molly curve his hand against the back of his neck. “You have been through it,” he repeats. Molly swallows. “I will do what you want, Liebling. Whatever you need, ja? But I want to be careful. Things are different than normal. This is not just easing into it in the back of a cart.” If only. Molly almost wishes it had been that. It would still suck, but he’d maybe be… less of a mess. “I will do what you need,” Caleb repeats, and kisses his forehead, “but don’t push yourself, after the days you have had.” He retreats, just a little, to look down at Molly. “Tell me what you want and I will try to do it.”
He is not going to cry. It is too early into this thing to start crying, yet. But, shite, he is so unsteady. He feels so jittery and unsteady. He squirms beneath the blankets, and tries to… get himself together. He takes a deep breath, and then another. He needs to get undressed. And he needs to sleep so he has a little more mental ability available to put himself back together. And he wants Caleb. He definitely wants that.
“Get in bed,” he murmurs, and pulls Caleb in again to give him another kiss. “I need to sleep. I need to be naked, and I need to sleep, and I want you in this nest so we can cuddle and fuck when I’m not so jittery.”
“Ja,” Caleb agrees, and pulls away only to start taking off his coat and shoes.
He has the right idea, and Molly’s already soaked through these leggings. He shoves his hands back under the blankets and wriggles his way out of his pants, kicking them aside. At least with this, this terrible place, there’s no clean up necessary and hopefully Caleb will be up for just burning the fucking place to the ground after they leave. He knows it’s a little unfair to ask, with his wizard’s sometimes weird reactions to fire, but… he really wants all traces of this place gone. Fuck those people and this place and his heat.
He considers, for a second, undressing entirely. But he’s cold and, okay, wants to be less naked at the moment than he’d implied. Trousers, definitely. Shirt can wait. And he’s not wearing his coat, because he gets too caught up in it if he tries to sleep in it, but he bundles it up against his chest and, while he’s waiting for Caleb to get into bed, buries his face into it and tries to… not panic, or whatever he’s trying to do. Calm. Collected. He can be collected. He breathes in the smell of his coat, which really just smells like himself and the Nein these days, but the memories are there. He remembers Gustav watching over him, eyes haunted but kind. He remembers watching the Knot Sisters from the wings, a nervous anxiety readying him to jump in if something went awry. He dismisses those thoughts, searching for something more relaxing. Oh, Toya’s songs, the quiet ones that weren’t for performances, but nighttime bonfires and soothing to sleep.
“Still with me, Schatz?” Caleb murmurs, touching the side of his face.
This time, Molly turns into it instinctively. He had barely heard him crawl into bed. “Still of mostly sound mind and body,” he agrees, and rolls over. “For the moment.” Turning to tuck himself into Caleb is almost better than the coat, almost. He can’t stop himself from ducking his head under Caleb’s chin and drawing in a deep breath of the smell of his skin. It reminds him a bit of when Caleb had been the one in heat, and Molly could smell it on him. But it’s different, too, less licorice and more ash. Mostly, he just smells amazing, and Mollymauk purrs happily, letting his wizard wrap his arms around him and hold him close. When he starts to scratch against his scalp, just shy of pain again, Molly damn near melts into the blankets and lets out a shaky sigh he hadn’t known he was holding. Yeah, that’s the stuff. Shite.
“Try to rest, Mollymauk,” Caleb says into his hair. He thumbs against a bangle on his horn and Molly shudders. “We will handle everything else as it comes, ja?”
“Copious amounts of cum,” he murmurs, quirking a smile against Caleb’s shirt. He almost feels content enough that he thinks he hits the right note of amusement on that joke. He actually thinks he does.
“Well… that, too,” Caleb says, fond and embarrassed alike.
Oh, Molly adores him. He chuckles as he curls in tighter, and hums happily as Caleb strokes his hair until he falls asleep.
He dreams, unsurprisingly, of sex. Those vivid, lucid dreams that only come with heat or a fever– or in this case, both– the kind that he can see every detail and feel every thing even with his altered consciousness. They’re weird, bright and loud in ways he doesn’t usually dream, but Mollymauk doesn’t usually mind them… until he wakes up a few seconds after a positively earth-shattering orgasm and finds his prick still hard and even more stickiness against his belly.
Shit. Wow. He hasn’t– he hasn’t– and he still wants to hump against the bed until he comes again, and again, and he barely rolls his hips against nothing when he realizes Caleb is awake, too. Watching him, face red in the light of what is probably now the setting sun.
Vaguely, he’s curious what kind of show he’d been putting on. “Wet dream,” he says out loud, and scoots enough so he’s flush enough to rut his hips against Caleb’s. He wants to touch and kiss and fuck. “Sorry. I haven’t had one of those in– shite, since circus days. When I was too out of it to get off.” He rolls his hips again, and earns a nice little breath from his wizard. “Gods, I already wanna get off again.” He squirms in frustration, knowing he can’t, and clutches his hand on Caleb’s hip. “Can I kiss you? I want your mouth.”
“Ja,” Caleb agrees, and if he sounds a little breathless, well, Molly probably had been putting on a show. He’s pretty sure he can’t be quiet even in his sleep. But he doesn’t care. That wet dream is the past. He’s awake now, and has permission to touch and kiss.
“Please,” he says, and tilts his head up enough to press into a messy kiss. He wants to kiss and bite and draw blood, wants the sting of pain on his own skin. He digs his nails into the flesh at Caleb’s hip, trying to urge him to do the same anywhere, everywhere. Maybe his nails are blunt, but they feel good clutching at Mollymauk’s back. That’s good. He likes it. He likes it so much he catches Caleb’s lip beneath a fang and nips for a speck of blood. “Please,” he whines, and grinds into Caleb again.
“I’ve got you,” Caleb whispers. “I’m here for you. I am no alpha, but, um–”
“I only want you,” he promises, and kisses and bites a little harder. Holds on a little tighter and jerks his hips and his spent dick in frustration against friction that has to get him off, has to. He feels like he’s going to burst and not even in the good way, as he waits for his cock to recover enough from the previous orgasm to do it again. (And again, and again–) It’s just shy of uncomfortable. And part of him absolutely loves it as much as he hates it, too. So he’s a masochist. You kind of turned into that using your blood to fight.
“I’ll try to do whatever you need,” Caleb says. Again. Molly’s pretty sure he’d said it before. But it’s nice to hear. He isn’t going to complain if he wants to keep saying it. “Tell me what you want, Molly.”
He wriggles against him, catching the noticeable press of Caleb’s prick now, too. Nice. “You,” he says. “Dick,” he adds, and before he can think of anything else to add to that list, his stomach growls loud enough to make itself known over the creak of bed springs. Shite. “Food,” he adds as an afterthought. He hasn’t eaten in days. Hunger is always far off during heat, but he hasn’t eaten in days, he’s suddenly remembering. No wonder he’s so wrung out and even more emotional than usual.
“Ah– fair point.” Caleb murmurs against his lips, and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Then, Molly thinks he feels him smile. “If I help get you off, will you try to get some food down?” he asks, and shyly nudges between Molly’s knees with his thigh.
He croons, and nods furtively, even as the words knock some sense memory into him. “I said that to you,” he gasps, grinding against the proffered thigh. “During your heat. Trying to get you food.”
“Ja.” He gives him another sweet kiss, and scrapes his nails across Molly’s back. “Frighteningly similar.”
“The– uh, the omega experience is sort of– universal,” he manages, taking another deep breath of Caleb and licking a stripe at his neck. He’s this close to devolving to begging. He needs to come, he needs to.
“And I am using your caretaking as an example, Mollymauk,” Caleb says, and presses his thigh in a little more pointedly.
It’s enough. It’s just enough that Molly spasms against him, pushing his body through another orgasm that still feels more oversensitive than it should, but he takes it. It takes a little of the desperation away, for a second. He sags back into the blankets, and half over Caleb’s body. “Shite.” He takes a shaky breath, annoyed when the weight of the blankets doesn’t let him flick his tail like he wants to. “That’s terrible, magic man. I am a terrible example.”
“I think you did pretty well.” Caleb kisses the top of his head, just above his horn. Molly shudders. “You took good care of me.”
“Fly by the seat of my pants,” he mutters, and squirms as his stomach aches almost as much as his dick just had. “Really wanna take you up on food, love. If that’s possible.”
“Very possible. Hold on.” He squeezes Molly’s shoulder, and pulls away just a little. “Did you want me to stay? I can message someone to–”
“Yes,” he interrupts, slinging his arm across Caleb’s chest. “Yes. Please. Stay. Yasha– tell Yasha. She’s used to me like this. She knows.”
“Okay. Give me a second,” he says, and keeps stroking at his hair even as he mutters the words of a spell under his breath, and presumably sends a message Molly doesn’t understand. “She said she’ll bring something in a minute. You want some water in the meantime?”
“Yeah.” He can still taste the bit of blood on his tongue, but he’s got cotton mouth. He needs a drink. He needs a lot of things right now, he thinks, and reaches beneath the blanket to sort of try and wipe away a bit of the slick and cum. A bath would be heavenly. Gods, he can’t wait to get to a bathhouse after they get out of this place. He can’t wait to get out of this place, he thinks, and hums happily as Caleb produces a waterskin. He sits up enough to tip it to his lips and practically downs the whole thing before he has to stop to take a breath, and slump into the pillows again. “I feel like shit,” he announces, rubbing his chest. His body still hurts. His bones still ache. He feels like he’s going to shiver out of his skin.
Yeah, heats messed him up. He hates them.
“I’m sorry, Schatz.” Caleb shifts so that he’s sitting next to him, bunching the pillows up more comfortably behind the both of them. “We both had less than desirable scenarios for this, didn’t we?” He tucks Molly’s coat over his shoulders, and fixes a bauble hanging at his ear. “We have shitty luck.”
“Pretty shitty luck,” he agrees, leaning to rest his head on his shoulder. “But that seems pretty on par.” He clutches the waterskin to his chest, and stares at the far wall. “At least I have a bed. Couldn’t even give you that.”
“Ja, I am happy you have a slightly more comfortable nest. The wagon was fine.” Caleb chuckles, returning to stroking his hair. “But a soft place to land for shitty situations is always nice.”
“Mm.” He can’t stop himself from tilting his head enough to mouth a kiss along his jaw. Just a little. Just a reflex, an instinct. “Me and you are pretty good at hard, though.”
“Mollymauk,” Caleb says, voice dipping a little low. Conspiring. “Was that an inappropriate joke from your mouth?”
Just a little one, he thinks, with a fanged grin against Caleb’s scruff. Out loud, he says, “my mouth does many inappropriate things, love.”
“Oh.” Caleb chuckles, resting a hand on Molly’s thigh. He immediately shifts towards it, sucking in a breath. “I am very aware, circus man.”
“And your mouth?” he attempts. Kissing at the part of his throat that would smell so good, the part of his neck where he had sunk his own fangs not a few months before. His claim is gone by now, long gone, but he still remembers. And yes, he thinks he definitely wants Caleb to do that to him. He isn’t going to subject him to it. But he would definitely like it. He would… definitely… be into getting a mark. But, in the meantime… other things. Any things. “Your hands?” he murmurs, and nudges Caleb’s palm sitting on his thigh. “Caleb…”
His voice devolves into a whimper, which is– by no one’s surprise– probably mostly due to the fact that he suddenly and immediately gets a whiff of something not Caleb, something that is strong and heady and skitters across his skin like lightning. He can smell ozone in the air. He wants to chase it, wants to present himself to the danger and fall apart under the pain he knows it can cause. A beautiful thing.
Alpha.
Yasha opens the door without fanfare, and Molly whines out loud at her presence. He can’t help it. It’s– embarrassing, in the muted sense that he’s come to expect being around her during heat, but… shite, he loves her. He’s missed her. He’s so glad that she’s here in this godsdamn terrible fucking time.
“Yasha,” he greets, and feels his tail start to twitch again. He wants to lay down at her feet. He wants to be taken. Taken care of and just taken. “You beautiful thing,” he chirps, and sits up as straight as he can while clasping his hand on top of the one Caleb has on his thigh.
“Hello.” Yasha steps around the room, setting a cup of something hot and steaming on the little table next to the bed. Then she leans over to drop a kiss to Molly’s hair, which he presses up into and hums happily for the spark of familiarity and acknowledgment. “There isn’t much, yet. Beau and Jester are going to make a stew, I think, but it’ll take a little bit.” Even still, she offers a few pieces of what had to be pocket bacon. Honestly, it looks positively amazing, lint and all, and Molly yanks his free hand from under the blankets to take it and shove a piece in his mouth. He’s so distracted he almost misses the way Yasha’s nose crinkles when he shifts the blankets, and– right, right. She’s not really his alpha.
Focus, Mollymauk. Get your shit together and stop making her uncomfortable.
He doesn’t know how to do that, exactly, so he just demolishes his bacon and says around a mouthful of another piece, “thanks, love. Stew sounds great. Something with meat?”
“Yeah. I can hunt something.”
“Rabbit?”
“Yeah. Maybe. Or squirrel.”
He nods, watching as she places a small handful of nuts and berries on the bed next to him. And sets a hunk of what looks like days old bread on the blanket, too. That’s fine. That’s good, even, his blood singing as the hierarchy falls into place. The alpha hunting for the pack. Providing for him. It isn’t that. But the heat wants to believe it, and it feels good, and he definitely is going to eat literally all of that. Unless Caleb needs something. Even though the goblin part of his brain is going mine, mine.
Yasha fixes the coat that’s falling down off his shoulders, and rests her hand against his jaw– he shivers, and feels that electricity. He purrs out loud, and then shoves the third piece of bacon into his mouth with the second to try and shut the hell up. Gods. He is a desperate mess.
Beneath the blanket, Caleb is rubbing circles on his thigh. Probably trying to soothe him in one of the ways available to him as an omega, but Molly’s getting antsy enough to want to grab that hand and press it over his prick instead. As soon as Yasha leaves. As soon as–
“I’ll be back when it’s ready,” she says, and his attention snaps back to stare at her beseechingly. He wants her to go almost as much as he doesn’t want her to ever leave. She touches his arm and taps near the extra food she’d set against the blankets. “Eat and drink, Molly. The tea will help you relax.”
He nods dutifully, and doesn’t duck out of the way when she ruffles his hair. He does laugh, because that’s expected of him and he loves her, but still watches her go with a pang of something that had no right in feeling so like abandonment. Then he snaps his attention back to Caleb, does grab that hand on his thigh and presses his palm down over his cock. “Please take an active approach, love,” he begs. “I’m all for teasing but right now–”
“I’m not trying to tease you,” Caleb says quietly. He does curve his palm around the base of Molly’s cock, and squeezes. “I do not want to overstep, though, Mollymauk. Especially now.”
“You don’t need to ask.” He swipes the nuts and berries into his palm, depositing most of them onto the table.
“Nein.” Caleb squeezes, thumbing along the ridges in a way that practically makes Molly’s eyes roll back in his head. Good, he’s good. Caleb leans in a little closer, so that he is practically nose to nose with him. “I want your consent.”
“Take it,” he mouths back without thinking, eyeing his lips again.
Caleb reaches in, taking his chin in his hand. “Give it.”
“Fuck me,” Mollymauk orders, and kisses him in a desperate way indicative of this stupid, fucking heat.
Caleb does not hesitate then, kissing him back with just as much energy as Molly is capable of putting into it. His hand continues to move over his cock, a proper jerking now, and Molly whines and moans and is just a generally embarrassing mess– shite, he even thinks he still had food in his mouth when he’d initiated that kiss. Not that he wouldn’t like to have his nuts in Caleb’s mouth right now… but, well.
He kisses him until he’s out of breath again, then tucks his face into Caleb’s neck. Wanting to bite him, wanting him to bite. He does nip a speck of blood at Molly’s mouth that makes him want to sing, the power of hemocraft rising up to revel in instincts and chemistry. He wants to drag his nails across Caleb’s skin and mark him up. Mix their scents together and taste it on his tongue.
The blood maniac part of him also, fortunately or unfortunately, goes a little wild during heat, too. But Mollymauk will try to keep a lid on that, as much as humanly possible. He doesn’t want to hurt Caleb. Not really. If he did, he’d have no one to have their fingers wrapped around his aching cock. Amongst other reasons. Amongst other, definitely more important reasons.
“What do you need me to do, Schatz?” Caleb’s breath is warm against a pointed ear and Molly wants to fuck, be fucked, feel Caleb deep within him and do it all over again before he can catch his breath. But he hadn’t been lying; he hurts. And he is moving too fast. It feels impossibly slow, but his bones creak from fever and ill-treatment, and his prick aches from what’s going on a third orgasm in what is probably– realistically– no time at all. Maybe just– maybe just one more orgasm and a nap and they can fuck later. He definitely wants to fuck later.
“Get me off,” he says out loud, thrusting into Caleb’s hand. “Then cuddles. Rest. Food,” he repeats, as his stomach gurgles and he whines from the pain. Gods, he wishes the good endorphins would distract from the pain for longer than five seconds. “Something for pain,” he gasps, and wraps his tail around where his ribs are fucking aching from all this wriggling.
For a minute, Caleb’s hands pause. He’s probably… considering that pain comment, but even before Molly can demand he continue, he does. His fist tightens around his prick and moves with a little more speed and intention, like he is redoubling his efforts.
It takes no time before Molly is lost again. He sags back into the pillows while gasping for breath, sore and tired and a little bit fucked out for probably thirty seconds or something. But a nap. He hopes he can take a nap until food is ready, now. His stomach hurts so bad. “Thanks, love,” he mutters, after Caleb coaxes some water into him. “Fuck.”
“I am sorry I’m not much help for everything else.” Their wizard frowns, combing his fingers through Molly’s hair again. “Jester can’t do any more for you until she sleeps…”
“‘s alright,” he murmurs, tearing off a hunk of that bread. “Aches and pains are gonna stick around with my fever, anyway. And ‘m gonna go back to sleep until dinner. I hope.”
“Ja? Well… um, let me check something. I might actually have something, before you sleep.” He turns to grab his bag of magic, rummaging through whatever components he has in there. Molly doesn’t pay too much attention, trying to get comfortable while eating this snack. Trying to breathe in the lingering vinegary smell of the bread instead of Caleb, or this bed, or this house, or alphas, downstairs, willing and waiting. So, he is a little startled when Caleb murmurs in excitement, and offers what looks like a small handful of bark to him. “Here,” Caleb says. “It might help the pain. It’s–”
“Willow bark,” Molly supplies, and plucks a piece to chew. He’s seen his fair share of this, passed around back in the circus. Varying results, but it’s a trusted thing and something to keep his mouth busy. “Thanks, love,” he repeats. “You are a godsend and I adore you.”
“Ja.” Caleb chuckles. He goes right back to stroking his hair. “If you say so, Schatz.”
“I say so.”
“Try to rest in the meantime, Mollymauk. Okay?” He kisses his shoulder.
Molly tries not to linger on it. The combination of tender and desperate is almost too much to bear. He chews harder on the bark, and nods like a good little tiefling should.
Thankfully, he manages to sleep through until dinner is prepared; he wakes up curled into Caleb with the smell of meat and alpha hitting his nose. Yasha is there with the promised stew, and he polishes off several bowls of it with the rest of his bread and a little extra bacon Caleb seems to have gotten out of nowhere. It feels good to have food, again, something warm to fill the emptiness in his belly and just– try to fill the emptiness in him in general. It’s no substitute for sex, but… shite, food is amazing. Being presented food by both his alpha and his partner is– honestly– maybe the high point of this heat so far. It isn’t saying much, but a cupful of tea that tastes spicy on his tongue is far preferable to the cotton mouth he hasn’t been able to get rid of since they’d found him. He gulps it eagerly, even as his hands shake, and generally feels like a little more of his strength is on its way back after his nap and food. Energy for other things. Like sex.
He nuzzles into Caleb’s hand in his hair, and whines as his wizard pulls away a little bit.
“I am just going to go downstairs and get our alarm up,” Caleb explains, taking his face in his hands. “Are you alright if I do that, Mollymauk?” His eyes flick past his shoulder. “I’d rather do it while Yasha is here with you. Is that alright?”
“Yeah.” Yasha’s been sitting sentinel near the other side of the bed, eating her own stew. Molly has not asked her to cuddle him, although he thinks he might just if Caleb is going downstairs. “You can go.”
Caleb nods, meeting Molly’s gaze again. “Schatz?”
“Yeah.” He forces himself to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. Caleb is coming back. He wouldn’t leave him. Not his Caleb. But what if he does? What if he– “Love. ‘m okay. Yasha’s here. Yeah?” He takes a breath– scenting him, really– and pats his hand. “Go on before I can’t let you,” he jokes, even though it really isn’t… really isn’t so much of a joke.
“I’ll be quick,” Caleb promises, with a kiss before he pulls away. “And, ah, here.” He snaps his fingers, and Frumpkin appears sitting on his pillow. “You can have my cat. I will be right back, but Frumpkin and Yasha will be here if you need anything.”
“Aww.” Against his better judgment, Molly does let him go. Oh, the panic coats his tongue immediately as Caleb crawls out from the bed, sharp and bitter and desperate. He’s just trying to keep it together. He’s trying to keep it together for Caleb. Frumpkin moves in as soon as Caleb is gone, though, immediately crawling onto Mollymauk’s lap. It– helps. Honestly, Mollymauk’s never considered himself much of an animal person, but Frumpkin is soft and warm and feels like Caleb in a way he can’t exactly describe, so he’ll take it, for now. “Thanks.”
“Ja. You need anything?”
He shakes his head, stroking his nails through Frumpkin’s fur. “Go on, magic man, before I panic.”
Caleb nods. “I’ll be as quick as possible,” he promises, again, and strides out of the room without looking back.
Molly sags in on himself, and Frumpkin starts kneading biscuits into his belly. “Yasha,” he mutters, a long, drawn out noise that comes out much more whiny than he’d intended. “Yasha. Yasha.” He clutches a handful of his coat, and doesn’t even have time to twist around to look for her by the time she’s already there, encompassing him in her big, strong arms and pulling him into her chest. That feels right. That feels– home, home, alpha, we’re home.
“I’m sorry this does not get any better,” Yasha whispers against his hair, and Molly purrs like Frumpkin is doing, and arches his back into the press of the warmth. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
“You’re here now.” Shite, is she here now. Molly’s forgotten– he always forgets, forgets that it’s a thing their hierarchy deals with on the regular– how good she smells. How good Caleb smells, now and before, when he had been going through his heat. But Yasha, Yasha. Charm and love and life. He whimpers as he twists around, tucking Frumpkin securely into his lap, and buries his face into her throat. “You’re here. I’m happy you’re here. You’re wonderful. And beautiful.” And I want you to take care of me, I want you to take me, I want to fuck and be fucked and knotted and bred, please, Love, take me knot me breed me–
“I’m not going to do that, Molly.”
… oh. Oh, he’s been saying it out loud. He hadn’t– noticed. “Shite,” he croaks, with a hard wave of humiliation that nearly threatens to pull him away from her skin. It doesn’t quite, but it does knock a little of the heat haze out of his head. “I’m so sorry.” He breathes in the sharp smell of thunderstorms and tries to focus on… anything else. On the prick of claws just barely kneading his skin as Frumpkin purrs and nuzzles and tries to soothe him, too. It… doesn’t really help. He’s so far gone. “I’m so sorry, love…”
“I know.” She still holds him. It can’t be comfortable. Mollymauk knows. But she still holds onto him, cradling him against her chest like he belongs there, and strokes her fingers through his hair. “You can’t help it. I know this is bad for you.”
He tries to mumble some affirmative, because they both know it’s terrible. They’ve been through it before. Yasha’s seen him at his worst, and he’s seen her at hers. It is terrible. And it’s even more terrible as quickly as it hadn’t been, and soaking the blankets with his slick with his nose in an alpha’s neck isn’t helping. But he can’t move away. It feels too fragile, too cold. Too empty. He wants to be filled. He needs to be.
Yasha continues to sit and stroke his hair. It barely helps. The vibrations of Frumpkin’s purring in his lap is going to drive him mad. But Yasha coos just behind a horn and promises Caleb will be back soon, and Molly tries to focus on that promise, and… and anything that does not involve shivering through an orgasm in his best friend’s arms.
The door cracks open an indeterminate amount of time later. Molly immediately perks up, head swiveling an inch, and tastes the smell of Caleb back in the room. Fire and smoke, and something metallic clinging to his skin. He shifts his hips impatiently.
“You need to fuck him,” Yasha says, point blank from behind and all around him, and for a second, Molly wants to almost snort in laughter from her… communication skills. But the fucking sounds good, so he doesn’t. And besides, the flare of embarrassment that comes hot and heavy from Caleb’s general direction distracts him enough, anyway. He must be beet red.
“Um, j–ja. Okay.” Caleb’s presence hesitates at the edge of the bed, and then the mattress dips as he crawls back in. “I am not against whatever you need, Mollymauk. I want to, so, uh, ja.”
… well, they aren’t going to fuck with Yasha there. None of them would be able to handle it. Some part of him knows that, so Molly peels himself away from her, and half topples into Caleb’s space again. He is so much smaller, skinny and waifish. His arms are not Yasha’s big, strong alpha ones. But he is warm and comforting, and Molly loves him a lot. “Hi,” he breathes, giving him a quick kiss. “Thank you for coming back.”
“Of course, Liebling. Of course.”
“I’ll check back later,” Yasha says, and it’s by all the strength Molly has left in his body that he does not try to chase her as she slips out of bed and heads for the exit. “Take care of him.”
“Ja,” Caleb murmurs again, and only actually relaxes once she is out of the room. “Scheiße.”
“Sorry.”
“Nein, I am just not used to, erm– that.”
His lips twist towards a smile. “Performance issues, magic man?”
“I do not mind a little audience,” Caleb says, and his cheeks are still as red as his hair as he gives him another kiss. “But it has been a while.”
“Caleb.” Molly bites at his lip, and reaches for his trousers. “Naughty boy.”
“I have gotten around, a bit.”
“Show me?” he asks, and fumbles with buttons his hands are too shaky to handle right now.
“Ja. A second, uh–” He snaps his fingers again, and the weight of Frumpkin vanishes from Molly’s lap. “Scheiße, that is awkward, too,” Caleb mutters under his breath, and replaces the empty space with his own hands. He sets to undressing him with such fervor that Molly doesn’t even get the chance to laugh, and rolls over as soon as he is free of the rest of his things to present his ass for the taking.
Really, it’s long overdue. He feels like he’s been in heat for a week already. He feels like he’s been here for a month. And he’d been dreading the inevitable fucking, but this– this is so much better. This is wanted. Even if his body still hurts and the fever makes him lightheaded. Even if he– for a second that he doesn’t want to think about– tenses up when Caleb slips into him. The needy, wet, desperate omega part of him takes over immediately after, and he presses back into him in encouragement. Yeah. Caleb. Pack. Partner. Good, good. Mine.
Caleb doesn’t ask him if he’s alright, which he appreciates. Instead, it’s just like every other time they’ve had sex, except a little more messy and a little more loud as Molly keens into his pillow and rubs his dick on the blankets. He can pretend Caleb’s put the bruises on his ribs. He can pretend Caleb’s the one who left his wrists aching.
… sort of. Part of Molly knows Caleb wouldn’t do that, doesn’t– just doesn’t. Not with the pain shit. Sometimes, Molly wishes he would. But he doesn’t. Not now, not at this point in their relationship or their lives. So, there’s that.
But heat is still heat, and having a dick in him helps. Having a dick in him with careful caressing hands on his sweating body helps, having the sensation and scent of someone familiar around him is good. Familiar. Comfortable. He trusts him, he loves him. Fuck, Mollymauk thinks, he actually loves him.
He shudders when Caleb comes inside of him, tries to clench around him and whines as he frantically humps against the bed and chases his own bone-rattling orgasm. It feels like it takes simultaneously five seconds and five hours, and he groans as he drops, boneless, into the pillow and feels Caleb pull out behind him. Fuck, he feels exhausted, and still not satiated at all.
“Du wirst von Tag zu Tag hübscher. Mollymauk.”
Shite, but he likes the way Caleb manages to say his name in the Zemnian accent sometimes. There’s always an accent, yeah, but sometimes, it’s deeper and thicker and– still his name, but not in Common. It sounds even prettier, more intense and possessive. Mollymauk likes that. He likes it so much that his head swims, and he muffles a tiny whimper into the pillow.
The mattress jostles as Caleb moves, then, and Molly’s stomach turns in on itself. He barely shoves his arms up under him to throw himself the few inches to the edge of the bed, and vomits spectacularly everywhere afterwards.
“Scheiße–” Caleb’s hands catch at his bare shoulders, one slipping to hold his arm and keep him from sliding off the bed. “Mollymauk. Alright.”
His stomach is still roiling. His head feels heavy enough that it could tip him right over the edge of the bed. Vaguely, he’s aware of Caleb rubbing soothingly between his shoulder blades, and then his arms wobble again, and he collapses the rest of the way. His chin hits the side of the mattress, and he groans, staring at the floor and his own sick. “Shite.” His throat burns. His eyes sting.
“We should not have been so grabby immediately after feeding you up,” Caleb murmurs, trying to coax him back into the pillows. “I’m so sorry, Schatz. I wasn’t thinking–”
Molly retches again, and this wave of puke comes with the strangest feeling, and that doesn’t even include feeling like he’s going to fall off the side of the bed and into the center of the earth. It’s like something snapping, a little pop! in his head as he feels a little part of him break a little further after these terrible fucking few days, and when he’s able to stop vomiting, there are tears streaming down his cheeks, too.
He has no mental delegation left to being ashamed. He’s tired and aching and hates it here, hates his heat, and has to cry as Caleb consoles him and strokes his back so soothingly. His head swims, and his vision blurs with tears and the empty, hollow feeling that’s stuck with him ever since waking up in the dirt. He sags a little further, hears Caleb mutter with a little more worry in his voice, but that’s about it. The ringing in his ears takes over, and Molly gives into the void, just for a minute, because it’s easier, and kinder, and he has to.
He comes to– vaguely– tucked more securely into Caleb’s arms. He’s still murmuring in a different language, stroking his hair. And then there’s– alpha– Yasha, blotting at his face. Cleaning him up a little. Both of them taking such good care of him. Molly still feels so unsteady. He snuggles in a little closer, and cries a little more, because it feels good, and right, and necessary.
When the ringing in his ears subsides, he can just about make out the voices of the two of them talking.
“– gets like this sometimes. Yeah.”
“Okay. Ja, I am messy, too. I don’t know why I asked, that was silly.”
“It’s jarring. With Mollymauk. He is so…” Yasha considers.
“Carefree?” Caleb tries, still combing Molly’s sweaty hair.
“Yeah. I think I was going to say happy, but I’m not sure that’s accurate, either.”
“Ja.”
“I mean, no one is happy all the time.”
“Ja,” Caleb agrees. “Although I think he would like us to believe he is.” He swipes at Molly’s tears, and he feels a little more… aware, again. Enough to want to butt in on this conversation, anyway.
“I am generally just happy,” he whispers, and tilts his head into Caleb’s hand.
“There you are, Schatz.”
“Think that’s why I get so messed up in heat…” he mumbles, and shudders through a cold chill. “The switch gets flipped.”
“All our switches get flipped during heat,” Caleb agrees. “It is shitty, but, ah, you told me, before… no shame in that.”
Molly nods dutifully. He had said that. He is also very aware of how drastically the tables turned. Throwing up after a good fucking kind of turned confidence on its head. He’d probably feel more ashamed if he didn’t feel so bad to begin with, but… he’s been through it. Even the horniness can’t help with that. “I’ll probably cry a bit more before this is all over. Just… a warning.” He sits up enough to smile at Yasha, who’s sitting on the floor across the room and looking uncomfortable. “You can go, love. I’m– I am dry eyes for now. You didn’t have to suffer me for some tears.”
“I just cleaned up.” She shrugs.
Caleb rubs his shoulder, and then offers him a small cup of water. “I didn’t want to leave you like that,” he explains quietly. “I know you need, um, closeness. I didn’t want to have to make you be alone while I cleaned up the floor.”
“Ah.” He thinks he would not have handled Caleb trying to leave the bed very well at all. “Sorry.”
“I just figured– I know you are comfortable with Yasha, so I didn’t want to bring in someone else without asking–”
“You can bring in whoever and whatever you need,” Molly interrupts, sipping his water. His stomach seems to have calmed down, at least. “I am comfy, with Yasha. She’s a dear. But I make her uncomfortable,” he adds wryly, and tucks the blankets a little closer.
“It’s just your smell,” she says, even as she pecks a kiss to the top of his head when she passes by. If she croons into his hair, just for a second, he leans into it.
He leans into it, and murmurs back before he can stop himself, and then gives her a little swat with his tail. “I’ll try to suffer without you,” he half jokes. He’s mostly serious. He loves her. But this is unfair. He doesn’t fault Caleb for wanting help from someone he knows Molly trusts, not at all. He’s flattered, really. But it’s still not fair. “If you need to get rid of some energy, I’m sure Beauregard will step up to help.”
She fixes her bright eyes on him with a deep stare. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Molly.”
He smiles wider, but turns his head to rest against Caleb’s shoulder again. “Just sayin.’ Now go on, love. Thank you, I love you. But, please go.”
She swipes her thumb against his jaw in her awkward kind of caretaking way, and Molly purrs even as she walks away. Gods, he swears he’s getting worse at that. Being unable to distance himself from his alpha best friend who likes ladies and not desperate little omega tieflings. But… at least he can manage himself when he’s not in heat. More or less.
He rolls his head to address Caleb again, raising a hand to cup his cheek. “Hey, love. Sorry, again.”
“Nein.” Caleb pats his hand. “You startled me. But I should have seen that coming. So I’m sorry, too. Let me know when you want to try putting something back in your stomach and I’ll get you something else.”
Mollymauk just mumbles, noncommittal. Funny enough, he’s not hungry at all, now. “I’ll just drink the water. Thanks.” He does take another sip, and stares into the cup. Another shiver crawls down his spine, spasming low in his guts and seeping into the slick in the blankets. This isn’t over, but he actually feels wrung out enough at this moment that he doesn’t want to scramble for dick. He doesn’t know if that’s nice, or just really terrible. “Y’know what always bothered me most about being in heat?”
“Besides the obvious?”
“Yeah.” He laughs humorlessly. “Besides that.” He twitches his tail. “The fact that you can, y’know, die from this.” He feels Caleb go still, and hurries on, “I know it’s rare. I don’t think about it until I’m in heat and all emotional. But like, you can feel like shite and still might end up dead if you don’t fuck about it enough. ‘s stupid.”
Caleb’s quiet, for a second longer than Molly likes. He’s about to try and reassure him that he doesn’t think he’s really going to die like this… mostly… when he finally continues, carefully, “it is. But we are with good people, Mollymauk.” His hand slips down to rest on a purple thigh, and squeezes. “We can take care of you. I would not let it get so far, for you.”
He knows. He knows. So, why does his throat tighten and eyes sting, even as he angles himself into Caleb’s touch? Oh, right. Emotions. “I know, love. I could always wank myself back to normal, too. I know it’s not a real fear. Just a heat induced one.”
“Those fears might be more valid than the rest, Mollymauk.” Caleb smiles tightly, but before Molly can even try to process that look on his face, moves his hand loosely near his still half chubbed cock. “I won’t get you off until you’re ready. But let me know.”
He takes another, more shaky, sip of water. “I’m not sure I still won’t puke yet, but if you wanna keep my cock warm like that, I’m gonna complain not at all.”
“Ja?” He moves his hand over his prick, just curling loosely around it, which is nice, don’t get him wrong, but Molly can’t help but tensing up and practically rutting into it, anyway, because– because he’s in heat and wants to fuck and be fucked but he’s also still… miserable. “Is this okay, Mollymauk?”
“Yeah. Yeah.” He nods, and reaches to set the water aside. “Can do that to my balls, too, love, I wouldn’t mind.”
“Keep you nice and cozy?” Moonweaver, that sounds nice. “When you’re ready to settle in a bit, I can do that. You take a nap and I’ll keep you safe and warm.”
“Oh, fuck, please.” The words slip out as quickly as any of his pleas to fuck have. He curls over into Caleb’s general presence, planning to curl into him and go right to sleep if it means Caleb will actually just hold him and try to calm down these hormones. “If I’m not fucking, I need to cuddle. One or the other. Or both, later. I could do both, later.” They get settled back in the nest, Molly curling into him proper. “You could wake me up with a cuddlefuck later,” he mutters, tucking his face into his skin.
“I am not going to do that with you like this,” Caleb says. “Maybe next heat,” he says, and something in Mollymauk’s blood sings at the implication he will help him through the next one, too. “But you are welcome to wake me up for whatever,” he continues, and settles in with his hand back over the boys.
Fuck, that’s nice. Molly guesses he’d forgotten how nice it is just to have your balls cupped when you slept. Or, like, in general. He sinks into the mattress, and Caleb, and rumbles happily into the curve of his throat. Caleb does not purr back, not like Yasha or someone like Fjord, but that’s okay. Molly still feels safe and loved, comfortable after these past few days of discomfort.
He falls asleep like that, blissfully free of dreams.
Molly likes to consider himself a little bit of a connoisseur of the beautiful– he likes pretty things. Of course he does, all it took was one look in the mirror with all of his clothes and jewelry and makeup and shit. So, he loves pretty things. Likes to collect them, surround himself with them. And it’s no different with his people. Everyone in the circus had been pretty. All of his friends now are, too. And Caleb…
Caleb is gorgeous, he thinks in a little bit of a fever haze, breathing hard as he stares up at the wizard. He’s all red from chest up, flushed bright with a sheen of color otherwise not usually there between his pale skin and smattering of freckles. Skin sweat slick, hair falling in messy tendrils to frame the unkempt scruff along his jaw. He’s still wearing the bandages on his arms, dirty and tattered, and his thoroughly chewed nails scrape against Molly’s skin as he holds onto him.
And Molly thinks he’s the most bloody gorgeous thing he’s seen in a long godsdamn time. It may be the heat talking– and he tightens where his leg is thrown around Caleb’s shoulder, trying to encourage him in deeper– but, fuck, he is pretty and hot and Mollymauk is absolutely fucking blessed to be in a position to be taken care of by him. To be in this position. Flat on his back with Caleb sweating from the exertion of fucking him through his heat. He’s so beautiful, and he wants to say it but, but all that comes from his mouth is a sharp keen as his cock twitches and he wants to come but it isn’t enough. He needs him to be closer, so he shudders in another breath and gropes at Caleb’s wrist. “C’mere, c’mere. Please. Closer. Fuck.”
“Ja, okay.”
He’s trying to be careful, Molly knows, but he can’t help but urge him along. He throws both legs around his waist as he leans in, effectively locking the two of them together in the closest way they can get to a knot right now. He crosses his ankles behind his hips and thanks the Moonweaver that being in the circus taught him flexibility, and whines as Caleb slips his hand into his hair and leans down to kiss him. It is wonderfully encompassing. He wants to be closer still.
He claps a hand to the back of Caleb’s neck and pulls him in as close as the two of them can get. He’s even prettier like this, ravaging Molly’s lips and mouth with kisses and bites that draw specks of blood. With the heat of his body pressed up against Molly’s, pressed against his sweaty skin and aching cock. And hearing the way he’s breathing, sharp and heavy and as uneven as it is, this close up… it’s good. It’s so good. Molly whines and coos and gasps, when Caleb nips at a pointed ear, and breathes in a deep lungful of the way he smells, and the way the room smells, and he spirals.
He feels his cock twitch another helpless dribble of cum against his and Caleb’s stomach, body twitching right along with it. He doesn’t feel Caleb join him, but he does sit back, just a little, anyway. His face is flush and his eyes are warm and Molly– well, he’s still coming off of another orgasm and feeling extremely subservient where he is. Caleb’s gaze pins him to the bed, possessive and praising, and Mollymauk tilts his head on the pillow to expose his throat before he remembers what he’s doing.
Caleb hesitates– because of course he remembers Mollymauk marking him during his heat, of course, neither of them can forget– and, and, Molly kind of wants to hate himself but also kind of wants to beg him to just bite him.
Luckily… he is just coming off of another orgasm, so he has a little sense in himself. He catches himself after the fact, and does not beg. “Sorry,” he whispers, instead of saying please, bite me mark me claim me I’m yours I want you I love you please. His tail lashes, and he makes an effort to stop it.
Caleb’s hand frames his face. And then carefully, hesitantly, slips down to rest along his throat. Mollymauk has to stop his tail wagging. He has to stop himself from arching into the pressure of his palm. Please, he thinks, and Caleb says, quietly, “I could. If you– if you want.”
Shite, he could come again from that alone. He whimpers, and does want, but– no. No… it isn’t fair. It isn’t– he had felt so guilty, after claiming Caleb. Even though Caleb had wanted it, even though he had wanted to do it, he had felt– fuck, possessive and terrible in turns. He doesn’t want Caleb to have that guilt. Gods knew he had enough already. Molly doesn’t want to add to it, he really doesn’t.
“You were so willing, for me,” Caleb continues, stroking the pad of his thumb beneath Molly’s ear. “This isn’t– I, I don’t want to make presumptions. I know things are complicated, right now. But… if you want, Schatz.”
Oh. Oh, he does. Caleb is so gentle. But he is so easily broken because of it. And Molly doesn’t want to break him. He loves him. He can’t force that guilt upon him. Not for this. Not for him. Not for a silly circus performer in the thick of his heat. He wants it. But he isn’t sure Caleb would, after the fact, and he worries more about that now than he had when he had been the one in control, with a right mind.
Funny how those things worked out.
He shakes his head. Just a little. Still leans into Caleb’s hand as he apologizes, again, “maybe not now, love, sorry.”
“Ja.” Caleb does not look perturbed by the response. He just strokes Molly’s neck and leans in to kiss him again. A slightly slower thing as they catch their breath and come down. “That’s good, Schatz. Would you like me to come inside of you instead?”
That is almost as good. Mollymauk tells himself that. It is still a piece of Caleb inside of him, marking him, claiming him. He nods eagerly, and bites at his lip. “Please,” he begs, finally, and relishes in the sweet smile Caleb gives him in return.
They fuck a lot less than Mollymauk would normally, like this, but he’s messed up enough from the past few days that it doesn’t ruin him like it would otherwise. He finds he can sleep easier than how he usually does, during a heat, probably thanks to his muscles being overworked and his body not having any energy from lack of food. He takes it. Sleeps when he can and purrs into Caleb’s skin and coat and whines and curses when he thrusts deep inside of him with his prick or fingers. Caleb sucks him on one occasion and Molly cries as he comes and relishes in the feeling of fire warm, calloused fingers wiping his eyes and thighs and slipping into his ass when he begs for him to fill him again.
He still comes more times than he can count, mostly because he’s too tired to do math. Caleb, too. Molly’s pleased to report Caleb looks almost as fucked out as he feels when they curl into each other and sleep for ages.
Molly sleeps for ages, anyway. When he wakes up the next time, the blankets are soaked through with slick and sweat, but he feels a little… more aware. Aware of the day and time and Caleb reading a book at his side, unknowing that he’s awake again. The air smells like sex and wizardry, but it isn’t as strong as it was before. Somehow, he’s made it through the worst of it. He’s starting to come out on the other side. He’s still going to need orgasms. He’s still going to need Caleb’s fingers in his hair and on his ass. And he’ll worry about that neediness hanging on, later. Right now, he just… takes a moment of semi-clarity, and watches Caleb.
He really is pretty. His disheveled hair and purple bruised bite marks, the freckles that pepper his skin and the way his lips form around the words he’s mouthing from his book. He’s wiry, more thin than Mollymauk thinks he should be, but he doesn’t let it worry him. They’ve all had hard times. Caleb has had many, it seems like. But it is what it is. He is still capable. His hands are still capable, fingers idly tracing out patterns in the air as he reads. He is… he’s truly magical. And then Molly has to sigh, because he could have had Caleb’s mark on his neck, and it’s a shame. He doesn’t regret– okay, no, he regrets it a lot. He regrets telling him ‘no,’ a lot. He wants him to bite him, mark him, claim him, now and always, bleed him and possess him in ways his shitty omega brain cries out for. He regrets it a lot. But he knows he’d regret it more if he’d let him. He knows Caleb would regret it. And Mollymauk doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want that at all.
His sigh alerts the wizard to the fact that he’s awake, though, and Caleb immediately smiles in his weary but loyal way. “Mollymauk.” He puts his book down, turning enough to face him for conversation. He runs his fingers through Molly’s hair, and Molly purrs as he does. “How are you feeling, Schatz?”
“Pretty shit,” he murmurs, nuzzling into Caleb’s hand. “I think a little better? But pretty shit, still.”
“Ja. Alright. I’m sorry. Can you have a little water?”
He winces at the mention, and squirms his bare legs in the tangle of blankets. “Maybe definitely in a minute, but– I’m not sure how these blankets could get much wetter– I really have to take a piss.”
“Ah, ja, of course.” Caleb is already getting to his feet, hand leaving Mollymauk’s hair to shove the blankets aside. “That is good, actually. I can get you cleaned up a little, if you think you can sit up?”
“Yeah,” he croaks. He still feels weak and weary and faintly nauseous with the pit in his stomach that still hasn’t gone away. But at least he isn’t scrambling to wack one off yet. Yet. “I would relish in a bed bath, I think.”
“I can do that.” He holds out both hands, after pecking a kiss to Molly’s forehead. He can still remember the first time he’d done that for Caleb. Still remembers the look on his face, blank but still horrified as he’d shut down. He’d hated to see him like that. Partially because they hadn’t had time to shut down, just then. But partially because Molly just… hates seeing people in pain, he guesses. Caleb holds out his hands, and continues, “let me help?”
His chest warms, all the way up to his cheeks. He’s probably blushing again. “Please,” he whispers, and takes Caleb’s hands.
He would relish in a bath bath, Mollymauk decides; the urge to dunk himself beneath hot, steaming water full of salts and therapeutic herbs makes him long for the day they get out of this hell hole and into a proper town with proper things. He wishes they’d done it already, even though he– rationally– knows they couldn’t have. They’d be asking for trouble taking him into town right now.
… still, Molly thinks, watching when Caleb gets to work gently scrubbing the sweat from Mollymauk’s skin, part of him still wishes they would have. If only to have the rest of his little family here stick up for him if danger came knocking. He would love to have Yasha and Caleb knock someone for a loop right now. Fjord, too. Fjord would do it.
Any of them would do it, something says, languid and happy, in his brain, and Molly purrs at the thought, and at the touch of Caleb washing down his scarred, bare chest.
It’s a nice thought. A good thought.
“You like that?” Caleb asks, probably taking his noise of happiness as approval for the bed bath. It’s still a correct assumption. “Schatz.”
“Fuck yeah.” He tips his head, trying to sit up a little as Caleb washes him off. He’s so tired. He’s still so achy. “It’s nice to get clean when you’re sticky and sweaty as shite.”
“Ah, ja.” Caleb chuckles, working the cloth between Mollymauk’s thighs. He parts them accordingly, head falling back a bit more. “Trust me, I know the feeling.”
Moonweaver, that is– good. Relaxing, even as Caleb fondles around his dick and balls to wipe him down. A lot. It’s definitely a lot. He’s definitely still hard. But it’s good, to be taken care of in this way that even goes far beyond fucking. Caleb doesn’t have to take care of him like that, but he is. He doesn’t have to care so much, but he does. Molly purrs a little louder, a cooing rumble as Caleb works, and feels himself slip into the heat haze a little more than he had been so far today.
It’s just… how could he not? Caleb taking such good care of him, relaxing and soothing and full of determination and dedication. How could he not want to give himself over completely to that?
He doesn’t know how it happens, but one minute, he’s half limp with the pleasure of Caleb’s hands across his body, and the next, he’s blurting out words said with more sincerity than he’s ever said anything in his life. “I love you,” he remarks, tipping his head towards him. Trying to meet his gaze even though Caleb’s busy with the cloth. “I love you, magic man.”
“Ja.” Caleb hums, patting his hip. “I know, Liebling. I am just happy to be able to help a little when you are feeling so low.”
No, Molly thinks. He can’t withhold a whine, but it is covered nicely by Caleb washing his skin. No, you don’t get it. You don’t understand. I love you, I love you, he thinks desperately. And then something seizes in him, something deeper and stronger that chases away those needy, desperate feelings: what the fuck are you thinking?
Oh. Shite, yeah, he’s still a mess. He’s said some pretty pathetic things to Yasha during his heats but not like– that. Not like this, with the anxiety of getting the meaning across still skittering across his skin. That isn’t– appropriate, he reminds himself. That’s just letting the hormones talk, and those kinds of things just made everything messy and uncomfortable. So, Mollymauk forces himself to take a big breath, and shake those thoughts away. Caleb is here. Caleb had come to find him. Caleb is taking care of him. That’s what matters. That’s all Mollymauk needs during a heat. That’s all, he reminds himself.
He touches Caleb’s shoulder. “This isn’t beneficial to cleaning up,” he says, slipping his fingers into his hair, “but I needta get off, lover.”
“Oh.” Caleb chuckles, dunking the cloth back in the basin of water. “Sorry, it is the touching. I know. Do you want help, Mollymauk?”
“Of course,” he says, and pulls him back onto the bed.
Caleb is methodical, but determined. His hands are careful but have intent, even as his arms shake a little and Molly thinks, he must not have slept well– or maybe he didn’t at all. He makes a mental note to himself that he’s going to gather him in his arms and go back to sleep… as soon as the edge is off. As soon as that.
He buries his face into the pillow as Caleb thrusts into him, again, again, and does not say out loud the words trying so hard to haunt his tongue.
He feels the heat really start to recede later that night. There’s a moment, briefly, of has it really been that long? but Molly is grateful for his lack of ability to track time, right now, and lets out an almighty sigh when he wakes up and feels better. A little, just a little, but it’s enough to notice the shift.
Thank shit. It’s kind of terrible, but he’s almost grateful the whole ordeal had worn him down enough to not have to be aware of how miserable he usually was during heat. Don’t get him wrong! It had still been miserable! But… maybe just a little less than usual.
… part of that probably has a little to do with the company, he thinks, and tilts his head on the pillow to look at Caleb. He’s still next to him, asleep, too, curled up in almost the fetal position. Like always. He always sleeps like that, tucked into the smallest space possible, usually with a book wedged under his arm from where he’s fallen asleep reading. And Molly’s the opposite, really; he sprawls out across whatever surface, arms and legs akimbo and, yeah, he likes to take up as much space as possible. But Caleb’s always curled up like he needs that safety to sleep, and that’s sad? It makes him sad. Makes him want to cuddle him all the time, not just during their heats. Tuck him against his side and hold him through whatever nightmares were there.
And all of that special kind of ruminating and want means he’s definitely not out of his heat, yet. Molly takes a deep breath and tries to shove away those heavy, cloying feelings. But he can’t stop himself from shifting over, slipping his hand into one of Caleb’s, and the other into his hair. “Darling, love.” He doesn’t want to wake him up, really, but, “cuddles?” he whispers, trying to nudge his way into Caleb’s grasp.
He’d much rather cuddle than let Caleb lay there next to him, looking small and alone. Molly really hates ‘alone’ right now.
“Mm– ja,” Caleb whispers. He doesn’t open his eyes, but slings an arm around Molly, and pulls him in. Molly purrs as he slots into place, wiggling his way as close as possible. “Ja, Mollymauk. I am here.”
“I know,” he whispers. “Thank you, love. Kisses?”
“Ja, okay.”
It is the most lazy kind of morning kiss that Molly thinks he’s ever been a part of. He has a little experience, crawling into bed with the circus mates or paying someone for companionship for the night. But this is slow and sweet and heartwarming in ways that he isn’t used to. He could definitely, absolutely, get used to it. Caleb barely opens his eyes, but kisses him with no less enthusiasm than Molly wants; he slips his hand into his hair and holds him close and mutters sweet nothings under his breath and between the kisses. It is definitely, absolutely, the most gentle thing Molly’s ever done during a heat. It makes his heart sing.
It also makes his blood boil, in the very much typical ‘you’re coming off of heat, Mollymauk’ way.
“Cuddlefuck?” he whispers, nosing against Caleb’s jaw. “A little cuddlefuck, love?”
“Ja,” Caleb repeats, voice honey warm, and squeezes Molly’s hip. “Roll over, mein Lieber. I’ve got you.”
He does; he knows he does even before Caleb slings his arm around his waist and slips into him. He fucks him just as lazily, a slow thing even with the methodical pattern that is Caleb. Three thrusts and a tiny pause, a murmured word of praise and squeezing at Molly’s skin. A kiss to the back of his neck. Molly murmurs and keens and pants as he fondles his own dick, and Caleb repeats the process. One, two, three. One, two, three.
I love you. I love you.
That clinginess hanging on is scary. He is far enough out of this heat that it shouldn’t be as strong as it is, but he feels it with every thrust, with every kiss and pass of calloused skin. That’s terrifying. He’s trying not to think about what it means, but it feels so nice. He definitely cries a little more after he comes, once Caleb tucks him close and lazily grinds against him until they start to drift again.
It isn’t until he’s on the fringes of sleep that he remembers having felt this way when Caleb had been in heat, too. The slow and lazy days as they had started to come out the other side. Fucking Caleb in the back of the wagon and thinking he was the most beautiful thing ever. He still thinks that.
Caleb whispers that he is beautiful, too, and Mollymauk drifts off with tears and a smile, complicated emotions in his heart.
“I’m fine, love, really!” Honestly? Molly still feels a little less than fine, but his heat is, for all intents and purposes, over and he has a few proper meals in his belly now. He has some strength back. His bruises are fading. His dick is no longer standing at attention from so much as a passing glance. He feels the best he has since before he got tiefling-napped, so it’s a marked improvement. “And, really? I’d love to get out of here,” he admits, and squeezes Caleb’s hands. “This place sucks and I’m getting antsy in ways that aren’t about fucking. Yasha said we’re still a day out from civilization anyway, yeah?”
“Ja… we are.”
Caleb’s eyes are still worried. He is still so worried about Mollymauk’s wellbeing as he comes off this heat, and that’s flattering, don’t get him wrong! But it’s also kind of why Molly’s getting antsy to move on. Caleb still looking at him like that when he doesn’t have to, now, and his own weird, complicated thoughts and feelings he can’t let go of… he thinks he just needs to get back on his feet and work off some of this lingering, nervous energy. Being out of this place will be good. Walking a while will be good. Fresh air will be good. Getting a little distance between himself and Caleb will be good, even if it’s just a few feet on the road.
Molly loathes that idea as much as he wants to press for it. He doesn’t really want the distance. He wants Caleb to keep looking at him with such care and concern in his eyes. But that’s dangerous, and weird, and messy! And gods knew that they’d had enough of messy for the past few days. He just needs to get himself sorted, that’s all. He tells himself he’s going to get himself sorted.
“We’ll be fine, then,” he says reassuringly, and squeezes Caleb’s hands. “By the time we roll into town, I’ll be safe and no one else will be the wiser. I mean, aside from the fact that I have to reek right now, but that’s nothing a bathhouse can’t fix.”
“You do not reek.” Caleb leans down and presses a kiss between his brows. “You are stunning, as usual, Mollymauk Tealeaf.”
He holds his breath so he doesn’t sigh, and tries to ignore the fact that he damn near melts into the compliment, into Caleb’s mouth and hands and warmth. Something in him jolts at the compliment. Strangely, it is not his dick. It’s closer to his chest, something tugging at his heart. And that is absolutely fucking terrifying, actually!
He doesn’t want to think about it. He’s kind of a coward like that.
So much of a coward that he leans into the kiss, and tilts his face to reciprocate it. And later, when they pack up and leave this terrible place, he holds onto Caleb’s hand and wraps his tail around his waist even though his heat doesn’t necessitate it any longer.
Yeah, he’ll get himself sorted. Molly beams as Caleb chuckles over telling part of a story, and squeezes his fingers encouragingly. His smile is brighter than any fire, and warms Molly more than any blaze ever has. He’ll sort out these complicated feelings…
Later, he promises. He has all the time in the world.