Archive of Our Own

There was history deeper than the ocean here— history of raised voices, of touches, of an alpha and omega falling into a pattern that flows through history itself. This wasn’t a Disney story, this was his story. 

Their history.

The present.

And his presence.

Tom had met Ryland when he was a young but acclaimed scientist, cocky and confident in his field with a glint in his eyes, and Tom had first begun working with Colt. He had felt it then, the taut wire that crooned at him that this was it, finally— finality at its peak. He had reached a point where nothing else mattered, there was nothing higher, nowhere else to ever strive to be.

Ascension—

And god did the omegas scent send him high.

He knew it right away, but his omega had to slowly realize it.

Tom had charmed Ryland then— early enough in his and his brothers career things had been easier, less strained. 

Things got strained after Ryland got lost.

He’d get him back. 

But before that, before losing him due to his own doubts— he had charmed him.

Had gotten the omega to open up, to trust him— the alpha in him had crooned at each little relaxation Ryland trusted him with. He’d brought food and bought clothes– realizing quickly the omega would deny most gifts but caved to sweaters or science shirts. Hell, he had practically rutted when Ryland came to set in one of the sweaters he had bought him, but he had been patient okay, he had chilled out and went to his trailer before meeting up with Ryland to compliment him again. The best part? It worked.

He’d opened him up like flower petals, encouraging each bloom or whatever scientific means there would need to be that Ryland would give, he watered and tilled the soil– 

Didn’t matter—

What mattered was one memory specifically.

Tom’s arms wrapped around Ryland, and Ryland's legs wrapped around Tom’s waist as his arms draped over the alpha's shoulders, twirling Tom’s hair between his thinner fingers as his glasses sat askew on his face. It had been easy to chuff, nuzzling the omega's bare throat— Ryland still not having allowed him to claim him, an aggravating thought still— and lapped at the scent gland there, teasing tension into his omegas muscles as his own hands contradicted his actions, rubbing up and down his sides to counter the same tension with relief.

They were celebrating a big action role Tom had gotten. Tom had flown to his cute little omega to let him know. Here they were, sitting in Rylands apartment— bareboned as expected for a scientist on grant money who was still too stubborn to realize Tom wasn’t gonna take back any of his many invites to move in with him. God, how he wanted Ryland in one of his homes, secure, contained, nesting and ready for him. 

Before his thoughts could go too far— and before he could lose Rylands trust in letting him nuzzle and drink from his mating gland without a collar on— Rylands words paused the alpha from rising inside him.

“How do you do it? I mean—“

Tom had smiled, leaning back from his omegas neck with lips glistening as if he’d applied lip oil— having teased Ryland enough his omega should be going insane— to look at Rylands flushed face looking down at him. Tom was a little confused, and nipped at Rylands chin lightly, teasing him as Ryland continued with a hitched breath

“Walk confidently?”

His words sounded like a question, but Tom felt a new part of himself perk up. Ryland had admired Tom’s presence before— telling him he was good at captivating a room or scene. But this, this was interest in learning on presenting confidence— his omega might finally let him claim him and show him off if he was confident in how he could traverse Tom’s world. Tom had gripped him tighter, crooning lowly as he both nuzzled Rylands ear and whispered into it encouragement and perhaps incorrect advice—

“— let out your inner omega, the one that comes out when your squirming under me— wanting to present like a good omega—“

He was selfish, but it showed up in different ways sometimes. Like in this moment, he didn’t fuck Ryland while he squirmed on his lap, instead he had his horny omega stand up and practice. Watched him walk back and forth, telling him how to angle his shoulders, how to sway his hips— he’d correct it later but right now he had him move them with a swing for him that he couldn’t drag his eyes from.

Tom was selfish, but it was moments like this he was also selfless— after teasing Ryland for so long he directed him to go to the mirror, smaller than the one at Tom’s apartment— and he had him face it as he stalked up behind him, arms caging him in as his legs pressed close. His foot pushed Rylands legs further apart as he met his eyes in the mirror– one pair reminiscent of a shocking blue sky, the other a stormy ocean.

Had Ryland watch as his hand pressed his shoulders forward, arching his hips back, and watch as Tom dropped to his knees and out of view of the mirror to drink another source of Rylands scent. Leaving Ryland to stare back at his own face as Tom leaned in, huffing along his omegas glistening thighs with blown pupils. Tom buried his face into Rylands cunt and ate him out with fever– he could still taste Ryland now– his mouth alone bringing the first cascade of Rylands cum into his mouth as he stole the first orgasm of the night, his fingers joining to overstimulate his shaking omega more.

Tom had risen, teeth and lips trailing across Rylands ass cheeks with nips, his low back with a slow trace of his tongue on his spine, kissing at the base of his ribs before trailing up his shoulder blades. Close until he was pressed against his omega's body from hip to shoulder. His head hung over Rylands shoulder, breath coming heavy between his teeth as he used one of his hands to have Ryland meet his eyes in the mirror– the other gripped his thigh to lift it, his raw cock pressing into Rylands beautiful cunt.

Exactly where he belonged, where they belonged.

He’d fucked Ryland for over an hour, twice his omega had blocked a claiming bite with a hand to Tom’s forehead, and each time Tom responded with a growl, a tilt away of his head, and a knot deep inside his omega. He’d risen in the morning to Ryland having taken a plan b– annoyingly– and admitting it had been okay, they’d gotten their adrenaline and emotions high— to Ryland it was science, explainable, forgivable because he understood the chemicals in the brain or whatever he was spieling about.

To Tom, it had been another easily given chance for a new opportunity to claim him. Forgiveness that would only allow him to continue gaining more trust with that bared throat, a better chance to strike and claim.

But why has this memory arisen?

Because Tom knew that strut.

Had taught that strut.

Seated in the dimmed rows of the auditorium as the dictator— director, correction— of the Petrova Task force introduced her second in command and top scientists. Tom’s alpha was howling, salivating, causing his grip on the arm rest to rip the fabric below. How could it not? His omega had been named second in command of possibly the largest military and science team that was a multi continental program.

His omega was strutting out— and even from here he could see the hidden stress and panic he hid behind his shoulders straightening, his hips swaying— More rips in the fabric appear under his hands as Tom stared, enraptured by his omega as Ryland walked over to where he acted like he belonged, slightly behind and beside the alpha Stratt.

The only thing holding Tom in his seat was that Ryland had an obvious collar on his neck— to block his scent and keep himself unclaimed.

Ryland had never worn one around Tom, and he almost preened— if the alpha in him wasn’t going rabid at his omegas– who’d been missing for almost a year– sudden reappearance.

While it seemed Ryland had risen in status in the world, he wasn’t alone. So had Tom. His name was known not just in households around the world— there were nuns famously known for liking him, the dictator of North Korea even said he was a fan— and Tom had continued rising through the ranks and had even co-directed a film with Jody. He’d signed onto charities, joined foundations and fundraisers while trying to figure out where Ryland had disappeared to, anything to try and find information or to draw him out.

Even when an obstacle occurred, he had made sure to keep Colt out of it in the off chance he would be his best way to find his missing omega. Anything to get his omega in his home and making a nest for them.

Not on stage, not looking thin and haggard behind his fake smile that Tom could see every ounce of trepidation behind.

Fuck, he looked like he needed put down and relieved of this stress in a good old omega haze. 

Rarely had he allowed Tom to put him under like that— not before losing his job as a scientist, but just enough to make Tom crave it in the short span before he became a teacher and wanted a break, before getting lost in who he wasn’t and needing space.

The words of the woman rolled past his ears, his eyes trained on his omega— on the turtleneck-like collar protecting him from the others up there with him. Protecting himself from the guests— and he must not have known Tom was there.

Or else he’d have met his gaze, he was a good omega, he knew better than to not.

This meeting was scheduled for two hours, only the first twenty five minutes having passed so far.

Tom was counting down every second.

Conference meeting in two hours.

If it can even be called a conference.

Dr. Ryland Grace was attempting to keep his stomach in his torso instead of the ground and his breaths even instead of sprinting out of his chest. He hated presenting– and although he could get into the flow of a presentation, he had never been one to look forward to it. 

And this was diabolical of Stratt– having not told Grace till only three hours beforehand that he needed to change into a suit she had gotten tailor made for him and be ready to present the project– Tailor made suit and a speech– not a speech, answering questions Dr. Grace she’d say.

Not to a board of scientists– but to a small portion of the world. Media stars– from talk show hosts to actors and even a few singers and directors, to politicians from multiple countries– people who wouldn’t understand a single word Ryland would say. 

He hadn’t even been able to see the guest list, stressed on time as he was. 

He was even more upset as he had recently come to realize every single other scientist standing there with him in their suits or formal ware had known about this conference for about five days in advance. It seems Grace was the only one not communicated to about it so that he could focus his energy on the project more so then on the stress of the conference, which he thought was a bullshit excuse.

He was nervous for more reasons than one.

He was not ready to see people he might possibly recognize– even though he doubted anyone else would expect him to. He hadn’t talked about his brothers– nevermind that two of them were technically connected to the show business, and were known enough amongst the stars and directors, if not amongst the people and fans.

They came from a large family of boys– not intentionally as their father would remind them. Courtland and Holland having been twins, and already a stress on their mothers body. Originally they’d been called a blessing– but for parents who both had no family, it had been rough. It’s why they were 8 years older than the triplets– Colton, Ryland, and Wesson– who had pushed their mothers body too far. She passed when the triplets were only seven and half months old– and their father had turned to alcohol quickly. The oldest two wouldn’t be known– well, one was dead, and he doubted any celebrities or politicians had hired Holland for anything. But Colton and Wesson? Colt the stunt double for his– for Tom Ryder– and Wesson, known mainly to anyone out of the family simply as Driver due to his stunt driving capabilities? They may be known– hell, they all shared the same features even with some differences.

Colt tended to have the most facial hair of the three, with the longest hair– he had a slight wave to it that Ryland’s and Driver’s never had– whenever needed to match… his boss. His hair always had a styled messiness to it, as if he planned and teased it into each place. Driver always kept himself cleanshaven, his hair straight and kept tight and well combed. Ryland always had a cowlick that differed from the other two– it was partially to blame for his constant birds nest along with his inability to not mess with his own hair. They ranged in height and build since childhood as well– albeit with only minor differences as it seemed Colt had thrived the most in the womb, with Driver being the second heaviest at birth of the trio.

There had been no surprise when Colt had presented the earliest of the trio, Holland and Courtland welcoming the third alpha into the family while their father stayed out on a bender. Following the one, Driver had followed suit– the fourth alpha– and although Ryland had always been slightly smaller than the others, they expected the same from him. But it took a whole year after Driver presented– fourteen months after Colt– that Ryland had first presented. As an omega.

Things had been rough, trying to hide it from their father who already swung with heavy hands, and a breath just as heavy with the stench of liquor. But he had truly been in a drunken and drugged out stupor the first few months. Before he had found out– before he had snapped, and before Ryland had to… before Court finished the job and saved him. 

Ryland remembered the fists– he also remembered his own mind, so young, so new to hormones and the factors of his secondary gender, so new to understanding and yet knowing this was life or death from an alpha, something visceral to every omega– and he had grabbed the broken broom, rusted edge from where it had snapped over their fathers leg in a fit of rage months before if not years, and hadn’t swung– he’d thrusted it forward. Blood brighter than the rusted part had splurted, and his fathers rage rained with his blood. Ryland had been beat further than half to death– he’d been told they had to restart his heart at the hospital a couple times– but before his father could finish the job there’d been a gunshot. 

Freshly turned 20, Court had realized this wasn’t a moment he could hesitate in. Not with the families omega bleeding out and unconscious– not when his baby brother wasn’t responsive. The dazed blurry vision of his brother carrying him was Rylands last memories of him specifically.

Thats the first time things changed in Rylands memory.

Holland took in the triplets– three twelve year olds under the guardianship of a twenty year old. No other family, and a system that wouldn’t be able to keep them together at their ages, he’d done his best. One older brother in jail, the other became a cop, planning to one day be a detective.

But Holland was safely in Los Angeles, with his 13 year old daughter– his actual child who he could raise with a softness he couldn’t possess earlier on. Cortland had died in a prison riot when they were 14, a closed casket funeral where Ryland couldn’t catch a glimpse of his face one last time.

Colt was in Sydney last he had checked– its where Tom had liked to film the most, along with the condo featuring a breathtaking balcony he said seafood just tasted better on along with other things. And Driver was in the Nevada desert last he had known, driving for an upcoming michael bay film where cars flying and exploding were featured more often than the actors. But both were actively on sets, actively being clapped on their shoulders with admiration and whistles when a stunt is performed perfectly.

And fuck, Ryland had glasses but besides that and his hair he knew they all looked alike from a distance. And this suit he was in was tight, show casing his form ina way his cardigans never would. The fancy collar– another designer piece gifted by Stratt along with the suit– was stiff compared to the usual soft cashmere he tended to surround himself with. Not a true collar, but understood as such by most within modern society. But this? This was official, fancy, and something he could only imagine wearing if he had been in public eye if he hadn’t gotten scared and ran from Ryder. He had never liked wearing designer clothes, thats why his mind kept going back to Tom.

“I expect you all to show your confidence, move with elegance while out there.”

Stratt’s words always made it through his stressful thoughts, and he turned to tune into the others. She was telling them they had time to prepare for this, that she had high expectations– and Ryland felt his spine stiffen with both stress and frustration. It wasn’t really fair that she say all this with only three hours of preparation.

But Stratt was the most observant alpha he had ever met– her eyes turning to him and her words saying.

“Dr. Grace, you will do your best. Do not Stress.”

Those words alone relaxed him, letting his shoulders loosen. It wasn’t the relaxation of waking up and lying in, but it was the relaxation that was akin to Holland telling him he had time before the bus came, to sit and eat before school. The calming of a matriarch or patriarch caring for their pack. 

No one else saw her like that of course.

Stratt had walked off, and Ryland sat there with agitation filling his shoulders again. This was gonna be stressful– and he could feel eyes on him as the other scientists murmured. Some were friendly, some pitying, and only a couple irritated. He couldn’t blame them– he had been given more time off from stressing about the conference to focus on what all of them wanted to. He would’ve practiced and prepared, studied lists and names like the others too if he had simply known. 

Stressing about this, he wasn’t ready for the hands pressing him to walk out first– and this must’ve been hazing, because why was he having to go first. He had to make Stratt not regret bringing him although if he did perhaps he could be excused form these in the future– No. instead as he was ushered past the curtains he panicked and–

“Your omega instincts are a lot more confident than you are normally right Rylie? let out your inner omega–”

Ryland cut the memory there, not wanting to channel too much of it– but it was enough.

He had remembered to step with a slight swing, his shoulders brought back as he emerged from the curtain. He couldn;t fix his awkward wave, but he smiled and it seemed to work from Stratt’s expression. He met her eyes only long enough to make sure he was doing well, and behind her podium she gave him a small wave, signalling for him to stand beside her. 

He was a bit more confused when the other scientists emerged, standing notably further back and away– but he wasn’t Stratt, he was already barely holding together the fake confidence to stand there and smile pretty in front of an audience he refused to look at. An audience that seemed to bore straight in his soul– and this is why he hated the idea of ever being in a famous relationship, even with Stratt there, and all the others Ryland swore there wasn’t a single moment where eyes weren’t on him.

Standing there was purgatory. Constantly watched, constantly faking a facade that wouldn’t give more for the people to question why a school teacher was on the stage. Hell was afterwards, when they cleared the stage, and Ryland with the other scientists was given another stern reminder of rehearsals– and when the hell did they rehearse? That feels very important– before being allowed to mingle and answer questions. 

Stratt had held Ryland back with Carl, having either sensed something off with him, or perhaps having some tips for this. 

It was both.

“What is wrong.”

Ryland had shifted foot to foot, glancing away.

“Celebrities aren't my scene.”

“We’ve established that before Dr. Grace.”

“They may recognize me.”

“Everyone out there will, they were sitting in the auditorium.”

“No– I mean, my brothers–”

“The detective? Or the stuntmen?”

Ryland paused, wincing

“I’ve met some people through my brothers. It’s just…”

Ryland waved a hand, seeking a descriptor his logical brain wasn’t turning up. 

“My ex was a part of that crowd. I… I’m not great with that crowd.”

Stratt had settled a hand on his shoulder, repeating her words from earlier as if they were the simplest answer.

“You will do your best. Do not stress.”

She tilted her head, the slightest movement at the corner of her lip the only hint of smile Stratt tended to show.

“You have already exceeded expectations.”

Ryland could recall a few things– he normally had a very good memory, it helped in his lab and with his students– like how after Stratt retreated, Carl had side eyed him, before teasing him with a few questions

“I bet it was a singer, and you were their muse.”

That got a laugh and a head shake from Ryland– shoulders leaning forward as his hands reached up to rub under his glasses and over his face

“No, an actor–”

Carl whistled, resting a hand on Rylands shoulder– the same one Stratt had– 

“I’ve heard celebrities aren’t nice in break ups, they must've been rough.”

Ryland could see the ghost of Tom that haunts his mind, shaking his head and smiling in denial– Ryland getting angrier, yelling as his alpha– no,Tom– tried to settle him. Even used his voice on him– but Ryland grew up with four Alpha brothers, more tolerant when others used it and with a higher tolerance to the command behind it, and he had still walked out. Had still ignored all 89 calls before he reached his house and could park, blocking Tom’s number and the next few. He would never admit his old phone in his apartment still had the voicemails on it– some begging, some demanding, all important to him and what Ryland would listen to on rough nights.

“He didn’t take it well.”

Ryland admitted, before tensing as Carl gave him a surprised look. Oh, of course. Who would expect socially awkward omega Dr. Grace to initiate a break up? He was too compliant in their eyes. It was easy to shrug Carl's hand off, feeling the weight of existence again on his shoulders. He always had to fit their roles, match what they expected.

He remembered wandering amongst the people for barely ten minutes, just long enough to shake a few hands in greetings and reach the opposite side of the meeting hall. He remembered stepping into a side hall, trying to relax as he realized he couldn’t keep up this fake walk, fake persona– not when he kept being plagued by thoughts of Tom. This is why he should’ve not come, and just stayed on the project.

The next thing he remembered was a strong scent, and fuck, his knees caved. 

Tom.

It wasn’t a bedroom– but they had never limited themselves to the bedroom had they– but the next thing Ryland knew he was here in what looked like a smaller meeting room. His ass was sitting on the edge of the table, his legs spread around the well muscled waist of his alpha. Fuck, it had been so long, and he had regretted it so much– but he was always a coward, never brave enough. Not brave enough to be brought into the limelight then, and not brave enough to put his job before this moment right now.

Instead Ryland kissed back those heavy lips, his hands threading through non-bleached hair– Tom must have a brunette role, otherwise he’d never return to his roots– and gasping as Toms arms caged him in. These thoughts were only fleeting– slipping like oil from his mind as Tom stole every ounce of hesitation from Ryland. His arms around Tom's shoulders were slightly shaking– overwhelmed as he was at the first contact like this since he broke up with him, overstimulated as Tom’s one arm gripped around his waist, yanking him closer so their crotches met. Ryland couldn’t pay enough attention to notice the other hand slipping up his back, sliding under his collar to find the latches and–

Ryland whimpered as air hit his throat, the collar falling with barely a gliding whisper. With a ragged gasp he pulled away from the kiss– and unlike him Tom wasn’t a human needing air apparently as his lips traced down his throat, nipping and sucking his way down, breath reaching Ryland’s mating gland before his lips. It didn’t take long– and even as Rylands hands yanked at Tom’s hair, he keened as Tom sucked right on the strongest source of his scent– the first stimulation in years. 

His hips bucked forward against Tom, and even through the fabric of both their suit pants he could feel Tom’s erection rubbing against him. Ryland whined as Tom crooned lowly, blowing air over Rylands neck– and fuck, it was like every nerve was on fire- freshly woken from a dead sleep and stinging with sensation, and yet each sting brough heat and pleasure spreading from his glands. His hands shook harder in Tom’s hair, arms heating up as his own scent began flooding the area from his wrists, throat, and his thighs. Fudge, he was sure he was gonna stain his clothes, soak them in his scent– and Tom’s, as the alpha used his newly free hand to rub along Rylands side, the fabric smearing Tom’s own scent all over him.

Voice torn with mewls and whimpers, Ryland didn’t stop Tom from pushing the tight suit jacket off, nor when he unbuttoned Rylands shirt. Couldn’t stop him as his mouth finally left his mating gland– and firecrackers sake, Tom hadn’t bitten down, always respecting that factor of Ryland when in his right mind andhe wished he wasn’t– to trace down his collarbone, before taking Rylands right nipple into his mouth– hips grinding against Ryland each second, stimulation from both making Ryland squirm where he was pinned. Ryland couldn’t help but let most whimpers escape, mouth opening with panting breaths as he arched his chest into Tom’s face, nipples having long pebbled with his touch. 

Ryland had missed this so much, had known he’d missed it but after the break up he’d been stubborn– then Stratt had recruited him, and the project kept him out in the ocean most of the time and– and shoot, he couldn’t think– as he buried his face against Tom’s curls, panting into them as he ground his hips forward, moving his own hand down to claw at Tom’s own suit jacket, rubbing his scent on his alpha. He smelled the same and yet not anything like Ryland– and by god, the air was filling with their scents– heady with the heat they were already making. Ryland jumped, chest arching again as he felt Tom’s hand press low on his stomach, thumb hitching under his slacks button.

He should pull away, he should stop Tom– remind him they were broken up– but instead he pulled on Tom’s hair, making him look up at him. Tom’s pupils were blown, his own drool and Rylands pheromone oil coating his skin around his face to slightly shine. The sight brought memories up, memories he couldn’t delve into– not when he could dive his lips down to meet Tom’s again. Tom never hesitated with Ryland, not when he always sought him out first– and he always had, hadn’t he? Even tonight–

The button for his slacks parted, the zipper following quickly as Tom kept him distracted with the kiss. Ryland heard a humming sound as Tom’s hands grabbed his waist band, pulling his pants down and— and it was Ryland himself, purring. A low sound from his chest, his vocal chords thrumming as he let Tom lift him to pull his pants fully off. Before Ryland could feel embarrassed, his purr was met with the chuffing of Tom as he slotted himself back between Rylands legs.

Why was his alpha still fully clothed? Ryland whined into the kiss as his alpha pulled him even closer to the edge of the table, leaning over Ryland as they stole one another's breaths and tasted one another again. Rylands hands kept yanking at Tom’s jacket, pulling until his alpha’s chuff turned to a chuckle. Ryland flushed at the embarrassing whine pulled from his throat when his alpha pulled back– but he quieted as Tom hushed him, pulling his jacket off– Ryland finally realized it was a black suit, nothing like what Tom would normally wear. He must be promoting a role, with his brown hair and all– fuck, he was ripped, but he always was. His hand had dropped to feel along Tom’s abs, to trace along Tom’s obliques with a hitched breath. Tom’s hand interrupted his own, pulling Ryland to feel across the heated skin of his pecs and up to his traps– and Ryland’s entire being froze as Tom dropped to his knees under his hands. 

One of Tom’s hands pressed down on Rylands stomach, the other shifted to grip his thigh tightly as he lowered his eyes from Ryland to his underwear. Ryland stressed for a moment– he hadn’t worn anything nice in a while, but this pair had come with the change of clothes and was a simply sleek pair of boxer briefs. It wasn’t sexy nor– his thoughts flatlined when Tom pressed his face over Rylands clothed cunt and mouthed over the fabric.

Ryland lost some control in that moment– he fell back against the table so his back lay flat, and his thighs slammed tight to Tom’s head. Both of Rylands hands threaded into Tom’s hair, back arching as Tom fucking nibbled on him and he jerked on Tom’s roots– and dang it he felt Tom’s moan reverberate against his pussy. Tom’s hand left his stomach to grip his other thigh, and he really was built right now, Ryland could feel it as Tom pried his legs apart. 

“Stay still,”

Tom’s growl did more than stimulate Ryland between his legs– it sent shockwaves up his spine to make his vision blur momentarily. Only to be brought back to focus as Toms hand shifted from his left thigh to yank on Rylands briefs– thankful for their stretchiness and slightly resentful as it gave Tom the perfect view at his cunt. His head hit the table with a thud as his nails dug into Tom’s scalp, eyes snapping open as Tom descended on Ryland like a man collapsing into hell, driven and with purpose. Said purpose seemed to be to instantly drive Ryland insane. No time wasted to tease, not when it had been so long. Tom kept his strength up as his hand splayed on Rylands one thigh, squeezing as he he sucked on his clit audibly. His grip was unmovable, keeping him still as Tom drew it out, tongue swirling around and fuck, Ryland couldn’t think as his hips canted up, pressing to Tom’s scruff and mouth, couldn’t even correct the language in his head anymore.

Tossing his head, Ryland keened as Tom’s tongue finally pressed further, delving in between his pussy’s folds– and Ryland shuddered, unable to stop himself as his hips started small bounces– pressing against Tom’s tongue as Tom let him, sitting there with his smug gaze before Ryland realized and froze. Not for long– Tom saw Ryland breaking back out from the recklessness he’d started to embrace when he rode his face like this– and delved back in with his hand joined, two fingers holding his damned boxers as his first two delved with his tongue. Ryland fell right back into whines, feeling himself clench and spasm around Tom’s fingers. Tom began spreading his fingers, curling them slowly before finding the spot Tom seemed to know by touch alone— pressing up and making Rylands eyes roll back as the pressure on his g spot and the suction on his clit kept him trapped against the table, a shuddering mess.

“Tom! Please— more— please alpha I’m gonna, I’m coming!”

Ryland cried out loudly as tom freed a finger from his boxers to press it in alongside the others, watching Ryland as Rylands vision blacked out, every muscle in his body tensing as his breath stopped entirely on the loud keen, unprepared as he was for this moment, and having chugged so much juice and water in the three hours leading up— he was stressed okay— he came on Tom’s face, and worse.
He squirted.

Tom had followed Rylands scent through the hall, leaving people without a word and for once without a charming smile on his face. He wasn’t an idiot, he could see the security around— but destiny was on his side. It knew they were meant to be together. He slipped past the same doors as Ryland, barely a couple minutes later. The sour notes of distress were underlying his omegas normally soft scent of hibiscus— and Tom stalked forward faster, with his own scent of  rain and cotton spreading.

How could he not when his omega was discontent? When he could cure it?

And cure it he would.

Ryland had been leaned against the wall when Tom spotted him. It had been easy to slide up behind him— even now his omega didn’t sense him as a threat— casting his scent out in floods as he wrapped his omega up in his arms, tucked his face close as he pulled his omega along with him to a side room further down, ducking them in as he spun his omega around in his arms, perching him up on the edge of the table so his feet wouldn’t touch the ground. He was intent to distract Ryland, keep him in his arms. He couldn;t let his omega go again, couldn’t risk losing his touch or scent once more. And the purrs from his omega only pushed him further– finally freeing up that claiming gland he had denied Tom for so long from under that damned collar, and Tom was still patient. He would wait till Ryland was tied on his knot again before claiming him. Although, he couldn’t deny himself completely from temptation: he tasted it, teased it like he had many times in the past. Had trailed his lips to Rylands nipples, had devoured his flesh as he imagined them swelling as he bred his omega— and kept him bred. He had the means now to not only live that life, but to stay out of the paparazzi’s reach, support Ryland somewhere safe and private.

But it wasn’t enough, not even Rylands lips were, not when he could smell Ryland leaking between his thighs, could feel the heat of it against his cock even through their clothes. He’d ripped Rylands pants off, crashing to his knees to partake in the ambrosia between Rylands legs. He’d succeeded, and even gotten lost in it as Ryland has rubbed against his face for a bit. His hard work had resulted in Ryland cumming– squirting against his mouth and chin. 

Tom had looked up at Ryland from between his twitching thighs, the alpha in him preening as he gave his own cocky grin, kissing down Rylands thigh as he began to stand. He dropped one hand to unclasp his own pants, glad to see his omega was still blissed out as he pulled his cock out. Finally free, Tom let it slap against Rylands thigh as he reached down to yank Rylands briefs off– and what boring underwear they were. He may love Ryland most naked, but he’d make sure his omega was covered in sexy lingerie otherwise once he’d gotten him into a nest. Something maroon, gold accented— 

Pulling the plain briefs off his omega's thin ankles— Tom slotted his hips back between Rylands legs, one hand gripping his omega's hip while the other held his own cock, sliding it back and forth in his omegas first orgasms release— he teased his cock against Rylands cunt’s lips, before a deep low sound of being pushed too far—  and he began pressing his dick in. That got Ryland to snap back for a moment, his Omegas eyes casting around to finally meet Tom’s eyes.  Tom leaned forward, chuffing to his omega as he pressed in deeper, a slow and steady pace as inch by inch pressed back home. And fuck, Ryland was so fucking tight, clenching around his cock as if his body wanted him to hurry up and breed him.

“Such a sweet omega, taking me so well, just like you're meant to. You know you’re such a good omega right? Letting your alpha take you like this?”

Tom crooned in his ear, pressing deeper as Rylands breath hitched– and fuck, he could see it in Rylands eyes, how close he was to tipping over. How much he must have missed him, craved him too. Bottoming out, Tom growled lowly, trying to hold back– he couldn’t risk cumming too fast, not before Ryland was truly letting go of all the things holding them back, not when he needed to knot his omega and finally claim him– bind him here physically. Even as his cock twitched while burying inside Ryland, even as that engulfing heat made him lose more and more of his sanity in the moment.

“Yes— wanna— fuck, alpha, wanna be good for you!”

Rylands hands had found their way back to Toms’s shoulders, nails digging overtop taut traps that only tensed more as Tom crooned to him more, hips sinking further with each whispered word, rubbing his neck against Rylands, pressing his own scent gland to his omegas and feeling Ryland quiver as their scents overloaded both their senses

“You wanna be good for me omega?”

Tom couldn’t help the harsh thrust to bury himself inside completely at Rylands fast and desperate nods and whimpered pleas— changing quickly to his head tossed back and mouth open with a cry as Tom bottomed out, pressing deep and holding still as Ryland shuddered through breaths.

“Then let go of everything besides me.”

Toms words cut through the haze of pleasure behind Rylands eyes— he could tell as the omega sought his gaze, almost as if asking for permission. As if he’d need it, as if Tom would ever not want him to be down in this haze—

“Let your alpha take care of everything.”

Tom chuffed, and fuck it was hard being selfless right now, buried balls deep in his omega, waiting for him patiently to let this be perfect. To let Tom put him under and claim him like they always should’ve been, bound together in a way that was inseparable. But all his patience was finally rewarded as the hands that had been gripping his shoulders tightly, instead pulled Tom closer— redirected him so Ryland could nip at his lip and pull him into a kiss. A simple kiss really, at least for the half a second it took for Tom to break from enjoying his omegas nuzzling kisses to turn it nasty, tongue pressing into Rylands mouth and tasting his omega, feeling what small canines he had—

Tom kept Ryland breathless as he pulled his hips back slowly, swallowing each whimpering gasp of Rylands at the sudden lack of being filled— and slammed back in. It began the cadence of his hips, harsh thrusts reaching to stir up Rylands insides. Angling to make Ryland scream as his cock struck his g-spot— bending his legs up and over his shoulders as he folded his omega nearly in half, fucking deep enough Rylands moans had lost all words and were simply sounds. 

Ryland was more beautiful than any painting, than any star or muse that could exist. His blue eyes teared up, lashes clumped by the same tears making his eyes gleam behind the glasses so far askew they were almost completely off. His lips, swollen red from Tom’s teeth and pouted out as his breaths escaped past his lips. The red flush crossing his omegas face was staining his chest, covering his shoulders and lightening further down till where his stomach was. A deep grind made Tom smirk as he could see Rylands stomach jump, see how he could truly stir his sweet omegas insides up. Never mind his mind— although it had trapped them apart, it was still endearing to Tom, every moment Ryland would become lost in his tangents.

Right now he was enraptured again– although Ryland was lost in a different way, pupils blown, body shaking as Tom continued his hard thrusts— excitement shooting down his spine as he could feel the tension building in Rylands legs, in how his chest arched up with every other breath— Tom pressed closer as his hips slammed his cock home hard enough to shake the table below Ryland.

“Rylie,”

He murmured into his omegas ear

“You wanna be good for me yeah? Yeah Rylie?”

His omega whimpered, nodding again as his hands regained their grip on Tom’s shoulders— nails biting into skin, clawing at him in every way he liked. He drove his hips harder, with shorter thrusts as he licked his omega's ear, tongue diving into the sensitive space of Rylands helix as he practically purred.

“Then bite me.”

Tom knew Ryland was on the brink of orgasm again, had known he was waiting for Tom to give him permission to cum— but this sparked the feral side of the omega– the primal part that he had already let be in charge. Especially as Tom’s one hand threaded into Rylands hair, pressing Rylands mouth to Tom’s own scent gland. The pressure and a harsh thrust was all it took— Rylands mouth opening in a gasp to be pressed against the scent, and even he wasn’t strong enough to deny it.

Tom’s eyes rolled back as his omegas short fangs sunk into his neck, his mating gland— and he pressed closer to his omega, practically making them one creature as he thrusted shallowly in only a couple more times before his knot inflated, popping into his omegas cunt and locking him deep as he came himself— and returned the favor by pulling his omegas head back and biting down on his omegas scent gland.

No hand stopping him nor blocking him.

Just his perfect omega, claimed and tied to him.

“Fuck, gonna so be beautiful swollen with my pups Ryland.”

Tom moaned low into Rylands ear as he ground his hips in, letting his knot press harder against Ryland’s G-spot. He let his hands roam up and down Rylands hips, massaging the shaking thighs barely holding onto his waist. Tom kissed over the claiming mark he left on Ryland, nuzzling it as he huffed it deeper than any drug he had in the past. He turned his head to huff against Rylands hair, kissing lightly to encourage his little omega to nuzzle against his claiming bite on Tom. As soon as Rylands mouth latched on, Tom tucked his face back. As if they didn’t already fill the air with their scents– now they were expressing their scents, even as they seemed to change around them slightly.

They stayed like that for a while, both riding a pheromone and hormonal high.

Tom wouldn’t let anyone separate them again.