-x-x-x-

Chapter Seven

Unspoken

Message received 8:12 AM

Sent by: Francis B.

Subject: !

Where are you?! Two new transfer students at school – a senior Russian boy and his sophomore sister. Mon Dieu, his sister . . . well, best that you see for yourself! Pictures attached.

Alfred frowned, puzzled. If this unknown girl was enough to get Francis worked up, she was either extremely hot or extremely scandalous. Or both. If it was the latter, then cool. None of Alfred's business. If it was the former . . . yeah, he'd rather not have Arthur catch him ogling an incriminating picture just after they'd gotten together. And he was perfectly fine without suggestive viewing material anyway; porn had never really been his thing, and right now, he only had eyes for Arthur, and vice versa.

Still, curiosity got the better of him. Francis wouldn't have texted him in the middle of class for a trivial reason. Player though he was, Francis was surprisingly fussy about propriety; he must have gotten his hands on some interesting dirt on the new transfer students, whoever they were, and felt it needed immediate attention, regardless of the "no texting during class" rule. While normally that kind of thing wouldn't interest Alfred, it now made him wonder what exactly he was missing out on the only day he couldn't be at school.

So he opened up the first attachment, expecting to see something shocking.

He wasn't disappointed.

"What is it?" Arthur murmured. At some point, he'd slid off of Alfred and curled up under his arm, his slight body soft and comforting and sweetly, appropriately meek. Now Alfred felt him rub himself against his thigh, and would have recognized the resulting touch of dampness on his skin and Arthur's body language as signals of Arthur's desire for more bonding (Omegas in heat really were insatiable) if he hadn't been so distracted by the . . . image on his phone.

"Text from Francis. Oh my God, what the hell?"

Arthur stilled. "Francis?"

A sudden wave of scent — guilt, which Alfred was now quick to identify — rolled off him and soaked the air around them. Arthur must have known it, too; he detached himself from Alfred's side in one abrupt motion and scooted to the far end of the bed, his face half-panicked, half-frustrated.

Maybe that was one of the downsides to being mates: not being able to withhold secrets from each other without being caught out on it immediately.

"What about Francis?" Alfred asked, phone forgotten. The sinking feeling in his stomach gave his voice an edge. He'd been taught that Alphas were at their most protective and aggressive right before and during their mates' heats, often indiscriminately so, and he realized that this was true; he could almost feel the intimidation radiating off of his own skin, and Arthur had gone wide-eyed, his face paling by increments as he shrank into the bedding, trying to make himself as small as possible — a classic Omega reflex, triggered by fear.

Some part of Alfred was screaming at him to stop, to apologize, to hold Arthur close and coax him out of his paralysis and promise to never, ever give him any reason to fear Alfred again. That was what the perfect, textbook-example Alpha would do. Directed by the heat pheromones, a perfect Alpha would allow for his mate's skittishness and whims, and would do everything within his power to soothe and pamper and spoil . . . anything to keep his Omega feeling content and well-loved.

However, they were humans, not animals — they were complex beings with equally complex thought processes and morals and defense mechanisms. Sometimes, their emotions overruled their instincts and turned reason on its head, and they wound up doing things that went against the norm.

Alfred didn't reach out. He didn't move to draw Arthur into the safety and reassurance of his arms. Instead, he let his gaze bore into him, let the silence stretch into an abyss. Arthur lowered his eyes immediately, fingers tangled nervously in the sheets. They both knew eye contact meant equality in type, or a challenge; it might have been a concept with ancient, nearly outdated roots, but it was still tried and true. Omegas and even Betas developed habits that warned them against violating this rule, which, if broken carelessly, would land them in hot water with their superior Alpha counterparts. Arthur was falling back on his nature now — displaying obedience and humility, cowering like a whipped dog before its displeased master.

It repelled Alfred, because while they couldn't help their own types, their relationship wasn't supposed to be so one-dimensional and clear-cut, so Alpha-Omega, so dominant-submissive. They were friends; best friends. Arthur shouldn't feel the need to grovel, and Alfred shouldn't feel the need to "put him in his place" like they were no more than what their DNA told them they were. And yet, his baser instincts thrilled at Arthur's compliance; seeing Arthur so low, so utterly nonresistant to his will made Alfred feel large and powerful and entitled — which was how an Alpha was supposed to feel. The control he wielded over Arthur, the extent of which he was just beginning to grasp, was intoxicating. He couldn't just overlook it. In his gut, pride and righteousness warred with reluctance and guilt . . . and won.

"What about Francis?" he repeated. His voice was quiet, cold as steel, foreign to his own ears.

Arthur trembled, head still bowed. "We didn't do anything. He never touched me except in eighth grade, and that was an accident; nothing binding happened then. If he'd mated with me before you, he would have left his scent on me and you would have been able to smell him. He doesn't mean anything to me. He never did. We never did anything. I swear we never did anything." His hormones were clearly making him babble. His terror of losing Alfred, of being abandoned for being less than the perfect Omega . . . that would have been obvious even without the heavy scent pheromones his body was exuding. It was the natural gut reaction of his kind to an Alpha mate's displeasure.

"Then why —" Alfred struggled to put his feelings into words. "Why did you suddenly start smelling weird when I mentioned him? Like — like you did something wrong that you should feel bad about, or something. What's going on, Arthur?"

Arthur's gaze sidled from his lap off to the side, and a distracted look came over his face, as if he was reliving a memory. "Last year," he said hesitantly, "Francis asked me to be his second mate."

Alfred stared at him. "He what?" His stomach felt as if it'd been filled with ice. No. No way. He did not do that. Why would he? Since when has he been interested in Arthur — interested for real? He's always getting on Arthur's nerves, and teasing me about the two of us mating one day . . . not to mention how he's always talking about how much he loves his first mate and his daughter . . . why would he . . . why? He knows that I staked a claim on Arthur even though we weren't bonded until yesterday!

An embarrassed flush rose in Arthur's cheeks. "Y-you heard me . . . I said, he asked me to —"

"But why? Why the hell would he do that?"

Fidgeting with the sheets, Arthur responded with a meek shrug, then flowed back to Alfred's end of the bed and sank down on his elbows and knees, facing the headboard. He curved his spine, pushed his hips upward, slid his thighs farther apart until Alfred could see absolutely everything glistening in the faint morning light. "I don't want him. I've never wanted him. . . . Please, Alfred . . . please don't be angry with me," Arthur whispered. There was humiliation in his voice and more than a little shame, both entirely human emotions . . . but for the most part, he sounded utterly, undeniably humble. He was an Omega trying to appease his Alpha by assuming the most vulnerable and subservient position he knew how to, encoded in his genes and built into his being. It wasn't a position solely associated with sex. It was about displaying his most private parts to his mate, allowing his own weakness to psychologically please his Alpha, letting Alfred know that he could now properly assert his dominance in a way that no one would be able to question.

And Alfred didn't turn down his chance. Feeling more animal than human, hating it and relishing it at the same time, he mounted Arthur from behind. Arthur arched his neck, giving him a place to lay down his mark, and Alfred leaned over and bit him. Hard. Arthur's scent flared with pain, sharp and bitter in his nose, as the tangy taste of blood seeped across his tongue.

When Arthur finally stopped shaking and took a shuddering breath, Alfred let go. A mouth-shaped patch at the nape of Arthur's neck was pinched and purple; the skin was torn, the flesh underneath red and swollen, the six teeth marks around it dark with blood. He'd used more force than necessary, he knew; a simple nip would have sufficed. The point of the ritual wasn't to hurt the Omega, after all. But somehow . . . it felt appropriate to him. This way, no Alpha — especially none like Francis — could claim Arthur without knowing exactly whose authority they were trying to challenge, or without knowing the pain Arthur had endured to ensure that he belonged to one person, and one person only.

It was more than likely that there would be scars left over. And though hurting Arthur like that made Alfred ache inside, it needed to be done. Watching Arthur assume lordosis for him hadn't been enough of a guarantee. Leaving the permanent symbol of his dominance made up for the difference.

Alfred straightened, and let his fingers rest lightly on Arthur's Omega mark. He traced it once, feeling it scorch his fingertips, then trailed down Arthur's spine, Arthur's tailbone, until he could thumb the place where Arthur was stretched so accommodatingly around him.

"Al," Arthur said softly.

"Yeah?"

"I chose you . . . because I-I care for you. Francis has never and will never mean anything to me. Please . . . believe me."

Alfred bent over him again and pressed his chest to his warm, supple back. "I know." He kissed the salty tears from the corner of one gemlike green eye, then very gently touched his mouth to Arthur's. "I believe you."

A/N: To be honest, I dislike this chapter. I felt like I went wrong with it somewhere. But now you guys know what direction this fic is going in, at least. I hope.