Hi there!

This is a little story I wrote quite a while ago for another prompt on xmen first kink.

I have written a bit more to it since then (my writing pace is truly glacial sometimes) and I wanted to upload it here, too, for archival purposes.

This is an Alpha/Omega story, so this is a world where men go into heat and can get pregnant.

If that's not your cup of tea, now would be the time to find another story.

I will probably post about one chapter per week, so that will hopefully give me time to catch up on the stuff in the future chapters.

Enjoy!

Warnings for: Dubious consent, spanking

Charles feels the first wave of heat hit him when he's in the middle of purchasing supplies for his latest experiment. Sod this, he waited weeks for the minerals, he won't leave them behind now just because of some stupid biological issues. He should be fine for another hour, two hours at least. It's plenty of time to finish his purchase and head back to the estate.

And, well, it would have been, too, but then he unconsciously takes the road where the bookstore is, and stops there for just a minute to look through the newest scientific publications and – how on earth did it become two hours later, that can't be possible!

He has been ignoring the building tension and warmth in his body in favor of concentrating on that fascinating article in this journal and so the second wave hits him as a bit of a surprise. He rather unceremoniously drops the journal and hurries out of the door, determined to get back to the safety of his own rooms in time.

Everyone knows what happens to unclaimed Omegas who are so reckless as to venture outside alone while in heat. Waking up mated to an Alpha who happened to be in the vicinity is the best-case-scenario and he has heard enough gruesome tales of Omegas who have been raped and left behind to last him a lifetime. He's been avoiding this fate quite easily so far, which is not very hard when you live in a giant mansion and tend to spend your days holed up either in the library or in your study.

He's not even a quarter of a mile deep into the woods surrounding the estate when the third wave hits him – it's beginning for real, now. The tremors start and the heat spreads through his whole body and won't subside and his clothes are feeling constricting and itchy. Normally, this would be his cue to curl up in bed and slip out of rational thinking for the next three days until he surfaces again in a bed with fresh sheets and a lot of water and comfort food on his bedside table. He's eternally grateful for Mrs McCloud who cares for him (and all other unbound Omegas on the estate) during such times.

Well, not this time. His legs are so shaky, they just give out under him and he barely makes it to the side of the road on his hands and knees, hiding behind some bushes in the last feeble attempt of self-preservation he's able to manage before he just collapses to the ground with a groan.

He feels too hot and too cold at the same time, slipping in and out of consciousness a few times before he finally goes under as the sun sets.

The last things he remembers before loosing coherency are warm and strong hands lifting him up and a gruff voice muttering, "What a goddamn fool goes for a walk in the woods when he knows his heat is coming on?"

His nose tells him Alpha, yes, good, secure and he feels instinct taking over his brain with a force like never before. He doesn't mind, though.

Well. He didn't mind back then during the heat – he does mind quite a bit waking up next to a virtual stranger three days later in a room in the tavern in town with a bonding bracelet on his wrist.

This is what he has learned happened during the time he was in heat:

Erik Lehnsherr, that's what he's called, is on his way back home from a market day where he was selling his baskets. Then he catches the scent of Charles by the side of the road and like any self-respecting previously unbound Alpha simply has to aid him in this time of need. So he takes him back to the tavern in town where they are, of course, prepared for this sort of thing and also know Charles' name and that his family will pay for all expenses.

Once in such close proximity to an available Alpha Charles' body can't rest until he's mated, of course. He wishes he had some memories that are a bit more detailed than a vague sense of being cared for and feeling the awful tension of heat melt away for the first time in … forever, actually. He's not overly sore, either. All of this tells him that Lehnsherr must have treated him right, but that doesn't help his frustration at being trapped in the life of an Omega mated to a commoner.

His mother and stepfather seem rather relieved to see him go, and the one bag of possessions he has been allowed to take is far too small (he longs to take his entire library – how can he part from any of his beloved books?) and far too heavy simultaneously (after carrying that blasted thing miles and miles through the landscape - honestly, how does Lehnsherr ever get into Westchester town on a market day? Does he leave in the middle of the night?).

He heaves a long-suffering sigh and shifts the strap of his bag to his other shoulder.

"I can't believe it! Me, former future Earl of Xavier, bonded to a lowly basket maker of all people! All my ancestors must be turning in their graves!" Charles grumbles as he trails sullenly behind his new mate, kicking at stones on the street.

"Shut up, Xavier," the peasant growls, and Charles bristles at the nerve of that bloody commoner.

"That's My Lord to you!"

The next thing he knows, he is shoved against the rough wall of one of the huts they were passing by, hard. Lehnsherr has a tight grip on his shirt and their faces are mere inches apart.

"Listen up, Xavier. You belong to me now, so I'll call you whatever I damn well please. I'm not happy to be bonded to a spoiled brat either, but now we have to live with it. And when I tell you to shut up, you better close that disrespectful mouth of yours at once, or else."

Charles, unfortunately, has never been one to leave well enough alone, so he just glares at him defiantly.

"Or else what?"

There is a dangerous glint in Lehnsherr's eyes now. "Or else I'll take down your fine britches and give you the sound spanking you've been asking for all day."

Charles blanches and his voice sounds suspiciously like a squeak. "What, in the middle of the street?!"

"Yes. So you'd better behave yourself."

And with that, Charles suddenly is released. He staggers for a moment, his mind reeling with what he's just heard.

He wouldn't really... would he? Charles decides to bide his time for now. It can't be that much farther to Lehnsherr's village, surely.

This, Charles thinks while he lies on his lumpy bag of straw that constitutes the bed, is not how this was supposed to work.

He's exhausted and quite a bit sore from the ridiculously long walk to Lehnsherr's village and then all the menial work Lehnsherr made him do (oh how the mighty have fallen!) and must have nearly bitten his tongue off a good dozen times during the day, because Lehnsherr made it very clear what he thinks about backchat. As in, he went so far as to actually swat Charles' behind on two occasions, leaving him fuming with indignation. If Charles didn't have the misfortune to being bonded to this bastard, he could have had the offending hand chopped off by now.

Charles has had quite a clear picture of his future mate, little that he thought about the subject.

It was supposed to be someone of his own social class, someone nice and proper, not some gruff, illiterate, filthy peasant!

He was supposed to be properly courted with thoughtful presents and dances and tea and walks in the park supervised by a chaperon.

Then there was supposed to be a wonderful spring wedding, the whole estate bustling with guests, and a gigantic feast and a romantic honeymoon, afterwards.

Alas, none of that will ever happen now.

This, of course, leads him to think about all the things he'll probably never see again (he doesn't spare much thought to his relatives, they aren't so hard to leave behind as there never was much love wasted between them), and though the grounds of Westchester estate are dear to him and he'll miss his stallion, what really gets him down is the loss of his study with all his carefully collected books and journals and the little experiments he had worked on. He can't remember a time when he hasn't been fascinated by books and science and the hunger for knowledge, and now, just because of one stupid miscalculation on his part he is condemned to an endless life full of mindless chores and a surly mate and there's not even the tiniest shimmer of hope that this will ever change.

He curls up on his side and tries to make as little noise as possible, but he can't quite muffle every sound as tears begin running down his face.

He startles when he feels a calloused hand on his shoulder and tries to curl up even more into himself. But the hand is insistent and so he finally rolls over, only to be tucked securely against the side of his mate.

"Go to sleep, Charles," the familiar rough voice mumbles, and it sounds as tired as he feels. That must have been the first time he has heard his given name since he left the estate - and frankly, it scares him rather a bit. He's used to Lehnsherr being stern and demanding by now, but this feels... almost gentle.

He can't quite reconcile these two different sides of his mate, not in his exhausted state, anyway.

So he opts for concentrating on the circles Lehnsherr's hand slowly rubs into his shoulders and feels himself relax, his breathing evening out and his eyes drying finally.

Shortly before he falls asleep he feels something that could be a kiss pressed to his temple. Surely he must be dreaming already.

And that's it for now, folks!

I hope you enjoyed, feedback is always welcomed. ^_^