Pidge had said that she was a Beta when she filled out that form for the Garrison. She hadn't presented yet, so it was the only choice. Just like all of the Beta's enlisted in the Garrison, she was issued a kit of emergency suppressants. She had kept it with her, she knew it would stupid not to, but she had never used any on anyone.
She might have to use one on herself.
It wasn't a bad assumption that she'd really end up a Beta. She had never been as aggressive as an Alpha, or as nice and caring as an Omega was. Her mother and father had been Betas too. Although she hadn't known her grandparents, she didn't recall any Alphas being in her family lineage. But even she could see the signs.
Unwarranted aggression
Last week at breakfast, Pidge had gotten mad at Shiro over something completely stupid: him patting Lance on the shoulder. She had growled, growled at him. She had blushed and said it was a cough, but she could still feel Shiro's overbearing scent fill the room in response.
2. Scent sensitivity
Even though it was a pleasant, almost pine-like scent, and one that she had grown used to over those years of training before Kerberos, and then again from their time together in space, it had made her feel sick, and she had wanted nothing more than to leave the room to escape it. She had managed to finish her meal before escaping to her room, but his scent had lingered, until she and Lance had their daily video game session.
3. Increased arousal near Omegas
Lance had always had that faint, somewhat sweet scent. Her sense of smell had been too weak to pick up on the finer details of it, but even so, she had known that it smelled like sugar. But as he sat next to her, attempting to pass her simulated Ferrari, she caught a good sniff.
He smelled like cinnamon and sugar, like warm cinnamon rolls fresh from that mall store. Her stomach clenched, and her car crashed into the side railing, allowing Lance to pass by her. "Ha!" He said, leaning into her lap to block her view. Rather than leaning out to the side, and steering away, she stayed still, and took another deep breath. Her underwear felt too tight on her pelvis, and suddenly, it seemed like a really good idea to tell Lance about the crush that she had on him.
That was when she had gotten worried about the signs. She'd excused herself before the match was over, much to Lance's confusion, and disappeared into her room, only leaving for meals and training for the next day.
She really couldn't tell if she was an Alpha without the help of Lance's intoxicating scent. Sure, Keith was an Omega too, but he was claimed by Shiro, so he didn't have much of an effect or a smell; he smelled just like Shiro, only slightly sweeter, like someone had doused a pine tree in vanilla. She'd considered asking Hunk if she smelled any different, but that would give her away, wouldn't it? She wasn't really ready to tell anyone, but they'd find out soon enough if she didn't do anything about her scent. Which left her with the kit.
There were only ten suppressants per dynamic, five for Alphas and five for Omegas. The kit also holds four condoms, two of which are heavy duty, and a knockout pill, made for extreme emergencies. If she really was an Alpha, and that's what it seemed like, she'd need to start taking a small dose of suppressants to help make her presentation go smoothly. If she was back on Earth, she'd be taking some meant especially for newly presenting Alpha's, and it would happen so slowly and seamlessly, the others in her pack would easily be able to get used to it and their group dynamic wouldn't be disrupted. But even if she managed to divide the suppressants into the correct doses and took them sparingly, it would still be very obvious that she was changing because of her behavior, and would probably disrupt the pack's cohesiveness.
Still, it would be better than just waking up one day, her scent suddenly overbearing and strong whereas it used to be almost nonexistent, and having to deal with readjusting her placement in the pack. Pidge sighs and pulls a pill from it's container. If each pill is five milligrams, and her weight is one hundred and twelve, the best dose would be-
Someone knocks on her door, and the noise startles her. The pill drops to the floor, and for a moment, she can't find the oblong tablet. The lights in her room are off, and the only illumination is from her laptop. It's not nearly enough for her to see the pill, but the light switch is by the door. She bites her lip. The knocking continues persistently. If she leaves the pill there, what are the chances that it'll be found by whoever's knocking?
"Dude, I know you're in there. I've been out here for like, an hour." Lance calls through the door.
Not very high.
Wait, why was he out there so long? That was something more like what she'd do; her crush on Lance had manifested in making her overthink their interactions way too much. Lance had always been the more impulsive type (not as impulsive as Keith though. She didn't think anyone could be more impulsive than that.)
She shoves the kit back under her bed, and places her laptop on the bed. Lance always complains that she's wasting a perfectly good desk by always sitting on the floor, but she prefers to feel the ground beneath her than the chair. It reminds her of all of those nights of hiding in the closet so her parents wouldn't catch her on her computer after bedtime.
"Coming." She grumbles as she crosses the room, tripping over a box of spare parts. She turns on the lights, and forces her eyes to adjust before opening the door.
Lance is leaning on the opposite wall, skin flushed. His hair sticks to his face, and his eyes seem unfocused. Even without smelling him, Pidge can tell that he's going into heat. The thought prompts her to take a deep breath, and then his scent hits her like a truck. For a moment, all she can think of is the image of Lance, curled underneath her, a mewl escaping from him bared throat. She shakes her head and stands back, holding her breath as he passes her.
Pidge closes the door, and watches as he climbs onto her bed. He smells so sweet, too sweet, as if she's standing in a candy store. It makes her feel hungry, hungry in a way that's all at once familiar and completely foreign. She wants something (she knows what it is, but she refuses to say it.) It scares her; is this what it feels like to be an Alpha? Always on the edge of exploding, of losing yourself? She focuses on Lance's eyes, and forces herself to say something, anything.
"You look like shit."
Lance rolls his eyes. "Well, duh. Why'd you think I came to you?"
Pidge locks the door, and carefully walks back to her bed. As she gets closer, she only feels worse, like she's been out in the heat all day and is on the verge of fainting. So sitting next to him on the bed is out. She glances at the desk, across from the foot of the bed. It's about four feet away. Close enough to not be rude, but far enough away so that his scent won't be as intoxicating as it is now; she won't be able to hold a conversation if she feels drunk.
She grabs her laptop off of the bed, and drops into the chair, the computer clutched in her lap like a safety blanket.
Pidge shrugs. "I dunno. Why did you?"
Lance pulls her pillows from the head of her bed to the center, and pulls the blankets in close. He pauses and gestures to himself dramatically. "I'm about to go in heat, and do you really think I want to go walking around smelling like this?"
Pidge frowns. Although the smell is admittedly distracting, Pidge doesn't want it to go away. It's comforting, she thinks, and reminds her of days spent in the mall cafeteria, playing computer games and hiding from mall security. What she does want is to mark him, to cover him in her scent, and let everyone know that he's hers.
"That still doesn't answer my question. Get to the point." She snaps.
Lance's playful attitude disappears, and he hunkers down further in his makeshift nest. "I need to use your suppressors. Hunk ran out and he hasn't figured out how to synthesize more yet."
For a moment, she wonders if she's been given away by her tone; Lance had given into her request, or rather, her order just like he would give in to Shiro's. But he doesn't seem to look twice at her, and doesn't say anything about how she spoke to him.
"Alright." She relents, sliding off of her chair. She tries her best not to think about his scent as she lays flat on the ground and reaches under the bed. She the sharp corner of the kit scratches her palm and she pulls it out and into her lap. Lance watches her lazily from his perch on her bed as she opens the container and pulls out the pills.
"One's missing." He points out, and Pidge realizes that the spot where the second Alpha suppressant sat is empty.
She rips the package in half and gives him the Omega half.
"Here." She thrusts the package into his face. He takes it from her gingerly and sticks it into his jacket pocket.
"Did Shiro take one or something?" Lance asks, not moving from his makeshift nest. Pidge sighs. She was hoping that he would've left after she handed over the pills, giving her time to deal with the awkward tension in her pants. For an Omega, Lance is horrible at reading the mood.
She shakes her head. "I dropped it somewhere."
Pidge is getting used to his scent, she thinks. She doesn't feel as distant anymore, and she can avoid thinking of Lance lying beneath her, submissively baring his throat to her if she really tries. Maybe she can hold out for a bit longer.
Lance points at the floor, and she looks down, only to find the lost pill sitting obviously by the end of the bed where she was previously sitting. Damn it. "I can see that, but why's it even out? Betas don't need-" Lance cuts himself off and moves closer to the edge of the bed that she leans upon. He takes a precarious sniff, and leans back, away from her head. "You're not a Beta."
Pidge curls her fingers into her palms, nails digging into her skin like little mosquitos biting. If she had taken the pill just a little bit earlier, if she hadn't hesitated, if she hadn'tve dropped it, Lance would have never known. She freezes. f Lance can smell it, the others would soon be able to. She's running out of time.
"I-I didn't know until yesterday. I was trying to figure it out when you came in. I mean, I thought I wasn't going to present. I mean, come on, my whole family's either Betas or Omegas, and I mean, I'm almost eighteen. Most people present around fifteen, and-" She realizes that she is rambling, and closes her mouth. She probably made it worse that it already was.
Lance snorts. "Well, I'd imagine being isolated hasn't helped either. And you've got all that radiation to factor in. It took Keith another year out here for him to fully present, remember? And he's like, two years older than you." He flops backwards into the bed, covers sticking to his moist skin.
Right. He had come to her because he was going into heat. She could help with that.
Her face went red. Not that kind of help. More like, the caregiving, watching over him kind of help. It was obvious by how he was craving heat, even though he was burning up, that he wouldn't be able to handle this on his own. Of course, the other kind of help would end his heat a lot faster, and it wasn't like she was going to object if he asked. Not that he would. Lance was forward, but would never try and flirt with someone like her.
Lance raises a brow at her flushed expression and sudden silence. "Dude, I promise it's not gonna change anything between us. You should probably tell Shiro beforehand so you don't catch him by surprise."
Pidge nods. She probably should tell the others right away, so that Allura can adjust her secondary gender, and Hunk can help her synthesize something to make her presentation go more smoothly as soon as possible. But first, she needs to go ahead and ask Lance, before his heat gets too bad.
"So, do you need any help?" Lance stares at her, his pretty face twisted in confusion. "With your heat." She clarifies.
Lance blushes, heat rushing to his face, and his scent glands releasing more pheromones into the air.
"Like I normally do, I mean. Keeping you from overheating, providing food…" She trails off.
Lance sits up, brushing away the assorted pillows and blankets. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
Pidge feels a flare of anger. "Are you doubting me? I'm your friend, Lance!"
Lance folds into himself, a low and angry whine escaping from his throat, as he bares it to her in submission. Pidge turns away. "Sorry." She mutters. She hadn't meant to inflict her dominance on him, especially over such a small thing; she hated Alphas who did that to others in order to get their way. There were way too many of them at the Garrison, and she never wanted to be like them. How could she do that to Lance?
"I'm gonna go." Lance says, sliding off of the bed. He disappears out of her door before she can say anything. Not that she really knew what to say anyways, she thinks dejectedly.
OoOoOoO
"So, you're an Alpha?" Allura says, leaning her head forward so that Pidge can reach the strands of hair hanging loosely in the front.
Pidge nods, and starts twisting her hair, and pulling them back to meet in the back of her head, where her left hand holds the other strands to keep them from unwinding. It's intricate and time consuming, and that's why Pidge like to do it with Allura; Allura wears it for a while afterwards, and everytime she sees it, she remembers the times like this one, where they can pretend that all they have to worry about are crushes and awkward conversations rather than saving the galaxy from a genocidal war lord. "Lance submitted to me. I wasn't even trying to. It just came out, and now I can't stop thinking about it."
"But you apologized, did you not?"
Pidge nods. "Yeah. But Lance has barely looked at me since then, and we haven't played video games together in like, a week."
Allura looks back at her, the movement displacing her hair and uncovering the scent glands on her neck, allowing more of the scent to escape into the room. Pidge is still getting used to her stronger sense of smell. Whereas the only person she used to really notice was Shiro, now she can smell everyone clearly. Allura doesn't smell like anything in particular. Not spicy, and strong, like an Alpha, or sweet and warm like an Omega, or even pleasantly neutral like a Beta. She's in-between genders and it's helping Pidge keep her new instincts in check by hanging around her.
Allura is a Delta, a secondary gender specific to Alteans, whose shape shifting ability allows her to change in order to fit in better. She can change between an Alpha, Beta or an Omega, depending on what the circumstance called for. Since their dynamic is changing, she isn't sure where she fit in yet, which means Allura still treats her like normal.
"He just has to get used to you. You smell different, and with his heat coming on, even with the suppressors, he's bound to be nervous around new Alphas. Give it time."
Pidge pulls another twist back to the growing bunch. Her interest is piqued. She hadn't even considered her own scent. "What do I smell like?"
Allura pauses, and taps her finger on her chin. "Like… spices on a hot stove. Like, juniberries, almost."
Pidge has no idea what the hell Juniberries smell like, but she's pretty sure she'll find out eventually what it's similar to. She wraps a rubber band around the bunch, and lets go. The style settles, and Pidge has to admit, she did a pretty good job on it.
"Have you told Shiro?" Allura asks, holding up a hand mirror to admire the complicated hairstyle.
Pidge shakes her head. "No, I was gonna do it after I talked to Lance, but I lost my nerve after...what I did."
Allura raises a brow and pulls her off of the bed to sit beside her on the floor. It's just as plush as the Altean blankets that rest on the bed. "You do realize that letting him suddenly smell your scent one day isn't a good idea for someone as...for someone like him?"
Pidge nods, her face hot at the implied admonishment; beneath her embarrassment is the stirrings of anger, something that's been happening a lot lately.
"He might not recognise you, and you could get hurt." Allure continues. She pauses, gives Pidge a chance to respond, but she stays 's she supposed to say when Allura is right and Pidge doesn't actually have a logical reason for not telling him? "I'll tell him if you don't."
"No." Pidge growls, and Allura flinches. Damn it! She did it again. Pidge lowers her eyes. "Sorry."
Allura waves her apology away with a hint of a smile tugging on her lips. "It's to be expected, Pidge. I promise, it's fine. But you really should tell him; you know me well enough to know that I follow through with my threats."
Pidge sighs. She knows that logically, it's the best thing to do. She may be an Alpha, but Shiro is their Alpha, the one who runs the pack. If she waits too long, it'll just make a bigger mess of things. After all, Shiro is essentially a brother to her; he'll accept her no matter what. "Alright. I'll tell him." She meets Allura's imploring gaze. "But on my terms."
OoOoOoOoOoO
Shiro follows a strict schedule. He always has, for as long as she's known him. Even back on Earth, during those days when Kerberos was just a distant dream, Shiro kept to a strict schedule. Dinner with the Holts on Tuesdays and Thursdays, always at six, never later. And just like clockwork, Shiro does the same thing here.
Shiro meditates from seven in the morning until seven fifty-five, when he'll head down to the dining room to eat. Barely anyone is awake at that time, and those who are stay to themselves. It's the perfect time for Pidge to get him alone and to herself.
"Shiro?" Pidge calls tentatively from the doorway.
Shiro opens his eyes, and his body tenses. His head snaps to her, and for a moment, he looks like he can't see her. She can smell his aggression, a need to protect himself, and his territory; like metal, hot from being left in the sun. She feels herself tense, and a growl hitches in her throat. He's a threat, one that is an immediate concern and her instinct is to fight him, but that'll only make things worse. She bares her neck in submission, a gesture she knows well enough, and then his gaze clears. The act of submission feels wrong, and the urge to fight flares up again, but she forces it away, and waits for him to relax. His body slumps, as much as Shiro can slump anyways, and then his expression melts into confusion.
"Pidge? What- what's that-," He pauses and clears his throat. "You smell different."
Pidge walks into the dojo styled room, stopping at the edge of the almost room sized mat to kick off her shoes before continuing to his side. She kneels opposite to him and takes a deep breath. But the dojo smells like him, and it doesn't do anything to calm her. Pidge still feels that lingering need to defend and fight, combating with the urge to submit to her superior.
"I thought I was a Beta, I mean, it was a safe guess with my family history. But I just started presenting, like just in the past few weeks and I'm ninety percent sure that I'm an Alpha. No, scratch that. I'm an Alpha." She pauses, both to take a breath and to gauge his expression. Shiro doesn't seem perturbed, but rather, still confused. She continues. "So, I, uh, I'm sorry for not telling you sooner, and I wanted to let you know that I'm trying my best to make this change as least disruptive as it can be."
Shiro nods, and stands, offering her a hand. She accepts it, and they leave the mat to put on their shoes again. It must be seven fifty-five by now. "I'm glad you told me." He hesitates. "Do you mind if I smell you? I don't want to accidentally mix up your scent with an enemy's, especially since you smell so different now."
"No problem."
Shiro leans over and she bares her neck, allowing him better access to her neck gland. His breath tickles on her neck, and she shivers, prompting him to pull away.
Shiro chuckles, and they start walking to the kitchen. "I used to think that you smelled like your brother, y'know, just a little less intense. Blueberries and nutmeg. But now, I think you smell more like curry. Lemon, and curry, actually."
Pidge smiles. "Thanks, Shiro,"
OoOoOoOoO
Lance isn't the type to ignore people, or avoid them, and within another day, he's back to playing video games with her.
His suppressors are only working marginally; they expired a long time ago, and do little more than lessen the scent of his heat. Pidge has gotten used to it; she's smelled it all week. Lingering in his chair at the dinner table, or in the hangar or on his armor, hanging next to hers in the changing room. It doesn't affect her as much as it had that first day, but she still feels it. It's annoying, how being around him makes her underwear suddenly feel too tight, and restricting, how all she can think of is going back to her room and masturbating (she hates the word, but she hates the euphemisms for it more), when all she wants to do is to go back to normal, when she could ignore that she was attracted to him. She wants to tell him that she likes him, has liked him for a while now, but what kind of person does that to an Omega still in his heat? She doesn't want to force herself onto him; if they are going to be together, she wants him to be fully consenting.
"Ha!" Lance elbows her as his character lunges at hers, knocking her off balance enough just long enough for him to make a hit. If he had the skills for it, that is. She dodges, and elbows him back, knocking him down into the collection of pillows and blankets that he's dragged around them throughout their session. She's unsure of where most of them originated from, but she can identify a few blankets from the storage closest among them.
"You thought!" She laughs, as she changes weapons, and stuns his character. It spasms and attempt to reach for it's gun. She hits it with her melee, and coupled with the electrocution, it's health bar soon reaches zero.
Lance groans, and lays flat on the cushions, his hands behind his head. "Ugh….not fair."
"It's your fault that you decided to fight dirty." Pidge shrugs as she turns off the game system and places the controllers back into their cases.
"Blasphemy!" He cries, flailing his arms and legs.
Their laughter dies out, and then the room is silent, except for the sound of their breathing, and the gentle thrum of the engine, a constant background when in space.
Lance sits up, and his face is serious. "So, I'm pretty sure that you can smell it, but I'm gonna hit the middle of my heat soon. I mean, this whole thing's only lasting like two weeks, and the suppressors helped me through most of last week, so that's like, what, three? Bad days left. And, um, I was wondering if you would help me out with it?"
Pidge raises a brow. She had thought that her aggressive reaction to him last time would've deterred him from asking. This is honestly more surprising than the time when Coran actually made a good and edible meal. "Really?" She asks, hope audible in her voice. She'll be damned if she doesn't look just like a puppy begging for a treat.
Lance nods, a faint blush gracing the curve of his nose and cheeks. "You're prettier to look at than Hunk is, and if I'm stuck in heat for a while, I'd rather be watched over by an angel than a mechanic."
Did Lance just flirt with her?
There's no way, she thinks. He can't like her back. It's impossible.
She feels her own face grow hot in response. With her pale complexion, it's unavoidable that she's blushing like mad. "Thanks."
OoOoOoOoOoO
"So does he like me, or what?" Pidge groans, draping herself over Hunk's lap. He doesn't look away from the card tower that he's building. It's already tall enough for him to work on it from the comfort of the bed.
He places another triangle on top and lowers his hand for another set of cards. Pidge slaps them lazily into his hand.
"Why not just ask him?"
Pige throws her hands up in exasperation, almost knocking Hunk's arm into his tower. He glares at her and then carefully resumes the calibrated placement of his cards. "Because he asked me to help him with his heat, and if he doesn't like me, it'll be incredibly awkward if I actually do go into rut or something and y'know..." She trails off, and starts playing with her hair; It's just barely long enough now for her to wear it in two pigtails, her usual style.
Hunk sighs. "Do you want me to ask him for you?"
Pidge grins. "Very much."
"Fine," Hunk concedes, placing a final card tent on top, finishing the grand card castle. He picks up a pillow and throws it at the intercom. It beeps and flashes red. "Call Lance."
Pidge gapes at him as the system connects. "I didn't mean-"
Hunk shushes her as Lance's sleepy voice blares through the speakers. "Whaaat?"
"Yo, Lance. Come down to my room. It's a Code blue."
"Coming." Lance replies, his voice suddenly clear of sleep, and alert. The intercom beeps again, and the message ends.
"Come on!" Pidge whines, climbing out of Hunk's lap. The traitor.
Hunk shrugs, and smiles mercilessly. "If you don't want him to see you when he comes in, you better hide."
Pidge slides off of the bed and searches the room. The desk? Too conspicuous. The closet? Too far away for her to hear anything. The bed? She lifts the bedcovers and peeks underneath. Unlike her bed, which hides a huge mass of stuff that she was too lazy to properly put away, Hunk's is spotless. It's a bit of a tight fit, but she manages to slide under, just before the door slides open.
The movement disturbs Hunk's card tower, which falls to the ground in a huge heap. She watches as Lance pushes the cards to the side and climbs onto the bed beside Hunk.
"You got the beef?" Lance whispers conspiratorially.
Hunk doesn't say anything, so she assumes that he's nodding.
Someone shifts on the bed above her, and the bottom of the bed presses down on her back. "What's the price?"
"Do you like Pidge?" Hunk asks bluntly. If Pidge could move her arms freely, she'd facepalm. Why the hell did he think that it was a good idea to be so straightforward about it? What if Lance figured out that Pidge was the one that asked Hunk to ask? Oh, quiznak. This was a bad idea.
And then Lance breaks the silence.
"Dude. Is it that obvious?"
Hunk laughs, and the whole bed frame shakes with it. "It kinda is. I mean, you flirt with her all the time."
"But I flirt with everybody!" Lance protests.
"Yeah, but you actually get flustered when you flirt with her. But the real question is, if she gave you the option of 'helping' you through your heat, would you turn her down?" Hunk questions, sliding off the bed to pile together his cards. He offers Pidge a small smile as she holds out a few cards that ended up under the bed.
"True. And, duh, of course not!" Lance says, sliding to the floor beside him. Hunk moves to block his view of under his bed as Lance starts piling cards together. "Now what's your beef?"
"Shay wants me to come visit overnight."
"Really?" Lance says, disappointment obvious in his downcast tone. She'd be disappointed too, if Hunk considered that worthy of a confession.
"Alone," Hunk specifies. "And she's got her own place now, so, uh, there'll be no one else around."
Lance starts to chortle. "Someone's gonna get lucky."
Hunk snorts. "You could too, if you'd just say something."
It doesn't take long for them to finish gathering the cards, and then Lance returns to his bed, leaving Pidge and Hunk alone. She slides out from under the bed, and dusts herself off.
"Happy now?" Hunk asks, arms crossed, and an amused smile plastered on his face.
"Very."
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
Keith snorts periodically as she recounts the whole ordeal, talking over the untranslated Altean soap operas that play unnoticed on the vid-screen.
"You got any tips?"
He pauses in flipping through his comic, a dog-eared page pressed between his fingers as he attempts to straighten it. "Why're you asking me? Can't you ask Shiro or something for advice?"
Pidge shrugs and flips to another movie, this one an animation with a style similar to the one prominently used on Earth, at least, while she was back on Earth. "You're an omega. You got wooed by Shiro while in heat, and I can't imagine you made it easy-"
"Hey!" He protests, tossing a pillow at her head.
She tilts her head to the side, and it misses her, flying to the side to bounce off of the lamp harmlessly. "So, he must've done something right."
Keith rolls his eyes and turns the page. She catches a glimpse of a naked dude, and she's pretty sure that the cover page depicting a superhero is intentionally misleading. "Look, he's gonna want sex cause all of that emergency suppressor use is catching up with him. Just follow your instincts, and it'll be fine." He turns the page back once, then flips back to the current page. "Oh, and as long as you aren't too aggressive, he'll love it. He has a thing for dom chicks."
Pidge still has the shame to blush; even though their culture is very sex positive, it's still kinda embarrassing to talk about with friends. Especially since just about everyone but Lance knows about her plans. They've been making it kinda obvious with their commentary at dinner and in the halls when they pass by each other. She's only been saved from talking about it prematurely because of Lance's obliviousness.
"Thanks," She manages, just as she turns the channel again. This time, it pauses on a scene where three humanoid figures are intertwined. Their lewd moans and suggestive positioning ensure that her face is even more red than before.
OoOoOoOoO
The next day, Pidge reports to his room at ten o'clock sharp, as she's done so many times before. This time feels different. Before, it was just a job, something that she did to help out her friend. Even after she started liking him, she'd been able to maintain that veneer of professionalism. But now, two variables have changed. One, she's an Alpha now. Two, she knows that he likes her back.
She's not scared of losing control or anything; Pidge has been in rut for awhile now, ever since she caught that first whiff of his heat, and she's been able to handle it on her own (which has resulted in way too much time alone, in her room). She knows that she won't go crazy, or hurt him, but she is scared that she'll mess this up somehow. What if he doesn't like those things that Keith told her? What if he thinks she's weird because she offered?
Pidge raises her hand to knock, and then the door opens, leaving her standing there like an idiot. The room stinks of Lance, like his room is a freaking bakery. It makes her head swim, for just a moment. Then she blinks, and realizes that she's still holding her hand up. She drops it to her side awkwardly, and Lance laughs, nervousness audible in his tone and his scent, like his cinnamon rolls have gotten soggy.
"Welcome to my lair." Lance says, stepping aside to let her pass. The door slides shut behind her, and Lance retreats back to his nest. It's a mess of covers on his bed, with several pillows stolen from the lounge, and at least one from her room tangled in them. His clothes are in piles on the floor, and she can see empty pill containers on the bedside table.
"It's a mess." Pidge waits until Lance beckons her into his nest before sitting down gingerly on top of the blankets. "But so is my room, so I can't exactly complain."
Lance offers her a smile, and then his face contorts, and he keels over, clutching his stomach. A low moan escapes from between his lips, and his breath comes out in tense huffs.
Pidge isn't sure what to do. Normally, his heat just required her to give him food and water periodically, and make sure that he didn't actually hurt himself in his state of heightened arousal. He'd never been in pain before, not like this. Hypothetically, it could be attributed to his overuse of suppressors, especially since the ones that he's been using are meant for emergency one time use. Shit. He must've been hiding this for a while now, since he ran out of suppressors at least a day ago.
"Are… are you okay?" She asks, hand hesitating above his back. She pats him comfortingly, and then decides to rub instead.
Lance sits up, his eyes shut tight. "I-It hurts. My sister, Maria told me that it's kinda like cramps. She also said I should be able to man up and deal with them, so I can't say if she's right." As his grip around his stomach loosens, his other hand rests over his crotch, partially hiding it from view. It doesn't do from where she's sitting beside him, she can see the hard-on that he's sporting; it's not like his boxers do much to conceal it.
"How long have you been hard?" She asks, her voice almost clinical. Were omegas built to sustain such long erection lengths? She remembers from those Viagra commercials that past four hours, it gets dangerous.
Lance groans again, struggling to stay upright as another cramp rocks through him. Pidge hasn't had to deal with a cramp since...since a while ago, she supposes. Her period stopped some time ago, long enough away that she can't specify the date. Still, the pain of cramps is a familiar one, and she doesn't hesitate to wrap him a hug. It comforts her, to feel him curled within her reach, head pressed against her chest; it must be something of a comfort to him as well, as his body relaxes somewhat, and he leans in closer. "If it's been more than four hours, it's dangerous."
"Yeah, and? My hands hurt, and it's not like you can do anything about it."
Pidge pulls away and stuffs her hands into her pockets. She tries to bite down that rising feeling of shame. There is nothing shameful about two almost adults doing the do. Even if one of them is in heat. Especially if one of them is in heat. As long as they both consent, it's okay.
"I could, um… do sex with you. Cause you're in pain and stuff." She manages to get the words out without choking on them. She's pretty sure her face is as red as Keith's jacket, because how the hell do you keep a straight face on while offering to do sexual things with your crush?
Lance's head snaps up so fast, it looks like he should've snapped it. Sweat has plastered his hair to his forehead, and even with the dim lighting, his skin shines. "What?"
"I...um." Pidge clears her throat. She used to being meek, reserved, but those traits feel weird, almost wrong to exemplify. Maybe she just has to do what Keith said, and let her secondary gender guide her. It can't hurt, she thinks as she focuses on the symptoms of her rut. She can feel the swell of want rising up in her chest, and the now familiar ache of her underwear pressing against her. "I like you. A lot. And if I can do anything to help make this easier for you, I will. I'm offering to help you out, Lance."
Lance's face was already flushed, and it can't do much to get darker, but it still manages to portray his confusion. Still, a wary smile spreads across his face, as his eyes search hers. "You do realise that you're offering to have sex with me, right? You haven't been brainswished or anything?"
Pidge rolls her eyes and kicks off her shoes. "Any other boy would've said yes by now and we'd be getting on with it."
Lance grins. "Well then, yes. Do you need that in writing? Perhaps an audio recording before we move on?"
"Shut up." She growls, crawling into his lap. The fabric of his shorts scrunches up as she presses her mouth to his, her knee pressing lightly against his side. Their noses press against one another until they figure out which way to tilt their heads. It takes her a moment to get used to the feeling that, damn, she's kissing Lance. He tastes like dessert, she thinks as she guides his mouth open further. She hasn't kissed anyone before, not beyond a few sloppy ones spurned on by truth or dare, but she was pretty sure that this wasn't the type of kiss that they showed in the movies. This is too feral, and yet, too sweet at the same time. She traces his teeth with her tongue, and Lance pulls back to suck on her lip.
The tension in her pants is only growing worse, so she pulls back, and turns around, taking residence on his lap as she pulls her cargo shorts off. She can feel his dick pressing onto her ass, can feel the way he moves his hips back and forth to create friction through the thin fabric of his briefs. It hits her; Pidge is really doing this. She's doing the same damn thing that led Shiro to Keith, that started their nearly six year old relationship. It kind of scares her; will their relationship be shaped by this single encounter? She's pulled out of her anxious thoughts by Lance, as he presses a gentle kiss to the side of neck. It leaves her skin burning, and leaves her even more feverish than before; whereas she had had reservations, they all melt away. She wants this. Lance does too.
"We still don't match." Lance says, tugging on her shirt. "And that's a little unfair, don't cha think?"
Pidge snorts, and raises her arms to allow him to lift it off, which he promptly throws it across the room to be lost in the sea of discarded laundry. She turns around, resuming her position facing him, but Lance is still.
His eyes don't stray from her chest, where her small cleavage is held up by a bra, plain, black and functional. She can practically see him drooling, like a cartoon character. She reaches behind her back and unclasps the hook. "We're going all the way, dude. What'cha waiting for? A written invitation?" She drops the bra on the floor behind them, and when she turns back, Lance's mouth latches onto her nipple. It feels weird at first, to have him suck on it, explore it with his tongue and graze it with his teeth, and then she feels that tightening in her stomach, and Pidge doesn't mind it so much when he switches to the left.
Her pussy is aching worse than before, and that clenched feeling in her stomach isn't going away. She can feel him between her thighs, where her legs meet and her underwear rubs against her frustratingly. Pidge pushes Lance down into his nest, his mouth tightening around her nipple as he falls, before letting go. She presses another kiss to the scent gland just below his ear, and then another below that, and then another. Each kiss is slowly devolving into kissing and nipping, until Lance mewls, pressing his hips upwards to create some needed friction between his dick and her clit. She breaks away, gasping and then rolls to the side to pull her underwear off.
She's tired of the waiting. Plain and simple, she needs to bang him.
She tosses the offending article across the room, where it lands beside the door. Lance is panting on the bed, beads of sweat running down the side of his face to dampen the sheets behind him. A low whine escapes his throat, a pout on his face as she rips his boxers, instead of tugging them off as she had originally planned to. Oops.
She tosses the shredded fabric to the ground behind her. Lance starts to sit up, but she pushes him back to the sheets. "No." She growls, forcing him to straighten his leg. "Stay down."
Pidge rests, her core pressing down on his thigh, and wraps her hand around his dick, the other pressing against his hole, which is slippery with slick. She grinds against his thigh, toned from all those years of training, and shaven smooth during his daily beauty schedules, her hands jerking and spasming as her clit rubs against him. Suddenly, he tenses beneath her, and her hand is suddenly wet. She tenses a moment later, her thighs clenching around his, leaving her chest heaving. The clenching in her stomach returns only a few seconds later, and she knows that Lance probably feels the same, if not more intense.
Lance whines again, and she slides off of his thigh. She stands awkwardly on the pile of clothes by the side of the bed, before another wave of his scent is released. It's sweeter, sharper, and it drives her just as crazy as his scent did in the very beginning, when she had no immunity to it's sweet call.
"You ready?" Pidge confirms as she climbs onto his lap.
Lance nods, his face flushed. "Hurry up already."
She lines up her entrance to his cock, and slams down. It only stings for a moment, and then the tightening in her stomach lessens, and she feels less like she's an overtightened coil. Pleasure rocks through her body, and her core tenses around him. Lance is huffing beneath her, angling his pelvis so that she can take more. Once she gets used to the feeling, she rises, hovering on his very tip before slamming back down again. He whines, and tries to rise again, but she pushes him down, her palms sticking to his smooth chest, damp with sweat.
There's faint tan lines, faded and almost invisible. They outline a tank top, and then short sleeves and finally long sleeves, darkest around his wrist. His skin is so pretty, she thinks. He's probably never had to suffer through sunburns like she has, or that horrid acne stage. And then she can't think anymore, because her movements are pulling her closer, closer to the point of no return. Her next slam down onto him strikes something deep inside her, and it clenches around the head of his dick, refusing to let go. She tenses, her sex gripping him, squeezing him, unable to release. She feels him release inside of her, a strange warm feeling like opening your legs in the bath, only this goes so much deeper. It only takes a second squeeze around him for her to come, waves of pleasure like none she's ever experienced before overcoming her. When she comes back down, she realizes that they're stuck.
Whatever inside her is clenching is holding on tight, and occasionally still spasms around him, prompting him to release again. The feeling isn't as weird as it was before, and she wonders briefly if he's actually fertile. It's not like she's gonna get pregnant; she lost her fertility before she started to present, but Omegas are iffy. Some males can impregnate others, some can't.
Lance's voice startles her out of her thoughts. "So...how long are we gonna be stuck like this?"
Pidge tries to pull off, but it only causes her to clench down harder. Lance stifles a groan. "Uh, I dunno actually. I never really looked into female Alpha biology before, and I haven't had a database to look through either. How long does a male Alpha's last?"
Lance groans, and facepalms, the sound of skin hitting skin causing her to jolt up. "Up to an hour."
Pidge sighs. "Great. What happens if an alarm goes off?"
Lance shrugs. "No Voltron, I guess."
So Pidge sits there, on Lance's lap, her pussy locked around his dick, and they wait.
"So...uh, how was it?"
Pidge snorts. "If you're trying to get me to tell you how big your dick is, that's not gonna happen."
Lance shrugs, blankets moving with his shoulders; the nest is in complete disarray, and so are they. Lance's hair is flat and messed up, and she can feel the pigtail in her hair coming loose. Her thighs ache, like she's been working out, and she wonders if Shiro will exempt her from training tomorrow.
"No, but really. That was your first time, I mean, it was mine too, with a girl at least, so I'm curious." Lance grins, his white teeth a sharp contrast to the brown of his skin and the flush on his cheeks. "Was it good?"
Pidge starts to shrug, and then she pauses. Lance has self-confidence issues. Lying about something so raw, and integral could really hurt him. "It was good." She says quietly.
Lance's face brightens, and she feels herself tighten again. "Good." He repeats."It was really good."
OoOoOoOoOoO
It takes them nearly an hour and a half to separate, and another half hour before they get to the shower. Lance keeps intercepting her attempts to retrieve her clothing, blaming her waist, and chest for being so damn distracting. She herself is distracted by the way his chest tapers down to meet his waist, and by the way his hair sticks to his eyelashes. It's evident by the time they reach the warm spray of the shower that Lance's heat is going away. His core temperature is lowering, and his erection doesn't return. With the disappearance of his heat, her rut leaves her, taking with it the sudden aggression and need to fuck.
Pidge welcomes the warmth of the water; her body is sore in a way that's all at once familiar and a stranger. Her limbs feel loose, and she feels strangely calm and happy. Is this what they call afterglow? Lance pulls a bottle of something Altean from the shower rack and pours it onto her head. She jumps from the sudden cold, and turns to glare at him. He turns her back to facing the faucet and starts running his hands through her hair.
"Come on," He teases. "You know you like it."
She can practically hear him winking.
But it's true. It feels nice to have someone run their fingers through her hair. It's not like she really does much with it, other than comb shampoo over it. "Fine." She grumbles. "It feels nice."
"Just like my dick."
Pidge may be short, and her unexpected strength boost cause by her rut may have disappeared, but she's done enough training to land a hit on him and that's exactly what she does. She elbows him in the stomach, and he struggles to hide his grunt of pain.
"Just because we got together doesn't mean I can't beat your ass. Or hack your room to lock you out of it." She warns.
Lance snorts. "I won't forget. Hell, that's one of the reasons why I like you so much."
They settle into a comfortable silence as he finishes her hair. She turns around and wraps her arms around his waist. The pitter-patter of the shower fades away as she presses her ear to his chest. She can feel him breathing, can hear the subtle beat of his heart.
"So, are we really gonna do this?" Pidge asks.
"Have a relationship?"
"Yeah."
"Do you want to?" Lance asks. She pulls back, and returns to the warm spray. One of his perfectly kept eyebrows is raised almost comically high.
"Yeah. Do you?"
"Yeah. A lot actually." A light blush returns to color his cheeks, and Pidge can't help but think that he looks cute when he's flustered.
"Then it's settled. How 'bout I take you out for a night on the town, next planet we get to? We can have a real date." He suggests, pulling two washcloths from the shelf. He hands one to her, a dollop of soap in the middle of it.
"I'd love that." She replies with a smile. Maybe her being an alpha isn't so bad of a change after all.