DISCLAIMER: Hetalia: Axis Powers Hidekaz Himaruya

THE CALL OF THE WILD

LOST BOYS


NINE

BLACK FOREST FORT

WESTERN EMPIRE

Matthew awoke abruptly before sunrise, yanked from an abstract, erotic dream by the tense yearning of his aching cock. He awoke hot and panting and slathered in messy Heat-slick, his body curled into a defensive ball in a self-conscious attempt to hide; to contain the desire that flooded him. He hadn't expected his Heat to start so suddenly, with no warning. Then again, Alfred's Heat had always been Matthew's warning, he following his brother's monthly cycles to the day. Alfred's Heat had occasionally caught him unaware, but Matthew had never had to pattern his own schedule before. It always came one week after Alfred's.

"Oh, fuck," he cursed, rolling over. He laid on his back and stared at the high, wooden ceiling. His adolescent cock throbbed. He reached for it—then stopped.

Gilbert's heady Alpha scent cascaded over him like a rich, earthy perfume. He was lying asleep on his side of the bed, barely a foot away, peaceful and unsuspecting. Thoughtlessly, Matthew moved toward him, desperate for the Alpha's touch. The friction of the bed-sheets grazed the Omega's sensitive skin, forcing him to suppress a frustrated whimper. The instant he came into contact with Gilbert's warm body, however, there was no suppressing anything. He cuddled the Alpha's back, rubbing their bodies together, kissing the pale skin of his neck; his shoulders; his spine.

"Gil," he whispered, pawing at his sleeping Alpha-mate. Gilbert grunted. Matthew tried again, louder. "Gil," he said, annoyed.

Gilbert's eyes opened slowly. "What?"

"I'm in Heat."

"What?"

The Alpha rolled onto his back and stared up at the Omega, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He breathed in, red irises submerged in black as his pupils dilated hungrily. He swallowed, wide-awake.

"I'm in Heat," Matthew repeated impatiently. "I need you to mate me."

"Now?"

"Now."


Gilbert didn't need asking twice. The thick, sweet scent of Matthew's Heat saturated their bed linens, enveloping the Alpha in a cloud of pheromones. As soon as the scent filled his nose, his heart began to race, his mouth watered, and his cock twitched in arousal. He wasted no time getting undressed and soon found himself groping Matthew's clothes and sweaty skin, egged on by the Omega's breathy whines, which were becoming louder and more insistent. He pawed urgently at Gilbert. He pulled eagerly and Gilbert obliged, crawling over Matthew's prostrate body, letting his weight down on top of the wet, writhing Omega. Half-blinded by lust, he nuzzled Matthew's neck, wanting the Omega's sweat and Heat-scent on him. He licked Matthew's skin, wanting to taste him, bite him—

"Ow!" Matthew's yelp became a moan as Gilbert's tongue lapped at the puncture wounds left by his canines.

"Ah, Gil," he whined loudly, eyes squeezed shut. Desperate, he reached for the Alpha's erect cock and pulled it forward in a way that made Gilbert flinch. His panting voice was a mix of breathy helplessness and irate frustration when he ordered: "Mate"—hah—"me"—hah—"now."

Gilbert's slicked cock pushed effortlessly into Matthew's yielding body, his thick girth filling the Omega's hot insides so perfectly that he couldn't have crafted better, like a sheath custom-made for a single sword. For a second, neither one of them moved. Matthew relaxed into the pillows, breathing deeply in anticipation, his violet eyes still closed; and Gilbert simply savoured the feel of Matthew's body, the feeling of being sheathed. He looked down at his Omega-mate through glassy red eyes and a smile tugged at his lips. Then it was gone and Gilbert was moving. The pace of his eager, throbbing thrusts created a pulsating friction between them that sent jolts of pleasure throughout the Alpha's entire body. He growled and groaned deeply. It wasn't like before. As good as it had felt to mate Matthew without the aid of Heat, this was something entirely different. Gilbert felt as if he had been blind, deaf, and dumb before, but now he could feel it. All of it. And it felt good. The slightest tremor or shiver from Matthew rippled into a greater wave of incomparable pleasure; the softest noises aroused the Alpha further, encouraging him; and Matthew's scent—Oh, gods! Matthew's scent was driving Gilbert wild. He hungered for it like a starving, single-minded beast. He wanted to possess Matthew with every fibre of his being. His basest instincts demanded him to claim the Omega again, again; to mark him; to make him—

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Like an addict, Gilbert sated his deepest desires in Matthew, listening to the symphony of Matthew's cries. (He had never heard the Omega's voice call so loudly before.) He clawed at Gilbert's back, throwing his sweaty curls from side-to-side in sweet agony as he gasped and moaned and begged—

"More. More. More."

The Alpha climaxed with a deep growl and spilled himself into his Omega. Then he laid down atop Matthew, too spent to lift his own weight, but Matthew didn't seem to mind. He was riding the last echoes of his own climax, his voice softening from the high-pitched cry it had been.

"Gil?" he whispered, panting. His whole body was trembling with aftershock; Gilbert could feel it. He hugged the Alpha close, Gilbert's flushed cheek resting on Matthew's chest.

"Yeah," he answered, feeling drowsy.

It was a long time before Matthew spoke, and when he did he sounded like he was entranced. Dreamily, he said: "I've never felt anything like that before. That's was amazing—you're amazing, my darling. Thank-you."

Gilbert smiled drowsily and drifted into a deep, satisfied sleep.


Gilbert left early that morning. He was already gone by the time Matthew awoke, feeling anxious and uncomfortable. He could feel another Heat-wave budding inside of him, but tried to ignore it. He only hoped that Gilbert would return soon to give him the relief he needed. The ache in his cock—his heart—was stronger now that he knew what it felt like to be mated in Heat, and he was desperate to relive the thrilling experience. The question of why Gilbert had left barely entered Matthew's mind before he was falling back into sleep, whimpering softly as reality blended effortlessly into the familiar haze of an erotic dream. Only, this time, his dream-lover had a face. A beautiful, sharp-featured, strong-jawed, red-eyed face.

"Gil..." he sleep-talked, his voice full of whispered yearning, "please come back, I need you..."

Too enveloped in a Heat-dream, he didn't notice that the bedchamber door had been left unlocked.


Captain, you're late," said Wolfe glibly.

The Second-Lieutenant was standing at the head of a lineup of ordered soldiers: their heels pressed together, hands behind their backs, chins held high and straight as they waited obediently for their commander to appear. The party was small, but it consisted of Gilbert's best combatants. He felt bad for making them all wait in the pouring rain. He hated tardiness. But Gilbert ignored Wolfe's disapproving glare as he hurried into the courtyard, still buttoning his jacket—into the wrong holes—and thankful for the rain that cleansed him of Matthew's Heat-scent.

"I'm sorry—" he began, and then stopped.

He was the Fort Commander. He didn't have to apologize for being tardy, or for anything else. He never had before. Damn it, Matt! he blamed his Omega-mate, to whom he had become uncharacteristically considerate. Matthew's need to apologize was contagious; Gilbert did it now in reflex. They're all going to think I've gone soft. To save face, he cleared his throat and began again. He let a growl into his voice as he conveyed his orders, eyeing each soldier to test their obedience. He was pleased—relieved—when none could meet his challenging gaze. They kept their eyes respectfully lowered in submission. I'm still in command, he thought, relaxing a little. Then he looked at Wolfe.

"Captain," said the Second-Lieutenant shortly, "a word, please?"

Gilbert dismissed his Alphas to their duties and followed—I should be leading!—Wolfe into the armoury.

"Permission to speak plainly, sir?"

Gilbert felt the fingers of apprehension creep over him. He nodded.

"Captain Beilschmidt, your performance as Fort Commander has suffered since you brought that Omega—excuse me, sir—your Omega-mate to the fort. You've been distracted and disorganized and you've been neglecting your duties, passing them off to Lieutenant Beilschmidt instead of taking them upon yourself. Today you were late, untidy"—he eyed Gilbert's clothes, which were rumpled and buttoned improperly—"and you smell strongly of your mate."

"Matt's in Heat," Gilbert explained.

"Irrelevant," said Wolfe coldly. "Bathe after mating him, or don't mate him at all, because that scent is very distracting."

"I overslept—"

"No doubt," Wolfe interrupted. His tone was angry, his words short and sharp. "I'm sure you were very tired after satisfying your Omega-mate, Captain. I'm sure the Alphas were all very tired also, after a night of standing guard in the rain, doing their jobs, and yet none of them were late this morning."

Gilbert clenched his jaw. He wanted to argue, to defend himself and Matthew, but the truth of Wolfe's words hit him like a physical blow and guilt choked his response. He felt like a young pup being reprimanded and he hated it. He bit back a snarl and glared stiffly in reply.

"Thank-you for bringing these concerns to my attention, Second-Lieutenant," he said, struggling to keep his voice diplomatic. The words tasted like bile in his mouth. "I will be more attentive in the future."

"There's a reason Omegas don't belong in military strongholds," Wolfe replied bluntly. "He's nothing but a distraction. The fact that you care more for him than your job—"

"I said I would deal with it!" Gilbert snapped, drawing unwanted attention from outside. He stepped toward the other Alpha and lowered his voice. "Let me remind you, Wolfe, that I am the Fort Commander here, not you. It's not your place to criticise me."

"Let me remind you—Captain," Wolfe spat, eyeing his junior, "that you are currently in violation of our laws; laws you took an oath to uphold, and it's all because of that little bitch—"

Gilbert's fist struck Wolfe in the face. The Second-Lieutenant stumbled back in shock and wiped blood from his nose.

"Don't ever," Gilbert growled in a low, threatening voice, "disrespect my Omega-mate again."

He left the armoury abruptly, leaving Wolfe to contemplate the captain's words. He was fuming, angry at the Second-Lieutenant's accusations, and angry at himself for inviting the criticism. He needed to calm down before anyone else spoke to him, otherwise he was afraid of lashing-out. Gilbert Beilschmidt was a rather self-disciplined Alpha, but he was not without a temper. He was doubly thankful for the cold rain that drenched him as he walked—strut—cooling his hot temper. He had never liked Wolfe, but he had never considered him as a threat before. Now, all Gilbert could think of was protecting Matthew from the Second-Lieutenant's spite. He clenched his fists as he paced, unaware that his Alphas were giving him a wide berth. He considered returning to his quarters to check on Matthew, feeling worried for the Omega's safety, but he ignored the instinctive urge. If he returned now, Wolfe's words would only be proven true: that Gilbert cared more for Matthew than his job.

Is that true? he wondered. He felt conflicted.

Gilbert had been the Fort Commander of the Black Forest Fort for two years now, and he had been an officer of the Western Empire for nearly six. He had been called a prodigy more than once, praised for his skills and loyalty. He had always put the Empire first. He had always held a position of command within the army, taking the role his father had left for him: first as a combat instructor, then as a scout-leader. Finally, he had come to the Black Forest Fort as a lieutenant. He had been permitted to bring his handpicked company with him, Alphas whom Gilbert had trained himself. When the former Fort Commander retired, Gilbert was promoted to captain and chosen by the Kaiser to replace him. His rite had been undisputed back then. It had been a great honour for one so young, and a greater responsibility. But the bigger honour was that every one of his Alphas had chosen to stay with him at the desolate fort, even when given the opportunity to leave. They had stayed, and Gilbert was grateful to them. They were his surrogate family. And the fact that he might be neglecting them now like a distracted parent hurt.

What if Wolfe is right?

Gilbert hated to consider the thought, but Second-Lieutenant Wolfe was not a vindictive Alpha. He was cold and calculating, but law-abiding. He had always served in the Empire's best interest, which is why the Kaiser had chosen him. He's a heartless bastard, Gilbert thought grimly, but he's not wrong. I'm not supposed to feel this way about Matt. I care for him more than I should. I think it's because—

Gilbert had never expected to care so much for the Omega he had found lost in the forest, but the truth was—

—I'm falling in love with him.


Matthew moaned, pushing his flushed face into a pillow as he emerged slowly from a deep, restless sleep. It took his brain a long time to comprehend where he was, and longer to acknowledge the intrusive slide of possession inside of him, and the fast rhythm of heavy breaths against the nape of his neck. It took him a long time to rouse his mind from the foggy dream, where the act was wanted. There was no need to protest the slick appendage filling him, though; no need to be afraid of the urgency coiled like a viper in his stomach, ready to strike. Not anymore. It was natural. It's what his body craved. It's what his heart wanted. The feelings of lust and intimacy and affection that flooded him when he thought of his Alpha-mate were strong. He felt safe with Gilbert.

Gil, he thought, smiling. His fingers curled into the bed-sheets as his mind awoke, catching up with his body, which was already awake with arousal. He moaned again, his cheek pushed further into the pillow as he consciously began to move his hips in reply to the Alpha's thrusts.

Gil, he thought, excited. He tried to rise, to look over his shoulder at his handsome Alpha-mate, to smile for him, kiss him, but strong hands held him down, trapping the weakened Omega between bed and body.

Matthew blinked. Gil—?

The haze of pleasure receded quickly into panic when Matthew realized with a petrified start that they were not Gilbert's hands forcing him down. It was not Gilbert's voice growling overhead. It was not Gilbert's strong scent filling his nose. It was not Gilbert's cock thrusting desperately inside him. Any lingering feelings of lust and affection and safety evaporated as pleasure fast became fear and Matthew was struck with the cruel reality of what was happening to him. He twisted his head around, struggling to see, praying he was wrong—

—but he wasn't. The Alpha mating him was not Gilbert.

Matthew screamed.

There were no words in the shrill noise that burst from the Omega's lips, just a piercing wail of fear and utter helplessness. He tried to escape, to crawl out from under the Alpha. He thrashed from side-to-side, trying to dislodge him, trying to buck the heavy weight off himself, clawing at the bed-sheets, but the Alpha was much too strong, made stronger and more determined by the intoxication of the Omega's Heat. He didn't let go. He didn't stop. He looked as if he was in a trance, consumed by the act. His eyes were closed and his salivating mouth was open as he thrust into Matthew. His body involuntarily jerked each time, but his mind was a blank canvas of incomprehensible horror. He barely registered his own terrified screams until they were abruptly cut off by a furious yelp, and the Alpha was pulled aggressively off—out—of him.

What's happening? he thought, disoriented. Instinctively, he curled into a ball, drawing up the bed-sheets to shield himself as he tried to hide. He was trembling from head-to-toe, and the infuriated roar of an Alpha didn't help.

Matthew's eyes sought the roar's owner, his rescuer, and saw Ludwig drag his attacker across the floor. He threw him hard against the stonewall and proceeded to beat the fighting—spitting, snarling, thrashing—Alpha into reluctant submission. From his huddled perch, Matthew could vividly see the Alpha's dark eyes come back into focus, lust yielding to fear when he recognized the lieutenant.

"Oh, no," he whispered in German. He looked petrified. "Oh, no—no, no, no! I'm sorry!" he cried, his nose broken and lips bloody. The physical abuse seemed to revive him. "I-I—I didn't mean to! It was an accident, I swear! Lieutenant, please—I'm so sorry! Matthew!" he gasped, reaching toward the Omega beseechingly. Matthew flinched."Please forgive me!"

Ludwig's face twisted in disgust, red with anger. His lips pulled back from his teeth and he growled, exposing his canines. He snapped at the soldier and battered his reaching hand aside.

"Please, Lieutenant!" the soldier begged remorsefully. He was shaking, crying. "I didn't meant to!"

Ludwig's reply sent a shiver of fear down Matthew's spine. His voice was a growl of forced calm. He said:

"Leave."

The soldier's eyes widened in disbelief, but not in gratitude. He looked as if he had just been sentenced to the noose. "But—but—but I can't! Please, Lieutenant! They'll call me a deserter, I'll be Court Martialed!"

Ludwig grabbed the front of his black-and-white tunic and slammed him into the stonewall, silencing him. "I know," he snarled impatiently. "I'm giving you the chance to run away. The chance to live," he emphasized, his blue eyes glaring. "Because if you're here when the captain returns, you'll face worse than a Court Martial. Your days of being a soldier are over," he said unsympathetically, shoving the soldier toward the open door. "Leave this fort now and never come back, because if you do Gilbert will kill you. Go!"

The heartbroken soldier took off down the stairs. Matthew heard his boots pounding the stone in a hasty escape.

He sat on the bed, as stiff as stone as Ludwig's blue eyes captured him. It was very brief. As soon as the Alpha saw the Omega, he looked quickly away and spoke to the floor:

"Are you okay?"

The question dislodged something inside of Matthew and he felt hot, sour bile flood his mouth. He made an indefinable noise and managed a small, "I'm going to be sick," before launching himself off the bed. He had barely made it to the ceramic washbasin before he was heaving and gagging and vomiting stomach fluid. His skin was flush and sweaty, but he felt chilled. His body was covered in goose-bumps. And he was crying. He couldn't stop the flow of tears that spilled from his eyes and rolled down his pale cheeks as he choked. Finally, he slumped against the table in exhaustion. He was trembling violently. He couldn't make it stop.

He flinched when Ludwig draped a blanket over him, but he let the Alpha pull him to his feet and guide him back to bed. Ludwig kept a hand planted firmly on Matthew's covered back, afraid that he would collapse. Matthew hated it. He didn't want to be touched. Once in bed, he recoiled. He had never felt so vulnerable in his whole life.

Ludwig was at the door before Matthew mustered the courage to say: "Gil's going to kill me, isn't he?"

It was said quietly, sadly. His heart felt heavy.

Ludwig stopped, turned. He looked back at his brother-by-mating-law, whose violet eyes were full of tears that would not cease flowing. "No," he said, "he's not. Gil's not like that, I promise. But—"

He faltered suddenly, hit by a whiff of the Omega's compelling Heat-scent. His nose twitched, and for a brief moment the strong, unmated Alpha's eyes glazed over with lust, but it was short-lived. He shook his head, fighting the instinct of his nature.

"Matthew," he said very seriously, "this is important. Are his pups inside you?" He bobbed his blonde head in the direction of the soldier's escape.

"No." The Omega's voice was small, but certain. "They're not. He didn't..." He knew the feeling of an Alpha's cock swollen with unreleased seed. He thought of how much it had hurt when Ludwig ripped it out. "He didn't finish," he said honestly. The words were hard to speak. His soft voice trembled, afraid of Ludwig's steely, judgemental gaze. "Please," he begged, "he didn't. I don't have his pups in me, I swear it. Please believe me—"

"I do," Ludwig interrupted.

A tense seconds-long silence engulfed them then, but it felt like forever. Matthew tried to stop the relentless flow of tears, but failed. He felt lost. Finally, he looked up at Ludwig and helplessly said:

"What do I do?"

Ludwig swallowed. He stood immobile. "You get his scent off of you before Gil comes back."

His words were practical, but his tone resembled a warning, whether intentional or not. Matthew nodded in understanding.

"You're not going to tell him?" he asked.

"No."

Then he left. Quickly and abruptly, Ludwig left Matthew alone to scrub himself raw in a futile effort to erase the evidence of rape so that Gilbert would never find out. It was dishonest of them, but he agreed that it would be far worse if Gilbert knew the truth. The captain cherished his Alphas; his brothers-in-arms. Knowing that one of them had betrayed him—however accidental—would crush him. A silent confidence had passed between the two brothers-by-mating-law as Ludwig left the bedchamber, both of them sharing the desire to protect the red-eyed Alpha, whom they both loved. Trusting Matthew's discretion, Ludwig nodded as he left, and locked the door behind him.


Gilbert rushed through the day's tasks, barely aware of what he was doing. Since his unpleasant confrontation with Wolfe, he was determined to prove himself as a capable leader, but—to his chagrin—it was difficult. Try as he might, his mind refused to stay focused. He had left his brain back in his bedchamber with his Omega-mate: his beautiful Omega-mate in the throes of Heat. Leaving Matthew's side that morning had undoubtedly been the hardest thing he had ever done. It had taken every fibre of his self-control to leave the warmth of his bed and sleeping Omega and descend out into the cold, wet courtyard below. But he did it because it had to be done. There was work to do—there was always work to do. It was a struggle, but ultimately Wolfe was right: Gilbert couldn't neglect his responsibilities as the Fort Commander because he now had an Omega-mate to care for. There were many others who needed him, as well. Even though Gilbert's, ahem, heart yearned to be with Matthew... who had begged the Alpha to stay with him... who had begged for the carnal pleasure of his cock...

The captain's mouth watered just remembering it.

"Captain."

Ludwig's voice called Gilbert back from a daydream. Gilbert nodded, bidding him speak, trying to hide his red face.

The blue-eyed Alpha's face was stark-white in contrast and his lips were pinched. He looked unsettled. "Gil," he began in private. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Gilbert frowned impatiently. "Lud—?" he prompted.

Ludwig shook his head. "Never-mind."

Ludwig's coy behaviour was uncharacteristic, but it was quickly swept from Gilbert's mind. His private thoughts were preoccupied elsewhere. He raced through a list of tasks, neglecting to notice the odd looks his Alphas gave him, or how often one of them had to correct the captain's judgement. He was making a lot of mistakes, but, lost in a daydream, he didn't even notice. Finally, at high-noon, Gilbert decided to forego dinner in favour of visiting his Omega-mate. I just want to check on him to make sure he's alright. I'll be quick. He hurried back to his bedchamber, ignoring the snickers and hidden smiles of his Alphas, and a damning look from the Second-Lieutenant. Heedless of the jokes, Gilbert leapt upstairs as fast as his legs would carry him and reached for the bedchamber door, which he was surprised to find locked. He never locked the door; he preferred to be accessible should anyone need him. In fact, the only Alphas who even had a key to the captain's quarters were he and Ludwig. But before he could consider the implications, he heard Matthew's soft voice cry-out from within. Discarding any suspicions, he unlocked the door and burst inside, excited to service his insatiable Omega once more.

Matthew was lying on the bed where Gilbert had left him, naked, and curled onto his side: his lovely face was flushed, his eyes were closed, his swollen lips were parted, and his snow-white skin glistened with beads of delicious sweat. At once, Gilbert's mouth watered and a rumble of desire reverberated in his throat. Mine, he thought as he advanced, feeling entitled to the Omega, and shedding layers of clothing as he did.

Matthew didn't notice his Alpha-mate until the mattress dipped beneath his added weight. His reaction was one of shock. For a second, he looked scared.

Gilbert chuckled benignly as he crawled closer. "Sorry, schatzi. Did I scare you?"

Matthew's smile looked forced, but Gilbert blamed it on the agony of his Heat. "Gil..." he said, his breathing slow and shallow.

Gilbert waited a moment for Matthew to finish the sentence, but shrugged it off when he failed to do so. The throes of Heat-fervor, indeed. He licked his lips as he drew the Omega's luscious body against his and bowed his head to Matthew's neck. The scent was intoxicating. It filled him with lust, urging him to take, take, take. It was a heady blend of soapy sweetness, with an underlying tang that urged the powerful Alpha to claim him again, reminding him that Matthew was: Mine. Mine. Mine. Gilbert breathed in deeply, his sensitive nose catching a pale whiff of something mildly offensive before he buried it in Matthew's unruly curls.

"Matt," he growled seductively.

"Uh—uh huh," Matthew stuttered in reply.

Only then did Gilbert realize that the Omega was not pawing at him like he had before. He was not trying to seduce the Alpha, or pull him forward in need. Rather, Matthew's fingertips just barely touched Gilbert's back. His eyes were closed. And he was trembling, not with need but—panic.

Gilbert sat back on his knees and studied Matthew, desire morphing into apprehension as he considered his actions. What did I do wrong? he worried. He was seized by the thought of Wolfe's threat and wondered if the Alpha had said or done something to Matthew to upset him. "Schatzi," he asked in concern, "are you okay?"

Matthew nodded mutely.

"Schatzi," Gilbert took his hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, "what's wrong? Tell me what's wrong."

Matthew opened his eyes slowly, which shone with unshed tears. He pursed his lips, as if trying to seal the truth inside, trying to be strong, but his resolve was crumbling. Suddenly, he didn't look sexy and needy anymore. He looked scared. His resolve broke. In a soft, trembling voice, he said:

"You left, Gil. I-I—I'm in Heat, and you—you—you left—"

"Oh, schatzi," Gilbert sighed sympathetically, flooded with selfish relief. Matthew's loneliness wasn't nearly as bad as what Gilbert had been imagining. He tried to collect the Omega into a soothing embrace, trying to reassure him: "It's okay, I'm here now." He couldn't deny that Matthew's need for him was a very desirable thing. But to his surprise—and confusion—the Omega shied away. "I'm sorry, schatzi, but I thought you were sleeping," he explained, trying to justify his actions and failing to do so. The look on Matthew's face made him feel guilty, like he had felt guilty for leaving his Alphas. He tried to apologize, but Matthew wasn't listening. Gilbert had interrupted before he could finish:

"—you left the door unlocked," he said, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Gilbert froze. The cold fingers of dread squeezed his insides, leeching out the happiness he had felt only minutes ago. He didn't want to think about what Matthew's words, his despairing tone, implied. Slowly he removed his hands from the Omega and sat straighter. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, and very deliberately said:

"What?"

Matthew's guilty eyes were confession enough.

Overcome with fear and budding fury, he grabbed the Omega's biceps. "Was someone in here? Did someone touch you?" he demanded.

Matthew whined and covered his face with his hands—ashamed, afraid.

"Matthew!" Gilbert gasped, his voice rising in volume. "Who was it? Who touched you? Tell me!" he ordered. "What happened? What did he do? Did he—" He couldn't complete the thought, not aloud; the words got stuck in his throat. Instead, he pushed Matthew back into a brace of pillows and pulled his wet legs apart, revealing the source of the Omega's sweet Heat-scent. It did things to Gilbert's inhibitions, but Matthew's whole body was trembling, and not in desire. He didn't fight Gilbert, though. He let the Alpha between his legs, searching for a scent that didn't belong. It didn't take him long to find. Essence of the other Alpha's scent lingered inside of the Omega's body. Gilbert's Omega. Gilbert's territory. It was faint, a wet skin-to-skin touch, but it was distinct.

Gilbert bared teeth and roared, seething in anger.

Matthew yelped at the noise.

"I-I—I'm sorry. I-I—I'm so, so sorry," he whispered, voice muffled by his hands; by sobs.

"Who?" Gilbert repeated, clutched by murderous intent.

"I-I—I don't know," Matthew lied. It fueled Gilbert.

He grabbed Matthew's wrists and pulled them away from his face. "Who was it?" he yelled.

Matthew shook his head, tears falling freely. Afraid, but determined not to reveal the Alpha's identity; trying to protect the weak-willed fool from the captain's wrath.

That's when Gilbert realized what he was doing, how insane he seemed. What must Matthew think of him? The poor Omega was cowering beneath him, as if Gilbert was a feral beast. He recognized the symptoms of Matthew's panic-attack: white-faced, gasping, crying, his whole body convulsing.

Oh, fuck! he thought as instinct took over. No, don't be scared, Matt. Not of me. Oh, please. I won't hurt you. I would never hurt you. I—

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, releasing Matthew's wrists. His voice was rough, but he tried to soften it. He tried to soothe his Omega-mate's debilitating panic. "I am never going to hurt you. Please don't be afraid of me. Please believe me, schatzi."

"I-I—I'm so sorry," Matthew whispered timidly, breathlessly. "I-I—It was an accident. A horrible accident."

Gilbert forced back a growl and wrapped Matthew in his arms. The Omega's body sunk against him, fingers clutching him for support. "I know," Gilbert managed gruffly, trying hard to curb his temper; trying to let go of the murderous rage that coursed through him. He felt Matthew shudder in reply and began stroking his head. He held the Omega in a tight embrace—a little too tight, perhaps. He crushed Matthew to him in an primitive show of strength and dominance and ownership. "It's okay. Don't be afraid," he repeated, even as his own voice shook. "I'm here now. It's okay. It's not your fault, just an accident. I'm not angry with you, Matt. Not you, my mate. I'm sorry. I should've been here with you. I should've been here to protect you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, schatzi, it's—

"It's all my fault."

Gilbert's insides twisted painfully. "Oh, gods," he gasped in realization. "It's all my fault."

"Gil." Matthew's lips brushed Gilbert's neck as he spoke. He squeezed Gilbert tighter. "Mate me."

"What?"

Gilbert tried to pull back in astonishment, but Matthew clutched him. He stared down at the distraught little Omega. He had expected Matthew to be upset with him, to blame him. He had expected Matthew to resent him for not being there, for not protecting him. He had expected to have to beg Matthew's forgiveness. Of all the things that Gilbert had expected Matthew to say, it definitely wasn't: "Mate me."

For one tense moment, Gilbert froze, thinking perhaps that he had misheard. Then Matthew repeated the request:

"Mate me, please," he begged, growing desperate. "I want it to be you, Gil. Only you. Not him. Please, I need you to mate me and erase his touch, erase his scent." He was crying, clenching Gilbert's shoulders. "Please, Gil, my Alpha. My darling. I need you. I need your pups inside me. Please mate me, Gil. Please don't cast me off."

"Whoa, what?" Gilbert's head was spinning. He could barely keep pace with what was happening. He was feeling too many things simultaneously. "Cast you off?" he repeated in bewilderment. "No, Matt! Why would you ever think that? You're my mate," he said fervently, cupping Matthew's face. Their eyes finally met: Matthew's heartbroken violet staring frightfully into Gilbert's tormented red. "Matt, I promised to protect you. I couldn't just... I mean, I'd never just... Just no!" he said firmly. "I'm not going to cast you off, schatzi! I don't ever want to lose you!"

Matthew's eyes softened. "You... still want me?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes."

Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.

"I-I—I want you, too.

"Now.

"Please, Gil." Matthew's voice faded into a helpless, breathless plea as he kissed Gilbert's cheeks, his jaw, his neck; as he crawled into the Alpha's lap, his arms wrapped securely around his neck; as he pressed his lower-body deliberately against the Alpha's reawakening desire. "Please."

"Oh, Matt," Gilbert sighed. It was the last coherent thing he said.

Gilbert pushed his Omega-mate down and mated him. He mated Matthew over and over again until the memory of the other Alpha was drowned in a sea of heat and sweat and slick; and the loud, impassioned cries of the Omega, who moaned and begged his Alpha-mate for more, more, more; and the determined growls and satisfied groans of the Alpha, who complied. Gilbert didn't go back to work that day. Or the next. Or the next. He stayed in the bedchamber—the door locked—and mated his desperate Omega with renewed vigour, fueled in equal parts by guilt, anger, and desire; repenting for his mistakes; and determined to reclaim Matthew as his. Only his. And all the while consumed by a feeling less tangible than everything else. It was something that he couldn't quite name or explain, but he knew that he had never felt it before knowing Matthew.

I think I love you, he thought, feeling strong and vulnerable at the same time. His head was foggy, consumed by mating. I think I love you, Matthew Bonnefoi. My Omega-matemine—I love you.

It only ended when both of them were panting and sweat-covered and completely and utterly exhausted, so totally spent that neither of them could move. They laid together in bed, tangled in each other's slippery limbs, neither one saying a word. They laid there just listening to the other breathe. Gilbert held Matthew loosely in his arms. He could feel the Omega's rapid heartbeat against his chest, and was ready to be lulled to sleep by the rhythm of it and Matthew's sweet, dissipating scent. He could feel the insistent draw of sleep creeping nearer, but he fought it. He didn't want to sleep yet. There was something that he needed to do. Something he should have done a long time ago.

"Matt?" he said. The Omega was so quiet, Gilbert hoped he was still awake. He wanted to do this now, before he lost his nerve.

A sleepy sigh sounded in reply.

Gilbert said: "I have something for you."


Matthew barely registered Gilbert's words. "Oh, yes?" he said tiredly, feigning interest. It was a struggle to stay awake with his head pillowed comfortably on the Alpha's chest. The bed—nest—was warm, and his body was so exhausted. So satisfied. He whined softly in protest when Gilbert suddenly moved. Then, with effort, he pushed himself onto his elbows, ogling the rippling muscles in his Alpha-mate's corded back as he leant far over the bed, fishing in a pile of discarded clothes. When he resurfaced, he was blushing and clutching something small in his fist. Matthew cocked his tousled head in curiosity.

"I want you to have this," Gilbert said. Informally, he took Matthew's hand and slipped a silver ring onto the middle-finger.

For a moment Matthew merely stared at it, his swollen lips parted in awe. Then he looked up at Gilbert.

"That's my personal crest," Gilbert explained. "It's not my sire's sigil, or my family's. I chose it and crafted it myself. I, uh... thought the black eagle would be good," he said, blushing redder. "I'm not a good craftsman, though. It's a little rough. It looks kind of big and clunky on your finger. If you don't want to wear it, you don't have to—"

Matthew pressed a finger to Gilbert's lips to silence him. "Of course I'll wear it," he smiled, flattered. "It's beautiful."

Gilbert smiled in reply and visibly relaxed. "I should've given it to you when we were first mated," he added, "it would've been more appropriate, but I didn't think you would've wanted it back then."

"Maybe not," Matthew admitted shyly, "but I want it now."

In proof, he leant forward and kissed Gilbert's cheek. "I'm very proud to be your mate, Gil. I hope you know that. This isn't what I imaged my mated-life would be like, and—gods know—it hasn't been easy for us, but I'm glad it's you," he said honestly. "I'm glad that you're my mate and not someone else."

Gilbert's vibrant eyes looked softer than Matthew had ever seen them. Without breaking eye-contact, he entwined his fingers with Matthew's and laid back down. They snuggled close together, but rather than suffocating, it was comfortable. Matthew's languid body sunk against the fleece pillows and gently squeezed Gilbert's hand. It felt good. Gilbert's proximity made Matthew feel safe and protected. Like the silver band on his finger. Unlike Lars' gold band (which adorned Matthew's opposite hand), Gilbert's claiming-gift did not inspire feelings of imprisonment or social obligation; rather, it made the lost Omega feel like he finally belonged. It might have been a backwards and long drawn-out claiming, but somehow it meant more to Matthew because of all the things they had suffered together. The mere fact that Gilbert wanted to keep Matthew after what had happened to him—after everything that had happened to them both—just proved how committed the Alpha was.

I've never been so happy to be proven wrong, Matthew thought, gazing at his Alpha-mate. A month ago he had thought of Alphas only as self-serving creatures, but that was before he had met Captain Gilbert Beilschmidt. If nothing else, Matthew finally accepted that he and Gilbert would be together forever now, a truth that made him unexpectedly happy.

I'm so lucky to have you, he thought, smiling tenderly at the handsome, red-eyed Alpha. I'm so glad it's you, Gil. I really am.

"I'm glad it's you, too, Matt," Gilbert replied. He rubbed his callused thumb over the silver band.

Matthew pulled their linked hands up to his lips and kissed Gilbert's knuckles. Then he closed the distance between their bodies, rested his curly head upon the Alpha's warm chest—his strong, beating heart—and closed his eyes.

"Thank-you, darling," he whispered as he fell effortlessly asleep, "for everything."