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In the Shadow of Strength - Chapter 16*

Task Force 141 x Omega OCs | Main Pairing: Ghost/OC

Content & Warnings: *Smut Chapter, Omegaverse, Multiple OCs, Mention of Violence and Sexual Content

Word Count: ~21k

AO3 Link | Masterlist

Socks.

It’s the kind of gift every kid dreads getting during the holidays. At one point in my life, I felt the exact same way.

The first Christmas I spent with Uncle Dave and his wife, I didn’t know what to expect. I sat cross-legged on the rug with a paper plate of half-burnt cookies in my lap when they handed me my one and only present. I remember my mind spinning with possibilities of what it could be.

I tore it open, and there they were.

Socks.

I tried to smile, but I could feel the disappointment burning behind my teeth. It wasn’t like I’d ever had a huge pile of gifts under a tree before, but somehow that made it worse. My one present… and it was socks? My chest went tight. I almost lost it right there.

That was until Rosco leaned over, that famous grin of his cutting through my pity party.

“Check again,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. I looked up at him, fighting off tears, confused as hell. He grabbed the socks, still held together by the little plastic piece in the middle, and opened it wide enough for me to see the real gift hidden inside.

I don’t even remember what it was that first year. More often than not, it was a gift card, but sometimes it had money or an IOU scribbled in Dave’s messy handwriting for something I could cash in later, like a morning off from chores or free equipment mending. Regardless, socks soon became my favorite gift.

Every year after that, they changed a little. They went from those fuzzy gas station ones to the sturdy ones with wool linings. Then, once I started to work longer hours, they turned into the really nice compression socks.

Dave also started getting creative with his delivery. What began as a lumpy, badly wrapped present under the tree turned into a yearly scavenger hunt. I’d find them tucked into my work boots, hidden in the fridge, or stuffed beside the ledger with the day’s chores.

Sure, I still got little trinkets and candy in my stocking with the rest of the farm family, but those socks were really what I was looking forward to when it came to my pack’s holiday festivities.

So, when I opened the box from Johnny’s parents and saw socks folded neatly inside, my throat immediately tightened.

They were a soft, simple, pale gray pair, with little flecks of white. The label said they were made from Scottish sheep wool, and I could see the fibers fluffing up the socks a little. My fingers brushed the fabric, and suddenly I was ten years old again, sitting in front of the tree, pretending I wasn’t about to cry over a pair of socks.

The feeling hit me hard and fast. I blinked a few times, swallowed down the lump in my throat, and gave them the best smile I could muster in that moment.

I know they had no idea, had no way of knowing. To them, this was just a cozy, practical gift for their son’s new packmate. But to me, it felt like fulfilling a tradition I didn’t even realize I had.

I laughed to myself, wiping at my eyes before anyone besides Simon could notice. Still, I held onto them the whole night, because they were something precious to me now. New socks for my new life.

Johnny’s family had been nothing short of wonderful from the moment we arrived.

The second we’d stepped through the front door, his mum wrapped us in hugs that could rival my weighted blanket.

Her smile was wide and genuine, the kind that made her whole face crinkle at the corners. She scolded the boys for not visiting more often, swatting Johnny’s arm before turning to Bee and me, declaring she’d been “blessed with more daughters this year”.

The house itself smelled like roast, pine cleaner, and warm drinks. Every room buzzed with movement. Kids shrieked with laughter, someone shouted over a whistling kettle, holiday music battling for dominance with the noise of family.

Johnny’s sisters welcomed us with the same enthusiasm their mom did.

Maggie, the oldest, swept us into warm hugs the second we met her. She introduced us to her four lively kids like the proud, alpha mom she was before introducing us to her quiet mate, Archie.

Archie had that quiet authority about him that only experienced omega parents had. It was the kind that kept the kids from getting too rowdy with nothing more than a raised brow and a smirk.

Clare, the middle sister, was a sharp-edged beta with pressed slacks, perfect posture, and a quick wit that matched Simon’s dry humor almost too well.

It was clear that they had years of gentle understanding between them, sharing subtle, amused glances from opposite sides of the room when chaos escalated around them. It was like watching two cats ignore the dog park around them.

And then there was Isla, the youngest of the trio. But, as she liked to remind everyone, not the youngest of the siblings, that title belonged to Johnny. She was a whirlwind of energy, showing off her new alpha husband, Fraser.

They gushed over wedding photos from the ceremony Johnny had missed. Isla spoke with the kind of bright, unshakable enthusiasm only a newlywed could manage, describing every hiccup of the day with glittering eyes. She said that ever since she’d presented as a beta, she’d been determined to have the most “fairytale wedding” imaginable, and by the photos, it looked like she had done just that.

It was all very charming in a loud, slightly overwhelming way.

Bee fit right in almost instantly. Her easy laugh and open warmth seemed to mesh seamlessly with the chaos. She jumped into helping in the kitchen, got roped into board games with the kids, and chatted with the sisters as if she’d known them for years.

Watching her shine like that, especially after she’d spent the car ride worrying herself sick about first impressions and not knowing what gifts to get, made something warm settle in my chest.

Every time our eyes met across the room, she looked genuinely happy. And that made me happy.

The kids were definitely a weakness for me. Maggie’s kids had the cutest accents that had my heart absolutely destroyed. I often found myself cooing to myself or Simon when one of them would say something.

The only real hitch was the face mask I had on that first day.

My teeth were still healing from dropping during the attack, and the last thing I wanted was to scare the kids with them. The family was already used to Simon wearing masks, so I was thankful that wearing one didn’t get me more than just a curious glance.

What I didn’t expect was Archie cornering me in the kitchen that evening while everyone else fussed over hanging ornaments on the tree.

He didn’t do it in a threatening way, that’s not his style. Rather, he had that air about him that just made you want to spill your entire life story just because of how safe he made the room feel.

He stepped beside me while I was drying dishes, lowered his voice and asked gently, “Lass, why’re you wearing that mask?”

I told him the truth. About the attack. About the number of attacks I had been in. How, ultimately, I just didn’t want to accidentally frighten the little ones.

Archie listened without interrupting, arms folded loosely over his chest, expression softening with every sentence. Then he surprised me.

“Take it off,” he said. Not unkind. Not demanding. Just… certain.

Before I could even form an argument, he continued, “We’re raisin’ the kids to know not every omega looks the same. People survive things, it changes them, that’s life. Your teeth aren’t somethin’ to hide, they’re proof you fought for yourself and won.”

I blinked at him, in complete shock, before my eyes started to burn. Archie didn’t hesitate, pulling me into a tight hug that only amplified the many years he’d been doing this to his own kids.

By the time I calmed down enough to function properly, I nodded and took the mask off.

Simon noticed instantly, joining me across the room when I had snuck my way back in after doing the dishes. He removed his own, only having worn it in solidarity for me.

Eventually, there were some questions from the kids, but nothing was laced with fear or disgust like I thought it’d be. If anything, they accepted the fact and seemed to move on rather quickly.

All of Johnny’s family seemed far more interested in proudly showing off their favorite Christmas traditions to me and Bee. It was oddly comforting, like being absorbed into a current instead of being examined under a spotlight.

On our second night there, we bundled up and headed into town for the Christmas market. Strings of lights crisscrossed over the cobblestone streets, casting the little town in a warm golden haze.

Every shopfront glowed, every window was frosted at the edges, and the chatter of the crowd rolled through the square like music.

The sisters absolutely insisted that I try mulled wine. I hesitated at first, bracing myself for something too sickly sweet, but it was… good. Smooth, not too sweet, and just the right amount of spices to make it taste festive.

I ended up mostly using the cup to thaw my fingers, but I’d occasionally sip it to feel like I was participating in the tradition enough.

From there, everything turned into a whirl of color and motion. The girls tugged me from stall to stall, wrapping knitted scarves around my neck or plopping fuzzy hats onto my head.

Samples were constantly being shoved into my mouth, whether it was fudge, roasted nuts, or little pastries dusted with sugar.

Honestly, Bee was made for this environment, practically vibrating the whole time. She sparkled under the lights and seemed to be an expert at bobbing and weaving through the crowd to look at something shiny she had found.

Behind us, Simon and Johnny followed at their own pace, both wearing smiles too wide to be legal. Every time Bee hauled me toward another booth, I’d glance over my shoulder and catch them staring at us like we were the highlight reel of their entire holiday.

And then Archie joined us.

If the energy had been high before, Arche managed to double it effortlessly. One second, he was wrangling the kids with Maggie, and the next, he was beside us with something soft to touch or something delicious to smell, always knowing exactly what would make an omega light up.

He had an uncanny sense for it. Watching him work… that’s when what he’d told me in the kitchen really sank in.

Archie wasn’t the stereotypical omega. Besides the fact that he was a male, an already rare commodity in the omega world, he had a kind of confident softness to him that I found myself envying.

He chased scents and textures with the enthusiasm of someone who loved beauty for beauty’s sake, but also was able to command his horde of children with a single raised brow. He was gentle and fierce in the same breath.

It was fascinating to watch. I had been living in a world where it seemed I could only be one of those things and was forced to be the opposite. Seeing it meld together in perfect harmony had me reflecting on myself, rethinking how I might be able to function like this.

Maggie seemed the perfect partner to be with him, too. She was the perfect amplification to his fierce side, ready to stand firm by his side at any moment, while giving him the reins to be himself at the same time.

At one point, she leaned over to us, whispering to both Bee and I, “Love Archie, I swear I do, but he’s worse than the weans at these markets. Always sneakin’ off to buy somethin’ for the nest or the house. “

She was proven hilariously right when Archie had to be physically pulled from a scent-infused pillow booth… only to reappear three stalls later with a suspiciously stuffed bag tucked under his arm.

Something inside of me shifted, watching him be so unapologetically himself. His words from the kitchen replayed in my head as I set new goals for myself to try and be more like Archie.

By far, the best part of the entire visit with Johnny’s family was the final meal we all shared together. Johnny’s mom put her heart and soul into preparing a full, traditional, Scottish Christmas dinner.

The pride in her eyes when she ushered us toward the table made it clear she’d been planning this for quite some time.

It felt strange not being allowed to help cook. I offered, more than once, and each time she shooed me out of the kitchen with the same firm hand she used on Johnny when he’d try to sneak food.

Eventually, I managed to weasel my way into helping set the table with the kids. They took this job very seriously and I did my best to follow their instructions so I didn’t get kicked out of something else.

Once everything was arranged, Johnny’s mom came around with brightly colored paper tubes and set one on every plate. Her face lit up as she explained that she’d gone out of her way to find the “good Christmas crackers” this year. I’d never seen anything like this before, but everyone else reacted like this was an essential part of the celebration.

Before we ate, everyone took their seats and crossed their arms, each of us grabbing one end of a cracked belonging to the person beside us. Maggie gave a countdown, and on “three!” the room exploded into a chorus of sharp pops.

I jumped hard enough to rattle the cutlery, earning immediate giggles from the kids and a few snorts from the adults. I laughed along with them, cheeks hot but warm in the best way.

When the noise settled, Simon reached across the table and slid my cracked toward me with a soft nudge, the corner of his mouth lifting.

Inside was a flimsy golden paper crown, a truly cringe-worthy joke, and the tiniest wind-up toy I had ever seen. My prize was a penguin that waddled in crooked little circles across the table.

Simon’s cracker contained a miniature ring-toss set, and within about three throws, he’s already lost one of the rings to a crack in the table.

We were told, very sternly by Maggie’s eldest, that there were no exceptions to the crowl rule, so every one of us wore our crowls through the whole meal. I didn’t mind, especially not when Simon adjusted his own crown with a quiet, sheepish smile… one that made him seem almost younger and softer.

Once I ended up getting a taste of the food, it was game over for me. The smell alone was enough to make my eyes water with joy. Platters of roasted meats, buttery potatoes in all sorts of different forms, gravy that you could practically drink, and something called haggis that I was told was vegetarian, but I had my doubts because of how savory it ended up being.

There were parsnips and sprouts, homemade cranberry sauce, and even more potatoes because, apparently, “you can never have too many,” according to Johnny’s mom, and after everything we ate, I completely agree with her.

I lost count of how many times I filled my plate. And somehow, every dish tasted better than the last.

The whole dining room buzzed with conversation and laughter. Plates scraped, glasses clinked, children argued over who had the better cracker prize, and the warmth of the kitchen seeped into my bones. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt that content. Full in every sense of the word.

At one point, I looked toward Simon.

He was sitting quietly, watching the chaos unfold with that small, private smile he usually saved just for me. When our eyes met, the noise of the room softened, fading into a warm, blurred hum behind us.

For a heartbeat, it felt like we were the only people at that table. The feeling lingered as we were dismissed for presents and eventually as I lay my head against his shoulder, clutching a pair of socks to my chest.

Saying goodbye to Johnny’s family was a bit sad, but being able to see Simon’s hometown made up for it. He had booked an Airbnb for us that was small, but surprisingly comfortable. It had brick walls with ivy that crept up the side and something about it just screamed “British family home”.

The street we were on was also lined with homes just like it, pressed shoulder to shoulder, and puffing thin trails of smoke from their chimneys.

The neighborhood bled into the textile factories and little local shops that the town was known for. There were bakeries, cute cafes, hardware stores that looked older than the both of us combined, and a river that ran through everything.

There was a strange charm to it all. Cozy, yes, but there was something hollow under the surface. Like the town had long since settled into the ache of remembering better days.

In some ways, it reminded me of Simon himself. Steady and weathered, but in a beautiful sort of way. I couldn’t help thinking that the place suited who he was now, but I couldn’t imagine him being a child living here. It felt too still for that, too careful.

This evening, Simon was determined to give me a glimpse into what he called “proper British living”. He offered to pick up a few things from the grocery store so we could make dinner together in the tiny kitchen while I got settled in. The idea of cooking with him, just the two of us, had made my chest warm, and I eagerly agreed.

I put my things away quickly and jumped at the opportunity to finally give Mo a call. I’d been putting off this call ever since I got out of the infirmary.

Mo no doubt knows something is up because I haven’t even opened her messages for about a week, and the guilt of that coils up my stomach as well.

But… I just couldn’t. Every time I thought about opening them, my stomach twisted up even more. I’d seen glimpses from the message previews. Holiday plans, little updates about Henry, and part of me ached to devour every word. But another part knew that to do that, I’d have to answer back.

I sat at the small dining table, the gray sky shining through the window, and pressed call, holding my breath.

“What. The. Fuck,” she answers, her voice sharp enough to make me wince.

I can’t help the snort that escapes me. “Hi, Mo,” I say softly.

“Don’t ‘Hi, Mo,’ me! Where the fuck have you been?”

“It’s… a long story.”

“Well, I got time,” she fires back, that old spitfire in her tone that makes something spark in my chest. It sinks in how much I miss her.

With a heavy sigh, I tell her as much as I can. Simon and I talked about it on the drive over, about what I could and couldn’t share with her. It’s hard, keeping parts of my life secret from her. But until everything is finally settled, I get it. We have to be careful.

I tell her that some omegas attacked me, that I ended up in the infirmary for a few days to recover.

I don’t tell her that I was slowly being poisoned the entire time.

I do tell her about Johnny’s family, about how they welcomed me in and showed me what a UK Christmas feels like.

I don’t tell her how, every time we went anywhere, I kept one eye on the crowd, and the other on the exits, old instincts flaring to life now that I know someone could be watching us at any time.

By the time I finish, she’s quieter. I can hear her breathing through the speaker, that tiny hitch she gets when she’s trying not to sound worried, like she knows there’s more to this.

“Okay,” she says finally. “Okay… I guess I can’t stay mad if you were in the hospital. But you still should’ve called, Boo. You scared the shit out of me.”

“I know,” I whisper. “I’m sorry. I wanted to call sooner, but I got wrapped up in Johnny’s family, and I just wanted to make sure I had time to talk to you.”

She sighs, long and tired. “You’re lucky I love you, you pain in the ass.”

That earns a small laugh out of me. “Think that’ll be the one thing that never changes about me,” I tease.

She gives a sound of agreement before filling me in on what I’ve missed. She sends photos and videos of Henry’s first holiday performance. He’s in a paper snowflake outfit, standing dead center on stage, singing his little heart out with the rest of his class. My chest aches in the best and worst way.

Then she starts venting about the holiday drama. Her family, Lucas’ family, the endless tug-of-war about where they’re spending Christmas Eve versus Day.

“I swear,” she mutters, “if one more person tells me I’m being too emotional about it, I’m throwing a whole damn Christmas tree at them.”

I grin, imagining her pacing her big, too-perfect kitchen, gesturing wildly with one hand while holding the phone with the other.

“You’d probably win that fight,” I tease.

“You bet your ass I would,” she fires back, and for a moment, it’s like no time has passed between us at all. Just an omega and her beta, trying to find light in the middle of the mess, laughing like a couple of school girls.

Mo’s still laughing when I hear the front door open. The sounds of boots scraping the mat and the rustle of grocery bags reach me before Simon calls out. “Boo? You here?”

“Yeah, in the dining room,” I call out, as Mo’s laughter fades through the speaker.

“That your Brit?” she asks, amusement thick in her voice.

“Yeah,” I smile as he peeks his head in, like he needed to physically see me before moving into the kitchen. “He’s home.”

“Well, tell him I said thanks for keeping your feral ass alive,” she says. “And call me again soon. I mean it this time, Boo. Don’t make me hunt you down, because I will.”

I laugh softly, blinking back the tears that start to grow at the corners of my eyes. “I know you will. I’ll reach out more, I promise.”

We hang up, and for a long moment, I just sit there at the table, phone still in hand. The flat is quiet again, minus the sound of Simon unpacking in the kitchen.

When I finally make my way in there, Simon’s tossing out the last bag. He looks up at me, his hair mussed from the wind outside.

“You get to chat with Mo?” he asks, his tone easy, but his eyes searching.

“Yeah,” I say softly, leaning against the counter. “She was… pissed. But she’s okay now. It was nice, hearing her voice again.”

He hums, setting the last tin aside before standing. “Good,” he says, brushing his hands off on his jeans before he looks me over. “You needed that.”

“I guess I did,” I admit. My voice comes out smaller than I mean for it to. “It made everything feel a bit more normal for a minute.”

He steps closer, the distance between us shrinking until I can smell the cold air still clinging to his coat.

“You’ve had enough crazy to last a lifetime,” he murmurs.

I manage a small smile. “I really have, haven’t I?”

He studies me for a beat, something soft flickering in his eyes before his hand rises to the back of my head. His fingers thread gently through my hair, and he leans in until his lips brush mine.

The kiss starts tender, but the moment his tongue slips past my lips, it quickly gets heated. His nose is cold against my cheek, a shock against the warmth that quickly builds between us.

My hands slide up around his neck, pulling him closer. His arms fold around my waist, pressing me against him until it feels like there’s no space left to breathe, and really, there’s no reason to.

It’s dizzying, how easy it is to lose myself in him. For a few heartbeats, everything else falls away.

It’s just me and Simon.

Then my stomach growls, loud and rude enough to make us both pause.

He pulls back just slightly, lips still close enough that I can feel the ghost of his breath when he huffs a quiet laugh.

“I take it that wasn’t a purr,” he says, amusement tugging at the edge of his voice. “You hungry, love?”

“Yes,” I admit between shallow breaths, “but I can wait.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he steps back reluctantly. “Don’t think I can risk not feeding you. You bite,” he teases, eyes glinting.

I give him an exaggerated pout and turn toward the counter. “Fine,” I sigh dramatically. “Show me this proper British dinner, then.”

He smirks, tugging off his coat and tossing it on a nearby chair. “All right, love. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. We’re simple folk, it’s not going to be anything fancy.”

“Think I can handle it,” I shoot back, already rolling up my sleeves.

His laugh is quiet and gravelly, a low rumble that lives somewhere deep in his chest, almost damn near a purr.

We fall into rhythm easily. Simon chops vegetables with steady hands, while I stir things on the stove, the air filling with the hiss of butter and roasted herbs. Every now and then, we brush up against each other, and each time feels more and more deliberate, like we need each other’s touch.

A couple of dishes go into the oven, and before long, we’re shoulder-to-shoulder at the counter, working in tandem. It feels… nice. Easy.

There’s something about seeing him like this, sleeves all rolled up and brows furrowed in focus, that makes my chest ache in the best way.

When everything’s finally done, the kitchen is a bit of a mess, but the meal itself looks incredible.

Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, mashed potatoes, because apparently there’s gotta be more than one kinda potato, roasted vegetables, and a cut of meat sit on the plates in front of us.

“Not bad for ‘simple’,” I say, eyeing the spread.

He snorts softly as he wipes his hands on a towel. “Told you, nothin’ fancy. Just good food, done proper.”

“Proper, huh?” I tease. “But we’re about to smother everything in gravy, no?”

He grins, the corner of his scarred mouth twitching up. “Aye. That’s the British way.”

I can’t help but laugh as he starts ladling gravy over everything like it’s holy water.

Halfway through the meal, Simon looks up from his plate. There’s a glint in his eye, the kind that usually means he’s going to try and throw me off balance.

“Were you still interested in getting a tattoo?” he asks, like it’s the most ordinary thing in the world.

I blink, effectively caught off guard. “Yeah,” I say after swallowing my bite. I grab a nearby napkin to dab at my mouth. “Why?”

“My artist’s got a spot open the day after next.” He says it so simply, like he hadn’t just sent a bolt of excitement through me. “If you want, I could—”

“Yes!” I blurt out before he can even finish, the word tumbling out faster than I mean it to. His low chuckle rumbles across the table, and I feel my face heat up. “Uh… yes, please,” I add a little quieter.

“Alright,” he murmurs, still smiling as he pulls out his phone. “I’ll let ‘em know yer interested.”

I pick up a bit of potato, trying to play it cool. “You know what you want?” he asks without looking up.

“Kinda,” I admit, twisting my fork between my fingers. “I just… don’t know if it’d look good.”

That gets his attention. He looks up from his phone, giving me that patient, steady look that always pulls more words out of me than I intend.

I bite my lower lip. “I also… kinda want it to be a surprise. Is that… okay?”

He shrugs one shoulder, easy. “I’m sure we can figure it out. Not leavin’ you there by yourself, though.”

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it,” I say with a small smile. “Don’t think I’d want to be alone there without you.”

He nods, thumb tapping across his screen. “I’ll send you their contact info. Just shoot ‘em a message, and they’ll take care of you.”

“Perfect,” I beam, feeling a little giddy. I don’t know why this hits me so hard. Maybe it’s the normalcy of it all. After being turned down so many times, I finally get the chance to do this.

Simon finishes the message, sets his phone down, and glances back up at me. “We’ve also got time in the week to go to a salon, if you’d like.”

I blink again, running a hand through my hair instinctually. It’s long, the longest it’s been in years. That was something that was expected to be back on the farm. Used to hate how heavy it felt.

But now, I’m used to the weight. Plus, I like the way Simon runs his fingers through it when it’s down, how it feels when one of the girls braids it. Still… the ends are rough. It’s been an incredibly long time since I’ve had anyone touch it with the proper equipment.

“Yeah,” I say softly after a beat, nodding. “I think I could use a trim. Thank you.”

He tilts his head slightly, studying me like he always does.

“What about you?” I ask. “Gonna get your hair cut at a sah-lawn,” I drawl, exaggerating the way he says the word just to mess with him.

He gives me that deadpan stare that never quite hides the amusement in his eyes. “Nah. I usually just do it myself or have one of the lads help. Might let one of ‘em give it a trim at the cabin.”

I raise a brow, smirking. “Really? You don’t wanna go to a proper barber or anything? Aren’t you worried Johnny’s gonna make you have matching mohawks or something?”

That gets a quiet huff of laughter out of him. “Tried it once. Made sure he wouldn’t do something like that again.”

I snort, picturing Simon with a mohawk. “Sad I missed that.”

He leans back in his chair, lips twitching. “Don’t be.” Then, after a moment, “If you’re up for it, there’s a Christmas market in Manchester tonight. Could get the rest of the shopping out of the way there.”

I perk up a little. “Yeah?”

He shrugs. “Yeah. It’s decent. Bit crowded, but it’s better than running around last minute.”

I nod, smiling at the thought. “Alright. After we finish?”

He grunts back in acknowledgment.

That’s how we end up in the middle of Manchester an hour later.

Just like Johnny’s hometown market, the town looks like it’s been swallowed by Christmas. Lights drape from building to building, tangled in strings of gold and red that shimmer against the stone facades.

The only difference is that the market here is easily five times the size of the one Johnny took us to. It sprawls across the square and spills into side streets, each lined with vendors selling everything from carved ornaments to steaming pies. The shop windows behind the stalls are packed with ribbons and glitter, beckoning shoppers inside.

Only a block in, Simon and I already have our arms full of bags.

My breath puffs in the chill as I laugh. “You weren’t kidding. I think we just need something for Kyle and we’re all set.”

Simon grunts, scanning a nearby stall. “We should get him a Man U jersey,” he mutters, voice just low enough for me to hear. The laugh that leaves me is an ugly bark, only aiding to make him laugh as well. We continue to weave through another row of stalls, the crowd seeming to press closer as the night deepens.

Chatter and music mix with the sharp scents around us, and I notice Simon start to get quieter. His hand brushes mine every few steps, little touches that seem more like habit than coincidence.

When we stop at a booth selling carved wooden ornaments, I look over to find him a little tighter than normal. His shoulders sit high up, his jaw clearly set. There’s a tension in him that doesn’t match the gentle vibes we had earlier.

I shift a little closer, pretending to study a carved reindeer before leaning toward him.

“Hey,” I murmur, keeping my voice soft so it’s just for him. “I think I’m starting to get a little tired. Do you mind if we head home?”

His gaze flicks down at me, as if he’s reassessing me.

I give him a gentle smile, lifting up the bags. “Plus, I think if I add anything else, my arms might fall off.”

He reaches for a bag, and I pull it away with a roll of my eyes. “Not asking you to carry more, just think I’m done for the night.”

He takes me in one more time before giving me a solid nod.

With expert precision that feels reminiscent of the kidnapping drill, he guides us out of the row of vendors and down the sidewalk.

Once we’re clear of the crowd, I watch his shoulder slowly start to fall back into place. I exhale, feeling a bit better myself now that he’s more relaxed.

It’s not a long walk back to the car, but he still adjusts his bags to free up a hand and offers it up to me. I quickly follow, before giving in and passing him a bag so I can more comfortably hold his hand.

By the time we get home, his jaw isn’t locked tight and his shoulders are far looser, but there’s still a lingering heaviness to him that I can’t quite place.

We drop off the bags in the center of the living room, and I’m halfway through slipping off my coat when Simon turns suddenly. I startle, not expecting such a quick movement from him. Before I can ask what’s wrong, he pulls me into a hug.

I’m still a bit confused, but I easily push my cheek into his chest. His breath puffs warmly against my hair before he murmurs, “Do you know how cute you are?”

I tilt my head against him, not expecting that to be the thing he’d say. “...Cute?”

“Mmhmm.”

I huff a laugh. “No, can’t say I do.”

He leans back just enough to look at me, his eyes softer now.

“Looked so cute tonight, lookin’ at everything with those big eyes o’ yours,” he says quietly. “Wanted to buy up the whole market for ya, just to see how big I could make ‘em.”

I pull myself back up against his chest and snort, the sound a little muffled by his shirt. “Glad you didn’t. That woulda been silly.”

I look up to see a smile on his face, the real one that always makes my heart throb. His fingers slide up, cradling my cheek.

“Not if it meant I got to see you smile,” he murmurs.

The world feels smaller in that moment. Just us, soft lamplight, the faint smell of dampness clinging to our clothes. I find myself smiling again without meaning to, leaning into his hand before he can even pull away.

He’s quiet for a moment, gaze fixed on me. I watch something in it spark before he finally talks, voice low and rough. “‘M sorry, love. Don’t think I have it in me to hold back anymore.”

Before I say or do anything, he presses closer, hips finding mine. The sudden weight of him against me making my breath catch.

That’s when it clicks. The tension that’s been there all along hasn’t been frustration or worry. It’s been… hunger.

“You’ve been drivin’ me mad,” he murmurs, words brushing the shell of my ear. “So sweet with Johnny’s family. So damn beautiful under those lights. Such a sweet girl, explorin’ my world.”

My pulse stutters. The air between us feels instantly heavier, humming with unspoken words.

His hands slide down, settling at my hips, thumbs tracing small, possessive circles that make it hard to think.

“Been wantin’ you,” he admits softly. “Every time you smiled, every time you laughed. Just wanted to pull you close, show ‘em you were mine.”

His hand comes between us, and I can’t help spreading my legs for him, letting him rub me over my clothes however he wants.

“Yours,” I say as he successfully finds my clit over my clothes. I buck up into his hand.

“Atta girl. Get nice and wet for me. Wanna get you drippin’ so I can just slide in, ya?”

I nod against his chest, easily submitting to him. It’s insane just how far we’ve come in a few months. The man I thought hated me, now making me weak with such little effort.

Simon removes his hand from me, making me let out a needy whine. With a quiet shush, he unbuttons my jeans just enough to slip his fingers inside my panties.

My folds are already starting to get slick, making him groan against my ear, and I swear I can feel his cock throb between us.

“Fuck, just like that. So soaked already for me,” he growls, moving to rub my clit in tight circles.

I gasp, spreading my legs wider, giving him better access. Simon takes the opportunity to tug my jeans and panties down, exposing me to the cool air.

His fingers are quickly back on me, teasing my folds. He can’t help but let out a low, approving growl at how needy I’m getting.

“Such a sweet girl, so eager for me, aren’t you?” he murmurs.

I whimper in response, arching into his touch as a finger finally slips inside me. He pumps it slowly, softly working me open before quickly adding another one.

I’m a panting mess, breathing into his shirt, clutching onto it for dear life as his fingers settle right at the spot I need them to. He starts to curl them the way I like, and my body starts to tremble lightly. I lean more into his chest, needing him to help keep me up already.

My walls clench down around his fingers, so desperate, not realizing just how much I needed this.

My head tilts up to find him smirking down at me, lust heavy in his eyes. “There she is,” he coos at me. “Gonna come right here in the living room? Drip all over the floor?”

He pushes his scent out, making my mind go a little fuzzy. I don’t even realize I’ve nodded until after I’ve done it.

“Please, Simon…” I whimper, my hips shamelessly bucking up into his hand. The cool air and the thrusts of his fingers have me shivering against him.

“Don’t worry, love. I got you. Go ahead and be a good girl for me, and then we can take this to the bedroom, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” I whisper, desperate for more, for release. My body is on fire now, every nerve desperate and aching with need.

Simon smirks, a dark, hungry look in his eyes as he watches me come undone on his fingers. He pumps them faster, harder, his palm grinding against my clit with each thrust.

The obscene sound of my arousal fills the room, my scent mixing with it. I feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment and lust.

“Fuck, just like that, baby. Gonna come all over my fingers?” he growls, voice low and rough with his own desire.

I whimper, too lost in sensation to do anything else. My body is his, I’m completely at his mercy as he works me towards my peak.

With a final hard thrust and press of his thumb against my clit, I’m coming undone. I cry out, back arching sharply as my walls clamp down like a vice around his fingers.

“Simon!” I nearly scream, slick gushing out to soak his hand and the floor beneath us. He works me through it, fingers gentling as I start to come down.

It’s only once I’ve slumped against his chest, feeling boneless, that he pulls his fingers out of me. I watch as he brings them up to his lips to lick them clean.

“Delicious,” he purrs before scooping me up into his big, strong arms. I let out an undignified squeak.

My pants are still wrapped around my ankles as he carries me toward the bedroom. “H-holy shit,” I breathe. “I… I don’t know why I never considered you’d be able to carry me.”

Simon chuckles darkly at my dazed comment. “What? You think these muscles are just for you to drool over?”

As we reach the bedroom, he kicks the door shut behind us. He sets me down gently on the bed, eyes hungry as they trace over my naked half. He stands up, moving to lock the door before moving to help undress the rest of me.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes, yeah? Need to see all of you.”

I can only watch with hooded eyes, cheeks flushed as he reveals more and more of me. My shirt gets tossed on the floor, my bra quickly joining it until I’m in nothing but my socks.

I work on kicking them off as his hands come to cup my breasts. “Beautiful,” he breathes. He thumbs my nipples, rolling them between his fingers until they’re stiff peaks. I arch into his touch with a soft moan, craving more.

He leans down to capture one of my nipples in his mouth, suckling greedily as his hands roam my curves. I tangle my fingers in his hair, holding him to me as he gives his attention to my nipple.

His other hand trails down my stomach, fingertips tracing the lines of my body until he reaches my dripping folds. He groans around my nipple as he feels how wet I still am for him.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, releasing my nipple with a pop.

He brings his fingers up to show me, coated in my arousal. “All this from just a little fingering. You’re going to be the death of me, love.”

My legs spread further on their own. “It’s all for you,” I breathe. “Only for you.”

He smirks at my words before he settles between my thighs, rubbing his hard, clothed cock along my slick folds. I whimper at the friction, hips rolling up to meet his. The outside of his pants are quickly covered in my slick, and the sight of it makes something in Simon snap.

He quickly stands up, undoing his belt and shoving his pants down in a matter of seconds. His shirt and boxers are quick to follow, cock slapping against his stomach as he approaches me on the bed again in nothing but his dog tags.

“God, Simon,” I breathe. “I need you.”

“I know, love,” he reassures me as he starts lining himself up with my entrance. The broad head of his cock nudges against my opening, and it's at that moment that I remember just how much I have to stretch for him.

I tense slightly, a bit nervous for some reason, but he’s right there to reassure me.

“Breathe for me, love. Take a deep breath and relax. You’ve taken me before, you’ll be able to do it again.”

He starts pushing forward slowly, his thick cock spreading my walls obscenely.

I gasp, feeling so incredibly full already, and just the first few inches of him are in. It’s a lot easier this time than last time, like my body knows it’s him and easily opens up.

I listen to him, taking a deep breath, and even more of him easily slides in.

“That's it, love. Just like that. Fuck, you’re so goddman tight,” he grits out. I can feel every throb of his cock as he settles for a moment, stretching me out. After a few short moments, he starts pushing again, and it’s just enough to have him settle flush against my hips.

I take a moment to adjust to his size, feeling so full, but in the best way possible. After a few deep breaths, I’m able to relax my walls around him.

“O-okay,” I breathe out, my voice a little shaky. “I’m good.”

I look up at him with hooded eyes, noting how it looks like he’s holding himself back again.

“Please,” I whine. “Need you to move, wanna feel more of you.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. With a slight growl, he starts to move, hips snapping forward as he thrusts himself inside me. I cry out, back arching off the bed as he bottoms out.

The bed creaks beneath us with each powerful thrust of his hips.

I can only hang on, nails reaching up to dig into his back as he takes me. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure shooting through my body, walls clenching down around him again.

“Yes. Yes, fuck! Just like that!” I scream, too lost in the feeling of him inside me, stretching me, claiming me.

He leans down to capture my lips in a bruising kiss, tongue delving into my mouth. I return it just as fierce, all teeth and tongue, as we lose ourselves in each other.

He hooks my legs over his shoulders, nearly bending me in half as he pounds into me. The new angle allows him to go even deeper, hitting that special spot inside of me with every thrust.

“Ah, yes!” I cry out. “There, please, right there, fuck.” My head falls back as he keeps ruthlessly pounding into me.

“Shit,” he hisses. “I can feel you getting tighter.”

His dog tags dangle between us, and with a quick motion, he tosses them over his shoulder and onto his back, keeping them out of the way. We both chuckle for half a second before he hits that spot inside of me that just turns me to mush.

I start to get really close, my body tensing and trembling beneath him. In a moment of desperation, I move my head to the side and start nibbling along his tattooed arm, my teeth just lightly grazing his skin.

“Fuck, baby. You like that?” he growls, his thrusts become slightly harder and a bit more erratic.

I’m too focused on the feeling of him inside me, the way my body is stretched taut around his thick cock to respond.

I’m so unbearably close, teetering on the edge of ecstasy. My pussy clenches down on him like a vice, trying to hold him inside me.

“Please, please, please…” I babble incoherently, drool starting to leak from the corner of my mouth as it stays latched around his arm. The taste of his skin, the overwhelming presence of his scent, the way he feels inside of me, it’s all too much.

My mind goes blank as I chase my high, my eyes glazing over as I take in his muscular form above me. His muscles ripple and flex as he pounds into me. My eyes trail over his stomach and chest before following the trail of his tattoos down his arm.

My teeth lightly dig in more as my orgasm suddenly bursts through me. My pussy clamps down around his cock like a vice, walls fluttering and pulsing around him.

“Fuck, yes! That’s it, love. Come on my cock,” he growls, not slowing his thrusts at all.

I’m shaking and trembling beneath him, body overloaded with pleasure. My teeth and nails dig into him as I ride through the waves of pleasure.

He leans down, kissing my temple and panting into my hair.

“Fuck, takin' me so well,” he murmurs, pulling up to stare at where my mouth connects to his arm. “Guess they really are for droolin’ over, huh?”

As my orgasm subsides, I go limp and pull my mouth away from his arm, completely spent.

We both share a small laugh as he picks up his thrusts, his knot now starting to catch at my entrance. My hips jerk slightly, a bit overstimulated from my recent orgasm.

“‘S ok, love. Just relax again, and I’ll get us all tied up,” he tells me.

I whimper softly as I feel his knot going a bit deeper, stretching me even more. I take a deep breath and do my best to listen to relax.

“Good girl,” he praises, turning me into jello once again.

His thrusts turn a bit more shallow as he thrusts his knot back and forth against my entrance. “Just like that, love. Gonna fill up this sweet cunt right up.”

With a final, hard thrust, his knot locks into place. I gasp as I feel his hot seed start to pump into me, coating my insides.

He moans above me as he works through his orgasm. His body shakes for a moment until he lowers himself down gently, like he’s worried about crushing me. His breath is still uneven when he buries his face into my neck.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, almost slurred like he’s drunk. “Love you. Love bein’ tied to you like this.”

For a heartbeat, I forget how to breathe. The words sink in and make my stomach flip.

“You… you love me?” The question slips out before I can stop it, too fragile to sound real.

He goes still for a moment, then lifts his head. His eyes are heavy, but clear as that small smile greets me.

“‘Course I do,” he says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

For once, I can’t find the words to respond. I just stare at him, brain short-circuiting as I try to put a singular thought together,

He tilts his head, reading whatever’s flickering across my face. “You don’t have to say it back,” he murmurs. “Not if you’re not ready.”

I shake my head, blinking fast. “It’s not that,” I say, voice cracking a little. “I’ve felt the same for some time now, I just… I didn’t expect to hear it from you so soon.”

He raises a brow, something like amusement flickering behind his eyes. I take a shaky breath, trying to laugh but only managing a soft huff.

“Thought I was just bein’ a lovesick pup,” I admit. “Didn’t think you felt the same.”

His smile widens just a little. “You think I’d be standin’ guard in the infirmary for two days if I didn’t?”

A wild grin splits across my face now. “Guess not,” I whisper.

He leans down, pressing his forehead to mine, his voice a low rumble against my skin. “You’ve had me from the start, love. Sorry I had you thinkin’ otherwise.”

Something in my chest tugs, and I swear I can feel the last bits of doubt I had about us melting away. I wrap my arms around him, breathing him in, letting the moment anchor me.

We end up drifting asleep like that, tangled up in one another as the day's events tug us under. His knot stays inside me, but by the time I wake, it’s deflated. The warmth and scent of our lovemaking lingers in the air as I stir awake.

We shifted in our sleep, both turned onto our sides, but our legs and arms are still a mess of limbs and blankets. He’s got me curled up into his chest, protective even when he sleeps.

I blink slowly, letting my eyes adjust to the pale morning light that filters through the curtains. My gaze drifts up to his face, admiring how peaceful he looks, relaxed in a way I rarely get to see. The shadows beneath his eyes are softer here, his mouth slack and gentle instead of tight and locked with his jaw.

For a long time, I just watch him breathe, chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm.

Last night drifts back through my mind in flashes. The warmth of his hands, the way he said he loved me, the groan he let out when his knot finally settled inside me.

I can’t help the little shift of my hips, the faint squirm as I think about the memories. The sheets tug slightly, and the motion is enough to stir him.

Simon’s brow furrows faintly before his eyes crack open, bleary and heavy with sleep. He blinks once, takes me in, then lets his eyes fall shut again with a low, content groan.

His arm tightens around my waist, pulling me closer, and he buries his face into my hair, his breath warm against my scalp.

A soft, sleepy growl hums in his chest before he mumbles, voice rough and low. “Up early, love?”

I blush, caught red-handed. “Couldn’t help it,” I admit, squirming slightly as his arm tightens around me. “Started thinking about last night and just… couldn’t get back to sleep.”

He hums again, the sound low and indulgent as he noses into my neck, breathing in my scent. “Mmmm. I can smell that,” he rumbles, voice dipping deliciously darker. “Gettin’ all hot and bothered again for me, love?”

I nod, biting my lip as heat rushes to my cheeks.

“Fuck, you smell good,” he growls. The vibration of his voice sends shivers down my spine, and I feel a fresh wave of slick gather between my thighs.

He senses it immediately, because of course he does.

His hands wander lazily down my body before finding their place over my breast. His thumb brushes over my nipple, drawing a soft sound from me.

“My, my,” he murmurs, teasing. “Someone’s feeling needy this morning.”

“Probably has something to do with falling asleep on your knot,” I shoot back, breathless but grinning.

He chuckles, a dark, pleased sound. “Mmm. Could be,” he purrs.

Before I can say anything else, he shifts, rolling us over until I’m straddling him. I gasp, catching myself with my palms on his chest, heart pounding. He looks up at me through heavy lashes, expression hungry enough to steal the air right out of my lungs.

“Fuck,” he says as his eyes roam over me like I’m something sacred. “Look at you. So goddamn gorgeous, even first thing in the morning.”

I blush harder, not able to stop the triumphant smile that tugs at my lips. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know,” I tease, letting my hands brush along his chest.

He growls softly, one brow arched. “Not so bad, huh? Careful, love, flattery might get you into trouble.”

I giggle, shifting slightly to lean down, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth where the scar crawls out of. “Hmm… think I can handle the consequences,” I murmur.

His hands slide to my hips, holding me steady as he tilts his head, lips brushing against mine in a slow, lazy kiss.

There’s no rush or frantic urgency. It’s just the two of us, tangled up together in the early morning light.

That is, until my pussy decides she needs to run the show and starts practically dripping slick onto his hardening cock.

He smirks against my lips, hands squeezing my hips. “Gettin’ excited, love?” he teases.

I bury my face against his chest to try to hide my embarrassment. “Shut up,” I mumble, even as I grin down at him slightly.

He chuckles. “You weren’t kiddin’ about gettin’ all hot and bothered when you’re on top of a blonde.”

“You know, I can always punch you awake again next time,” I shoot back.

He grins up at me, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Mmm, I think I prefer this method much more, love. Definitely a better way to start the day.”

To emphasize his point, he rolls his hips up against mine, letting me feel his cock pressing against my slick folds. I gasp, back arching slightly at the sensation.

“Oh!” I breathe out. “Fuck, you’re already so hard.”

“Hard not to be when you’re rubbin’ up on me, love.”

He rolls his hips again, rubbing his thick length against my slit. I moan softly, head falling back as I start to grind down against him instinctively.

He groans, hands gripping my hips tightly as he meets my movements. “Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” he growls. “Gonna slide right in, ain’t ya?”

A spark of determination blooms in my chest. I want to take him all at once. I bite my bottom lip and nod before lifting up slightly.

Reaching down, I grip the base of his cock, lightly stroking it a few times before moving my hand up to steady him closer to the head.

I rub the head of his cock over my slit a few times, coating it before I try my best to sit down on it.

There’s a slight bit of resistance before his head slowly starts pushing in. With a slow breath, I feel myself stretching around him, pulling him in deeper.

“Fuck,” I curse as my hips instinctively end up sliding down to meet with his own. I whimper as I feel his full length inside of me, completely filling me. There’s a slight bit of tension, making me lean forward to pull out the last bit of his cock where his knot would be.

I let out a whimper. “Fuck, you’re so deep,” I pant out, trying to adjust to his size. It doesn’t take long, just a few seconds, probably since we had just been at this a few hours ago.

Slowly, I’m able to start rocking up and down without much friction.

He curses under his breath, and I watch as he does his best not to thrust up into me, letting me take my time and use him as I need to.

“Fuck.” I swear. Damn, is that the only word I know right now?

“You feel so good,” I manage to get out as I settle on a slow, rocking rhythm. Pants and breathy moans leave me as Simon’s hands run up and down the outside of my thighs.

I can feel every inch of him throbbing inside of me, stretching me out so perfectly. It’s intense, slightly too much, but in the best way possible.

“God, I swear I can feel you in my throat,” I tease.

He chuckles breathlessly. “‘S ok, love. Take your time. Make yourself feel good.”

I nod, continuing to slowly rock against him. Suddenly, I feel a spark of pleasure shoot through me as his cock drags against a sensitive spot inside of me.

“Oh fuck!” I cry out, back arching and head getting thrown back as I grind harder against him.

He groans, hands gripping my hips tighter as I clench down around him. “That’s it, love. Found a sweet spot, didn’t ya?” he growls.

I moan in response, giving him a pathetic nod. He rocks his hips up ever so slightly so that his cock presses harder against my insides. The next time I lift up, my head goes foggy from how good his cock feels rubbing up against that spot.

I know that I’m only lifting up maybe an inch or two, but the way that he’s grinding against me has me almost drooling all over him again.

My breaths start to turn into frantic pants as I desperately try to keep the motion of rocking his cock against that spot.

My hips start to stutter, unable to move the way I need them to just because of how good it all feels. Simon seems to catch on when I let out a pathetic whimper.

“I got ya,” he tells me, grabbing my waist and helping lift me up and down. My eyes roll back with my head as he helps guide me slowly up and down his cock.

It’s not fast and feral like sex normally is for me, but maybe that’s what’s got my legs shaking so much. The feeling of him slowly rubbing over that same spot has me completely lost in myself.

“Puh-please,” I whimper as he guides me up and down. “D-don’t stop. Please don’t stop. H-holy fuck.”

My voice is broken and raspy as I feel him tense below me.

“Please, please, please,” I’m chanting mindlessly as he gets me closer and closer to the edge. My legs shake as my walls tighten around him. White hot bliss is right in front of my face, yet so far at the same time.

I grip and claw at his chest in front of me, just needing something, anything more, being so close to the edge. My whining fills the space between us, loud and raw. I don’t care that I’m being so loud, I need this.

It seems Simon on the other hand, does care.

Before I can even process what’s happening, something cold and smooth presses against my bottom lip. My eyes snap open, not realizing I had closed them. Looking down, I find Simon holding his dog tags to my mouth, watching me expectantly.

Instinctively, my tongue snakes out, tasting the cool metal and the saltiness of his fingers. I’m panting as I continue to roll my hips against him. The metallic tang is strange but electric, only heightened by the salt of his skin.

He nudges the dog tag gently against my bottom teeth. “Bite,” he instructs, his eyes dark and commanding before adding, “gently.”

I lower my jaw carefully, holding the tag between my teeth, thankful for the rubber barrier that’s around them. My breaths come in ragged pants around them, muffling my moans just slightly. The hand that offered me the tag slides back to my waist, helping me rock against that spot that sends sparks straight to my core.

Drool mixes with the metal against my tongue as my eyes lock with his, both os us caught in the shared closeness. His gaze drives me, spurring me to keep grinding down, making every nerve in my body light up.

I let myself feel everything, so lost in the sensations that when my orgasm finally crashes over me, I lose all sense of control. My body trembles, spasming against him as I work through wave after wave.

I come back to myself moments later, blinking at the world around me as the dog tag slips from my mouth, bouncing wetly against my chest before landing on his.

“Atta girl,” he praises from below me. His husky tone is thick with approval and desire, letting me know he enjoyed that just as much as I did.

My hips come to a stop as I try to catch my breath, but the aftershocks in my pussy refuse to let me rest. I collapse slightly, coming to lie against him as I search for a steady breath.

“Fuck,” I murmur between ragged exhales. “That was… fuckin’ hot.”

His chuckle moves us up and down. He rubs my back before giving a light kiss to the side of my temple.

“Glad you liked it,” he murmurs, voice tender but still edged with arousal. “Thought it might have been a bit… weird.”

“No,” I insist, breath catching. “No, fuck. That… that was just what I needed.”

He chuffs, lightly thrusting into me. I nuzzle the side of his head, pulling up just a little to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Seems like you liked it too,” I tease, letting my hips respond instinctively.

“Was hot,” he says with a breath. “Seein’ you with my tags…. might… might have you just wear ‘em.”

I cock my head, regaining enough composure to tease back, starting to rock my hips again.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, with that lustful, longing look in his eyes again. “Wanna… wanna collar you with ‘em.”

My heart stutters and my hips follow.

“Yeah?” I whisper softly, voice slightly trembling, betraying the emotions stirring in my chest. So much is being said with so few words, and after his confession last night, my chest feels so full.

He studies me, eyes dark and intent, seemingly running through something in his head before his expression steels.

“Yeah,” he says finally, firm and sure.

And with that, he grabs the chain around his neck and slides it gently over my head. My chest tightens and my heart hammers as tears prick my eyes. The emotion of the gesture make my hips pick up again.

I rock back and forth on his cock, hoping that the motion portrays everything I’m feeling right now.

“Alpha,” I breathe, as the weight settles around my neck. His hand comes up to cradle the side of my face. I nuzzle into it before getting back to trying to make him cum.

My hips bounce up and down freely now. His head falls back as he watches me with heavy eyes. The hand on his cheek slides down to grab the tags, pulling me just a bit closer, and I can’t help but close the distance between us.

The kiss we share is passionate and feels like we’re welding our two bodies together with how heated it is.

All of a sudden, his hands fly to my hips, guiding me to move faster as he pulls away.

“Fuck,” he growls as he starts slamming me down against him.

Small moans and mewls leave me as another orgasm comes creeping up on me again.

“S-Simon I’m…”

The way his knot catches against my entrance tells me all I need to know about how close he also is.

“Yes. Please,” I whine out. Not needing any further permission, he slams me down harder, before his knot pops into me. I come instantly, so caught up in the moment that I can’t find it in myself to be embarrassed by how quick that was.

He lets out a growly moan as I feel his cock jerking and throbbing inside of me.

I let myself fully lower down on top of his chest, head turned to the side, as we both try to catch our breath. His hands wrap around me, keeping me from trying to move while he’s still knotted to me.

The soft rumble of his chest vibrates beneath me, and I blink, realizing with a startled little laugh that I’ve been purring and he’s responding to it.

“That was… nice,” I murmur softly a few minutes later.

He nods wordlessly, and I smile against his chest before lifting up slightly to get a better look at his face.

“Did you mean it?” I ask tentatively.

He looks back at me, brows connecting with one another, and I swallow hard. “You want this to be my collar?”

He glances away for a moment. “Doesn’t have to be. Can get you something nicer,” he says quietly.

“No,” I say quickly. “I like it. Just… wanted to make sure you meant it…”

His gaze softens as he turns back to me. “I did.”

Tears prick my eyes again, and I look down, biting my lower lip to stop it from trembling before looking back at him. Once again, he’s got me speechless, unable to form the words I want to.

So instead, I settle on a quiet, breathless whisper. “Thank you, alpha.”

It’s drizzling as we wander down the quiet streets of Simon’s hometown. Fog curls around the edges of buildings and parks, clinging to lampposts and the wrought-iron fence of a nearby playground.

Our bellies are still pleasantly full from the “proper English breakfast” at a tucked-away cafe that was near our house. Simon and I had playfully argued the whole meal about what qualified as breakfast, and more importantly, what qualified as pudding. Certainly, it wasn’t the hockey puck of meat I had been served.

Now, hands intertwined, we cross a small concrete bridge that goes over a narrow canal.

“Got in trouble here once,” Simon says, his tone strangely casual, almost too calm.

I tilt my head to look up at him. “Oh?” I prompt, raising an eyebrow.

“Long story,” he says, but the corner of his mouth twitches. “Let’s just say, it involved a lot of running and a very angry groundskeeper.”

I laugh. “I can only imagine the type of trouble you could get into here,” I remark.

He nudges me gently with his shoulder. “No doubt it was any less than what you got yourself into,” he shoots back.

I roll my eyes with a knowing smile. “You’re probably not wrong.”

We stroll a little further until we reach a florist that’s bursting at the seams with Christmas decorations and greenery.

The scent of pine, cinnamon, and something sweet drifts onto the damp street, wrapping anyone who walks by in a festive hug. Simon pauses, tilts his head toward the door, and opens it for me with a flourish that makes me grin.

Stepping inside, I find the shop is even more magical than the exterior suggested. Wreaths hang next to each other along one wall, each decorated with ribbons, ornaments, and other sparkling bobbles. Miniature Christmas trees seem to cover every surface, equally as decorated as the wreaths.

“Hello— oh!” a warm voice calls from behind that counter. I glance up to see an older beta with a bright, welcoming smile. “Simon Riley. Is that you, love?”

Simon’s shoulders relax, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Aye, Aggie. ‘S me,” he grins.

I watch him, intrigued by the easy familiarity of his greeting.

“It’s been ages!” Aggie exclaims as she hurries around the counter. She opens her arms wide and pulls Simon into a warm, motherly hug.

He leans down a little to meet her halfway, a quiet laugh rumbling in his chest. “Still runnin’ this place single-handed?” he asks.

“Oh, you know it,” she jokes with a warm smile. “None of the boys wanted to take over somethin’ so ‘frilly’, they said.”

The two share a knowing laugh before Aggie shakes her head. “I swear, every time I see you, you’re getting taller. Or maybe I’m just shrinking.”

Simon huffs a small laugh, the sound genuine. “Bit of both, maybe.”

I can’t help but smile at the two. There’s something about the way she’s lightly fussing over him that warms my heart.

Aggie’s gaze slides toward me then, eyes bright with curiosity. “And who’s this lovely thing you’ve brought with you, hmm?”

Simon glances my way, a hint of shyness flickering across his eyes.

“Aggie, this is Boo,” he says. “Boo, this is Aggie. She’s been runnin’ this shop since before I could see over the counter.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, ma’am,” I say, extending my hand to her.

Aggie lets out a warm laugh and takes my hand between both of hers. “My, aren’t you a polite one,” she muses. “Can’t imagine how Simon got a hold of such a sweet omega such as yourself. I still remember when he’d come in her with his mom, trackin’ mud around the shop.”

Simon grumbles under his breath, but there’s amusement tucked in the sound. “Bloody hell, no need to tell her everything, Aggie.”

“Oh, but I do,” she says with a wink. “Who else is going to embarrass you and keep you humble?”

I bite back a grin, enjoying how flustered he looks.

Aggie moves back behind the counter, walking over to a row of poinsettias. “Now then, you’re not just here to show off your new omega, are you? Pickin’ up flowers for you mum, I presume?”

The question is so casual, so kind, that it takes me a second to notice the shift in Simon’s expression.

“Aye,” he says a bit quieter. “For Mum.”

Aggie nods softly, her tone turning gentle in an instant. “Of course, love. Know just the thing.”

She disappears toward the back of the shop, the faint hum of the cooler filling the air. When she returns, she’s holding a small poinsettia arrangement in a simple, tinsel-covered pot.

“She’ll love this,” Aggie says warmly, passing it over with both hands.

Simon’s expression softens, something almost wistful flickering behind his eyes. He slides a folded bundle of notes across the counter before taking the pot carefully from her.

“Oh, now you stop that,” Aggie protests, pushing the money toward him. “You know I won’t take that.”

“Aggie,” Simon says a bit firmly. “Please.”

They share a long look before Aggie sighs, sliding the bundle towards her and stuffing it in her apron. “Fine. You’ve always been a stubborn one. Just know that I’m only taking this because she’s here.”

He smiles faintly, leaning in towards her. “Believe it or not, she’s even more stubborn than I am,” he says, jerking his head towards me with a wink.

“Hey!” a shout in my defense, making the pair chuckle.

Simon hands me the poinsettia, giving Aggie one final hug before we start heading out.

Aggie calls out a cheerful, “Take care, loves,” as the bell over the door jingles behind us. The warmth of the shop fades away as the damp chill of the street settles back in.

We walk in silence for a while, boots scuffing against the wet pavement. My anxiety starts to creep in. I glance over at Simon, but I find his expression unreadable.

“So, um… we’re going to meet your mom?” I ask finally, my voice careful, a hint of worry threading through it.

He looks over at me, giving me a solid nod. “Yes,” he says quietly.

I let out a breath that fogs in the cold air around us. “Some warning would’ve been nice,” I mutter, pulling the flowers closer to my chest. “I would’ve brought her something, or… I don’t know. Certainly would’ve tried to look more presentable.”

He lifts one shoulder in a nonchalant, infuriatingly calm way. “Doesn’t matter.”

My jaw drops a little. This is absolutely ridiculous. “Maybe to you,” I shoot back, frowning up at him. “But first impressions are kind of important, Simon.”

That earns a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, a smirk that he’s trying to hide. His gaze flicks down to me, slow and deliberate, before returning to the street ahead of us. “Think you’ll do fine,” he says, voice turning a bit fond.

The drizzle picks up, but I’m too frustrated to have it bother me.

“Still,” I mumble, mostly to myself. “Would’ve been nice to know.”

He doesn’t answer right away, and I catch the smallest shift in his expression. Whatever he’s thinking, he keeps to himself.

Silence stretches between us as we keep walking. “So…” I start carefully. “What’s she like? Your mom.”

His mouth twitches again. “Stubborn,” he says after a beat. “Didn’t take nonsense from me or my brother.”

My brows lift, surprised. “You have a brother, too? Is he going to be there?”

A shadow crosses his face, subtle but unmistakable. “Yeah,” he says quietly. Turning his gaze back to the street ahead of us.

Shit. Clearly that wasn’t the right question to ask. I bite down my next one about his tone, because something in his tone tells me he’s done answering questions.

“Well,” I say instead, forcing a lightness I don’t feel. “At least we know where you get your stubbornness, then.”

That earns me a small, sidelong smile. “Guess so.”

We fall back into silence. My fingers tighten around the pot, the cold air turning them a bit red. The streets grow quieter as we move away from the town center, houses thinning into stone walls and patches of old oak trees.

When we turn the next corner, the landscape opens up into a gentle rise, and my breath catches.

An old graveyard peeks out through the fog. Its wrought-iron gates stand slightly ajar, coated in rain droplets. Beyond them, rows of weathered headstones stretch out over slopes and mounds. The drizzle around us seems to mute the world into a gentle sort of stillness.

For a moment, I can only just stare as the realization hits me.

I look over at Simon, but his focus is elsewhere. His jaw is clenched tight, eyes distant in a way that makes me feel dull.

The poinsettia suddenly feels heavier in my hands. I shift it into the crook of my arm, reaching out for Simon with my free hand. His hand twitches at first, as if he wasn’t expecting the contact, before gently curling into mine.

He leads me through the gates and down a narrow gravel path. The fog seems to hang lower here, sitting comfortably on the different stones we pass.

Simon slows, and I can feel the subtle shift in him before his scent hits. It’s turned more acrid, letting me know just how upset he really is, despite wearing a decent poker face.

As we come upon a pair of matching headstones, his hand slowly separates from mine. I stop beside him, close enough that our shoulders nearly touch, before readjusting the poinsettia so it’s cradled against my chest.

Simon clears his throat, gesturing to the headstone on the left. “Mum,” he says before gesturing to the other one. “Tommy.”

My heart tightens as my eyes trace over the names carved into the stone. Seeing that they share the same end-of-life dates hits me hard in the gut. I know better than to ask what happened, knowing this much is already enough.

The air feels heavier, Simon’s scent tangling with the damp earth and pine around us.

I lower myself onto the wet ground without thinking, the cold seeping into my knees as I brush away a few stray leaves clinging to the base of the headstones.

“It’s very nice to meet you both,” I say softly, setting the poinsettia in front of his mother’s grave. The red petals shine against the gray stone, almost giving it a bit more life. “He, uh… he picked these for you.”

The corners of my lips curl up in a small, sympathetic smile. “Or, well… I guess Aggie picked them out, but Simon thought it’d be good to bring you some.”

For a moment, I don’t know what to do with my hands. Simon stands behind me, silent as ever. I swallow, deciding to fill the silence in the only way I know how.

“You’ve got a good one here, Mrs. Riley,” I murmur to the stone. “Stubborn as hell, but I think you already knew that. Seems to be the word of the day, really.”

A small smile tugs at my lips. “He took me to breakfast this morning at this cute little cafe. Not sure if this is a British thing, but he tried to convince me that the sausage I was eating was called pudding.”

Simon exhales softly behind me, a breath that’s almost a laugh.

“Think he’s tryin’ to pull one over on me, Mrs. Riley,” I tease, still keeping my voice low and steady.

There’s another small beat of silence as a bird starts chirping in a nearby tree. I smile, letting out a small hum. “Can’t complain too much, though. He’s been really good to me… Giving me a second chance at life when I’m not even sure I’ve deserved it. You’d be proud of him, I’m sure.”

My throat tightens a little, but I push through it.

“And Tommy,” I say softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet you, but if you’re anything like your brother, no doubt the two of you together is just nothing but trouble.”

The drizzle starts to pick up around us, the patter of it dropping onto the stone helping to fill the bits of silence.

I stand back up, wiping off my knees quickly as I stand next to Simon. He’s staring down at the graves with that faraway look again. Without thinking, I reach for his hand again and squeeze. He doesn’t squeeze back, but he doesn’t let go either.

We stand there in silence for a long moment.

Then quietly, Simon exhales. “Used to come here every leave,” he murmurs. “Then things got a little crazy, and I couldn’t make it all the time.”

I glance up at him, not saying anything, only being there for when he does speak.

“Mum would have loved you,” he says after a moment. “Probably would’ve cooked you that breakfast herself.”

A small smile tugs at my lips, and I rest my head against his shoulder, eyes fixed on her name carved into the stone. The drizzle starts to cling to my lashes, and I do my best to blink them away.

Simon lets out a quiet huff. “And no doubt Tommy would’ve tried to take you from me. Never could have anything nice to myself.”

Despite myself, a laugh slips out.

“Would’ve liked to see him try,” I tease lightly, the sound breaking through the gray quiet around us.

Simon glances down, a faint ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. For a heartbeat, the heaviness lifts, replaced by something small and tender that feels almost like sunlight behind the clouds.

He squeezes my hand once. “C’mon,” he murmurs. “Let’s get outta the rain before you catch somethin’. Yer hands are freezin’.”

A bell jingles as Ghost pushes it open, holding it open for me like he always did. I step inside and instantly feel a mix of nerves and excitement swirl in my chest. The place smells faintly of antiseptic and cleaner, but there’s a cozy floral scent that lingers as well. It’s cozy and far less intimidating than I’d imagine for a place that Ghost gets tattooed at.

“Oi! You lot finally made it,” a thick Manchester accent calls out from a back room. A tall man with ink covering almost every bit of exposed skin steps out from the back, walking up quickly to the front of the shop.

“Ghosty! Mate. How the hell’ve you been? It’s been too long.”

The two alphas clasp hands and pull into a quick side hug before the more tattooed man turns his sharp grin on me.

“And you must be Boo,” Dutch says, extending a hand my way.

I take it, returning a firm shake. “Yes, sir.”

“And she’s a bloody yank. Boy, you sure know how to pick ‘em, don’t you, mate?” Dutch elbows Ghost playfully.

Before anyone can respond, a softer voice cuts in. “Ignore him,” says a petite woman stepping out from behind Dutch. She’s covered in delicate ink from her neck down, and the smile she wears makes her eyes crinkle.

“I’m Lily,” she says, offering her hand to me.

I shake it easily, smiling back. That’s when I realize the cozy floral scent filling the shop is hers. It blends so perfectly with the space that I hadn’t even recognized it as another omega’s scent.

“Boo,” I introduce myself again.

“We’re mighty happy to have you, love,” she says kindly. “I’ll be here to turn down the alpha vibes and make sure you’re comfy while you get your ink done.”

“Thank you, miss,” I reply with a small nod.

Ghost tilts his head slightly toward here. “This is the omega I told you about,” he says quietly.

“Oh,” I murmur, the connection clicking into place. “Yeah, that makes sense now.”

Lily tilts her head in curiosity, so I continue, a little sheepish. “I’ve been turned away from a few shops for being an omega. They told me ink messes with your fertility and hormones and all that.” My cheeks warm slightly in embarrassment at the memory.

She hums in understanding, her smile patient. “Well, I think I’m proof that’s not the case, she says, gesturing to herself. “Got a six-month-old at home. He’s with my parents today. They came down from Sunderland for the holiday. Wanted to see pup’s first Christmas.”

A genuine smile creeps over my face. “That’s amazing. I’d love to see pictures when you get the chance.”

“Of course, love,” she beams.

“Right then,” Dutch cuts in, clapping his hands once. “Why don’t I show you the designs I worked up, and we’ll get the ball rolling?”

I nod and let him guide me toward his station.

After we had come home, I had a chance to reach out to Dutch and send him some reference photos and ideas for what I wanted. He also helped me figure out how we could have Ghost there in the shop without him seeing the tattoo I was getting.

Since I was getting a design on my hip, we decided to put a divider in front of my lower half, that way Ghost could still see me without ruining the surprise.

I was thankful he was being a good sport about this, even waiting on the other side of the parlor while we finalized the design and got the stencil on, so he didn’t see or hear anything.

Once everything is settled, Lily helps me get on the table, strategically wrapping a blanket around my legs and any other exposed skin she could, so I didn’t get too cold.

It was a bit awkward, being in just a thong and socks from the waist down, but the blanket helped me keep just a bit more of my dignity. Plus, the pair made me feel more than comfortable the times I was considered “exposed”.

As Dutch finishes up getting his tray set up, Lily hands me a stuffed fox, and I blink in surprise.

“For holding,” she says gently. “Helps when the pain gets a bit much.”

“Thank you,” I beam at her as she moves to sit at the station behind Dutch. I mentally kick myself for not having my stuffed skeleton, but considering how quickly we left base, I can’t be too mad at myself.

Dutch snaps on a pair of fresh gloves with a practiced flick. “Alright then, let’s get this show on the road, yeah? This is your first, right?”

“Yes, sir,” I admit, voice coming out softer than I intended.

“‘Sir,’ she keeps sayin’,” Dutch chuckles. “Proper polite, aren’t you?”

A small, breathy laugh escapes me. “Had to be where I’m from.”

He hums as he leans over me, machine poised. “Well, you can relax now, love. Yer makin’ me feel like my dad.”

We both share a small chuckle before he asks, “Alright, I’m all set to go. You ready?”

I take a deep breath, squeeze the fox a little tighter, and nod. “Ready.”

The tattoo machine whirs to life with a sharp buzz that fills the parlor. The first prick of the needle bites at my skin, and I tense on instinct. It surprises me how little pain I’m actually feeling, though. It’s more of a scratchy feeling than a stabby feeling like I was expecting.

“How’s that, love?” Dutch prompts.

“Not too bad,” I reply back with a small shrug.

“That’s good,” he tells me. “Might sting a bit more when we get up here towards the bone, but it seems like you’ve got nerves of steel.”

I let out a shaky laugh through the sting as he continues. “I try.”

“Yeah, you and every tough guy who sits in that chair,” he teases, then adds with a grin, “You’re already doin’ better than he did his first time.”

“Didn’t tap out,” Ghost mutters from his chair on the other side of the divider.

Dutch snorts. “Didn’t finish either, mate.”

Lily giggles softly behind him. “Alright, you two,” she chides playfully.

“Couldn’t handle the shading,” Dutch whispers to me, making me softly laugh. “Sure, you’ll do better though.”

Dutch easily settles into a rhythm, hand steady as he works. The pain ends up becoming background noise, almost meditative with the hum of the tattoo gun.

We all talk as he works, conversation flowing easily over the hum of the machine. Dutch tells me how he and Lily met, “She came in for a little wrist flower, left with half her arm done, and my number in her phone.”

I share small things in return. How long I’ve been in the UK, a quick, vague reasoning as to why, and things that I’m still not used to yet.

Dutch teases me a few times about my accent, and I tease right back, happy to have the banter to help distract me.

Ghost sits quietly on the other side of the divider, occasionally joining in on the conversation. His scent lingers softly in the air, helping to keep me a bit more grounded as Dutch works over my hip bone.

As time passes, the sting of the needle fades into something distant and dull. My breathing evens out, and the soft buzz of the machine starts to lull me. The aching in my hip turns into a slow, rhythmic throb that’s almost soothing.

“Doing alright, love?” Lily murmurs at one point, leaning forward slightly.

“Mm,” I hum sleepily, eyes starting to flutter closed. “Just… tired.”

“Good sign,” Dutch says without looking up. “Means you’re relaxed. Tough little bird, ya got, Ghosty.”

I feel Lily drape another blanket over my shoulders, tucking it gently beneath my skin. Her comforting floral scent with Ghost’s homey scent has me completely surrendering my body over to the warmth surrounding me.

The last thing I register before sleep drags me under is Lily’s sweet voice saying, “You’re doing so well, love. It’s okay to rest. We’ve got you.”

A gentle nudge at my shoulder pulls me from sleep, the steady buzz of the machine long gone. I blink groggily, disoriented for a moment before Ghost’s low voice cuts through the haze.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs, thumb brushing against my arm. “You’re done. Dutch wants you to take a look before I do.”

I groan softly, gently stretching as I sit up. “Already? Thought I just blinked.”

Ghost huffs a quiet laugh, eyes crinkling behind his mask. “You’ve been out for nearly two hours. Snored once or twice, too.”

I narrow my eyes at him, too tired to do more than mumble. “Did not!”

Dutch’s easy voice chimes in from behind me. “Nah, he’s right. You were out cold once we started shading.”

I laugh sleepily, rubbing my eyes. “Guess that stuffed fox worked a little too well.”

Lily giggles next to Dutch. “You handled it like a pro, love. Go on then, let's have you take a look.”

Dutch helps me to my feet, steadying me as I wobble for a second. He guides me toward a full-length mirror, and my breath snags in my throat.

Staring back at me from my hip is Ghost’s mask. On one side, a cluster of peonies blooms out from the mask; on the other side, marigolds. The shading has the flowers lying perfectly against the mask, making it look almost as if it’s sitting on top of them.

“Oh.” My voice comes out a bit shaky. “It’s… beautiful.”

Dutch’s grin widens, pride written all over him as he stands beside me. “Interested to see what the big guy thinks of it,” he says, amusement coating his tone.

I can’t stop the silly, giddy grin that spreads across my face. “Me too,” I whisper.

“Why don’t you come on over, Ghost?” Dutch prompts, stepping aside with an almost ceremonious flourish.

Ghost moves up behind me, silently scanning my face before his eyes dip to the tattoo. For a beat, he doesn’t say anything, and I’m worried he doesn’t like it.

When he does speak, the rawness of his tone tells me otherwise. “Love… you sure?”

I turn my head just enough to meet his eyes, a soft laugh tumbling out. “Bit late now to have second thoughts,” I tease, gently.

That earns me a small chuff as his eyes go from mine to the mask’s. “Bloody hell,” he murmurs under his breath. “Didn’t think you’d ever do something like this.”

I smile, warmth spreading through me that has nothing to do with the sting of the tattoo.

“Guess you’ll have to get used to lookin’ at yourself, huh?”

He hums low in his chest, voice thick with affection. “Aye, that I will.”

Ghost leans in and presses a brief kiss to my temple. “Thank you,” he whispers to me.

Dutch clears his throat theatrically. “Right, lovebirds. Gotta wrap her all up, and then we can send you on your way.”

Dutch and Lily are kind enough to wrap up the tattoo nicely and help explain aftercare to me, despite Ghost’s assurance that he’d be on top of it. We say our goodbyes and head back out into the cold December air towards our rented home.

The rest of our time in Manchester flies by in a blur.

Simon takes me to a stylist he found online, a nice beta woman who had a private suite tucked away in the back of a small studio. It had been years since I’d even stepped into a salon, so I was grateful to have the amount of privacy I had.

She asked gentle questions about what I wanted, what I normally do with my hair, and which products usually work for me without judgment. When I tell her I’m not looking for anything too dramatic, she doesn’t push, just helps me to get my fried ends taken care of.

By the time my hair is washed and trimmed, I can’t help but feel cared for. My hair feels a lot better than it has in a while, and I can’t help but feel super confident afterwards.

Simon ends up using that to coax me into some light shopping for myself. Thankfully, it wasn’t super busy, and I was able to take some time to find some more simple pieces as well as one dress, much to both of our surprise.

We also managed to check off the last of the gifts we needed, walking back to our little house with arms full of bags and faces full of smiles. It all feels oddly domestic, and something about that seems to melt away another layer I had put up around my heart.

The following day, we caught a train to Liverpool. Simon was super patient with me, showing me how the whole process worked and making sure that we caught the right train. It was a bit overwhelming, but he was soft with the way he guided me that it made the whole adventure easier.

We walked to the nearest beach, and I swear I couldn’t breathe the first time I saw the ocean. The smell was the first thing that hit me hard. The salt and cold wind had something deep and wild in it that just called out to me.

I fell in love instantly, practically dragging Simon to the waves so I could feel them for myself. The beach was absolutely freezing, but it still captivated me. I ended up taking a candle home from a local gift shop just so I could have something to sniff when we got back to base.

Simon teased me about the whole thing, shaking his head and grinning at me as I picked up a handful of sand or dared to put my feet in the freezing water. He promised to take me back when the weather warms, since apparently, now was the worst possible time to properly enjoy a beach.

On our final day, with the sky finally cleared and the air warmed just enough to pretend it was pleasant weather, we visited the graves again.

I insisted on a picnic, and Simon surprisingly humors me. We stopped by one of his favorite chippies and ended up sitting together in front of the headstones, sharing food and leaning into each other as we shared our favorite stories about our lost ones.

The energy between us is soft and electric at the same time. I feel a little ridiculous, like a pup with her first crush, practically buzzing with excitement over how much time we’ve spent together. Every moment charged in a way that I’m still getting used to.

Because somewhere in the middle of all that excitement, a little guilt starts to thread itself through my chest.

I feel like a whole new person because of him. The way he’s looked after me, given me space to breathe without asking for anything in return. I mean, in some ways… I am a new person.

I’ve seen places I’d never thought I’d see, felt things I’d never imagine I’d be allowed to. He makes me feel safe and cared for in a way that still catches me off guard.

And what have I given him back?

I may be looking at it too harshly, but it feels like the answer is nothing. I haven’t had to work for anything. Haven’t had to try. Haven’t had to be anything other than someone he can come back home to.

I know he’d argue with that immediately. Tell me I don’t owe him a damn thing. That I should just focus on myself or some other well-meaning bullshit like that. But the unfairness of it digs at me. I can’t shake the feeling that I haven’t offered him even a fraction of what he’s given me.

Which, if I were being rational, isn’t true at all. The way he’s been smiling the past couple of days, the ease in his shoulders, how fucking soft his eyes have been… all of that should tell me that I’m not just dead weight.

I know that… but the thought just won’t go away.

It’s still there as we clean up the house on our final night, moving around each other in this quiet, domestic rhythm that feels far too good to be something we have to give up in the morning.

Simon’s hands find me every chance they get. Fingers brush my waist when he reaches for a dish, palm settling on my back as he steps past me to help with laundry. Casual touches that send little sparks racing down my spine each time.

That’s when the idea hits me.

It’s so clear, so perfect, that I almost laugh at myself for not thinking of it sooner. There is something that I can offer him that I’ve been holding back from. Something I’ve been scared to give up, something we’ve talked about me not wanting to do because I wasn’t ready.

The weight of his tags around my neck, and the buzz of the healing tattoo on my hip make me realize just how ready I actually am.

Before I can talk myself out of it, Simon comes up behind me. His big hands slide around my hips, carefully guiding me back against him. His head dips into the curve of my neck, and he breathes me in with a low, pleased rumble that vibrates against my back.

“What can I do,” he rumbles, “to convince you to come to be with me?”

A smile tugs at my mouth.

Perfect.

“Actually…” I turn my head just slightly, letting the coyness bleed into my voice. “I’d really like to give you a massage… You know, if you’re up for it.”

I feel the way his head tilts, body now laced with curiosity. His hands tighten slightly on my hips.

“A massage,” he repeats almost cautiously.

I hum and give him a little nod. “A massage,” I confirm. “If you’d like.”

There’s another moment of stillness between us that makes us giggle.

“I figure,” I continue, “that a big guy like you probably has a bunch of knots that need to get worked out.”

“Oh, I got a knot ye can work out,” he says without missing a beat.

I laugh, bringing a hand up to settle at the back of his head, keeping him close. “Don’t I know it,” I tease back, moving my head to the side to lightly kiss whatever part of his face I can reach.

“But I’m serious,” I continue. “I’d really like to do this for you, but only if you want. I won’t push you. Don’t know if it’ll be uncomfy or—”

“I’d love it,” he cuts me off, rubbing his face some more into my neck.

I turn in his arms, and the look on his face nearly undoes me. He’s studying me with those soft eyes that have my knees already buckling.

His guard is down in a way that I’ve only ever seen in a way when it’s just the two of us, and for a heartbeat, I wonder if he even knows how vulnerable he looks right now.

I take his hand. “C’mon,” I murmur, giving it a gentle tug.

He follows without hesitation, letting me lead him down the hall to the bedroom. The lamps are already on, casting the room in a warm, low glow that just makes everything feel softer. I motion toward the bed.

“Undress and lie down on your stomach,” I say, moving to my suitcase. I’m aiming for a confident tone, but the way his eyes linger on me already has my face warming.

His brow lifts in a way that tells me he’s both amused and very aware of what I’m doing, but he doesn’t push it.

“Bossy tonight,” he murmurs as he starts stripping, unhurried and annoyingly graceful about it.

I turn away toward my bag, partly to grab what I need and partly because I know watching him undress will just completely derail my plan. I tuck the items I need under my shirt, hiding them from view.

“I’m going to change so I’m not getting lotion all over my clothes,” I say, slowly creeping toward the bathroom. “Just lie there and relax, okay?”

I hear the bed shift under his weight, and I can only imagine the eye roll he’s giving me. “‘Just relax,’,” he mimics. “Not sure you know how serial-killer-y that sounds… Undress. Get on the bed. Just relax.”

I let out a breathy laugh as I shut the bathroom door behind me. I change quickly, then throw a towel around myself before stepping back out. My heart’s hammering, knowing he’s going to be looking at me even if he pretends he’s not.

Sure enough, I catch the shift of his eyes as he peeks out from the sheets. They’re curious and hungry as they watch me quickly scramble behind him on the bed.

I climb onto the bed, making sure to carefully place myself on top of his hips before I pull off the towel and set it to the side.

“Doin’ alright down there?” I ask with a bit of a teasing tone.

“More than,” he rasps, lightly adjusting himself below me.

Satisfied, I grab the bottle of lotion I had with me and pour a line of lotion across his shoulders. He jerks at the cold feeling, a startled grunt leaving him.

“Sorry,” I murmur, and then let my hands glide over the lotion.

The reaction is immediate. His breath stutters, and a low, half-sigh, half-growl escapes him. My thumbs press gently but firmly into the first bit of knotted muscle I find, trying to gauge how much pressure he likes.

He ends up completely melting.

His arms fall loose beside his head, fingers uncurling, body going slack under me like he’s surrendering every ounce of tension he’s been holding onto for years.

A pleased chuff slips out of me instinctively, and his responding rumble vibrates up my body through his legs.

“Jesus…” he breathes, already sounding undone. “Didn’t know ye had hands like that.”

I grin, leaning forward to knead deeper into the muscle along his shoulder blade. “Maybe you should let me take care of you like this more often.”

He gives another low, velvety grumble, sinking even further into the mattress. “Don’t tempt me, love.”

With a hum, I begin working my way slowly down his back. Every few inches, I find a new knot. I work through every stubborn remnant of years of strain, missions, injuries he never talks about.

Every time I press just right, he grunts or his muscles twitch beneath my hands, and I stay there until the tension melts and he exhales again.

He gives me more and more of himself with each pass of my hands, and I feel the honor of that settle deep in my chest.

His back is littered with scars, puckered circles, and faint white lines that lead to his ribs. I want to kiss every one of them, trace them with my mouth, will them and the bad memories that come with them away.

But I can’t just yet, not with what I still have planned for the rest of the evening.

For now, I just let my hands tell him everything I don’t have the words for yet.

I do my best to work over his arms and legs, knowing he’ll probably try to speed up the massage once I have him flip over and he sees what I’m wearing.

That’s when I realize I still have the towel.

“Alright,” I say, gently placing a flat hand to the center of his back. “I’m going to have you flip over.”

He makes a lazy, contented noise in reply.

“But,” I add, picking up the towel. “I’m putting a towel over your eyes.”

That gets his attention. He lifts his head up, and I quickly put my hand to the back of his neck, trying to keep him from turning to look.

“Wha—?”

“I’ve got a surprise for you, and I don’t want you peeking.”

There’s a long moment where neither of us moves.

Finally, he mutters, “Bloody hell. You are going to kill me.”

I laugh and shake my head. I place the head over the back of his head and help keep it over his eyes as he flips over.

His hands settle at his sides, noticeably less relaxed, but I’ll fix that soon.

“Good,” I murmur as I adjust the towel so I know he’s not peeking. “Just keep that right there.”

“Not touchin’ it,” he says.

I nod before realizing he can’t see that. “Thank you,” I mutter instead.

I readjust so I’m sitting just above his hips, intentionally dodging his already-stiff cock.

“I’m gonna start workin’ again,” I say, a bit breathless, but I don’t know why.

He gives me a grunt of acknowledgement, and I pour more lotion on top of his chest. He gasps when I start working my fingers in again, twitching lightly before settling down.

As I work, I notice that the scars on his front side seem a lot more lethal. There are a lot on his chest and a couple near his ribs. I work through every knot the same, making sure it’s gone before I move on.

His breathing deepens, and for a second, I worry he’s fallen asleep.

“Doin’ alright?” I murmur.

He swallows once and gives me a curt nod.

“Keep goin’,” he whispers, voice wrecked.

I shift down, making sure to ignore his near-leaking cock as I resettle on top of his legs so I can work on his stomach.

His hands twitch, like he wants to grab me, and the realization warms me down to my toes. I let out more of my scent, letting him know just how pleased I am with him.

“Doin’ so good,” I whisper to him.

He groans, decorum faltering as he shifts his hips up a little and his cock jerks.

I smirk at his reaction, loving the effect I have on him. I continue working over his muscles, only to watch his cock unabashedly twitch freely now.

“Mmm,” I hum. “Looks like someone could use a happy ending,” I tease softly.

My hands move to run over his thighs a few times before I grip the base of his cock. He lets out a low, strangled groan, hips bucking up slightly as his cock throbs in my hand.

“Fuck, love,” he grunts, voice strained with pleasure.

I smirk, giving him a few slow pumps, watching with adoration as he finally starts to leak in my grip.

“Mmm, you like that, baby?” I purr, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the tip.

He can only groan in response, hands that were relaxed just a moment ago, now fisting the sheets. I take that as my cue to continue, trailing my tongue along the underside of his shaft.

“Oh shit,” he curses, head tilting back.

“Doin’ alright?” I check in, savoring his reactions.

“Yes,” he groans, pained but still clearly aroused. “If this is a new form of torture, I’ll take the full punishment.” I laugh, breath ghosting his cock as I continue to lick around it, trying to make it wet enough that I’ll be able to slide down easier.

Feeling like I’ve got it prepped enough, I lift up, sitting tall on top of him.

“Simon,” I murmur.

“Yes?” he swallows.

“You can take off the towel.”

There’s a beat of silence, like he’s debating whether or not he actually wants to do that.

Then his hand lifts, and he slowly pulls the towel off his face.

He blinks once.

Twice.

The silence in the room is deafening as he stares up at me. His eyes drag over me, staring at my thighs, then up to where the skeleton hands cup my breasts on the bra I’m wearing. His dog tags sit right in the middle, proudly glinting in the low light.

His breath punches out of him. “...Christ.”

It’s barely a word, more like an exhale that’s been dragged over gravel.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just stares at me, seemingly not breathing for a few seconds.

Then, slowly, his hands lift an inch off the bed like he’s reaching for me without meaning to. His fingers curl midair before he forces them back down.

“You’re…” He swallows. “...you’re takin’ the piss, love.”

I smile, heat blooming across my chest. “You like it?”

His jaw flexes before he lets out the softest growl I’ve ever heard from him. It’s not loud or aggressive, more instinct than anything.

“Sweetheart,” he says, voice completely wrecked. “I’m tryin’ so fuckin’ hard not to grab you and force you down on my cock.”

I laugh, shifting so I’m able to start working on his cock again. “Good, let me take care of you some more.”

His head falls back into the pillow, a helpless laugh slipping out of him.

“You’re trouble,” he murmurs, eyes devouring me. “Absolute fuckin’ trouble.”

I smirk at him, loving the way his eyes roam over me. “Thought you liked trouble,” I tease. I lick my lips, keeping eye contact before lowering myself down so I’m level with his cock.

My tongue trails along his shaft again, licking around his head before taking him in my mouth.

He groans, hands fisting the sheets impossibly tighter as he watches me. “Fuck, love… gonna be the death of me.”

I can only hum in response, sending vibrations against his cock that make him gasp. I turn my focus to his cock, working on taking him inch by inch, feeling him hit the back of my throat. I pause for a moment, breathing through my nose before pushing forward, taking him deeper.

“Shit,” he curses, head tilting back again as I start to bob my head up and down his length.

Watching him crumble under me like this might be my new addiction. I come up, taking a deep breath and readjusting myself slightly before I take him as far as I can bear. My nose just barely touches the curls on his pelvis before I’m gagging and having to come up for air.

I swirl my tongue around his dick, teasing the slit some before I force myself to dive back down, fully taking him down to the hilt.

That completely breaks his resolve. His hand comes to the back of my head. I look at him through teary eyes as he holds me there for a few seconds before releasing me, allowing me to come up for air.

A string of saliva connecting my bottom lip to the tip of his cock hangs between us. I take a moment to catch my breath before diving back down, taking him deep in my throat.

The corners of my lips feel a bit too stretched out, but I’m too determined to worry about that right now.

Simon groans, fingers tangling in my hair as I start to bob my head faster, sucking him with enthusiasm.

“Fuck, love,” he grunts, hips starting to lightly thrust up to meet my movements.

I can feel him getting closer, cock twitching against my tongue. I double my efforts, wanting to taste his come, feel it run down my throat.

Suddenly, he tugs on my hair, pulling me off his cock. I sit up, panting and licking my lips.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, concerned. “You okay?”

He looks as destroyed as his voice sounds. “I don’t want to come in your mouth.”

My brows furrow as he heaves another breath, trying to steady himself.

“Wanna feel that tight cunt around me again.”

My face heats at his words, a fresh wave of slick coating my folds. “Oh,” I breathe out with a shy laugh. “Then I guess we should move to your real surprise.”

Now it’s his turn to look at me, confused.

I move off the bed, offering him a hand to stand up. He’s still bewildered as he stands next to me.

“Are you okay?” he asks me.

I smile up at him and nod, tilting up to kiss him briefly.

“Yeah,” I say after pulling away. “More than okay. I… I just think it’s time.”

Realization flashes through his eyes as I pull away. I crawl easily on the bed, positioning myself on my hands and knees. I take a deep breath before lowering my chest down to the mattress, leaving my ass up in the air, fully presenting myself to him.

I hear his sharp intake of breath behind me, and I whip my head to the side, looking at him over my shoulder. “Is… is this okay?” I ask softly, my nervousness bursting through my tone.

He swallows hard, eyes dark with desire as he takes in the sight of me. “Fuck, love…” he says, voice low and rough.

I feel the bed dip slightly behind me. His hands come to rest on the globes of my ass, making me jump slightly.

“I… I’m not ready to mark you,” he admits, voice heavy. I can’t help the small pang of disappointment, but I know deep down that the reasoning has nothing to do with me. “But… I’m fuckin’ honored that you’re presenting for me.”

I blush at his words, pride and contentment washing over me as slick continues to pool in my core. He must smell it, because he growls, tightening his grip on me.

I arch into his touch, feeling utterly breathless. “It’s okay, baby,” I tell him, moving my head back. “Just take what you want.”

I feel his hands move over the skeleton ones covering my ass, tracing the design before moving to remove the panties.

“Fuck, you’re such a good, sweet omega, offerin’ yourself up to me like this,” he praises, voice dripping with approval that has my omega practically exploding.

I’m bare before him now, glistening folds on full display, and my body under his complete control. It’s exposing, yet powerful at the same time. Every reaction of his physically tells me how well I’m doing, encouraging me to stay here rather than cower away.

It’s been years since I’ve been here, having done so for the worst person in my life by mistake. But now… It’s different. Hell, it even feels different. Simon’s hands have my skin lighting up, making me burn up almost like I’m in heat.

His fingers tease along my slit, slipping through my slick. “Fuck, you’re always so wet for me,” he groans, fingers circling my entrance. “All this for me?”

My hips push back against his hand. “Yes, alpha,” I blurt out. “All for you.”

He smirks, fingers dipping inside my entrance. I let out a low moan, walls clenching around him as he slowly begins pumping. Once he finds that special spot inside of me, I melt into the bed.

“Mmm, there she is,” he purrs, clearly proud of himself. “Feel good, love?”

I can only moan in response, too lost in the pleasure he’s giving me. My hips rock back against his hand, silently begging for more. He’s got me so embarrassingly close already, my body wound tight and ready to snap at any moment.

Suddenly, he pulls his fingers out, leaving me empty and wanting. I whine at the loss, turning my head to look back at him again.

“I know, baby,” he says, voice strained. I see him gripping his cock tightly, before his other hand grips my hip tightly. “I need it too.”

With that, he lines himself up with my entrance, the head of his cock nudging against my folds. I take a deep breath, trying to relax and prepare myself for his size.

I’m surprised when he easily slides in. My back arches more as his grip tightens.

“Fuck,” we both say through clenched teeth.

He settles himself fully inside of me, fingers digging strategically into my hips as I’m forced to feel every thick inch of him.

“Shit, love, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he grunts, giving a few shallow thrusts. “Love seein’ you like this, presentin’ for me. Lookin’ so fuckin’ sexy in my tags, knowin’ my masks on yer hip.”

I blush harder, readjusting slightly so I can feel the cool metal in my hand. It makes me feel owned, a meager possession… but in the best way possible.

“Mmm, I like wearin’ them,” I admit, clenching down around his cock. “Makes me feel like yours.”

“Fuck. You are mine,” he growls, thrusting harder into me. “All mine.”

I moan loudly, pushing back my hips to meet his thrusts. “Fuck. I love that.”

He leans down, pressing kisses along my spine as he starts to move faster. The bed creaks beneath us, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

I can feel myself starting to lose focus, my mind going hazy as he pounds into me. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure shooting through my body, making it hard to think straight.

“F-fuck,” I slur, melting more into the bed. “S-so big… so good…”

A hand tangles into the roots of my hair, easily moving my head around. He tugs back slightly, forcing me to arch my back more as he continues his relentless pace. My omega howls in pleasure, screaming and squirming in my head.

“Such a good omega,” he grumbles, slowly moving my head around, as if testing his control of me.

It’s insane how quickly the tables have turned. Just mere moments ago I had full control of his body, now here I am, boneless and completely under his control.

I moan out, my pussy starting to flutter and clench around him. I’m getting close, my body tensing as I feel my orgasm approaching.

“Gonna come on my cock, love?” he asks, voice strained.

I nod against his grip, unable to form actual words. My mind is completely lost to the feeling of him pounding into me.

“Then do it,” he demands, giving me a particularly hard thrust. “Come for your alpha.”

My body tenses, back arching as my orgasm crashes over me. I mewl out in pleasure, pussy clamping down around his cock like a vice as I come.

“Fuck! Simon… Alpha!” I all but scream, seeing stars behind my eyelids. My body shakes and trembles below him from the force of my release.

He groans, his grip most likely bruising my hips as he buries himself to the hilt inside of me. “Shit, fuck. Take it all, love!”

His knot swells, stretching me further as he starts to come. I collapse onto the bed, completely spent and satisfied as he works through his own orgasm.

“God… Boo…” he pants against my neck. “You’re incredible. I fuckin’ love you so much.”

All I can do is hum because my brain is nothing but warm fog and aftershocks. Words are far too complicated right now. I tighten around his knot instead.

Simon groans before it turns into a breathless laugh. “Love me too, I take it?”

I nod, limbs feeling heavy and useless, a sleepy little smile sitting on my lips.

He shifts his weight carefully, mindful of the knot that locks up together. His muscles flex under me as he gathers me up, one arm under my arms, the other helping to support my hips.

He maneuvers us with ease, rolling just enough so we can collapse sideways without pulling too hard in any direction. The warmth of the sheets and the lingering scent of us make me that much sleepier.

“You doin’ okay, love?” he murmurs, kissing the side of my head. “Didn’t fuck you too stupid, did I?”

I let out a lazy laugh. “Mmm… yeah. More than okay.” My eyes flutter shut. “Feelin’ really good, Simon.”

His chest rumbles with a pleased hum. “Good. You were fuckin’ amazing, love. Really.” His hand rubs slow circles up and down my arm. “Thank you for that…. I know it took a lot.”

Heat crawls up my cheeks, the praise settling in my chest. “Glad you liked it,” I whisper, voice heavy with exhaustion. “Wanted to do something special for you.”

My fingers reach up to seek out his, needing the contact. “Feel like you’ve been doin’ everything for me.”

He lets out a soft, almost disbelieving exhale. His arm tightens around me just a little, a protective, instinctive little squeeze that makes my chest flutter.

“Speaking of,” I mumble, trying to blink away the sleep pulling at me, “don’t let me fall asleep. Still gotta finish getting everything together.”

I feel him shake his head before he even speaks. Then his lips brush the back of my head.

“Boo,” he murmurs, “you don’t owe me a damn thing.”

I huff a tiny laugh, knew he’d say that, I think, but he cuts me off before I can actually voice it.

“Listen,” he continues, tone soft but firm. “Everything I do for you? There’s no expectation of you paying me back.”

He starts rubbing circles on my waist now. “I do it ‘cause I want to. ‘Cause takin’ care of you feels right. Calms somethin’ in me. Tames my alpha, yeah?”

My throat goes tight, eyes stinging for a moment. His scent is thicker now, wrapping around my like a blanket. A small purr slips out of my chest before I can stop it.

“That…” he breathes, the sound almost a groan. “That sound right there…”

He rubs his head against mine. “Drives me fuckin’ mad. Lets me know it’s all worth it.”

I bury my face in my hands, trying to stop my face from exploding from how hot it is. “Simon…”

He hums, tugging me just slightly closer in a way that makes me gasp.

“No, really,” he says quietly. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

“I just…” I swallow, my voice feeling small. “Wanted you to feel as loved as you make me feel.”

He goes still for a moment, allowing me to keep going.

“I… I haven’t felt like this with any other alpha,” I admit softly, words tumbling out before I can lose the nerve. “I know you’re mine. And I love that. I… I don’t wanna lose you.”

Simon’s breath catches, hand stilling for a moment like my words have physically hit him.

Then he exhales… slow and controlled.

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice rough in a way that has nothing to do with arousal now. “You’re not losin’ me. Not now, not ever.”

I can’t help but fidget, not really sure what to do with myself.

“You hear me? You’re stuck with me.”

A choked little sound catches in my throat, and he takes that as a chance to continue.

“You’re mine, yeah… but I’m yours just as much. More, probably.”

He kisses the back of my head again, lingering like he can’t quite pull away.

“You couldn’t lose me if you tried,” he adds softly. “You’ve got me tied in knots,” he huffs with a faint laugh. “Literally and figuratively.”

That earns a sleepy laugh out of me, my body still trembling faintly with aftershocks. His hands go back to rubbing my hip. It’s calm and steady, the type of touch built to soothe an overstimulated omega.

I hum, making his knot pulse. My pussy clenches in response, making us both groan.

“Sorry. Easy, easy. I’ve got you. It’s almost down.”

I let out a shaky breath, and he shifts just a little to help me settle more comfortably. “Did so good,” he murmurs against my hair. “More than good. Gave yourself to me completely. That’s not small, love.”

My eyes flutter as I fight off the tears that appear.

“And for what it’s worth… I’ve never felt loved like this either. Not once. By anyone. Not even my own mum. You give me more than you realize.”

A soft quiet settles between us, his hand moving to lovingly rub the middle of my chest as his knot continues to soften.

“You wanna rest a bit?” he asks. “We can finish packin’ after. Won’t let you oversleep.”

I nod, eyes already closed, body sinking deeper into his warmth.

“Yeah,” I breathe. “Jus’... stay with me.”

He smiles against me.

“‘Course.”

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