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Lysithea woke up with a fever.
Except it didn't really feel like any kind of fever she'd experienced before; her face was warm, as was the rest of her body, and every breath was heavy, but the headache and sore throat and clogged nose that usually accompanied the other symptoms weren't there.
If anything, her sense of smell was even sharper; and perhaps it was just her imagination, but she thought she could detect Khalid's scent coming from the general direction of the kitchen.
"Khalid?"
Her voice was strange, too; the airiness could be accounted by the heavy breathing, but every vowel shook back and forth in pitch like— a trill?
"Khaliiiid—"
About halfway through her second call, her husband burst into the room, filling it with his scent, cozy and earthy and sweet— even sweeter than usual, and somehow, she could tell he was aroused just from the smell. There were also miniscule amounts of panic, fear, and worry, but those quickly faded away as he lifted the heavy blanket and sat down next to her.
"Khalid— it's too hot in here," Lysithea complained, moving her hand with the intention to lift her nightdress.
It went straight to his crotch instead, grabbing the half-erect length over the fabric and eliciting one of those growls he made when he was particularly turned on during sex.
But wait, she usually couldn't hear them this well, could she?
"Yeah, I bet it is, since," Khalid paused to take a shaky breath, "you're in heat right now."
A moment passed as she kept kneading, the musk of arousal growing thicker in the room as she willed her brain to think on what he just said.
Heat.
Omegas went into heat.
And she was, in fact, an omega, Lysithea finally remembered, even though the two Crests had inhibited her from presenting as anything into her twenties, effectively making her live as a beta. It was a silver lining, she supposed, in that she never had to concern herself with the finicky biological cycles her peers went through; surely she would have gone insane, if she had to deal with heats and ruts interrupting her studies for days every few months, or if she was unlucky, every month.
Back then, she'd never really thought much about sex, about mating, outside of when Khalid had to turn to her as a last resort to calm his ruts. It felt good during the act, but she was never the one to initiate; the time and energy for sex was almost always better spent on something else, as far as she was concerned at the time. So it took her by surprise when she began wanting her husband— in the most base, carnal sense— once her Crests were removed, the unbridled sex drive and attraction most others aired out over several years hitting all at once and making her absolutely insatiable.
But this— this was more even more than want, she thought, as Khalid leaned forward.
Need, instinct, imperative, whatever one may call it, turning it down was not only impossible, but unthinkable, probably to the shock of herself from a few years ago.
Why would she, when she was safe and comfortable, with her mate, her favorite person in the world, while everything felt so— so—
"...Feels good," she whispered into his neck, nibbling right where the scent gland was, to which Khalid muttered something in response— something about how it was about to feel a lot better— but the purrs and the hardness pressing between her legs spoke more than words could.
The most frustrating part in the next few seconds was getting out of their clothes, pesky barriers that were far too complex and civilized for the current primal pursuit; Lysithea almost debated simply burning them off with magic, but her husband's hands worked fast, if a little less gracefully than usual.
"Hurry, Khalid," she muttered, hands tapping his face. "Hurry."
"Yes, I know, I know."
Then they were naked, fabric bunched up and scattered around them, the room filling with musk and heavy pants. Khalid's hands grabbed her thighs, lifting them up while his shaft pressed over her pussy.
"Mmh!"
He'd barely done anything, yet it sent waves of pleasure up her spine. It would have been alarming, if she didn't need more so badly.
"Q-quick, I want..."
"Want, what?" Khalid asked, still having it in him to flash a teasing smirk even as his pupils were blown wide from arousal.
Her usual self would have pouted and huffed, playing their ritual of push and pull for a little longer, but right now, she was so close, just from the head of his cock rubbing down from her clit to her entrance—
"Pups, let's make pups, I want— nhh— !"
Lysithea came with a desperate high-pitched whine as he entered, walls squeezing before being spread apart— and, goodness, she'd been missing out her whole life, not knowing sex could be like this.
Neither of them spoke words for the next several minutes, although there were plenty of other noises, squealing and growling and lower bodies smacking like the animals they were reduced into. Once Khalid slowed down to catch his breath, she finally realized her thighs ached, as did her cunt, but that did nothing to slow the burning inside— intensified it, if anything, wanting to challenge and test the limits, see how much she could take.
But right as she was about to urge him on, he slid out, still holding her legs in place.
"B-back in!" she demanded, kicking and flailing below the knees. "Put it back in, right now, or—"
"Hey, be patient now," Khalid teasingly tsked (even though his scent told that he felt anything but patient himself), before flipping her over.
She let out a satisfied sigh when he slammed in again, but instead of thrusting, he hoisted her up and fell back to a sitting position, one hand reaching forward stroking her clit with feather-light touches. Normally, this would have been just a prelude to more intense sensations, but in this hyper-stimulated state, that was all it took for her to come.
And her body still burned for more.
As if he read her mind, Khalid gave a hard squeeze on her nipple and whispered,
"Be good and show me how much you want my pups."
Strange, she thought, lifting her hips on command.
She should be tired by now— no, she was tired by now— but her body just kept moving, impaling itself on her mate's length again and again. In the new position, she couldn't ride him as fast as he thrusted into her, but she managed to find a compromise by swivelling her hips around, feeling his cock rub her walls from every possible angle.
"Hah... oh..."
Lysithea figured she came two or three times before she could smell and hear Khalid's own orgasm building up. The air filled with pheromones on the border of affection and frustration, noises in between purrs and growls; and those senses were all fine and informative, but she wanted to look at his expression when he came, so she temporarily dismounted him to turn around.
With her palm against his chest, she could feel his heart racing. Her hips did its best to match the pace, settling on shallow, quick thrusts so the head of his cock repeatedly hit where it was most sensitive inside.
"Gods, that, feels good," he breathed, when her cunt spasmed around him one last time before his knot began to swell. "You're the best, Lys— hah, fuck—"
A shiver ran up her spine as his cum began filling her— something that happened many times before, but she swore that felt different today.
Easier. Better.
So much closer.
"Love you," were her next words. "Love you, Khalid. More."
Lysithea didn't specify what, but he delivered, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her down into a hug, and giving the softest kiss on her lips. They'd completely skipped that part earlier, she realized, but the delicious contrast, of how he was so gentle there while his cock twitched and dumped load after load inside certainly wasn't bad.
"So full," she babbled, once they parted to catch their breaths. "Pups... Khalid, pups."
"We'll make them," he promised, the kisses continuing down to her neck. "I'm going to put lots of pups in you— right here."
His hand gently stroked her lower stomach as he began nibbling her scent glands, eliciting a squeak and a trill. He always did that, even back when she was barely an omega, and as the room filled with cloyingly sweet scents and her head filled with images of little pups with green eyes just like his, she finally understood why.
"Love you," she whispered again, as his head moved back up to her lips. "I love you, so, so much... I'm glad I get to do this with.... mh, you..."
To think, that she once thought of being late as an unequivocally negative thing and indulging in instincts as a luxury she couldn't ever afford, Lysithea pondered, face buried her mate's neck.
Because, as exceptionally late as this first heat of hers was, she wouldn't change a thing about it, even if she had a choice— wouldn't make it happen earlier, wouldn't make it happen with anyone else, wouldn't change what she felt throughout.
"...Love you, too, Lys."
And, she additionally decided, as she began drifting off too sleep once again, she especially wouldn't change what they were.
"My mate."
An alpha, an omega. A schemer, a scholar.
"My lily."
But most importantly—
"My everything."
—two fools, hopelessly in love with each other.