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“Wake up, you little bitch.”
Anthony's head swims as he struggles to open his eyes. It's like being drunk, trying to find purchase in the darkness as you stumble around, but he wasn't drinking, was he? They don't let him have more than a small glass of claret under strict supervision , because omegas are delicate things that need to be coddled and charmed and Christ, that makes him want to scream.
Omega. He's... no, he can't be. He'll never be one, no matter what they tell him. Anthony Bridgerton is a beta, the head of the family and their estate and they've never had a male omega in their entire esteemed lineage.
“I won't ask again.”
Where was he? He remembers another one of those interminable balls, being put on display while everyone alternated between sympathetic and calculating looks, and remembering he had to get away from it as quickly as he could. An omega has little freedom, a diamond even less than that, but chaperones can't be everywhere and Anthony has always known how to escape from obligations.
But then—who caught him?
It's hot in the room, too hot, like someone let the fire on in the middle of summer. His hands try to find purchase on the sheets, slip on the silk, and he can barely raise his head against the pillows he's lying on. He feels languid and loose, like he's been well-fucked, except that--
He opens his eyes. He's naked and sweaty and he's not alone.
“Good boy,” Jasper says. He's lounging against the wall, glass in hand, dressed in a florid dressing gown with swirls of peacock and scarlet. Anthony looks around the room, but it's unfamiliar to him – red walls, barred windows, and animal heads mounted and staring with glassy eyes at him.
“Jasper,” he says. “What on--”
Jasper walks over and slaps him in the face, a sudden blow that causes him to reel. It's one thing to get a hit when he's sparring with Simon, but this casual cruelty in his state shocks him.
“That's Montmorency to you,” he says. “Or master or alpha, really, but I know you're new to this, so I'll be generous.” He laughs when Anthony flinches instinctively as his hand caresses the spot he just hit. “Such lovely skin and you'll show the color nicely. No wonder the Queen prizes you so. In any other circumstance, I'd never have a chance at you and that would be such a grave misfortune. You cannot imagine how delightful it is to see you like this.”
He's never been friends with him, but Jasper at least used to be affable, treated him with some deference owed to his position and a modicum of civility. This Jasper is one Anthony has never known, callous and contemptuous, and yet—hadn't he seen the shadow of it lurking in his eyes when they went hunting? There was nothing Jasper liked so much as bringing down his prey, riding it down until it lay prone at his feet, and Anthony feels just as trapped as those poor beasts now pinned into place on the wall.
“Let me go,” Anthony says. “You have no right.” He tries to ball his hands into fists, to rise up and beat Jasper for even attempting this. Any other day, as a beta or an omega, he'd be more than a match, but his limbs feel weak, all strength sapped by this heat that flows through him.
“You're an omega. I have every right.” Jasper's hand reaches behind Anthony's head, pulls it towards him roughly, and Anthony winces. The hand moves down, feels alongside Anthony's neck to something swollen and pulsing there. “See, even your body knows the truth. This is all you're good for.”
“Fuck you,” Anthony spits out, even knowing this will earn him another slap, which it does. He manages to hold his head steady and says through a mouthful of blood, “You never would have dared this back--”
“When you were a beta?” Jasper's smile is thin and cruel. “Perhaps,” he says. “Though I think everyone would agree even then you were a bitch in need of a good taming.” His hand traces down Anthony's bare chest, pinching his nipples and Anthony tries not to cry out. “Too bad it'll be some common baron like me and not a prince or even someone like Hastings.”
Simon, Anthony thinks, with a burst of relief. When Anthony doesn't show up for their engagement, he'll have to know something is wrong. Anthony just has to delay Jasper until someone sends help – if not Simon, then one of his family. He just has to be patient.
Someone will save him.
“You know no one will agree to this, Montmorency,” Anthony manages as another wave of heat hits him. It's intolerable now, his body squirming against the sheets, his skin hot and wet and Jasper is sliding his hands down his side, pressing and prodding to mark him. He is used to bruises, but these made purposefully to claim will be reminders of this unspeakable obscenity Jasper clearly intends to inflict and Anthony looks away in shame.
“They don't have to agree,” Jasper says. “My word that I've taken you will be enough.” His gaze rakes over Anthony, who flushes. “But if you'd prefer, I can show them how thoroughly I've done so.”
No, Anthony thinks, his family cannot be made to bear witness to the signs of Jasper's depredations, to see how completely ineffectual their eldest was at resisting him. He meets Jasper's eyes, lifts his chin up in defiance. If his name or Simon's is not enough, then perhaps--
“The Queen--”
“Will have to,” Jasper's hands yank at Anthony, shove him forward, and Anthony barely manages to catch himself on his hands. Then Jasper is pulling around, maneuvering him so he's on his hands and knees. “Even if she thinks I'm not good enough for a Bridgerton, once you've been bedded and bonded, she'll have no choice but to have us wed.” Jasper's voice is low in Anthony's ear. “For the sake of your family's honor.”
There will be no honor to it, Anthony thinks. Everyone will know what happened and though none save Lady Whistledown will even hint of it, they'll all look at him with contempt, or worse, pity in their eyes. “I'll make you regret this,” Anthony whispers. “I'll--”
Jasper's hand shoves Anthony's face towards the bed. “You need to shut up,” he says, and there's the soft thud of cloth hitting the floor. “Unless you're screaming my name. Maybe that opera singer taught you something about hitting the high notes.”
“Go to hell,” Anthony says, and Jasper shoves into him.
He hates this, hates it so much. His body, already slick and wet for Jasper, is no match despite Anthony's best attempts to fight. It betrays him, welcomes Jasper in even as Anthony's mind recoils and refuses to accept that this is happening, that he's being used like a whore, not the Viscount of Bridgerton.
“See,” Jasper says, biting his ear as his hands hold Anthony in place. “All it took was a cock in you and you were just like any omega. What do you think your father would say if he saw you like this, a randy bitch too weak to do anything but give a man pleasure? You think he'd be proud of you?”
He will not react to this, will not let it get to him, will--
Jasper laughs and shoves even deeper into Anthony. “You're crying,” he mocks. “Oh, perhaps that's what all your suitors needed to realize. If they had just patted you on the head and told you that you were a good son, you would have been on your back a long time ago, begging them to put it in you.”
“No,” Anthony whispers, even as the heat fills his body, making him tremble beneath Jasper. He shouldn't feel any pleasure at this, should feel only the pain of it being taken and fight him every inch of the way, but instead he moans in a voice that cannot be his and feels wetness drip down his cheeks.
“Don't worry your pretty little head about it,” Jasper says and the sudden switch to gentle sympathy is unbearable. “Even though I can't breed you the way you ought to be, I can still make sure you're not left wanting. I'll fill you up and plug you, perhaps even take you out so everyone will know you're a good omega with a nice round stomach.”
Anthony shudders at the thought, at being turned into an object of ridicule for what he can never be. He supposes he should be grateful that male omegas lack the necessary means to bear children, but it makes them even more ornamental and useless. They're expensive trifles, to be kept and shown off, while bastards are discreetly made and legitimized and the Queen knows this. She must know how much this hurts him.
Why would she make him a diamond?
Why would she make him go through this at all?
Jasper is slapping his thighs now, like he's riding a particularly stubborn horse, forcing it to meet his demands. Anthony keeps his head bent low, humiliated and as much as he doesn't want to be broken, he finds pieces of him are shattering the longer this continues. Perhaps this is all he'll ever be good for now, a trinket, no longer treated as anything important or worth listening to.
“That's right,” Jasper says, sensing his defeat in the way Anthony's body almost slumps beneath him. He's readying himself to make the killing blow but he's clearly not inclined to be merciful. “You can keep fighting if you want to, but there's no point to it other than making me feel sorry for how pathetic you are.”
There's a rush of heat and Jasper comes in Anthony. It should be over and yet he knows it's not. If it were only this violation, he might still be able to hide it, to convince himself and others that he's not ruined, but Jasper will not end it here. He will knot Anthony, he will bite him, and Anthony will be trapped forever, reduced to nothing but what Jasper wants him to be. It's over.
“Oh, I don't know,” Anthony hears. “I think there might have been some point to it.”
Anthony looks up to see Simon standing there, a pistol in his hand. It's cocked and aimed directly at Jasper.
“Hastings,” Jasper says, his voice low and growling. “This doesn't concern you. This is between an Alpha and an Omega. You have no part--”
Simon fires and one of the windows shatters. The wind rushes in cold and it wakes Anthony a little, causes the heat to subside. Above him, Jasper stiffens and if it pains Anthony as he rears back too quickly, he will accept it as a small price to pay for his rescue.
“You know,” Simon says conversationally as Anthony feels Jasper start pulling out of him, his bravado all gone, “I wasn't terribly pleased when I was told I was an alpha. My father may have been, of course, since it proved that I wasn't a complete waste to him, but believing it gave him any joy is most intolerable.”
“You're a--” Anthony begins, then stops. None of this makes sense. He and Simon have always been the same, and even if Anthony only found it that this was a lie, that would mean that--
Jasper slides out of him, keeping his gaze fixed on Simon. Anthony shakes his head, continues. “You can't be. Everyone knows you're a--”
“Beta?” Simon smiles. “Well, the Duke never cared enough to discourage that belief and Lady Danbury conceded that were the news to get out, every marriage-minded mother would be throwing their eligible omegas at me or concocting situations to trap me in rooms with them about to go into heat.” He eyes Anthony. “Something similar to this, I imagine.”
Jasper, holding his hands up, moves off the bed, even as Anthony collapses on top of it, still hard but his energy almost gone from the events. “I should have known,” he says, looking at the two of them as he pulls up his . “Just wait until--”
“I won't kill you,” Simon says, “because it would be a tedious affair and I have no desire to put myself through any more of those, but I have no compunction about castrating you and calling it a terrible hunting accident. So I'd suggest you keep your mouth shut, your clothes on, and if you ever lay eyes on Bridgerton again, I will make sure that you lose everything you care about, including your precious cock.”
Jasper nods and they hear him scrambling for the door, picking up the dressing gown off the rug. In a moment, he is out and gone.
“Aren't you worried he's going to say something?” Anthony says quietly.
Simon shakes his head, even as he comes towards Anthony, sitting down on the bed. “I have men out there at a discreet distance,” he says. “They'll ensure he returns to London quickly and he's too much of a coward to go against me.”
“Thank you,” Anthony says. Now that Jasper is gone, he finds himself shaking again. Foolish, he thinks. The danger has passed and they can put this all behind them. “I don't know how to begin to--”
Simon's hand touches Anthony's neck and he stops. “Good,” he says, his hand gently stroking the swelling there. “He hadn't made it that far yet.”
“No,” Anthony says uncertainly. “He hadn't.” What is Simon playing at? He shifts and Simon's hand tightens, grasping him firmly in place. It is tight, but not painful, yet Anthony has the feeling that were he to try to move--
“I vowed to my father that I would end his lineage.” Simon's words are cool, clipped. “My desire to do so has not wavered.”
"Your Grace?”
Simon's tone turns wry. “Under these circumstances,” he says, “I believe I would prefer you to call me Simon.” His hand slips inside Anthony, coming away wet and sticky. He wipes it on the sheet, and Anthony feels him lean over him, his hands much more careful, but no less compelling, moving Anthony back up to his knees.
Anthony is adrift once more and he feels the damnable heat creeping back into him. No, not Simon, he thinks, but his cock is hard and his trembling is of a different sort.
“I didn't know how to feel at first when you were revealed to be an omega,” Simon adds. “Betrayal at you lying to me, perhaps, though I quickly realized that you had no idea either. And I could hardly accuse you of lies when I was the one keeping my own state secret from everyone, managing it as best I could. No, as much as I wanted to be angry that I had never realized what you were, I could not. I understand what it is to not want to be what you are." His voice is soothing as his hand rubs softly at Anthony's neck.
“I don't need your pity, Simon,” Anthony says. “I will shoulder this burden as I have with the others. You need not--”
“I believe I wish to be married.” Simon bends down, tilts Anthony's head back and kisses him deeply. His hand moves to Anthony's cock, begins stroking it. He moans through the kiss, and Simon rewards him for this with another caress.
“Simon,” Anthony says, panting, when they finally break away. “You can't possibly--”
“I can,” Simon says and it's a fact. “I think this solves everyone's problems quite neatly. You have an alpha who will never be unhappy that you cannot give him children nor seek out a mistress to do so. I will look after you and your family and they will be assured that you will not be mistreated by someone who could not possibly value your loyalty and intelligence. The Queen will be delighted, the ton will completely understand, and I am convinced even Lady Whistledown will find little to regret in the match.”
“And you, Simon?” Anthony says, because he can feel it all slipping away, his future elegantly laid out, and the worst part is that Simon is right. It will not be unpleasant and soon, even his objections will be distant memories of a more difficult time, one that Simon will ensure will disappear as completely as Jasper. “You do not mention any possible gain to you.”
He can hear the rustle of fabric behind him as Simon removes his clothing quickly, efficiently. “I imagine I will find some comforts in it,” he says, his voice amused. “You are exceedingly attractive, Bridgerton.”
“Anthony,” he replies. “I agree with you that the circumstances warrant a change in address.” He closes his eyes.
He is newly slick as Simon slides into him and whatever remains from Jasper, he has no doubt that Simon will ensure it has little trace by the end. It is easier the second time, perhaps because he is already used to it, but more likely because he knows it is inevitable. He was never going to escape this.
“It will be all right, Anthony,” Simon whispers in his ear. “It's for the best. You'll see.”
“I know,” Anthony says.
Someday, he may actually believe that.