Work Text:
Like a jolt of lightening, it hits him out of nowhere. A distress signal through the tattered thread of a nearly-amputated bond between him and his omega.
They’re on separate planes, ready to land so they can rest in separate rooms on different floors of the same hotel.
That’s what Axl had planned to do, lay in the dark, submerged in a heavy slumber so deep he can’t fret and wonder if Izzy’s nesting properly the way he should be but always had trouble doing without a little help to get him started, if Izzy has remembered to include some actual food in his reckless diet of pills and other drugs today, if Izzy isn’t overmedicating himself with the suppressants again like he used to do back when no one knew he was an omega masquerading as a beta before Axl uncovered his biggest secret and had enthusiastically fucked and knotted Izzy through the first of many heat-intensified nights. From then on, Izzy’s darkly-bruised scent gland breathed out his true pheromones and his secret was out in the open. Though he self-consciously hid most of Axl’s handiwork under layered clothing, much to the possessive alpha’s disapproval, Axl was greatly pleased by Izzy’s modesty, protecting, Axl was sure of it, his lithe body from the greedy eyes of other alphas. Even better, he was saturated in Axl’s overpowering pheromones by day, in spite of all the lewd jokes from the two other omegas in the band and Duff’s exasperated sighs, the long-suffering beta. By night, Izzy slept peacefully while Axl tenderly held him in his arms, his scent on his omega’s bare skin, his cock warmed inside his omega’s pert little ass.
It made sense to bite his claim on Izzy’s neck in the middle of one of his heats. What didn’t make any sense was Izzy’s reaction afterwards, the difficult time they had with their newly formed bond, the constant pulse of the other’s emotions, the agony he was in with every upsurge of Izzy’s new resentment and bitterness. Axl tried his best to appease his mate. He fought against his own instinct to dominate his out-of-control omega, lock him inside their home where he belongs, keep a thick toy in his slick-drenched hole at all times except for when it’s time for him to be bred, a pregnancy is what his omega needs to finally embrace his submissive role. He fought for his and Izzy’s worsening relationship, their dissolving bond, their bleak future until the day Izzy had stared him dead in the eye and said dispassionately, as if stating a trivial fact, that he regretted ever meeting Axl.
There’s no undoing a claim mark. No supernatural entity, not even a god, that can cut apart an alpha/omega bond. A separation is the term for how they’ve been living, if you can it that, for the past year. Ignoring each other’s existence, especially when they’re sharing the same stage, same vicinity. Shutting out each other’s emotions and exceeding so well at it that the bond has weakened into a mere phantom pain, nearly gone.
But now, seated at Izzy’s beside, Axl knows that their bond is fractured but not severed. Most importantly, it dawns on him that Izzy is his omega, whether Izzy likes it or not. How stupid was he, thinking that he could win his omega over by defying his very nature, burying his instincts that fueled him to aggressively take control. Instead he was pining hopelessly, groveling pathetically for Izzy’s approval as if he, Axl Rose, was the omega.
Well, fuck that. It’s about time he steps up and be Izzy’s alpha.
And how about this, the doctors and the nurses are on his side. After, of course, they’re done berating him in a language he doesn’t understand but judging by their appalled expressions, they think he’s to blame for his omega’s unresponsive state and they’re not wrong. Through a translator, he’s told that Izzy’s out of harm’s way, now that his stomach’s been pumped, but he can’t be discharged from the hospital until he’s in a more stable condition. Under normal circumstances, a strong healthy bond acts the anchor, sending bouts of emotional support and gradually pulling the wounded mate out of unconsciousness, but their bond, though unbroken, is as debilitated as Izzy’s physical health.
He’ll improve drastically, however, with his alpha’s essence rooted deep within his body, replenished as many times as possible. These are the doctor’s orders as the older beta stoically hands over to Axl the strangest, mildly mortifyingly medical instrument he’s ever laid eyes on: a Frankenstein mesh of a fleshlight and a turkey baster. Cum inside it and slowly pump its lubed tip into your omega’s rectum, the translator instructs him before everyone exits the room, gifting Axl the privacy he sorely needs to accomplish this task.
Izzy’s knocked out cold, nude underneath a creaseless sheet that’s the same bluish-green color of his too-big hospital gown. His long black hair is no more. It was cut a while back and now the dark brown hair fans out in short tuffs and curls. He appears to be asleep without a shred of tranquility and he harbors shadows in the hollows of his sallow-skinned face.
His heart aching, Axl leans down and briefly noses at Izzy’s neck where his claim’s mark is, hunting for the sweet intoxicating scent that is distinctly Izzy’s. Instead he’s repulsed by the cover-up of suppressants, gagging on its chalky medicine-tasting stink.
Izzy has had his last dose of that shit and the same goes for his other drugs. It’ll be hard long road to recovery but Axl, firm-handed and strict, will be there alongside his struggling omega all the way. Soon enough, Izzy will be having his heats regularly again, slick running down his thighs, gushing out of his hole, on his knees and mewling like a kitten as he rubs his face on Axl’s crotch, begging for the fat knot that plugs him up so good. Pants crumpled at his ankles, sitting with his knees spread wide apart, Axl cums every last drop he has into the medical device with lusty thoughts of what he’ll do to Izzy during his next heat.
It operates pretty well as a sex toy too. The sheet and gown folded so that Izzy’s lower half is exposed, Axl jabs the wide tip into his hole a little harder than he should. Unfortunately, there’s no visible or audible change from Izzy.
Izzy’s frail chest rises and falls with the faintest wisp of breath. Their bond remains a dull pulse. A disappointment, sure but Axl is delighted by the swell of his mate’s concaved abdomen, swelling with his cum. For the next two days, the hospital staff supplies him with endless lube and a brand new butt plug so that Izzy’s body stays blessedly full of his alpha.
Apparently, Axl’s cum has the ability to work miracles.
Izzy’s scent gland is bursting full of pheromones again and not just any kind. It’s a rare subtle kind of pheromones that is only detected by the rightful alpha. A sign of their ripe fertility, It’s produced only when the omega feels truly safe, happy in the security provided by the alpha, and so the omega’s pheromones are asking, begging, pleading to be bred. Normally, omegas don’t have a say on if and when they are bred. It’s the alpha’s decision and no one else. It may seem harsh, Axl certainly thought it was until recently, but it’s not just normal. It’s natural.
This is natural, Axl feels it in the vibrations that snugs his meaty cock, Izzy’s cum-swollen intestines pulling him in deeper with every squeeze. Izzy has been carefully maneuvered on his side, his limbs rearranged like a doll’s. From behind, Axl pauses the stuttering of his hips and lightly bites down on Izzy’s throat, eliciting another drawn-out sigh through Izzy’s lips. One hand, splayed under the full curve of Izzy’s belly, skims across the taut skin. He shifts until he’s pressing down on Izzy’s prostate and stills.
A sweet little moan whirs in the back of Izzy’s throat, sense of fulfillment and contentment throbs between their mending bond. Izzy’s subconscious has been revealing a lot to Axl lately.
“I know, sweetheart, I know. It’s been too long since your alpha has satisfied you and your hungry little hole, mm.”
He nuzzles Izzy’s neck, fingers cascading up to his bony chest and deftly thumbs a nipple. His sternum-jutting chest is such a startling contrast to his cum-filled belly which mimics a perfectly round baby bump. A sight too beautiful to believe and so Axl can’t keep his hands off his belly for too long, always coming back and gently touching it. He’s so full already that Axl’s knot can’t breach him. Not yet. Besides, Axl would rather he be fully conscious when he’s knotted again after all this time, so that they can thoroughly enjoy and savor the experience together.
Izzy still hasn’t awaken up yet, a third day after the ill-fated incident on the plane above Japan, but the doctor said that they didn’t have to stay in hospital anymore. Alan, who is relieved that Izzy’s fine and twice more relieved that the PR team will have one less rebellious omega in the band that’s ‘ruining society’s standards and corrupting the innocent minds of today’s generation of impressionable omegas’ to stress about, had a limo delivered to them and their hotel room prepared. Three days ago, it wouldn’t be a problem for Axl to carry Izzy bridal-style in his arms but he’s grown heavy, particularly in the belly, since the butt plug was rarely removed except for when Axl used the medical device as it was intended for and pumped his cum into his omega’s drug-ravaged body.
Thankfully, in the peace and quiet of their hotel room, Axl easily slides into Izzy’s wet hole for the first time in god knows how long, and there he stays there, reluctant to unsheathe himself from his mate to eat or shower. There’s food in the room’s corner, some Japanese cuisine that will definitely stir his appetite after Izzy wakes up. It’ll happen anytime now, he knows it, feels it in Izzy’s scattering emotions, hears it in the noises he sighs in direct response to Axl’s cock inside him.
He’s looking forward to handfeeding Izzy, which something Izzy was strongly against before, denying Axl’s right as the alpha, but now things will be extremely different between them.
Things will be normal, natural between them, for Izzy’s own good.
It’s such a shame that Izzy’s plump little belly will be expunged of its fullness. The doctor had given Axl the equipment, the enema kit hanging in the hotel’s bathroom. A wonderful way to properly put Izzy in his place, restarting their relationship on the right foot. And that’s not the only equipment from the hospital.
A shiny steel cage adorns Izzy’s soft cock. Axl loves the way it looks on him, a symbol of Izzy’s status as an omega. From now on, all of Izzy’s orgasms are under his control. All of Izzy is under his control. No longer will Izzy be one of those rebellious omegas who have been horrendously led astray.
It’s too soon for him to decide but who knows? Maybe, he’ll consider letting him write lyrics for the band, if it doesn’t distract Izzy from his motherly duty of raising the kids and there’s no way in hell Axl is going to let their children be juggled between nannies, but Izzy’s career as a musician is finished. Alan already has Izzy’s replacement on the next flight to Japan.
It’s not Izzy’s fault at all. It’s Axl. He should have taken control from the very beginning, from the moment he found out Izzy’s biggest lie, but now it’s all okay. He’ll be the alpha that Izzy deserves and correct all the damage that’s been done.
“I love you, Iz. So fucking much. I want to see you round and heavy with my baby just as much you want it. Just wait for it, sweetheart, a little while longer. After your next heat, I promise.”
His unconscious omega’s pheromones flood his senses, consuming him. Izzy’s scent reinforces what he wants, craving to be overpowered by his alpha, all control be wrestled away from him, to be bred and heavy with Axl’s child.
Axl closes his eyes and kisses Izzy’s neck as he cums yet again, adding to the illusion of Izzy’s pregnant belly.
Izzy sighs again, his pheromones enriched with his fertility.
Axl feels his love through their bond, he feels it as steady as a heartbeat.