Archive of Our Own ^beta

Hunter glances at the doorway of the cockpit for at least the twelfth time in the last ten minutes. Crosshair hasn’t come back, and he’s not worried exactly, but when Crosshair slipped away, he’d thought he might be planning to look at the injuries he sustained while fighting the assassin and then falling over the waterfall. It was nothing serious, not enough for Hunter to fuss over him, but perhaps Crosshair wanted to treat himself and clean up.

Except he left over thirty minutes ago, and he hasn’t returned. Maybe something’s wrong. Maybe Hunter should go find him instead of standing here and worrying over him. But he’s too afraid to face Crosshair. He’s too afraid to be alone with him.

Coward.

They were alone on Barton IV and then afterward, and it was – it was strained and awkward, but Hunter still managed it well enough. They were making progress, or at least Hunter had hoped they were. He meant what he said that there might be hope for them yet, but hope isn’t enough to fix everything. Hope won’t repair the trust that’s been broken or the relationship that’s been ruined. Perhaps one day they’ll find each other again, but Hunter doesn’t know if he’s ready for intimacy with Crosshair even for all that he aches for it.

He wants his omega back. His alpha has been anxious, restless, and on edge ever since Crosshair returned. He itches to scent mark him so that everyone knows who he belongs to. He doesn’t like other alphas being around Crosshair, and even though he struggles to control and hide those feelings, he cannot deny them, either. Crosshair is his. It’s simple. They belong together, they belong to each other, and the only thing that Hunter has ever wanted is to claim Crosshair as his mate.

He sighs again, fidgeting, fingers flexing, and finally, after casting another glance around the cockpit and the few clones who are left, he follows Crosshair into the hall. Out there, it’s easy to track him. His scent is unmistakable, and Hunter knows it well. He walks toward the back of the ship, noticing as he goes that it’s… changing.

He’s not sure that anyone else would have noticed if they’d been out here instead of him. Some of the other clones on board might be alphas, too, but they’re not Crosshair’s alpha. They’re not attuned to the subtlest changes of his scent, and they don’t know what it means. But Hunter does. He spent his whole life learning how to read Crosshair without needing words, and even the time apart hasn’t changed that. He breathes in a lungful of his scent, picks up on the sweetening undertone to it, and he knows.

Crosshair is going into heat. That’s probably why he left. He wanted to be alone where no one would know, where no one would see his weakness.

Crosshair is going into heat, and Hunter has no idea what to do. He should probably check on him. He knows that. Yet it seems so difficult to make his feet carry him to the place where Crosshair has hidden away. The scent is sharper inside the storage closet, and Crosshair is sitting cross-legged on the floor, his back pressed against the corner. He tenses when the door opens, his warning snarl dying when he sees who it is.

Hunter swallows, feeling awkward and uncertain as he leans against the doorway. He doesn’t know what the correct thing to do in this situation is. Whatever he and Crosshair shared is in the past. It’s over with, and he hasn’t found the courage to ask Crosshair what he wants them to be in the future when they haven’t even figured out what it is that they are to one another in the present. He thought he’d have more time.

“Is it early?” Hunter asks finally. He’d thought Crosshair would have said something to them if he knew that his heat was coming on, but what does he really know about Crosshair anymore?

Crosshair blows out a breath. “Yeah,” he answers. “Maybe.” He shrugs. “I never had one at– at Tantiss.” He doesn’t need to add that he didn’t feel safe enough there for Hunter to hear it. Or maybe Hemlock drugged him to prevent it. It’s not as though Hunter really knows how omega clones are treated by the Empire. He wants to ask if anyone ever… hurt or forced him, but he doesn’t know how to broach the subject. Maybe he’s also a little bit afraid of the answer.

He also chooses not to dwell too deeply on how Crosshair must feel safe enough with them that his body is entering into a true heat after so long without. It makes him feel something that he doesn’t know how to express, something that is dangerous for him to feel when he doesn’t know what Crosshair’s feelings toward him even are any more.

“You think we’ll be able to get back to Pabu before it gets bad?” he asks. The alpha in him aches to go closer. He wants to scent mark Crosshair, so everyone knows who he belongs to. Even after all this time, he still views Crosshair as his. His omega. His mate – even though they never actually mated. They couldn’t mate each other when they were soldiers of the Republic, no matter how much they wanted to.

“Maybe,” Crosshair answers vaguely. His right hand is trembling again, and it doesn’t escape Hunter’s notice that Crosshair isn’t quite meeting his eyes. The awkward tension between them is better after Barton IV, but they still don’t know how to act around each other. Hunter hates it.

After a heartbeat, the sniper sighs, shoulders slumping. “Probably not,” he admits, shaking his head. He squirms a bit, and Hunter forces himself not to go closer so he can better breathe in the intoxicating scent that Crosshair is giving off. It’s meant to lure in alphas, and Hunter bites back an unhappy growl at the thought of any other alpha getting to touch Crosshair. It should only ever be him.

“Okay, uh, I– I guess I can get you… something,” Hunter offers uncertainly. “I’m sure there’s some blankets or pillows lying around.” At least that’s something he can do. It’ll be better than leaving Crosshair to try and handle it all alone.

“That would– be appreciated,” Crosshair answers.

Hunter withdraws as quickly as he can, going to find the things that Crosshair will need for his heat. He pulls Echo aside to explain the situation, though he can’t quite read the loaded look that the ARC gives him when he asks if they have any… supplies for omegas in heat. Crosshair will need something, and Hunter won’t presume to think that the sniper would even welcome his presence, much less his touch. Toys might not be the same, but they still work.

He takes the items back to the closet, bringing some extra rations and water in case Crosshair needs them. His alpha is anxious, wanting nothing more than to help his omega, but Hunter resists the desire. Not now. Not now. He’ll stay nearby if Crosshair needs him, yet far enough that he won’t be able to hear the sounds from inside. Or at least he’ll try. He won’t go in, not unless Crosshair asks for him, but he’ll stay on guard. He can at least grant Crosshair protection while he’s vulnerable, even if he can’t do anything more.

He – he doesn’t trust himself around Crosshair while he’s in heat. It’s been so long, and Hunter has missed him so much, and if he touches Crosshair right now, he might end up biting him, and –

Well, adding in an unwanted mate bond would only make things worse.

Crosshair’s scent is stronger when Hunter returns, and he has to fight down every single instinct that he possesses as he sets the things on the floor near him before retreating. “Is that all?” he asks, needing to help. He needs to do more, needs to –

He stops the thought there, biting his lip hard enough to taste blood as he wrestles down the desire to bury his face against Crosshair’s neck and scent him.

Crosshair doesn’t answer, something conflicted on his face, and that only makes Hunter’s anxiety worse. He might not fully trust Crosshair the way he used to, and the love he feels might be clouded with feelings of betrayal and hurt, but he still loves him. Despite everything that’s gone down between them, Crosshair is still his omega.

“Do you want me to leave you to it?” Hunter prompts, needing some sort of answer or reassurance that Crosshair will be fine if he goes.

But the words only make something unhappy flicker across the sniper’s face, and Hunter’s gut clenches when he realizes. “Or do you… want me to stay?” The words are spoken carefully, and he’s fully aware of what it is that he’s asking.

Crosshair lets out a breath, looking up at Hunter with something hesitant on his face. “Would you mind? It’s– it’ll be bad. I don’t know if I can… get through it alone.”

Hunter weighs his own response carefully. One wrong word could threaten to destroy the truce between them, yet he also can’t lie to Crosshair, not about what might happen. He knows what it must have cost Crosshair to admit to needing help, and he knows how Crosshair feels about vulnerability. The last thing he wants is to make things worse.

“If I stay, I–” The words catch in his throat, and for all that his alpha is pleased about being needed, that doesn’t mean Hunter is able to easily confess how likely it is that Crosshair’s proximity will make him lose control.

“What?” Crosshair demands, bristling, and the guarded look is back in his eyes. “You don’t trust me, is that it?” It’s sharp and defensive, and Hunter flinches. It’s true. He doesn’t quite trust Crosshair like he used to, but that’s not why he’s hesitating.

“I don’t trust myself,” he admits, forcing himself to stay where he is through sheer willpower. “I–” He sways on the spot, Crosshair’s scent creeping into his awareness even more. It’s affecting him even though he wishes it wasn’t, and he wants to cradle Crosshair in his arms. He wants –

No. No. He can be better.

“Yes?” Crosshair prompts warily, and Hunter belatedly realizes that he’s stopped speaking.

“I might mark you,” he answers. “Permanently. And I– I don’t want to force you into something you’re not ready for.”

Crosshair takes a breath, and Hunter can feel his scent sharpening. He doesn’t seem unhappy with it. To the contrary, he seems more… intrigued. Maybe even turned on, and Hunter nearly whimpers from the effort of having to stay there instead of being pressed up against his omega’s side where he’s supposed to be.

“I guess that’s a risk I’ll have to take,” Crosshair replies finally, but there’s no wariness in his gaze. Instead, it almost looks like a challenge. “I’m not asking a reg I don’t even know for help.”

Hunter growls at that, the sound torn out of him unbidden, and Crosshair smirks. He takes a step forward, away from where his back had been pressed against the door. It’s not a big closet, not nearly big enough to keep him from choking on the scent of omega in heat. His omega in heat. He needs him. He needs him.

He’s been wanting to kiss Crosshair almost from the time they left Barton IV, but he’d resisted the impulse. He wasn’t sure it was wanted, and he was even less sure it was a good idea even if Crosshair did want it.

But he doesn’t hold back now, closing the distance between them and dropping to his knees at Crosshair’s side. “Missed you,” he breathes out, only half aware of what he’s saying. “I missed you. I missed your scent.”

He can feel the hitch in Crosshair’s breathing, the flutter of his heartbeat, and he can do nothing but lean in, hand coming up to rest on Crosshair’s shoulder, thumb pressing against the pulse point in his neck. Crosshair tilts his head to meet him, and their lips brush together. It’s light at first, the barest hint of pressure before Hunter pulls him closer and kisses him harder. Deeper. He’s starving for more, always more.

Crosshair responds to him the way he always used to, arms winding around Hunter’s neck as he all but drags him into his lap. He kisses like they’re short on time, like it’s a battle he intends to win, and Hunter groans as Crosshair’s tongue brushes against his own.

This. This. He’s missed this. He’s missed having Crosshair to himself. He’s missed their relationship. Not just the sex, but everything. He missed the soft moments they shared. He misses the friendship they had. He just – he misses Crosshair. He’s never felt right in himself when Crosshair isn’t at his side. He forced himself to get used to it, but can you ever get used to a lost limb, much less the loss of the other half of your heart and soul?

The arousal in Crosshair’s scent only grows sharper, and Hunter shudders, needing to taste him, needing to scent him, and his hands slide down to begin unfastening Crosshair’s armor. He knows this armor. It’s the same set he wore during the war, untouched since Kamino, and Hunter can remove it with ease. He drops the pieces to the floor, heedless of the clatter. He’s thinking about nothing but Crosshair and how much he needs to feel him again.  

He doesn’t know how to tell Crosshair all the ways in which he’s missed him, but he hopes that perhaps if he can show him, it will be enough.

“Let me,” Crosshair murmurs, nudging him back and Hunter pulls away to allow Crosshair to undress himself. He removes his own armor in the meantime, setting it aside neatly, stripping until he’s down to the undershirt and pants that he wears beneath. He shoves the stack of crates in front of the door to prevent anyone from coming in and then returns to his omega’s side.

Crosshair is beautiful. He’s always been beautiful, but he looks especially pretty with a flush high on his cheeks, lips red and wet from the hungry kisses they shared. Hunter reaches out, entranced, cupping his face as he takes him in.

“You’re staring,” Crosshair says pointedly, and the blush in his cheeks is probably partially from embarrassment now.

You’re pretty, Hunter nearly blurts out and then stops himself at the last moment. They don’t say things like that, certainly not anymore, and Crosshair will probably punch him if that comes out. “Yeah,” he mutters instead, almost rueful, and forces his hand to fall away from Crosshair’s face. It trails across his shoulder and down his arm. He can’t stop himself from incessantly scent marking Crosshair’s body glove, rubbing his scent onto him so everyone who sees him after this will know that he’s been taken.

“Settle down. I’m not going anywhere.” Exasperation is creeping into his tone, and Hunter blinks himself back to the present, forcing himself to take a deep breath and relax. He’s shifted to put himself between Crosshair and the door as though Crosshair might try and run, or as though someone might try to take him.

“I know,” he bites out, annoyed at himself, at this whole situation. They lost so much time and for what? But that’s not a train of thought he wants to indulge so instead, he leans in to kiss Crosshair again. At least when they’re kissing, things actually make sense to him.

Crosshair lets him for a minute before pushing him back a bit. “Nest,” he reminds pointedly, and Hunter blindly grabs at the blankets and two thin pillows, handing them to his omega. He scoots back, watching as Crosshair arranges them on the floor, making it as comfortable as he can. He strips off his body glove next, adding it to the pile.

Hunter feels his mouth go dry as his gaze sweeps across Crosshair’s naked body. He’s thinner and scarred, and Hunter forces himself not to comment about it. Crosshair will pull away if he does. Already, he can see the uncertainty in his eyes, the vulnerability. Crosshair hates feeling exposed, and Hunter suspects that if not for his heat, he’d have put off any intimacy for much longer. They probably both would have.

Reverently, he reaches out, fingers settling on Crosshair’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of the skin beneath his palm. His hand slides downward, over Crosshair’s chest and then back up again, getting used to the touch. He hasn’t been with anyone since they lost Crosshair. He could have, easily, but he just… couldn’t. He was still grieving, still trying to find his place in a galaxy that suddenly felt so empty and cold without his omega at his side.

“Can I–” His voice wavers. “Can I touch you?”

Crosshair huffs. “You already are,” he drawls. It lacks the usual sting, and Hunter can hear the apprehension underlying his words.

“Not what I meant, and you know it.”

He slides closer, sitting on the edge of Crosshair’s nest as he brushes a thumb over one of his nipples. He shivers, fingers clenching, and now that he’s naked, Hunter can smell his arousal even more keenly. He aches to sink into the wet heat of his body, aches even more to bite down on his scent gland and mark him as a mate. They’ll be bonded together forever. He’ll never need to fear losing Crosshair again, because Crosshair will never have the strength to leave his alpha and go away.

And Hunter wants it. He needs it. He needs the reassurance that Crosshair will be with him forever, because otherwise, letting go and taking him back as his lover will never feel right. He’ll always be holding back, always be afraid deep inside that one day he’ll wake up and it will all be over again.

“You’re thinking too much,” the sniper says crossly. He reaches out, yanking at the hem of Hunter’s shirt. “Off.” He’s just as demanding as Hunter remembered.

He huffs, almost amused, and pulls back enough to undress. His cock springs free, and he can see the way that Crosshair’s eyes flick toward it hungrily. Maybe just to be a tease, he wraps a hand around his mostly hard length, stroking languidly.

“Tell me what you want, Crosshair.”

The omega’s answering snarl is instinctive, and he scoffs, lifting his chin as though he wasn’t just openly looking at Hunter’s cock. “You already know.”

Hunter smirks, feeling a lightness in his chest that he hasn’t truly felt since they lost Crosshair. “Do I?” he murmurs, sliding closer. He stops only inches from Crosshair’s face, waiting, testing. And Crosshair doesn’t disappoint him. He leans in, pressing their lips together, and Hunter’s hand slides down Crosshair’s bare skin. The air around them is cool, but Crosshair is warm, and Hunter yanks him closer without even thinking. He groans when Crosshair straddles his legs, skin against skin for the first time in years.

Their kiss turns hungrier, messier, and he grinds himself up against the eager body on top of him. Crosshair shivers, nearly whining, and his fingers tangle in Hunter’s hair so he can get a better angle. So typical. He’s nothing like a “normal” omega. He doesn’t go soft and submissive when Hunter touches him. He fights back. He enjoys it when Hunter has to fight and wrangle him into obedience.

They might be alpha and omega, but their dynamic is the furthest thing from normal, and Hunter likes it that way. His mate is amazing, and Hunter wants him just as he is.

His alpha howls at having their omega so close, and Hunter has to fight himself, so he doesn’t turn his head and sink his teeth into Crosshair’s neck. He wants to. He wants it more than anything. He wants to leave a mark on Crosshair that can never ever be removed.

Crosshair is his. His. His!

They pull apart, panting heavily, and Hunter kisses and nips at Crosshair’s skin. Along his jaw, his neck, his shoulders. His teeth graze over Crosshair’s scent gland, and he wrenches himself away, shuddering.

To distract himself, he runs his hands over Crosshair’s skin, remapping the planes of his body. He’s relearning him all over again, and he feels better when Crosshair begins to do the same for him. Cautious touches turn more certain, and Hunter isn’t surprised when Crosshair’s fingertips rest on the scar next to his heart.

“What happened?” It’s a painfully hesitant question, and Hunter can’t even imagine how the omega must feel at seeing it, at knowing that Hunter was nearly killed in their time apart.

“Bracca,” he admits. “Bounty hunter got the jump on me when we were trying to escape.”

“Hm.” Crosshair’s face is unreadable, but his scent sours with bitterness. “I guess we both nearly died there.”

Hunter goes cold, ice sweeping through him to replace that heat that had been present only moments ago. “What?” he croaks, because he expected that Crosshair probably had multiple near-death experiences, yet that doesn’t change how terrified it makes him feel to actually hear it. Crosshair is his, and he’ll kill anyone who tries to take him.

Crosshair’s expression closes off. “How do you think I got this?” He gestures to the ugly scar on the side of his head, and Hunter feels caught off-guard for the second time. At least the omega doesn’t sound angry about it. He seems more tired than anything else. Hunter had noticed the scar on Kamino, but he hadn’t asked questions. He hadn’t wanted to know, because knowing would have meant he’d torture himself with all the ways that he failed his omega.

“I– I’m sorry,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against Crosshair’s and breathing him in.

Crosshair exhales, slumping against Hunter and wrapping his arms around him. They sit like that for many long minutes, just holding each other, and Crosshair tucks his head against Hunter’s neck while Hunter idly traces patterns on his back. It feels… good. It feels right.

But eventually, the moment has to end. Crosshair’s heat is only growing stronger, and Hunter can taste it in the back of his throat. Crosshair is trembling, too, and his skin is flushed. He doesn’t seem too inclined to let go, so Hunter wiggles an arm between them, sliding his hand down Crosshair’s abdomen and then between his legs. He’s wet, slick coating everything, and Hunter’s breath hitches just from that alone. He rubs against Crosshair’s clit gently, enjoying the way he shivers and nips at Hunter’s neck.

“Good?” he murmurs, and Crosshair nods wordlessly, arms tightening around Hunter’s body. He runs his fingers further back, teasing his cunt before sliding two fingers in. Crosshair gasps, clenching down on him, and Hunter can feel the slick coating his fingers. Hell, his whole hand.

“You’re so wet,” he pants out, voice wrecked.

Crosshair huffs. “I’m in heat, Hunter. It’s what happens.” His tone is dry, but there’s something almost… shy there, too. Well perhaps not shy, but it’s something. Uncertainty, perhaps.

“Let me– let me taste you,” Hunter whispers, pulling his fingers from Crosshair’s cunt.

They change positions without needing to talk about it, Crosshair laying back on the blankets and pulling Hunter down on top of him. Hunter leans up to kiss him briefly before he begins working downward. He stays clear of Crosshair’s neck and shoulders, so he doesn’t feel too tempted to bite him, instead focusing on leaving marks elsewhere. Crosshair is always extra sensitive during his heats, and he shivers when Hunter sucks on his nipples, fingers sliding into Hunter’s hair to keep him close.

Hunter reaches his abdomen, and he thinks both of them are trembling from anticipation as he runs his hands down Crosshair’s thighs. The sniper gasps when Hunter nips at the skin on his inner thigh. He sucks marks there, too, partially because he can and partially to be a tease, slowly working his way upward.  

“Stop teasing,” Crosshair hisses, tugging demandingly on Hunter’s hair.

Hunter grins, scraping his teeth over Crosshair’s skin before he turns his head to look at the glistening wetness on Crosshair’s cunt. He is wet, enough so that it nearly makes Hunter’s mouth water, and a hungry growl rises in the back of his throat unbidden. For a moment, he just looks at him, breathing in his scent and feeling the ache in his chest. Crosshair might be here now, but he was gone for so long, and Hunter missed him more than he can ever say.

Hunter lowers his head, hearing the way Crosshair’s breath hitches when he drags his tongue through the slick. He tastes just like Hunter remembered, and now fully committed to his task, his hands settle on Crosshair’s thighs to keep them apart while he works. He licks over Crosshair’s folds, running his tongue up to his clit and teasing it. Crosshair shudders, legs tensing as he fights the impulse to rock up against Hunter’s face to get more.

Hunter sucks on the sensitive tissue, grinning at the way it makes Crosshair whimper before he slides his tongue back down and into Crosshair’s body. He can’t go far, not as far as he’d like, but he does his best, licking and sucking, alternating between licking him out and teasing his clit until Crosshair is moaning and trembling. His fingers are clenching Hunter’s hair hard enough to hurt, but he doesn’t care. He’s too relieved that he’s even allowed to do this and happy that he can lavish Crosshair with attention and affection after so long without.

Crosshair comes with a cry, Hunter’s name falling from his lips and his back arching as the pleasure washes through him. Hunter lifts his head just enough to watch the sensations flit across his face before getting back to work. Crosshair will need a lot more than that to get through his heat.

Mindful of how sensitive Crosshair is right after coming, Hunter sticks to licking his folds until Crosshair settles down enough for him to continue where he left off. He works him into a second orgasm, heedless of his own aching cock and the slick that’s now smeared across most of his face.

“You’re a mess,” Crosshair mutters when Hunter rests his chin on Crosshair’s abdomen, trying to judge if he’s ready to be fucked now.

Hunter smirks. “You liked it, though.”

The omega huffs, rolling his eyes. He doesn’t contradict it, fingers carding gently through Hunter’s hair, almost in apology for how hard he’d been pulling it. Hunter catches his wrist and pulls his hand down to kiss it. They stare at each other, something soft and gentle hanging in the air between them. It almost feels like before, and Crosshair must sense it, too, because he doesn’t say anything even when Hunter wipes his face off on Crosshair’s abdomen.

Hunter crawls up, hovering over him. “Are you–?” he starts.

Crosshair cuts him off, pulling Hunter down against him and into a kiss that borders on desperate. I love you. I missed you. I need you. They don’t need to say the words for both of them to feel it. Hunter can taste it in Crosshair’s lips, can feel it in how tight his arms are around his back, can smell it in his scent.

“M’ready,” Crosshair breathes out, urgency filling every syllable as he hooks his legs around Hunter’s waist and rocks up against him. Hunter groans as his cock slides through the wetness between Crosshair’s legs, and he doesn’t need to be told twice. He reaches down, taking himself in hand as he guides himself to Crosshair’s cunt and pushes in.

They both groan, nearly in sync, and Hunter is powerless to stop himself from rocking in further, stretching Crosshair open around his cock. It feels good to be inside him again, and Hunter kisses him, hungry and eager as he slides all the way in. Crosshair is panting, clenching down on him repeatedly, and the sensations are enough to drive him insane.

“You– y’need to stop,” Hunter growls. “M’not gonna last if you keep doing that.”

Crosshair smirks, a challenge in his eyes as he grinds his hips up against Hunter and squeezes. It rips a broken moan from Hunter, and he has to force himself not to lose control and fuck Crosshair in a way that they might not be ready for.

“Seriously,” Hunter hisses at him.

“I can take it,” Crosshair replies, voice rough. The sound goes straight to Hunter’s cock, and he shudders.

“I’ll mark you,” he warns.

“I can take it,” Crosshair insists, eyes flashing. “You know you want to.” He shifts, another little wiggle that sends heat racing through Hunter’s body, and a pointed clench that makes Hunter’s willpower crumble.

His first thrust is more instinctual than planned, and Crosshair whimpers. Hunter doesn’t even know if the sniper is aware of the sound he’s making, but it’s making every alpha instinct inside of Hunter purr with eagerness. He buries his face against Crosshair’s neck, heedless of the temptation it’s presenting, as he fucks Crosshair just as hard and fast as they both need. He slams into him, groaning against Crosshair’s skin as the sensations build quicker than he wants. But he can’t make himself slow down. He can’t do anything other than keep moving as he gets closer and closer.

He’s whispering Crosshair’s name, feeling the omega’s fingers digging into him, his scent sharpening with arousal and need. And what kind of alpha would Hunter truly be if he didn’t give his omega whatever he wants?

“Gonna fill you up with my pups,” Hunter growls, muffled against Crosshair’s neck but still audible enough to make the omega gasp. Hunter can feel his own scent sharpening with alpha possessiveness and want. “I’ll make you mine.”

Crosshair shudders under him. “Yes,” he whispers shakily, almost pleading. “Give me your pups. Hunter. Alpha.” Hearing his designation spoken like a title is what pushes him over the edge. He thrusts in one final time, a wave of pleasure sweeping through him as he comes deep in Crosshair’s body, his knot swelling to lock them together. Instinct takes over, a throbbing need within Hunter making him bite down on Crosshair’s scent gland. The warmth flares in his chest, bright and overwhelming, and it’s maybe even better than his orgasm. He feels the bond with Crosshair snap into place, and it – stupidly – makes him want to cry.

His omega. His mate. Finally, Crosshair is truly his.

He reaches down, hand sliding between them to rub against Crosshair’s clit, taking him over the edge for the third time. A choked cry escapes him as he comes, clenching down on Hunter’s length – and his knot. The pressure makes Hunter groan and fills him with the desire to go again, though that will have to wait until his knot goes down so he can pull out.

He nuzzles Crosshair’s neck, licking at the sluggishly bleeding mate marking and feeling pleased by its existence. Although maybe he shouldn’t be. He might have warned Crosshair that it was possible, but that doesn’t mean that the sniper actually agreed. Not explicitly.

“Are you– are you alright?” Hunter asks, lifting his head.

Crosshair’s fingers card through his hair again, hand settling on the back of Hunter’s neck as his thumb strokes back and forth. “Better than alright,” he answers breathlessly.

“We– we’re mates now,” Hunter says and then hesitates. He’s not sure how to ask.

A soft look flits across Crosshair’s face. It’s not quite a smile, but he looks… satisfied. “Yeah.”

Hunter stares at him, realization slowly sinking in. “You wanted me to. You wanted me to mark you.”

“Thought it was obvious,” Crosshair answers, lips twitching. They freeze in sync as they’re reminded of the brother who should be nearby but isn’t. They haven’t talked about Tech yet. There’s not really anything to say, of course, but it – well, it hurts. It’ll always hurt.

Hunter exhales, resting his head on Crosshair once more and hoping that he’s not squashing him too badly under his body. They won’t be able to move for a while, and besides, Crosshair will be annoyed if Hunter tries to pull out too early. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I guess–” He swallows. “M’glad you’re here.”

Crosshair nudges him until he lifts his head so they can kiss. It’s soft. It’s gentle. It’s slow. It’s everything that Hunter needs right now. “Do you want me to mark you back?” he asks.

And that is a question that Hunter doesn’t even need to think about. He tilts his head, baring his neck in a way that few alphas ever would. He doesn’t flinch, not even when Crosshair’s teeth scrape against his throat before he finally bites down. The bond wavers, strengthens, and the warmth of it is stronger than any pain he could feel. He rolls them onto their sides, so Crosshair is more comfortable. The sniper’s back is to the wall, the best place for him to be safe and secure – and protected.

“We could have kids,” Crosshair admits. “Maybe. If we wanted. Whatever the Kaminoans did to prevent it… we could remove the implant.”

Hunter’s hand slides down Crosshair’s side, stopping at his hip. He thinks about it, really thinks about it. He thinks about Crosshair’s body changing as their child grows inside of him. He thinks about what it would feel like to hold their child in his arms. His heart clenches. Perhaps it’s yearning, perhaps it’s fear, perhaps it’s arousal, perhaps it’s something else entirely. “Someday,” he answers. “I think I’d like that.”

They share a smile, something tentative rekindling between them. For all that Hunter whispers to Crosshair how much he’d like to fill him with pups, it’s not something they’ve ever talked about for real. But times have changed, and they have Omega. Omega has changed both of them, and when Hunter thinks about it now, he can actually imagine a future where they have children of their own.

That day doesn’t need to be now. It doesn’t need to be tomorrow. Hell, it doesn’t need to be for years. They have time. They have all the time they could ever want to figure it out.