Work Text:
Ruggie moved through the corridors of STYX. As he turned a corner into the bustling atrium, a group of staffers paused in their hushed conversation, tablets in hand. Dr. Elara, a sharp-featured beta with wire-rimmed glasses, glanced up first. Her usual pinched expression eased just a touch at the sight of him.
"Bucchi," she greeted, her voice carrying that curt efficiency common among STYX's researchers. "You're making the rounds early today. Will you be at the diplomatic protocols briefing later today?"
Ruggie flashed her one of his trademark grins, all playful charm, leaning casually against a nearby console as if he had all the time in the world. "You bet, Doc. Gotta get a handle on who the real movers and shakers are at those fancy shindigs. Can't let the future director trip over his own feet when it's time to charm the pants off some investor, shyeheehee." He winked, and she actually chuckled, a rare win in this place.
They liked him here; his laid-back attitude was a breath of fresh air in this pressure-cooker of an institute, cutting through the tension like a cool breeze on a scorching day. He'd already picked up on the pecking order: who handled inter-agency comms, who could swing approvals for budget boosts, and who to avoid if you didn't want your ear talked off about quantum entanglement. All for Idia. Ruggie could be the face, the schmoozer; Idia could stay in his element, buried in data streams.
His pocket buzzed with a reminder ping from his phone about some inventory logs, but Ruggie's thoughts were already drifting elsewhere. He excused himself with a casual wave and veered toward the observation wing, his alpha instincts pulling him like a magnet toward the central lab.
The door hissed open at his approach, revealing the dimly lit space filled with banks of flickering monitors and the soft whir of cooling fans. And there, at the heart of it all, was Idia, sitting at the console, focused as he stared at the screen, his flaming blue hair cascading like ethereal flames around his shoulders. The plain gray STYX robes enveloped him, long and form-fitting, clinging subtly to his frame. It was just utilitarian fabric but to Ruggie, Idia looked utterly captivating. Pretty and glowing with an otherworldly allure that made Ruggie's pulse quicken.
He lingered in the doorway for a moment, just watching, letting the faint traces of Idia's scent filter through the air: that unique scent of rainy day mixed with something rich and sweet like honey, an omega pheromone that had haunted Ruggie's dreams back at Night Raven College. It drove him crazy even now, stirring a possessive warmth in his chest.
"Hey there, boss," Ruggie finally drawled as he stepped inside, closing the distance. He stopped just behind the chair. "How's my pretty future wife doing? I could grab you an energy drink or a snack if you're runnin' low, keep that brilliant brain of yours fueled."
Idia's shoulders stiffened, fingers pausing mid-keystroke on the console. A soft flush bloomed across his pale cheeks, visible even in the low light, but it lacked the usual spark, the way it used to deepen into a full-blown blush that made his golden eyes sparkle with reluctant delight. Instead, he kept his gaze fixed on the screen, not turning, not meeting Ruggie's eyes. "I-I'm... fine, Ruggie," he mumbled. "I’m in the middle of-”
Ruggie decided he needed to try harder. “Uh-huh. Middle of being gorgeous in boring robes. Seriously, how do you make regulation fabric look like couture?”
Idia didn't smile. “It’s… literally the same robe everyone wears. There’s nothing-”
“Special?,” Ruggie finished, grinning wider. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’re special, babe.”
He reached out, gently brushing a stray lock of blue hair from Idia's neck. A light, affectionate touch meant to reassure. But Idia flinched, his breath hitching, and that response hit Ruggie like a puzzle piece slotting into the wrong place. It reminded him too much of the beginning, back when he'd mustered the guts to ask Idia out.
Seven, that had been a nerve-wracking mess. Ruggie had circled around it for months, convinced a street-smart hyena like him had no shot with someone like Idia Shroud, a brilliant omega, heir to STYX, a natural-born leader with a mind that could unravel the universe's secrets. Out of his league? More like in a different galaxy. But that scent... it had pulled at him relentlessly, making his alpha side ache with want.
When he'd finally blurted it out, Idia's eyes had widened in disbelief, then narrowed in suspicion. "Is this... some kind of joke?" he'd asked, eyes narrowing. "A prank? Sorry to disappoint but I'm not naive enough to fall for that stupid trope where you take a bet to ask me out and then laugh at me behind my back. I know alphas don’t-" He’d gestured at himself. "I’m not- I’m not what anyone wants."
It had broken Ruggie's heart a little, seeing that self-doubt etched so deeply. Idia had truly believed that no one could want him. Idia had refused at first, but Ruggie had persisted, kept asking him out, until Idia believed he was serious. And then, date after awkward date, he melted those defenses, until Idia’s scent stopped spiking with anxiety and started filling with something shy and hopeful. Eventually, Idia had let him in, blooming under the attention like a rare flower in the desert.
They were engaged now. Idia wore the ring (simple platinum, etched with tiny binary) on a chain under the robe because he still panicked about losing it. They had survived heat cycles and getting used to living together and terrifying family dinners.
So why the hell was Idia avoiding eye contact now like he expected the rug to be pulled out from under him?
“Hey, baby,” Ruggie's fingers brushed Idia’s jaw, then gently cupped his face, tilting it upward. “What’s wrong?”
Idia’s breath hitched. His golden eyes met Ruggie’s for a single, fragile second. A flicker of something raw passed through them: uncertainty, maybe fear. Then he blinked, lashes fluttering, and turned his head just enough to break the contact.
“Nothing,” Idia whispered. “Just… a little tired.”
Ruggie didn’t buy it. He inhaled slowly. There it was again, the scent of distress, woven tight into the rain and honey. But before he could press, the door hissed open behind them. Two researchers stepped in, mid-level techs, tablets glowing, voices clipped with urgency.
“Director Shroud,” one called, already halfway across the room. “We’ve got an anomaly in Sector 7’s containment field. It’s fluctuating. We need your eyes on the logs.”
Idia straightened instantly, slipping out of Ruggie’s grasp like water through fingers. His expression shifted to professional, distant. The mask was back on.
“Uh, sure. Route it to station three,” he said, voice steady now, all traces of hesitation buried. He didn’t look at Ruggie again.
Ruggie watched as Idia moved toward the console. The techs hovered, talking over each other, oblivious to the way Idia’s scent still carried that acrid edge.
He stepped back, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. Come to think of it… Idia had been gone when Ruggie woke up. That never happened.
Idia was a night owl, buried under blankets until noon if left unchecked, hair a wild blue halo, grumbling about “unnecessary circadian tyranny.” Mornings were Ruggie’s domain. Usually Ruggie had to pry Idia from the mattress with kisses peppered across his eyelids, his throat, the soft spot behind his ear that made him whine.
Sometimes he did... more. Slide a hand beneath the sheets, palm gliding over warm skin, down the slope of a hip, between soft thighs, finding Idia already slick and pliant, a sleepy whimper caught in his throat as Ruggie’s fingers curled just right. (Ruggie exhaled through his nose, shoving the memory down. Heat coiled low in his gut anyway, unhelpful and insistent. Stop it, he told himself, not the right time.)
But this morning? The bed had been cold, Idia’s side empty. Ruggie had assumed he’d slipped out for an early experiment. Now, watching Idia’s rigid spine as he swiped between holo screens, he wasn’t so sure.
Something was wrong, he just didn’t know what.
With a quiet sigh, Ruggie pushed off the wall and headed for the door. Work waited. He’d circle back later.
---
Ruggie usually timed his lunch break to overlap with Idia’s, slipping into the seat across from him with a playful nudge of knees under the table and a stolen bite from whatever Idia had reluctantly picked at. Today, though, the chair opposite his was empty.
Ruggie shoveled the last of his meal into his mouth, then stood. Usually he'd eat more, it was free food in the end, but he was too worried now. On his way out he snagged a wrapped sandwich, a pouch of those honeyed energy chews Idia liked, and a bottle of citrus water. If his omega wasn’t coming to lunch, lunch was coming to him.
Labs, server rooms, observation decks; he checked them all with increasing urgency. Finally, he pushed through the heavy double doors of the STYX library.
The space was dim, rows of ancient tomes and crystalline data-slates stretched toward the vaulted ceiling. And there, halfway down an aisle of archaic containment theory, stood Idia.
He was motionless, a slim gray silhouette against the dark shelves. One hand held an open book, but his eyes were fixed somewhere beyond the page, golden irises dull and unfocused. He looked… tired. Sad in a way that made Ruggie want to bundle him up and hide him from the world.
Ruggie’s steps slowed, boots silent on the carpeted runner. He swallowed the sudden tightness in his throat and forced his voice into something gentle.
“Hey, future wife,” he said, soft.
Idia blinked, slow, like waking from a trance. His gaze drifted down to the book in his hands (some dense treatise on phantom resonance), then to Ruggie. A flicker of recognition, but no spark.
“I… I was just looking for…” His brows pinched together; he glanced at the title as if seeing it for the first time, then slid the book back onto the shelf with careful, mechanical precision. “I’m not really hungry, but thank you.”
Ruggie’s heart gave another painful twist. He closed the distance in three quiet strides, setting the food on a nearby reading table. “Oh no way, baby,” he teased, pitching his voice light, playful. “You’re eating. Gotta keep your strength up for all the babies we’re gonna make.”
He flashed a toothy grin in anticipation of the familiar protest: Ugh, disgusting. And i-f you really want five kids, better find a way to pop them out yourself. It was their routine, a well-worn script that always ended with Idia red-faced and smiling despite himself.
But this time…
Idia blinked again. His lips parted, then curved into a startled little laugh; short, brittle.The sound carried no emotion.
“I’ll eat later,” Idia murmured, the words flat.
Ruggie’s ears twitched. He stepped in closer, letting the wrapped sandwich dangle from two fingers like bait. “Oh, come on,” he coaxed, “you know how much I like watching you eat. Those little bites you take? Cute as hell.”
Idia’s shoulders rose and fell in a slow, resigned sigh. He reached out and took the bundle.
“Fine,” Idia said, eyes fixed on the sandwich instead of Ruggie. “I’ll eat. But you should go. Isn’t your lunch break over, *intern*?”
The title was said with a playful tone, but it carried an edge sharp enough to prick. Ruggie blinked, startled, then let out a soft laugh. “Wow. The Director’s strict today.” He rocked back on his heels. “Guess I’ve been demoted from fiancé to unpaid labor.”
Idia didn’t smile. He just clutched the food to his chest like a shield. The distress in his scent hadn’t faded; if anything, it had sharpened, threading through the honeyed rain. Ruggie could taste it on the back of his tongue, bitter and wrong.
But Idia’s shoulders were drawn up tight, spine rigid, and Ruggie knew that posture. Not here. Not now. Push too hard and those walls would slam back up, higher than before.
So he let his grin soften, gave a lazy two-finger salute. “Alright, boss. I’ll clock back in. But I’m holding you to that meal, yeah? No skipping.”
Idia nodded once, barely. Ruggie backed away. Later, he told himself. Back in their quarters (where the lights were dim and the blankets smelled like both of them, where Idia felt safest). That’s when he’d ask.
---
The door to their quarters hissed shut behind Ruggie, sealing the outside world away.He paused just inside the threshold, plates balanced in one hand. The room’s lights were already dimmed to the lowest setting (Idia’s preferred “cave” mode), but Ruggie thumbed the panel once more, coaxing the amber sconces to a warmer glow.
Idia was already there.
He sat on the very edge of the bed, as though the mattress might bite if he leaned back even an inch. His spine was a rigid line beneath the faded black Premo T-shirt. The hem had ridden up just enough to reveal a sliver of pale hip above the waistband of loose gray sweatpants. He stared at a fixed point on the far wall (somewhere between the framed concept art of a long-canceled gacha game and the half-collapsed stack of strategy guides), but his eyes were glassy, unfocused.
Ruggie set the plates down on the low table. Then he crossed the room. He reached out and cupped Idia’s cheek.
“Hey, beautiful,” he murmured, voice pitched low, the same tone he used when coaxing a skittish stray out from under a market stall. “Something on your mind?”
Idia blinked slowly. His lashes were damp. “It’s nothing,” he said. The words were automatic, flat.
Ruggie hummed. “Normally you’d be curled under a blanket with some game,” he said, letting his thumb drift to the corner of Idia’s mouth, tracing the lower lip. “yelling at me that you can't eat yet because you can't save during a boss fight. You’ve been off all day, baby. I can smell it.”.
Idia’s expression only tightened. His brows drew together, lips pressing into a thin line. His fingers twisted harder in the hem of the T-shirt.
Ruggie sighed, the sound soft and fond and aching all at once. He let his hand slide from Idia’s cheek to the nape of his neck, fingers threading gently through the silky strands of blue hair. “You know I don’t like seeing my pretty future wife sad,” he said, the endearment meant to coax a blush, a stammer, anything familiar.
The words hung in the air for a heartbeat, then another. And then...it seemed like they shattered something inside Idia. His shoulders jerked, A tremor ran through him. His breath hitched, a wet, broken sound.
Then the words spilled out, shaky and small:
“You know you don’t have to… pretend anymore.” His voice cracked on pretend, shaky and full of hurt. “We’re engaged. I-I won’t break it. So… no need to say pretty lies to me anymore.”
The last syllable fractured. Tears welled sudden and bright, spilling over the rims of his golden eyes before he could blink them away. They tracked down his cheeks in perfect, silent lines, catching the amber light like liquid topaz.
Ruggie froze. The air left his lungs in a rush he didn’t feel. His ears flattened against his skull; his tail went rigid. His chest clenched with a sharp, sudden ache that felt like someone had reached between his ribs and squeezed. All he could hear was the soft, broken hitch of Idia’s breathing.
“What do you mean pretend?” Ruggie’s voice came out rough, scraped raw. “Lies? When did I lie?”
Idia’s shoulders curled inward, as if the question itself were a physical blow. More tears slipped free, tracing the same glistening paths down his cheeks. He drew in a shaky inhale that rattled in his throat, then another, shallow and hitched, as if even breathing hurt.
He tried to speak. His lips parted, closed, parted again. A tiny, broken sound escaped (half-sob, half-word), then:
“I-I heard you,” he whispered. “Yesterday. On the phone. You said…” His voice cracked again, higher this time. “You said your plan to marry rich succeeded.”
Ruggie froze. Did he say that? No. No way.
Sure, he appreciated the perks. The STYX salary was nothing to sneeze at, and when Idia had offered to cover the cost of a new roof for Granny’s place back home, and send money to help the neighborhood kids, Ruggie hadn’t said no. He wasn’t stupid. But that wasn’t *why*. That wasn’t-
Oh. He remembered.
Yesterday afternoon, leaning against the railing outside the east wing, phone pressed to his ear while Leona’s lazy drawl crackled through the speaker.
“Marryin’ up, huh? Finally landed the big fish.”
Ruggie had laughed, sharp and sarcastic. “Shyeheehee, yeah, my genius plan to marry rich succeeded. Took years of scheming.” Then, sharper, because the joke had landed wrong even in his own mouth: “Don’t say that shit again, Leona. It pisses me off. I care about him.”
But Idia must’ve only caught the first part. Must’ve been walking past, heard the stupid joke, and turned and left before the rest. All he had heard was the thing that sounded, to someone who already believed he was unlovable, like confirmation. The fragile thread of trust Ruggie had spent so long weaving, one careful date, one soft compliment, one late-night confession at a time, had snapped like cheap string.
Ruggie swallowed hard, throat dry. He didn’t know why Idia still carried that doubt. He was beautiful, maybe not in the conventional omega way, but he was ethereal, sharp-edged and luminous, undeniably captivating. He was brilliant, the kind of mind nobody could keep up with. And yeah, rich, but that was the least interesting thing about him. Back at NRC he'd been far more awkward and the other students had been too proud, too busy posturing to see past the awkwardness and the nerdy rants. But now? Half the alphas in the adult world would’ve been lining up with bouquets and proposals if Ruggie hadn’t slid that ring onto Idia’s finger first.
Seeing him cry now, believing himself unlovable, made Ruggie feel like absolute shit.
He dropped to his knees in front of the bed.
“Baby,” he said, voice rough. “That wasn’t- I was joking. With Leona. You know how he is. I told him to shut it right after, because it made me mad. I’d never-” He stopped, swallowed again. “You think I’d say something like that and mean it? About you?”
Idia’s breath hitched. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t lean in either. His tears kept falling.
Ruggie took his hands in his. Idia’s hands were clenched into tight fists, nails digging half-moon crescents into his own palms; the knuckles had gone bloodless white. Ruggie clicked his tongue and began the gentle work of uncurling them.
He coaxed each digit open like petals, until both of Idia’s hands lay limp and shaking in his own. The half-moons stayed behind, tiny red parentheses against pale skin.
Ruggie lifted them slowly, guiding Idia’s palms to the center of his chest for Idia to feel the steady thump-thump beneath muscle and bone. Ruggie’s heart was racing. He pressed Idia’s hands flat, trapping them there.
“I am so proud to have you as my omega. Not the Styx Director.” A small, crooked grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’m proud of Idia. The one who forgets to eat when he’s neck-deep in code. The one who squeaks when I kiss the spot behind his ear. The one who can give orders to the whole institute without blinking but still hides behind his hands when I stare too long. That Idia. My Idia.”
Idia’s lower lip wobbled. He turned his face away, hair spilling forward in a wild blue curtain.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to... do this. I knew it was too good to be true. I won’t... won’t hold it against you.”
The words were gentle, resigned, and they carved straight through Ruggie’s chest.
He exhaled a long, slow breath that carried every ounce of frustration and fondness he could fit into it, and shifted. The mattress dipped as he settled beside Idia, close enough that their thighs pressed together, the heat of Ruggie’s body bleeding through the thin layers of cotton and sweatpants.
“I’m a little offended, y’know.” His tone was light, but the words carried weight. “I’d do a lot for money, not gonna lie. I grew up countin’ coins just to buy bread. But when did I ever give you the impression I don’t take family seriously?” He leaned in, nudging Idia’s shoulder with his own. “I wouldn't choose just anyone to be my family, but I chose you. You’re my family now. You're not a transaction, baby. You're my home.”
Idia’s breath hitched, a small, startled sound. He risked a glance sideways, golden eyes wide and uncertain, tears still clinging to the lashes. Ruggie met the look head-on, steady, unflinching.
He lifted his hands, cupping Idia’s damp cheeks. Thumbs swept across the wet trails, brushing away the tears.
“My pretty future wife,” he murmured, soft as the brush of fur against skin.
Idia flushed. His gaze flickered, caught between Ruggie’s eyes and the floor, but he didn’t pull away.
Ruggie’s thumb kept moving in slow, soothing arcs along Idia’s cheekbone. “Look,” he murmured, voice pitched low and steady, “you can ask Leona if you don’t believe me. He’s an asshole, yeah, but he won’t lie about this.”
Idia’s eyes softened, the tension in his shoulders loosened by degrees, He leaned into Ruggie’s palm, a small, unconscious nuzzle, his lashes fluttered shut.
“I believe you,” he whispered, the words feather-light.
The scent shifted. The sharp, sour note of distress melted away, replaced by something warmer, sweeter (rain and honey, but richer now, threaded with a needy undertone that curled through the air like smoke). It hit Ruggie low in the gut, a slow, rolling heat that made his alpha instincts sit up and purr. His tail flicked once against the mattress, betraying him.
“I’m sorry for thinking you would-” Idia started, voice trembling on the edge of another apology.
Ruggie hushed him with a soft shh, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Don’t worry about that, baby.” He leaned closer, forehead nearly touching Idia’s, breath mingling. “Just promise me one thing. Promise you’ll always believe me when I call you beautiful.”
Idia’s flush deepened. He gave a tiny, shy nod.
Ruggie closed the last inch between them. The kiss was gentle at first, a soft press of lips, warm and reassuring, tasting faintly of salt from Idia’s tears. Then Idia sighed against him, a small, needy sound, and Ruggie tilted his head to deepen it. The kiss deepened by degrees, first the soft give of Idia’s lower lip caught gently between Ruggie’s, then the slow slide of tongues, tentative at first, then surer.
The needy edge in Idia's scent sharpened, sweet and heady, flooding Ruggie’s senses until the alpha in him took over.
The kiss turned molten. Idia’s needy whimper vibrated against Ruggie’s tongue, and the omega’s scent, sweet, electric, aching, flooded the room like a summer storm. It curled into Ruggie’s lungs, sank into his bloodstream, and lit every alpha nerve on fire. His grip tightened at the nape of Idia’s neck, fingers threading deeper into silky blue strands.
Ruggie’s other hand slid to the hem of Idia's shirt. He broke the kiss only long enough to tug the fabric up and over Idia’s head in one smooth motion, tossing it aside. Idia’s breath hitched, pale skin flushed rose from collarbone to navel. The sweatpants followed next; Ruggie hooked his thumbs into the waistband and dragged them down slim hips, guiding Idia’s legs free with careful touches.
Idia went pliant beneath him, body arching instinctively, offering. His thighs trembled as Ruggie eased him back against the pillows, the mattress dipping under their combined weight. Ruggie followed, settling between Idia’s knees, hands sliding up the smooth planes of his thighs to spread them wider. Idia’s scent intensified with the motion, and Ruggie’s alpha reacted with intense need to take.
Idia’s hands fisted in the sheets, knuckles white. His hips rolled upward in a shy, needy plea, golden eyes half-lidded and glassy with want. Every touch (Ruggie’s lips brushing the hollow of his throat, teeth grazing the sensitive spot just beneath his jaw, fingers tracing the sharp jut of a hipbone) drew a soft, broken sound from him. He was especially responsive tonight, every nerve alight, every inch of him begging to submit, to be taken care of.
Ruggie’s mouth followed the path his hands had mapped, kissing down the center of Idia’s chest, tongue flicking over a nipple and drawing a sharp gasp. Lower still, across the trembling plane of his stomach, until he reached Idia’s thighs. The omega’s pussy was already slick, the scent so thick it made Ruggie’s head spin.
Ruggie lowered his mouth, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the slick folds. Idia’s hips jerked, a choked moan spilling from his throat as Ruggie’s tongue traced him in long, deliberate licks that gathered slick and heat, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top. Idia’s legs spread wider on instinct, thighs trembling, toes curling into the sheets. His hands flew to Ruggie’s hair, fingers tangling in the messy brown strands, anchoring himself as pleasure crashed over him in waves.
Ruggie’s inner alpha roared at the taste, the sound, the submission, Idia’s body opening for him, trusting him, needing him. He licked deeper, tongue curling inside, then retreating to circle the clit with slow, firm pressure. Idia’s moans grew higher, breathier, his hips rocking in tiny, desperate circles. Every flick, every suck, every gentle scrape of teeth drew another broken sound, another shudder, another flood of slick that Ruggie drank down like it was the only thing keeping him alive.
Idia’s moans grew louder, more desperate, his hips rocking in tiny, frantic circles as he chased the pleasure.
Ruggie didn’t let up. He sucked the clit gently, then harder, flicking his tongue in quick, precise strokes until Idia was trembling on the brink, his entire body taut as a bowstring.
Idia’s orgasm hit hard, his back arching off the bed, a sharp, keening cry tearing from his throat as his pussy clenched and pulsed against Ruggie’s tongue. Ruggie kept licking through the aftershocks until Idia was a trembling, oversensitive mess beneath him. Only then did he pull back, pressing one last, reverent kiss to the swollen folds.
He moved upward slowly, lips brushing every inch of trembling skin in his path. He started at Idia’s inner thigh, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive spot where slick still glistened, drawing a shuddering gasp from the omega. Another kiss, higher, tongue flicking out to lap at the crease of his hip. Idia’s body arched instinctively, pliant and open, every nerve singing under Ruggie’s touch.
Ruggie continued his ascent, lips grazing the sharp jut of a hipbone, then the trembling plane of Idia’s stomach. He paused to nibble at the soft skin just below his navel, teeth scraping gently, leaving faint pink marks that bloomed like petals. Idia’s breath hitched, a high, needy whine spilling from his throat. Ruggie’s tongue moved higher, licking a slow stripe up the center of Idia’s chest. He paused at a nipple, already pebbled and sensitive, and closed his lips around it, sucking gently before grazing it with his teeth. Idia’s back bowed off the bed, a broken moan tearing free, his thighs trembling where they bracketed Ruggie’s hips.
Ruggie’s alpha was going wild now, every instinct screaming to claim, to protect, to fill. Idia’s scent was everywhere, sweet, needy, omega, so thick it drowned out everything else. The omega was utterly pliant beneath him, body soft and yielding, golden eyes glassy with tears of overstimulation and want, lips parted on soft, desperate gasps. He was perfect, and Ruggie’s chest ached with the need to make him feel it.
He reached Idia’s throat, nosing along the column of pale skin until he found the mating mark, a faint, silvery scar just above the collarbone, the edges softened by time. The sight of it, fading, sent a possessive snarl through Ruggie’s veins. His instincts surged, demanding he renew it, make it bright again, make it undeniable. He licked over the mark first, slow and deliberate, tasting the faint salt of Idia’s skin and the lingering trace of their bond. Idia whimpered, head tilting to bare his throat fully, offering himself in perfect, trembling submission.
Ruggie’s teeth grazed the mark, then closed over it, not hard enough to break skin, but firm, deliberate, a bite that sank into the faded scar and claimed. Idia cried out, a high, keening sound that went straight to Ruggie’s cock, his body arching into the alpha’s mouth. The mark flared under Ruggie’s teeth, the skin reddening, the bond sparking between them. Ruggie growled against it, licking the spot to soothe the sting, then biting again, lighter this time, reinforcing the claim until the mark stood out vivid and fresh against Idia’s pale skin.
Only then did he pull back, just enough to claim Idia’s lips.
The kiss was hungry, devouring, Ruggie’s tongue sweeping into Idia’s mouth, tasting the soft, needy whimpers that spilled free. Idia kissed back with desperate fervor, lips swollen and pliant, hands clutching at Ruggie’s shoulders as if he’d float away without the anchor. Tears still clung to Idia’s lashes, glistening in the amber light, and the sight of them made Ruggie’s alpha ache to fill him, to knot him, to drown him in proof of how wanted, how loved he was.
Ruggie’s hands dropped to his own waistband. The zipper rasped. He shoved his pants down just far enough to free his cock. It sprang out, flushed dark and slick with precome, knot already swelling thick at the base. The head glistened, veins standing out in stark relief.
Idia’s eyes, blown wide with need, fixed on it instantly. His thighs fell open wider, knees bending high, heels digging into the mattress in silent, desperate invitation. A fresh wave of slick scent rolled off him, and Ruggie’s vision tunneled to the slick-soaked entrance fluttering eagerly beneath him.
He groaned, and leaned over him. One hand braced beside Idia’s head, indenting the pillow. The other wrapped around the base of his cock, guiding it to the omega’s entrance. The head nudged through swollen folds, and Idia sobbed, hips jerking upward, trying to take him deeper.
Ruggie pushed in slow.
Ruggie’s hips rolled forward, the head of his cock breaching slick folds with a wet, obscene sound. Idia’s pussy clenched around him instantly, hot, velvet-tight, pulsing in frantic waves that tried to drag him deeper. Ruggie’s breath punched out of him in a ragged curse.
“F-fuck...”
The word cracked, half-growl, half-whine. He’d never get used to this, the way Idia’s body opened for him, the way slick coated every inch, the way the omega’s walls fluttered and clenched. His knot throbbed at the entrance, already too swollen to push inside yet, pressing against the rim with every shallow thrust.
Idia’s sob was pure need, high, broken. His thighs fell open wider, knees hooked over Ruggie’s hips, heels digging into the small of his back as if to lock him in place. Tears spilled fresh from the corners of his eyes, streaking into his hair. His scent bloomed, sweet, laced with a desperate, fertile note that slammed into Ruggie’s hind-brain like a drug.
Breed. Fill. Knot. Pups.
The alpha snarled, ears flattening. His hips snapped forward, one smooth, relentless push, until he was buried to the hilt. Idia’s pussy clenched hard around him, rippling in rhythmic pulses that milked his cock from root to tip. The omega’s back arched off the bed, he cried out.
Ruggie held still for a moment, savoring the way Idia’s body held him, tight, wet, perfect. Then he drew back slow, dragging through every clenching inch until only the head remained, and slammed home again. Idia’s cry cracked the air, thighs trembling, slick gushing around the intrusion.
“R-Ruggie!”
Idia’s hands scrabbled at Ruggie’s shoulders, his pussy fluttered wildly, walls massaging Ruggie’s cock in desperate, needy waves.
Ruggie’s rhythm turned punishing, deep, hard thrusts. Every stroke dragged a fresh sob from Idia’s throat, every withdrawal left the omega whimpering, every return seated him deeper. The knot at Ruggie’s base swelled thicker, catching at the rim with each thrust, stretching Idia open wider.
Breed him. Stuff him full. The instinct roared, feral and unstoppable. Ruggie’s fangs grazed the fresh mating mark. Idia keened, pussy clenching so hard Ruggie saw stars.
“Gonna fill you up,” he growled against Idia’s throat, voice shredded. “Gonna knot you so deep you’ll feel me for days. Gonna give you everything, baby- fuck-”
Idia’s only response was another broken sob, hips rolling to meet every thrust, body pliant and open and begging. Tears spilled anew, tracking down his flushed cheeks, but his scent… gods, his scent shifted into something divine. Sweet and pleased, honeyed rain blooming thick and heady, wrapping around Ruggie like a drug. Pleased omega. Filled omega. Safe. It hit Ruggie’s alpha like a lightning strike, primal instincts exploding in his chest: Breed this perfect omega. Stuff him full. Knot him. Fill him until he’s dripping with you.
Ruggie’s knot swelled thicker with every thrust, hot, heavy, pulsing in time with his heartbeat). The stretch at Idia’s entrance burned, and the omega sobbed at each tug, body arching off the mattress, pussy rippling in frantic, milking waves. Ruggie’s growl vibrated against the fresh mating mark, fangs grazing the swollen skin as his hips snapped forward again.
He could feel it coming, the moment the knot would lock. The pressure built, exquisite and unbearable. Idia’s rim fluttered around the thickest part, slick gushing in a warm rush with every shallow thrust. Ruggie’s vision tunneled; his inner alpha roared, now, claim, fill.
One final thrust, he pushed, knot forcing past the tight ring of muscle. It slipped inside with a slick, stretching Idia impossibly wide. The omega’s cry was high, keening, pure, unfiltered bliss. Slick gushed around the intrusion. Idia’s pussy clamped down in rhythmic spasms, trying to pull the knot deeper, needing it, needing him.
Ruggie’s vision whited out. A groan tore from his throat as the lock snapped into place, knot swelling fully, sealing them together, cock buried to the root. The heat, the clench around him was perfect. He ground forward, hips rolling in tight, desperate circles, forcing the knot as deep as it would go. The head of his cock nudged against Idia’s cervix, pressing against the entrance to his womb.
Idia’s whole body tensed. Every muscle locked, toes curling into the sheets, fingers clawing at Ruggie’s back. His breath hitched, one sharp, stunned inhale that caught in his throat, then he came, hard, pussy clenching in needy, milking waves around Ruggie’s cock and knot. His moans dissolved into a broken sobs, raw, overwhelmed, tears spilling fresh as his body shook apart. Every spasm rippled through him, thighs quivering, hips jerking helplessly against the knot that held him open, full, claimed. The pleasure rolled on and on, aftershocks trembling through his limbs, pussy fluttering in helpless, rhythmic pulses around the intrusion.
Ruggie’s hips stilled, knot locked deep, every pulse of Idia’s pussy milking him in perfect, relentless rhythm. The coil in his spine snapped. A low, guttural snarl tore from his throat as he came. The first spurt flooded Idia’s womb in a warm rush, painting the omega’s insides with pulse after pulse. Idia’s body clenched around him, greedy, drawing every drop deeper, until Ruggie’s vision blurred at the edges. His cock jerked again and again, knot swelling impossibly thicker with each release, sealing the come inside. Idia sobbed, soft, overwhelmed, thighs trembling, pussy fluttering in helpless aftershocks as the warmth filled him to overflowing.
When the last shudder left Ruggie’s limbs, he exhaled and shifted. He eased them onto their sides, facing each other, chest to chest, legs entwined. One hand slid beneath Idia’s shoulder, guiding him into the cradle of Ruggie’s arm; the other hooked Idia’s top leg over his hip, adjusting the angle so the knot settled without tugging. The movement drew a soft, oversensitive whimper from Idia, his pussy fluttering around the thick intrusion, slick still dripping where they were joined, but Ruggie soothed him with a low, rumbling purr that vibrated through both their bodies. He pressed his forehead to Idia’s, noses brushing, breath mingling in the scant space between them.
“Easy, baby,” he murmured, voice rough with afterglow, lips grazing the delicate shell of Idia’s ear. “Got you.”
Idia’s response was a trembling sigh, his body melting into Ruggie’s embrace. His blue hair clung to his damp forehead, the flames flickering low but steady, casting faint shadows across his flushed face. His golden eyes were half-lidded, pupils still blown wide, the remnants of tears leaving glistening tracks down his cheeks. He looked beautifully, perfectly wrecked, and Ruggie’s chest ached with the need to keep him like this, safe and sated and his.
They lay like that for a long, quiet moment, faces inches apart, breaths syncing, the knot throbbing in lazy pulses that kept them tethered.
“Im not in a rut,” Ruggie said after a beat, voice low, lips brushing the mating mark as he spoke. He pulled back just enough to meet Idia’s eyes, his own hyena-gold irises soft but intense. “And you’re not in heat. But my instincts went crazy. You smelled so damn needy.”
Idia’s flush deepened. He ducked his head, trying to hide in the crook of Ruggie’s shoulder, but he gave a small, embarrassed smile that made Ruggie’s heart stutter. “I… didn’t mean to,” Idia mumbled. “It just… happened. I couldn’t help it.”
Ruggie huffed, a soft, fond laugh that puffed warm against Idia’s skin. He shifted, propping himself up slightly on one elbow, the movement careful to avoid tugging the knot. His free hand cupped Idia’s face, thumb tracing the sharp line of his cheekbone. He turned Idia’s chin gently, forcing their eyes to meet, Idia's golden irises still glassy, still vulnerable, but glowing with something softer now, something trusting.
“It’s easy for you to drive me wild,” Ruggie said. “I always want you this much. Every single day. So don’t doubt it again, okay?”
Idia’s lips parted, a shaky breath escaping that brushed Ruggie’s mouth. His eyes flickered, searching Ruggie’s face, then dropping to his lips, then back up again. He gave a small, hesitant nod. “I… I really don’t get it, though,” he whispered, “Guess you’ve go strange taste.”
Ruggie snorted. “Sure,” he pulled back just enough to flash a toothy grin. “Me and all those alphas I catch starin’ at you at those galas. Real strange taste, huh? Half of ‘em look like they’re two seconds from droppin’ to their knees with a ring.”
Idia sighed. “Those alphas… they don’t really know me,” he mumbled, golden eyes flickering to Ruggie’s chest, avoiding his gaze. “All they see is a STYX heir. The title. The money. Not… me.”
“A really pretty STYX heir,” Ruggie teased.
Idia huffed, a soft, exasperated sound, his flush deepening as he tucked a stray lock of blue hair behind his ear. “To you, maybe,” he muttered, eyes darting away again, settling on the rumpled sheets between them. “I’m… too tall for most alphas. Too skinny. And I look all freaky, and…” He paused, shoulders curling inward slightly, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “My posture’s better now, I guess. And I get more sleep. But… before? At NRC? I was a mess. I really can’t figure out why you approached me.”
Ruggie hummed. He shifted closer, the knot tugging gently as he adjusted, drawing a soft gasp from Idia. His hand slid from Idia’s hip to cup his face, thumb brushing the sharp line of his cheekbone, tracing the faint flush there.
“I don’t know,” Ruggie said, voice quieter now, earnest. “I always thought you were pretty. Just… not attainable, y’know? Figured a scrappy hyena like me didn’t stand a chance.” His grin returned, softer this time, fond. “But then I couldn’t help it. Wanted to try anyway. Had to.”
He leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to Idia’s forehead, then pulled back to meet his gaze again. “And as for you being skinny, well, baby, don’t worry, after five kids-”
Idia huffed, sharp and embarrassed, cutting him off. He buried his face in Ruggie’s shoulder. "Stop with that already,” he mumbled, voice muffled but laced with flustered amusement. “If you want five kids, I can install The Sims for you. You can raise a whole virtual family, name them after your favorite donuts, and leave me out of it.”
Ruggie laughed. He pressed a kiss to the top of Idia’s head, lips lingering in the silky strands of blue. “Deal,” he murmured. “But I’m still gonna love every skinny, long-legged inch of you. Five kids or no kids. You’re stuck with me, pretty future wife.”