Chapter Text
Blood. Blood everywhere. No matter how much Will scrubbed at his skin, the dirty red never really left him. Its smell, metallic and sour, always following him. He moved out of the lake, giving up on his endeavour to wash himself. He looked up, saw eyes staring at him. As always, it was Miller.
Will wasn’t surprised by this. Alphas always stared. He was a young omega, handsome, blonde, untouched. Not only could they see this on him, but they could also smell this on him too. He’d had it his whole life, back at Harvard, and now here in the west country.
He ignored his stare, pulling on his shirt. It was still stained with buffalo blood, just like the rest of his clothes. It didn’t matter how much he washed it; the lack of soap meant the red splatters remained. Once clothed, he shuffled back up the bank, the air was growing chilly and made him shiver.
Six weeks Miller had told them. They had been here much longer than that, and Will knew what was going to happen.
“You should be careful. Charlie ain’t much of a threat, but if Fred smells you, it’s all over, Pup.”
Will glanced over at him, squinting his eyes. “What are you talking about?” Miller liked to speak like this. Never really explaining what he was talking about, only short statements, that one would have to digest and develop into meaning.
“You know what I’m talking about, Pup. I can smell it on you, I’m sure you know its close too. I told you coming here was dangerous for a boy like you.” Miller puffed on his pipe, the smoke acrid and bitter as it floated over his bald head.
The slighter man scowled, wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve. “And yet, you let me come here. You knew the risks too. So, my question is, Miller, what do you propose we do about it?”
Miller huffed, smoke wafting from the corners of his mouth. “Let me handle it, before he scents it on you.”
Will scoffed, shaking his head. “Are you implying what I think you’re implying?” Will had grown tired of Miller’s mind games. The man had them all running ragged for days now, killing buffalo, refilling rifles, skinning hides. Will was tired of it all. He wanted to go back to Butcher’s Crossing, but that was simply a fallacy.
Miller chewed on the end of his pipe, looking at Will with his cold collecting blue eyes.
“Yes, otherwise, Fred won’t give you a choice.”
They returned to camp later that evening, Charlie had beans on the fire stove, stirring them slowly with his good hand. Fred was sat at the edge, cleaning off his skinning knives. He cocked his head up and his nose rose to the air, sniffing it.
“Christ Miller, ya’ll ever gon’ have a bath? You stink like a bull’s ball sack.”
The comment made Will giggle, but the glare from Miller made Will cower and he walked over to where Charlie was. He and Charlie were friends now, their shared interest in the lord reassured him, there was a lick of sanity in the old man, despite his late-night raving and shell-shocked eyes.
Miller sat down by the fire, lighting up his pipe again. The man was like a chimney, the clay pipe never leaving his mouth. Where his endless amount of tobacco came from was for Miller to know only. “Leave it, I’m aching from shooting all day. I’ll bathe when I’m ready.” The man gruffed, saying no more as he stared into the fire.
“Yeah, I bet you are. How do you think we’re gonna get these skins back, Miller? We have at least two thousand here. The fall aint gon’ last forever, we best be leaving soon.” Fred yapped, Will was quietly nodding in agreement, though if Miller saw, he didn’t acknowledge it.
“I’ll stop shooting when I’m ready. Now shut your trap Fred, before I shut it for you.”
The night felt into an uncomfortable silence, but Will couldn’t stop noticing the way Fred kept scenting the air. Maybe Miller was right. A knot of anxiety formed itself in Will’s gut.
That knot never went away as Will curled up in his bed cloths for the night. In fact, it turned into a cramp that made him quietly gasp into his pillow whenever it grew too intense. A sweat clung at his skin, made his hair stick to his forehead.
Will knew what was happening. Any other man would assume they were poisoned, but as an omega, Will knew this was normal.
Six weeks, he’d have been safe. But nine weeks? Nine long weeks, no comfortable bed to hide away in. To handle this alone, to manage and keep away from alphas until he was safe again.
Fred had kept his nose in the air, Will was scared. He was no longer safe.
He slowly sat up, wincing as another cramp struck through his belly. He had to get to safety before Fred found him. He picked up his bedroll, holding it close to his body. If he could go somewhere downwind, away from the other men, perhaps he could ride this out alone in the woods.
He remembered what Miller said, not about him helping, but rather when he found him half drowning in the river. That young men that go wandering off from the group can end up dead.
Fred’s sharp nose entered Will’s mind again, he’d take his chance with the wolves than let that man near him.
He lay down on the forest edge. It was colder here, away from the fire. His whole body felt like the sun however, the fever gripping him growing stronger. He curled in on himself, and he prayed to God he could sleep through it.
Will fell into a fitful slumber and as he dreamed, he remembered Francine back at the Tavern.
“Will! You came! I was beginning to think I’d never see your face.” Francine’s smile was infectious. Her eyes glittered, her lips rosy and her skin so tan from the sun. She held his hand, fingers delicate and yet so much bigger than his own.
“Come on! Let’s dance! I bet you can’t keep up!” She giggled, she was gleeful with alcohol and the happy atmosphere of the bar. Will took both her hands, and they swung around the floor, bumping into rough looking strangers but none said a word, as they too were cheerful with drink.
The music was infectious, Will was laughing and so was Francine. He twirled her around, she held his waist and made him bow in her arms. Will was reminded of his days back at Harvard, young students let loose alone in the city. He felt loose here, able to be weak around strong men.
Her pretty face came close to his ear, and she smiled, kissing his cheek. “Let’s go, back to my room. I got the only rug in town; I want you to come see it.” Her delicate teeth nibbled at his earlobe and Will’s eyes fluttered shut, if only for a moment. He squeezed her hand tight and let himself be led away into the night.
“Your hands, so soft and smooth. You’re very young, younger than all the men here.” Francine whispered, bringing them to her rosy lips and she kissed them.
They were in her room, and just as she said, she did in fact have a nice rug here. They were sat together, dangerously close, their scents intermingling in the musty air of the room.
“You know I’m not like all the other men. I take it you don’t see many male omegas in these parts?” Will whispered back, watching intently as she kissed his fingers and wrapped her lips around his forefinger. The act alone, made Will throb between his legs.
She turned to look at him, letting the digit go. “No, never. I never did like alphas; you’re one of a kind to me.” Francine led his hand to her breast, it was so small against it, it made Will tremble. He could be weak with her; she wanted him to be.
“So, you know, that I can’t satisfy you the same as them. Omegas, us, ain’t meant to be together like this.”
Francine let out a gentle laugh and her voice, the sweet lull, her rosy mouth pulling into the sweetest smile. She turned and looked to Will again, his hand was now buried beneath the cloth of her dress, palm pressed against her nipple. “Maybe that’s what I like. Maybe, I don’t want to be the one satisfied, Will. Has anyone ever treated you good?”
Will bit his lip. A son of a minister, a son of the Lord, a son meant to wait until marriage. He closed his eyes tight and took in a deep breath. He opened them again, glancing longingly into Francine’s.
She was so gentle, so kind to him.
“No.” Was all he replied with, and Francine led him to her bed.
She took off her dress with practiced ease. It was easy to forget that a woman as angelic as Francine was a whore, she wore no underclothes, bare as a newborn babe. Will tried to remember how to breathe. She was, as the phrase goes, breathtaking.
Tan skin, lithe form, small but plump breasts. Her nipples were dark, her hips were curved, belly soft and her cunt covered in a smattering of hair that matched that of the top of her head. Will’s mouth watered, would she let him taste her the way she had tasted his fingers?
“Am I gon’ be the only one to take my clothes off? Come on, your turn!”
Will laughed, though it was only to cover his anxiety. He’d never done anything like this with anyone before, let alone with another omega. His hands were shaking as they went to unbutton to grab at the hem of his shirt.
“Oh, sweet Will. Let me.” She leaned over, her breasts swinging a little in her movement. Will felt perverse, watching her like this. But she intrigued him, no one had ever shown him this before.
Her gentle hands pulled his shirt up and over his head, she tossed it to the side of the bed to meet her own clothes. She then began to unbutton his trousers, and Will could feel his heart beating out of his chest.
“I won’t hurt you; I only want to be good to you.”
Her voice was like a guide, something to hold his hand and keep him walking along this unfamiliar road. He trusted her, despite only knowing her for such little time. Will trusted her to keep him safe.
A quick slip of fabric, Will was in his underclothes. She straddled his lap, moving one of her hands through the thick of the hair on his chest. “So soft.” Her voice was lilted with softness, fingers dancing over his skin until they found a nipple. They circled it, Will whined, the throbbing between his thighs continued.
“So sensitive.” She continued, still stroking his nipple while the other trailed down his soft belly, down to where he was throbbing. Will grabbed her wrist, shaking as her eyes met his again.
“Don’t you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Then let me look after you.”
She pushed her hand down into his briefs, cupping him. Will pushed his head against the pillows. They smelled like starch, the fabric stiff beneath his skull. He took comfort in burying his nose in them as Francine touched him.
“So wet.” Francine breathed, two deft fingers pushing down over his clitoris, doing as they had done with his nipple. Small little circles that had Will hiccupping on his breaths. A rustle of more fabric, his briefs were gone and Francine’s hands disappeared.
“What are you doing?” Will gasped, pulling his face out of the pillow, he didn’t recognise the sound of his own voice, it was so ragged despite how little Francine had touched him.
Francine giggled, she was wiggling down onto her belly, her head between his spread thighs. “Looking after you, of course. Here, put your hand here.” She took his shaking hand and guided it to her hair. “If you need me to stop, just pull real hard okay?”
Will didn’t understand her instructions at first, not until he watched her dip her head down and her sweet rosy lips captured the bud of his cunt between them. “O-ohhh…” Will moaned, the intense wet heat pulling him out of his fear and straight into pleasure.
Francine spoke like she’d never had an omega, but her mouth said a different story. She was good, a talent the way her tongue played with him. She did as she did with her fingers, circling, stroking, stimulating him.
Will was powerless, his only anchor the hand resting in her hair.
She seemed at peace, her eyes happily shut, jaw moving, working on him. Her head bobbed a little, almost as if she were sucking a cock. When Will looked further down, he saw one of her hands tucked between her legs, moving incessantly. She was bringing herself off on his pleasure.
Francine’s ministrations increased, pulling off his clitoris to move further down and push her tongue between his folds. She appeared to be gathering up his slick, sliding it into her mouth and eating it. This was something only alphas spoke of enjoying, yet Francine lapped at him as if she were one.
Her tongue entered his cunt and Will shuddered, the hand in her hair fisting tightly but not to make her stop, no, to keep himself from toppling entirely off the bed as Will’s orgasm shook through him violently.
Francine pulled away, softly removing his hand from her hair. She was smiling, like she had been this whole time. Her rosy lips glistened with what Will knew to be his slick. His face, already blushing, heated more at the sight of her with his pleasure on her mouth.
“That was quick. You’re lucky I am used to that.” She laughed and Lord, the way she sounded with Will’s cum on her mouth was surely a pathway to Hell. She was so beautiful, so kind, so lovely to him.
“You’re disappointed?” Will asked, his voice wrecked beyond his own comprehension.
“The opposite. I am glad, you deserve this, Will. You deserve this more than you know.”
With lips shining with his spend, Francine leaned to him, and she kissed him. Will met her headstrong, and they fell back onto the bed together.
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Oh Francine, if only you were here now. Will would have liked for her to have looked after him right now. As the fever burned him to his core, the cramps eating away at his insides, his cunt throbbing uncomfortably. She would have been so gentle to him, guided him to every climax like she had that night.
Will turned onto his back and sobbed, hoping that the wind and the Lord would be kind to him. That he could sit out this alone, that nothing would come to harm him.
His prayers seemingly came unanswered, however, when a scent, familiar to Will at this point, came wafting towards him.
Gunpowder, tobacco, bull’s blood.
“I told you this would happen. Now, before Fred wakes, shall we fix this together?”
Will stared up at the stars peeking out from the treeline, a single tear fell from the corner of his eye.
“Yes.”
“Do you trust me?”
Silence carried in the air; another cramp made Will wince. He slowly turned his head, Miller’s hulking figure shrouding over him.
“Do you want me to trust you?”
Miller slowly squatted down, Will couldn’t see his face this far in the darkness, the warm light from the fire all the way back at camp.
“I want you to have accountability, if that is what you mean.”
More silence; Will slowly sat himself up. His body was weak now, fever having burned the energy right out of him.
“Then let me be accountable, let me do this on my own.” Will croaked, his focus on Miller hazy, he could hardly keep himself up and before he could collapse back against his bedroll, Miller caught him.
“You know I can’t let you do that.” Miller gruffed back, his pipe nowhere to be seen. A first, Will thought, through his feverish haze, his mind feeling as if it were filled with cotton.
“Then take me, I can’t fight you off any longer, can I?”
Miller laughed. His laughter, unlike Francine’s, was rough, husky, wrought with the tobacco he huffed constantly. “Trust me, Pup. I don’t want to take this from you. But I cannot be responsible for what will happen if I leave you alone.”
Why did he sound so earnest? Miller, the man of unanswered answers, a man of riddles. Being earnest with him? Will surely was asleep again, a dream of a man unlike the one sat before him.
“You think Fred would rape me?” Will asked honestly, finding a moment of clarity before his haze took over again.
“Yes.”
“And you want to protect me from that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Miller laughed again only this time it sounded incredulous, he helped Will sit up again, but he kept a hand on his lower back, keeping him from collapsing.
“Because I brought you here. I kept you here. I kept you here knowing the risks. It is my responsibility to keep you safe.”
It was Will’s turn to laugh now, knocking his head against Miller’s shoulder. His scent was strongest here, the smoky smell of burnt gunpowder and dried hides of buffalo. He lifted his head, looking him in the face. “When did you develop a conscience, Miller?”
Miller didn’t respond, he lay Will down again and removed the large coat he usually donned. Other items of clothing fell off him, so unlike his time with Francine. It was playful and carefree with Francine. Miller did this with a sense of urgency, as if he were a damsel in need of saving.
“Will you at least try to bring me some pleasure before you fuck the heat out of me?” Will groaned, clumsily trying to remove his own shirt. Miller took his hand, stopping him and he carefully took it off him himself.
“Stop acting like I’m doing this because I want to. If you want me to take care of you, I will.”
That certainly surprised Will, Miller, who had been so cruel and demanding and had kept them here practically against their will for three more weeks wanted to take care of him? When did alphas become so soft?
“Well then, go ahead and take care of me.”
Miller grunted and pulled the blanket off of Will’s body. He was done fighting now, the Lord had betrayed him. Oh dear sweet Francine, he hoped that maybe this was her way of sending him help. That the trust he’d put into her, he could try and put into Miller.
Miller, who was like those hard, rough alphas in Butcher’s Crossing.
Those alphas who took what they wanted, never looking back.
This alpha, who had kept him here until his heat started. Who wanted to stop another alpha raping him. Who wanted to keep him safe. Who wanted to take care of him.
Will closed his eyes, and felt Miller blanket his body.