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Inside the pavilion, the heat intensified until it became suffocating.
Outside, the vapors of the hot, damp earth, of blood and sweat, still hung near the ground. The last agonizing breath had already been exhaled, and only the wounded remained; those who had managed to return to their rough, sweltering canvas tents.
The clamor of battle still echoed in his ears like a drone; the clang of steel and the wet gurgle of severed flesh. Adrenaline and urgency still surged in his blood, making him pulse from the inside out, following the accelerated beat of his heart. Maekar pressed his cheek to the cot, feeling its rough texture rub against his dirty, sticky skin. It rubbed hard enough to hurt, but he easily forgot the discomfort, for at that moment his mind was focused on the savage pleasure of feeling his brother, his alpha and husband, penetrate him with rough, merciless thrusts.
The wet sound of their skin colliding was vulgar and inappropriate for the situation, though neither of them was thinking about decorum. Not when they had been so close to loose one another. Not when only the grace of the gods had allowed them to crush what remained of the rebel forces.
It could even be considered an obscene allegory. “The strike of a hammer on an anvil,” were the words of some lord Maekar had passed while searching for Baelor. Yes. His older brother knew how to strike him.
The omega arched his back with a moan that rose from the depths of his chest, raising his hips to feel each thrust more deeply. From his reddened cunt, an unholy amount of that viscous, sweet moisture trickled, wetting his bare thighs, mingling with the crusts of dried blood and making the purplish bruises glisten.
He heard Baelor growl and immediately felt a sting across his buttocks. There was a hint of reproach and a heavy dose of punishment in it. Maekar shouldn't have been present at the battle. All the great lords involved in the war councils had objected, but the prince was too stubborn. There was no excuse he couldn't refute, and he even went so far as to defy King Daeron himself.
"War is no place for an omega."
Maekar groaned as he felt another bite tear open the skin of his shoulder. Baelor's fangs sank deep into the flesh, and then the pain mingled with delicious pleasure as the alpha licked the wound and moaned at the taste of blood. A large hand encircled the omega's thin throat, forcing him to stand upright and cutting off his air supply.
None of the men under the prince's command hesitated to follow his orders or listen to his strategic plans. Maekar was terrifying even with one child clinging to his hip and another to his legs. Valarr had been playing with the army figures, and Daeron had fallen asleep in his mother's arms while the omega continued issuing orders and dividing the field.
"Ao va moriot jaelagon naejot ao (You always want to challenge everyone around you)," Baelor spoke softly near his ear. His breath was hot, and his body radiated a scorching heat. He still wore his breastplate, having lacked the patience to finish undressing once Maekar was before him. "Daor issa. Dōrī issa"(Not me. Never me)."
Baelor would have been the only one capable of posing an obstacle to Maekar's struggle, but the alpha did nothing more than observe the younger man's participation in the councils and make the occasional comment regarding his plans without objecting. Without refusing. He smiled tenderly at his children and let everything else go.
The omega twitched in a spasm and let out a stifled cry as the hand not gripping his neck found its place, mercilessly rubbing his swollen clitoris while the cock forced its way into his depths. Again and again, without rest. Maekar let himself be used with a docility no one would believe. Baelor used his body with the same freedom with which Maekar had resisted taking significant harm in battle. The hands that had wielded sword and shield clung desperately to Baelor's arms.
"Lēkia (Brother)," he finally whispered, when he managed to gather enough concentration to form a coherent thought. "Please…"
Baelor gradually slowed the rhythm and intensity with which he touched Maekar until he was completely still. He heard the younger man's rapid breathing perfectly and felt the needy throbbing that gripped him from within. He buried his nose precisely where Maekar's scent was most concentrated: behind the ear, in the patch of smooth, unblemished skin near his hairline. He smelled war and sweat, but also that intoxicating fragrance that filled his mouth with saliva and made his canines prick his lower lip.
His chest vibrated with a low growl that, in turn, triggered tremors throughout Maekar's body. He knew what his brother wanted; there was no need to ask aloud, but how could he deny himself such pleasure? Especially after the anguish, the uncertainty that had driven him during the battle.
Counting Maekar among the survivors of the fight made him feel as if his soul had returned to his body, and perhaps for some jealous reason, a possessive desire, difficult to contain, also invaded him.
It wasn't as if the omega wasn't his. Baelor had always known that… But in war, it was always the Stranger who got the better end of the bargain. Knowing that he had snatched Maekar's life from his icy grasp was enough to swell his chest with pride.
"Tell me what you want," he whispered. The fingers encircling Maekar's neck tightened just a little more around the soft, vulnerable flesh. He felt Maekar swallow and could swear he felt the heat rising to his already flushed cheeks. He was embarrassed, he always had been, and Baelor knew it, but these gestures, so uncommon in the omega, felt like ambrosia. A private feast where he alone was allowed to partake of the blushes, the smiles, and the caresses.
"No one would believe it if they saw it," he thought, "but it's better this way. I don't need anyone to believe it. He's mine. He's for me. Because of me."
As his father's heir, he could afford so few moments of selfishness that he didn't let guilt taint the joy he felt in monopolizing Maekar. His brother, his omega, his husband…
"Rūs issa (Breed me)" the whisper was barely audible. Baelor felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle and smiled at his body's natural reaction. He had the urge to be gentle, as always, to give in once Maekar had fulfilled his request…
The omega gasped as his cheek was pressed against the rough fabric of the cot again. A firm hand held his head in place, grasping the platinum locks in a fist as if they were the reins of a stallion.
The thrusts resumed with more vigor than before, as if that were possible. Baelor gasped, he groaned. Sweat trickled from his dark hair, falling onto Maekar's back like salty drops rolling down his spine. The wet sloshing also increased in volume, causing the omega to twitch with embarrassment and pleasure. He ignored the urge to hide, to cover his lips, and allowed instinct to take over, at least for once. Maekar parted his lips and repeated the magic words:
"Rūs issa, lēkia!" His voice trembled, affected by ecstasy. It sounded like a desperate plea. "Rūs issa…"
The heat began to concentrate in his lower belly. He writhed as best he could, but Baelor held him firmly by the hips. He was so close, and he didn't want it to end. He never wanted it to end. From the first time Baelor showed him what pleasure was, Maekar could hardly resist him. The kisses were always sweet, the caresses, perfectly timed.
The orgasm hit him as he felt the alpha's load fill him at once. He felt it deep, much more than before, and the tremors in his thighs soon echoed the delicious spasms that also drew satisfied gasps from Baelor.
His hair tickled him as it fell over his shoulders once the older man released him. Maekar savored the sensation for a few seconds until the surge of ecstasy made him gasp as the knot united them. Kisses rained down on his back and shoulders. Baelor covered him with his body, and the weight he exerted was comforting. He never failed to give him the closeness he needed without him even having to ask.
With a sigh, the alpha managed to lie on his side, taking advantage of the limited space on the cot to keep Maekar as close as it allowed. He wasn't going to complain. His brother allowed him such a tender display of affection so few and far between, and he had to cherish every second he was given. Again, he buried his nose in the light, damp hair. Something inside him needed reassurance that danger no longer lurked, and the only way to confirm this was to tighten his embrace and intoxicate himself with Maekar's scent as much as possible. He considered saying it aloud, but it was pushing his luck too far. The omega understood love and affection through actions, but words… Words, even sweet ones, he could easily take as insults.
"Should I…?" Maekar broke the silence after a few minutes. The heat was no longer stifling, but it still enveloped them both. Inside the pavilion, there was no longer just the scent of their mingled pheromones, but also the scent of sweat and blood. "Should I tell the maester?"
It didn't take Baelor long to understand the question. One of his hands slid down Maekar's abdomen to meet the omega's warm fingers gently caressing his belly. They had already fulfilled their duty to the kingdom with Valarr's birth. Daeron had simply been an added surprise, and the delivery, according to Maekar, had been a brutal ordeal he never wanted to hear about again. Since then, he always chose to drink moon tea after each of their encounters. He never once questioned whether it was something he should do.
"Hm," Baelor kissed the top of his head, weighing his words carefully. "You had a rough time last time."
"That was six years ago." Maekar's fingers twitched slightly, but he didn't remove his hand. "I'm not getting any younger, you know. With only two children..." From the tone of his voice, Baelor immediately knew the kind of expression he had, but he refrained from laughing. "If we were to leave the fate of the dynasty to Aerys and Rhaegel, I think we should have… one more?"
“One more,” Baelor repeated, stroking Maekar’s knuckles. “Or two. Three? Six?”
“I’ll break a finger for every one,” the omega retorted, finally eliciting a laugh from the older man. “Don’t try to impose your will on me.”
“I would never dare to do such a thing.”
“Let’s see what happens with this one. It can’t be that bad.”