Chapter Text
Even with his eyes closed Altare could follow the sweet scent through the halls of the guild, and his nose would lead him straight to Axel’s quarters.
Noting that the door is already ajar, Altare pushes it open and is met by Axel’s modest, if slightly messy, living space. There are a few axelotls in various states of relaxation as they watch a movie on the big screen TV, and they all perk up when Altare enters the room.
One axelotl waves enthusiastically at him.
Altare waves back, managing a smile.
They’re sooooo cute. Not as heartbreakingly adorable as his slimes, but still cute.
“Do you think I could see Axel?” Altare asks them politely, but someone else answers in their stead.
“You could,” Vesper’s voice comes from deeper within Axel’s quarters, and Altare looks up to meet his gaze as the scholar walks into the lounge.
Outwardly, Vesper looks largely unruffled by the current events, but there’s no mistaking the concerned crease in his brow, and the bitter tinge to his scent that tells Altare of his unease.
“But would it be a good idea?” Vesper looks at his leader - really looks at him - and his lavender gaze is searching as he boldly meets Altare’s eyes. He’s drawn himself to full height, towering over the smaller alpha in a way that’s intimidating, ready to defend at a moment’s notice.
Instead of feeling threatened, the hero feels a wave of affection for the older beta. With a clearer head, Altare doesn’t feel his instincts rise up at Vesper’s challenging stance. In fact he’s grateful for the scholar’s concern.
Vesper only wants what’s best for Axel, after all - and that’s something they all can agree on.
But still, Altare’s never one to resist a bad idea every once in a while, just to sate his curiosity. Even if that bad idea is to face the music once again and reduce his thoughts to mush, just to make sure Axel’s doing alright.
Regis Altare is the alpha leader of TEMPUS. He just wants to make sure his guild, his pack, is safe and well. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?
Vesper seems to read Altare’s thoughts just by looking at the expression on his face, because he sighs and loosens his posturing. The bitter scent fades.
“I can’t stop you even if I tried.” His tone is resigned.
Smiling, Altare reaches up to pat Vesper on the shoulder.
“I would’ve listened if you seriously thought it was a bad idea.” The words are spoken sweetly, and Vesper shoots him a knowing look.
“Listening is one thing. Doing is another.” Ah, but he knows Altare too well. “Well, you know yourself best. Don’t bite me or Shinri if we’re forced to drag you out of there, though.”
The words are made in jest, but they’re also wholly serious.
Altare would never intentionally hurt his friends. Not unless they asked nicely, with a traffic light system and safe words. He also doesn’t voice these thoughts aloud.
Vesper leads him out of the lounge and towards Axel’s bedroom. Muffled voices are speaking too low for Altare to make out the words through the wood. Judging by their tones, Bettel and Shinri sound like they’re trying to soothe an anxious Axel.
Altare frowns, worried.
Vesper knocks gently, and the noises turn silent.
“It’s just me.” The beta says, “and Altare.”
A brief pause. Some shuffling. Altare thumbs his sleeves and pulls them over his hands, suddenly feeling the beginnings of anxiety creeping along the edges.
“Axel?” Shinri’s dulcet tones prompt. An answering groan resounds through the wood.
“Yeah… come in.”
Vesper turns the knob and pushes the door open - and Altare’s next breath stutters when he is once again hit full-force by that addicting scent, only five times more potent.
Altare’s only been in Axel’s bedroom once, and that was to help Dez drag the gladiator into his bed after helping clean up his wounds. The walls are decorated with posters of his favourite bands. There are framed pictures of himself and the guild placed on the dresser, and mounted shelves holding various trophies and weapons.
The closet, once full of high end fashion that Axel loves to mix and match for a night out at the town, has been almost completely upended. Piles of clothes, pillows and blankets have been arranged on the bed to make a serviceable nest, all for the shivering blonde curled up in the middle of it all.
Axel himself is bundled up in thin blankets, with Altare’s white hoodie draped over the top. He’s probably been stripped down naked by the boys, Altare guesses, eyeing the hint of a bare shoulder peeking from underneath the hoodie.
It kind of feels scandalous, seeing it. Usually Axel wears clothing that covers up the skin - long-sleeves, jeans, gloves and closed shoes - so even just a glimpse of his shoulder has Altare sort of feeling like a prude.
Then he mentally slaps himself. ‘This is stupid.’
He’s seen Axel shirtless before, on numerous occasions, and he didn’t even bat an eye. Altare was completely professional when he helped Dez with Axel’s wounds the last couple of times. Gaze staying shoulder up and everything.
(Okay, that’s a lie; Altare can’t help but stare at and admire pretty things, and TEMPUS is full of pretty, pretty people.)
“Satisfied?” Vesper’s voice breaks through Altare’s musings.
Despite his haggard appearance Axel seems more lucid, a bit more put-together than what he was like in the arena. Now in the safe cocoon of a comfortable-looking nest Axel appears a little more at ease.
But while his blue eyes seem more focused, Axel still looks like he’s distressed, sweat beading on his brow and flushed face contorted in pain. But that’s just the nature of heats.
“I suppose.” Altare answers, vague and downplaying his anxiety.
Axel groans again. Shinri, who is sitting at the edge of the bed, pats his fellow omega’s hair in an attempt to comfort him. The blonde leans into the touch.
“This sucks.” Axel says roughly. Something twists in Altare’s chest when the omega’s pheromones turn slightly sour. “Don’t leave me here to suffer alone!”
“You know we can’t stay here.” Shinri sounds apologetic. “We can’t give you what you want.”
Sighing, Axel buries his face into a pillow, which has a familiar shirt covering it as a makeshift pillowcase–
Wait.
“Is that my shirt?”
Bettel holds his hands up in front of him when Altare sends an accusing stare his way. No one else should have access to his room, not unless they have the keycard override, and Altare only entrusted that to tech support (Hakka), and his secretary (Bettel) for troubleshooting and life-threatening emergencies only.
“Axel responds better to your scent, alright?” Bettel defends. “A good handful of his clothes are also not comfortable enough to make a proper nest. Yours, however, do.”
Altare spots numerous sweaters and hoodies he owns scattered in the pile. He even sees the bedsheets that were on his mattress draped over clothes and pillows.
The surroundings around Axel smell like a mix of the two of them, and Altare’s annoyance vanishes. He suppresses the pleased noise threatening to escape his throat, not wanting to give Bettel the satisfaction of being right.
“C’mon, Shinri, Bettel - guys,” Axel is begging, “don’t fuckin’ leave me here! I’ll take anyone; I don’t care.”
Altare remains silent as the other omegas in the room exchange glances. Bettel backs up against the wall and leans against it, not saying anything. Shinri just offers Axel another commiserating pat on the head.
“I don’t think Bettel and I would be much help. We don’t exactly have the proper equipment to… sate you.” The ronin replies delicately.
Axel whines, “But I don’t caaaaare–”
“Do you have heat aids?” Bettel interjects, head tilting in question as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I have heat aids. They’re probably not as good as the real thing but–”
“Bro I don’t want to use yo’ filthyass heat aids!”
“DUDE I STERILISE THEM AFTER EVERY HEAT– and shut the fuck up I wasn’t gonna offer my own! That’s– ew! Don’t you have any?!”
“No, not anymore, because there’s no fuckin’ point–!”
Altare groans as the two omegas argue, burying his face in his hands. He really doesn’t want to hear this kind of information from his guildmates. Vesper lets out a quiet sigh of agreement from behind him, while Shinri chuckles, amused.
At the sound of his leader, Axel perks up, lifting his head to meet Altare’s eyes once the hero lifts his face from his palms. The hero is mesmerised by how the red flecks in Axel’s eyes shine in the light when they widen.
“Altare! Hey, you’ll help me, right?” Axel’s words, desperate, needy, make something dark and dangerous flicker within Altare’s chest. “I-I mean, no pressure or anything! Fuck, if you don’t want to do it, maybe you could call Rpr? He’s helped me out before!”
“I… didn’t need to know that,” Altare rubs his temple, face warming at the thought.
Axel’s head thumps back down onto the pillow, letting out a guttural sound as another wave of heat attacks him. Altare examines how the tips of Axel’s ears seem to flush a brighter red; how a sharp canine bites down on his bottom lip to muffle the noises.
Altare averts his gaze to the side.
“Axel, do you even know what you’re asking of me?” The hero says. He feels Vesper place a steadying hand over his shoulder - either in support, or perhaps getting ready to pull him out of the room if needed. Altare’s sure the older man can see how his pulse is jumping from the vein in his neck.
Axel lets out a frustrated noise, “I’m not delirious or anything! I know what I’m asking for.”
He curls in on himself. The powerful gladiator looks smaller, vulnerable. It’s jarring to see.
“S’why… why I’m always taking my suppressants. I wouldn’t wish my heat onto anyone. Feel free to say no, but–” Axel’s breath hitches as another cramp hits him, “–b-but this sucks, and I know me. I know what’s the best way to make it easy for myself. It’s just… unfortunate that I have to drag someone else into my mess to make it work.”
Altare allows himself some time to think as Axel lets himself get fussed over by Shinri again.
It’s not like he’s entirely opposed to what Axel is offering. There’s no denying that his friend is very attractive, and like most people Altare isn’t immune to his charms.
A part of him has always found himself holding a candle for Axel Syrios; his handsome face, the sound of his cheeky laughter, his determination in the face of challenges, the care and consideration he shows towards his friends - only some, but not all, of the wonderful qualities that Altare can’t help but like about him.
Altare’s definitely entertained the thought of how Axel would hug him fiercely in a way that’ll lift him off the ground, his strong embrace warm and secure. How Altare would hug him back, arms around his broad shoulders, his nose pressing right up against Axel’s neck, scenting him, inhaling - and how Axel would let him.
Altare knows how Axel sings, has watched how his lips form the words that come out of mouth, and he’s imagined how those lips would feel pressed against his, how he would sound as he touched him. He’s dreamt of how Axel’s skin would look like underneath the press of his fingertips, without the barrier of clothes between them, tracing the scars littering his body that tells tales of grand battles and trials.
But Altare hides his feelings well, behind the veil of sweet smiles and soft laughter.
Hides the flex of his fingers beneath oversized sleeves as they yearn to reach out.
He restrains himself to only look, but not touch, the tempting flames before him.
Altare’s afraid, because he knows that once he gets his claws into Axel Syrios proper, he will never, ever, let go. He’s a selfish creature, a demon that ever hungers for the prettiest, most exotic things to collect. He wants to hoard, to possess, the treasures he’s encountered close to his blackened heart.
Yet Altare doesn’t want to tie Axel down, to hold him back.
Because Axel deserves more, much more, than Altare can offer him. He doesn’t want to smother his flames, to dim his shine. He wants Axel to run, to be free to pursue the ends of the world, to reach his potential. To shine brighter than any other star in the sky.
Guild TEMPUS is Altare’s most precious treasure. But he keeps his hold loose; lets them have the freedom to do what they want, because they’re more beautiful that way.
“Altare?” Vesper’s voice pierces his maudlin thoughts. Altare takes a deep breath in, and his thoughts scatter to the wind as the thick, sweet-smelling air fills his lungs.
He manages to keep his voice steady, somehow. “I have my reservations.” Like how Axel is probably driven by what his urges are telling him, even if he’s most likely conscious and aware of what he’s saying. Like Altare’s own deep desires.
“You don’t have to.” Vesper murmurs, and the corner of Altare’s mouth tilts up.
“But I want to.”
The words are heavy, weighted with a thousand unspoken words that Altare can’t find himself to say out loud. Vesper’s hand squeezes around his shoulder once in understanding.
Altare closes his eyes and sighs.
“Hey, guys?” His voice, while soft, still pierces the air and commands attention from everyone in the room. “Could you leave me and Axel alone for a while? I need to talk to him.”
Axel actually quietens down, stilling underneath Shinri’s touch. The ronin looks up sharply, piercing aqua gaze boring into mint green. Altare can also feel the weight of Bettel’s and Vesper’s stares on his person as well.
“Are you sure?” Shinri’s voice is pitched lower than usual.
Altare sends him a reassuring smile.
“Yeah, I’ll hear him out.” He replies. “Give us ten minutes to talk, and if I don’t come out by then…”
Altare looks at Axel, taking a moment to absorb the sight of the omega hiding beneath the sheets, his hoodie, surrounded by his clothing, smelling like the both of them.
His fingers curl into his sleeves again.
“Then,” Altare continues, “just leave us alone for the next couple of days. Three days, tops.”
There’s a bit of a lull as everyone processes his words. Bettel eventually lets out a sigh, the sound sharp, final, like the smack of a gavel inside a courtroom.
“Alright.” He says, pushing himself off the wall as he makes to exit the room. The jester brushes past Altare, and the brief touch of his shoulder against the hero’s is somewhat comforting. “Whatever you say, leader.”
Shinri slowly gets up from the bed and walks forward as well. He lightly presses his hand over Altare’s bicep as he passes him.
“I’ll make sure to provide necessities outside the door if it comes to it, okay?”
Altare nods and smiles at him. Shinri returns the gesture, and then follows in Bettel’s wake.
Vesper’s hand is still on his shoulder. Altare feels the scholar lean in close, his breath tickling the hairs on the back of the hero’s neck. Altare suppresses the urge to shiver.
“I trust you to do what’s right.” He squeezes him again. “Both of you.”
The weight of his hand disappears, and the air behind Altare suddenly feels cooler as Vesper’s presence glides away to meet Shinri at the door.
The sound of Axel’s bedroom door shutting is loud in Altare’s ears, yet the following silence seems more deafening. His breaths are soft, quiet, a sharp contrast to Axel’s open-mouthed panting in the nest before him.
Altare steels himself, and slowly makes his way towards the end of the bed. His heart rate quickens as the scent of fruits, flowers and wood get stronger with each step, each careful inhale.
He wants. Oh, but how he wants.
But he said they would talk first. So Altare will talk.
“Don’t.” Axel breathes, just before the hero can open his mouth. The omega’s voice is surprisingly steady, and Altare finds it grounding, reassuring. “You know what I want. There’s no point arguing this. You either say yes, or you help me find someone who will say yes.”
Altare huffs out a laugh. “Bold of you to assume I can’t say no.”
“You don’t want to.” Axel snipes back, lifting his head once more, just to shoot Altare a smug grin that the alpha wants to immediately smother off his flushed face. “I can smell you just fine, y’know. I’ve been smelling you all this time. It’s fuckin’ obvious.”
Altare sighs, his smile turning more subdued. There’s no fooling Axel’s nose.
Axel eyes him when he doesn’t speak immediately. “Don’t tell me you’re still thinking of saying no?” His tone is incredulous. “We both want this. What’s stopping you?”
‘A lot of things. Everything. The depth of my feelings scare me and I don’t want to expose you to that.’
Instead, Altare says out loud, “It’s a bad idea,” and Axel scoffs.
“Is it?” The blonde settles back down into the mattress, hiding his face beneath the blankets. The next words are spoken softly, “I mean, I guess I get it, if you wanna save yourself for someone special. If you don’t like me that way…”
Altare manages a nervous laugh, a twinge of guilt stabbing him through the chest when he smells the bitter, disappointed edge Axel’s pheromones suddenly emit.
The urge to fix it comes strong.
“Actually, I like you, quite a lot.” Altare confesses quietly, making Axel lower the blankets to peek up at him. “But that’s exactly why I’m reluctant. I kind of… wanted to, you know…”
“Take it slow?” Axel guesses, sounding amused. His scent eases up a bit. Altare wants to slump over in relief. “Rizz me up a bit?”
“...Well, yes.” Blushing, Altare fiddles with his sleeves again, “But you know me, Axel. You know how I get sometimes. What if I hurt you?”
What if Altare hurt Axel to the point where he got scared of him? To the point of wanting nothing to do with Altare? He would never forgive himself if he drove a wedge between him and Axel forever, just because Altare couldn’t help himself and let himself slip, even just a little bit.
It’s a wonder how Altare didn’t kill anyone back at the colosseum. Both the alpha and demon inside were howling for blood at the sight of Axel on his knees, surrounded by frenzied people wanting their cut of flesh from the vulnerable omega. His instincts were going haywire, the urge to protect and maim those who threaten what’s his wanting to rear its ugly head.
Axel’s seen that part of him emerge before. He knows what Altare is capable of.
Yet Axel speaks like it doesn’t matter in this case. His next words are like a punch to the gut.
“What if I want you to hurt me? Even just a little?”
Altare looks up, surprised - and then an embarrassing noise escapes his throat when Axel suddenly kicks off his blankets.
Any questions Altare may have had about if Axel is completely naked under there disappears at the sight. There’s not a shred of clothing on Axel’s body, save for the hoodie when the omega pulls it back over his chest. Greedy eyes can’t help but run all over the flushed, sweat-damp skin on display, surrounded by soft sheets and their clothes and the telltale scent of an omega in heat. Altare traces the pale scars that litter Axel’s body with his intense gaze; watches the taut muscles flex beneath his flesh with each movement.
Axel’s legs fall open, slowly, enticingly. Altare’s focus descends down to the blonde’s cock, painfully hard and red, peeking from beneath the hem of the hoodie - Altare’s hoodie, the possessive part of him is happy to remind. He can see Axel’s arousal pooling beneath him; leaking out from his entrance, dripping down and dampening the sheets under him.
No longer hidden by the blankets, the main source of the persistent scent hits Altare like a truck. There’s an undercurrent of something feral that pierces through the almost overwhelming sweetness, a spicy musk that tickles his nose; it makes Altare’s gums ache and saliva to pool in his mouth.
Altare wants to bite. He wants to bite everywhere; on every inch of skin that he can see, that he wants to run his hands over. Yet his shoes remain rooted on the spot, paralysed by both the searing need that builds in his chest, and the reluctance to touch the sun itself to get burned by its flames.
Axel makes a keening noise, impatience clear.
“Altare,” He pants, fingers curling into the fabric of the hoodie. “Please? C’mon, please?”
Axel’s pleading words are honeyed, his scent somehow even sweeter, spicier. And Altare, despite everything - his reservations, his consideration for Axel’s situation, his own desires he wishes to keep hidden - feels his will crumbling to dust at the temptation presented before him.
‘Weak,’ a voice in his head taunts as he starts prying his shoes and socks off his feet.
‘Weak, weak, weak,’ it sing-songs as Altare crawls onto the bed, into the nest, kneeling in between Axel’s spread knees.
‘Finally,’ the alpha in him snarls, as trembling hands reach out to touch Axel’s hips, fingers trailing up, sliding underneath the hoodie and curling around his bare sides. He’s hot to the touch, sweat-slick and shivering, muscles twitching beneath Altare’s fingertips.
Axel moans, low and needy, as he arches into his leader’s grasp. Altare lets out a shuddering breath as the omega’s scent somehow gets even headier. He feels dizzy, lightheaded, like he’s floating on clouds. Is this what being high feels like?
“Come on, Altare!” Axel complains as he clutches the hoodie closer to his face, squishing it against his cheek. It’s like he’s trying to hide his flustered face, even though he willingly presented himself to the hero in the first place. “Hurry up!”
In most cases Altare would just agree to what Axel asks of him. He should be getting a move on; to help alleviate Axel’s symptoms and ease his suffering. The omega has been writhing around for the past several hours without any relief for his growing heat. Altare should be a good heat partner and help him out immediately.
But Altare doesn’t find that satisfying. A quick in and out, with barely any foreplay beforehand? That’s no fun at all.
He finally has Axel Syrios beneath him, pliant and responsive to his touch. Altare’s deep-seated wants are already threatening to bubble over. They’re clawing at his chest walls, threatening to burst out in a shower of blood and viscera, to grab the man under him with a bruising grip and to dig their talons into his flesh.
But Altare is patient; he wants to take his time to explore and gradually build up to those things. He wants to enjoy this too.
Axel cusses him out in Japanese when, instead of going lower, Altare’s hands start going up. The hero smiles innocently as Axel’s glare bores holes into his forehead, his dexterous fingers tracing each pale scar, one by one.
“Altare you fuckin’–! Majikayo! Are you serious?!” Altare continues to explore, hands languidly running over the annoyed omega’s body. “I’m fuckin’ dying over here and you’re taking your sweetass time–!”
“Oh, you’re not dying.” Altare tuts, taking the opportunity to take Axel’s chest in his hands and squeezing. “No need to be so dramatic.”
Axel growls, frustrated, and Altare nearly falls forward when powerful legs wrap around his waist, pulling his body flush against the omega’s. Axel’s cock is pressing against Altare’s clothed stomach, his entrance leaking slick onto the front of his pants.
Altare takes another deep breath, and the thick, pheromone-filled air fills his lungs with that addicting smell. Apples, plums and roses. Altare doesn’t like the smell of roses all that much, but on Axel? He thinks he could get attached very quickly.
“Get on with it!” Axel demands. Head hazy and intoxicated by the gladiator’s scent, Altare just manages a soft laugh in return. He indulges by squeezing the blonde’s chest again.
“Hey, you’re asking me for help.” Altare points out, amused, as his thumb presses down on a nipple. Breath hitching, Axel trembles underneath Altare’s touch. “Let me admire you a little bit, alright? Humour me.”
“Hentai.” The accusation is weak, half-hearted. Altare doesn’t bother replying to that. His thoughts are starting to slip away, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. Altare sways and leans in to press his nose into Axel’s neck, lashes fluttering with his next inhale against the other man’s pulse. His gums throb again, and Altare resists the overwhelming urge to bite the offered flesh before him.
Axel turns his head, his mouth brushing against Altare’s temple with the movement. Hot breaths tickle his hairline and the shell of his ear. Altare shivers at the sensation.
Altare presses a kiss on the side of Axel’s neck, and then another, and another. He traces the vein with a soft slide of his lips, following where it leads up to Axel’s jawline, feels the scratch of barely-visible coarse hair when he noses at his chin.
In a move he doesn’t expect, Axel suddenly tilts his head down and kisses him. Altare’s heart soars.
He tastes like how he smells; Altare doesn’t know how Axel’s tongue running over his lips makes them tingle, like how eating an actual apple usually would for him, but he’s not complaining. He chases the feeling, pushes himself up, leans deeper into the kiss. Altare’s thoughts continue to fall apart at the seams, all coherence replaced by the mental chant of ‘Axel, Axel, Axel’ as he swallows each whimper, runs his hands over his torso, squeezing and pinching and wanting.
“Altare,” Axel groans when Altare lightly scratches over his nipple with an errant nail. “Get on with it, please…”
He bites down on Altare’s tongue when it dips past his teeth, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to sting. Altare retaliates by pulling away a little and nipping Axel’s bottom lip, piercing the skin. He licks over it immediately as an apology, but gets dizzy when the coppery taste of Axel’s blood touches his tongue.
Altare glances up to meet Axel’s gaze, and pauses when he sees the flash of shock go through those blue eyes.
“What’s wrong?” The words are forced out as the haze in Altare’s head persists.
Slowly, Axel reaches up to cradle the side of Altare’s face. The hero shudders when his thumb, bare and calloused, swipes under his eye.
“Your eyes are red.”
He understands Axel’s wariness now. Stomach falling to his feet, Altare starts backing off, hands jerking away from the warm body beneath him like he’s been burned.
“Sorry! Sorry, I…”
“No, Altare, I didn’t mean– stop, you idiot. Get back here.”
Axel’s hand goes down to grip the back of Altare’s neck, stopping his retreat. Altare stills. “I’m not scared. It’s just weird to see it outside one of your moods.”
An interesting way of describing Altare’s occasional bouts of bloodthirst on the battlefield. Sometimes the demon wants to come out and play, and Altare lets them, usually the only physical changes that hint their presence being the change in eye colour, and the sharpening of his teeth and nails.
Altare tries not to let it happen when the others are around, for the most part. He doesn’t trust himself when he gets like that.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Axel.”
“You won’t,” and Axel sounds so confident that Altare wants to believe him. “Well, not in a way I won’t like, probably. And you know I can kick your ass if you do something I don’t agree with.”
That’s true; Axel could overpower him and kick him through several walls if he wanted to. Altare’s pretty strong himself, especially when channelling his inner demon, but he’s still limited in this fleshy, mortal body.
Altare may not trust himself all that much, but he does trust Axel. He can do that.
“Okay,” Altare breathes, a soft wisp of sound. “Okay,” and dips his head to graze sharp teeth against Axel’s collarbone.
Axel’s breath hitches, a low moan tearing out of his throat when Altare actually bites down, fangs piercing through flesh. The alpha feels Axel’s hand slide down, fingers curling over the clothes on his back, tugging the fabric.
“Off.” Axel demands.
“In a bit.” Altare licks over the wound he made, giving the bite mark a satisfied onceover before moving on.
He kisses the scar on Axel’s chest, follows the line to plant another kiss on the one on his sternum. Altare remembers how each of these marks were created, remembers how Axel stood in front of each blow to protect his friends. He noses one that Axel got from a sword, caresses another on his side that he got pushing Dez aside from a beast, kisses an old puncture wound he got watching Altare’s back.
Axel doesn’t complain when Altare takes his time, but his restlessness is clear with how he trembles underneath him, how he shifts his legs around the hero’s body. Axel’s nails catch the hood of his shirt when Altare slides down to nuzzle his stomach, planting more kisses over offered skin. Axel’s arousal brushes against Altare’s chest, and it makes him sigh, hot breath washing over the gladiator’s abdomen, making the muscles twitch.
Axel is a sight, naked and wanting on rumpled sheets, still clutching his borrowed hoodie in one hand, and Altare feels so privileged to be allowed to see all of him, to touch everywhere he wants.
Altare goes lower, and the whine that’s punched out Axel’s chest is a desperate rasp when he takes his cock in hand. It’s hot in his grasp, heavy and red, the tip already leaking so much fluid Altare wonders if Axel came already. This close the scent is so overwhelming, so mouthwatering - the alpha nearly feels himself pass out at the intensity.
He glances up. Axel is looking down at him, gaze intense and pupils so big it swallows almost all the blue in his eyes. The look on his face is full of amazement at the sight of Altare between his legs, grasping him, head so close to his cock that all he needs to do is lean in and–
“I must be dreaming,” is what comes out of Axel’s mouth, and it makes Altare laugh.
“I hope not.” Warm breath washing over Axel’s length, Altare takes the tip into his mouth with barely any warning.
The taste of bitter salt is easily ignored as Axel’s desperate sob reaches his ears. Altare does his best to work his mouth around the other man’s cock, letting the noises guide him. He’s inexperienced, he has a small jaw, he’s careful not to let his teeth get in the way - but judging from the sounds Axel’s making he’s doing a damn good job so far.
“A-Aah, fffuuu-ck…!”
The hero watches from beneath his lashes as Axel tries his best to hold still, to not thrust up into his mouth. His restraint is admirable, especially in the state he’s in. Maybe sometime Altare will allow Axel to lose control, to let him take what he wants, but for now the hero wants to savour the meal he’s been given, to bring the all-powerful Axel Syrios to completion with just his mouth and his touch.
Hands running up well-toned legs, Altare marvels at the power held beneath the warm flesh. He’s acutely aware of how they bracket either side of his blue-haired head; how easy it would be for Axel to squeeze his head between his thighs, crush his skull, or snap his neck with an easy twist.
Axel’s strength is something Altare has always been in awe of. The fact that the gladiator is letting Altare mould him like putty - instead of fighting back, overpowering him - it sends a rush of elation to his head. They both know that Axel could just go ahead and take what he wants, but he doesn’t do that. Instead Axel just lies there, lets Altare touch him however slowly he wishes, lets Altare run his tongue over his cock like he’s indulging in a particularly delicious treat.
Knowing that Altare has this formidable creature underneath him, reduced to a moaning, shivering mess through soft touches and a flick of his tongue - well…
Altare takes him in deeper and moans around Axel’s cock, the sound reverberating deep in his throat, just as the blonde hiccups and spills into his waiting mouth. He endures the feeling of the blonde’s hot spend spurting on his tongue for a couple of seconds, before swallowing what he can and pulling away with a wet cough. Mixed fluids trickle down one corner of spit-shined lips, which Altare wipes away by nuzzling his cheek into a trembling inner thigh.
Yet Axel is still not sated.
“N-Not enough,” He gasps out, even as his cock twitches and spills more fluid, untouched. Axel’s still hard and ready to go. “Altare, please…”
Altare sighs, playfully sounding like he doesn’t want this as much as Axel does. He hides his smile into the skin of his partner’s thighs as trails a hand up, two fingers pressing against the slick rim of Axel’s entrance. The digits go in with barely any resistance, and Axel’s entire body jolts at the welcome intrusion, a whispered swear passing between his lips.
Axel manages to gasp out a plea of “more,” and Altare obeys, adding a third finger after a couple of experimental pushes. Axel is so, so wet that his fingers slide in easily, the only resistance meeting him is the tight squeeze of hot, twitching muscles around his digits. If Axel is feeling any pain he’s not showing it, and the gladiator’s whines and whimpers are a veritable symphony in Altare’s ears.
The alpha tries not to move his hips; he can feel his arousal pressing insistently against the front of his trousers, trapped between his body and the mattress beneath him. The pressure is torture.
“I’m ready, damn it!” Axel growls, yanking on the hood of Altare’s shirt impatiently. Altare merely rests his cheek on Axel’s thigh, raising an eyebrow up at the blonde who is shooting daggers at him with his eyes. Altare makes a point to dig his fingers in deeper, curling them inwards, and he must’ve hit the jackpot because Axel tenses and makes an illegally sinful noise that goes straight to Altare’s dick.
“Patience,” Altare chides, tone light and musical, even as his gaze darkens. His vision is slightly off; the world a little brighter, more detailed - his eyes must be a vibrant, ruby red as the demonic energy courses through him. Axel doesn’t seem to be fazed by the predatory stare Altare graces him; he just bares his teeth in response.
“Been waiting for too damn long, Altare - you sadistic fuck–”
Axel remains unafraid in the face of great danger, spitting curses at the red-eyed monster with too many sharp teeth so close to his dick. Altare doesn’t know whether to be impressed or concerned.
Slowly withdrawing his fingers, Altare moves to grasp the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head. He tries not to overthink while he takes off his feather belt, unbuttons his pants, and slips them and his underwear off together. Even if he can’t see it, Altare knows that Axel is running keen eyes on his person, soaking in everything, all the rare skin on show.
Now nude, Altare suddenly feels very self-conscious, and much less confident. He keeps his gaze lowered as he crawls back on top of Axel, unused to not having layers of baggy clothing to hide his smaller form. He feels inadequate next to the other man, who’s bigger and stronger than him, who looks more alpha than he ever will be–
Altare squeaks in surprise when strong fingers grasp his chin, tilting his head up and forcing him to meet Axel’s eyes.
“We’re on even ground now.” Axel chides, already knowing what’s going through Altare’s insecure little mind. An easy-going grin is plastered on his flushed face. “No armour, no clothes. Full-on naked. Dick and balls out.”
A shocked laugh slips past Altare’s lips at the gladiator’s crudeness. “Axel!”
“What? I’m just saying...”
Axel cradles Altare’s face in both hands, squishing his cheeks together, forcing Altare’s face to twist into what’s probably a ridiculous expression.
“Ack–shel–”
“Your eyes are green again.”
The world is no longer in startling high definition. The pressure behind his eyes is gone. The darkness is once more a lingering presence in the back of Altare’s mind.
Altare grabs Axel by the wrists, forcing his hands down and away from his face. He reaches up to rub his aching cheek, pouting.
“So?”
“So… nothing. Thought it was interesting.” Axel reaches up once more to brush his thumb over the swell of Altare’s bottom lip. “Red, green… doesn’t matter. Both look good on you. Fuck, you’re pretty.”
Altare feels his face go hot at the blonde’s sincere words, spoken like how the sky is blue and the Hollow Tree glows bright. Axel is all too happy to take advantage of his partner’s surprise to wrap muscular legs around narrow hips. He pulls him closer, a soft sigh escaping his lips when Altare’s length presses against his own, the touch slick and searing.
Axel rolls his hips, insistent. His mouth is slack, breaths coming out in hot puffs, eyes dark and hazed over as he stares up at Altare. Waiting, wanting, willing.
Skin to skin. Fire blossoming with each point of contact. Axel looks like a dream, his scent divine. Altare almost feels overwhelmed.
He places his hands on Axel’s hips, lets them slide down to dig his fingers into the taut muscle of his ass. Altare lifts his partner up so that his cockhead presses against his slick entrance. He takes it easy, gradually pressing his length into the tight, wet heat. It’s mainly for the alpha’s benefit, because Axel feels like a furnace, and Altare’s afraid that if he goes too fast, too hard, too soon, he’ll burn away.
Back arching, Axel lets out a long, drawn-out groan as Altare fills him up to the hilt. He looks like someone who’s been given water after days in the desert without it, relief sinking down into his bones as he finally, finally gets what he’s been asking for.
“Keep going,” Axel murmurs, wiggling his hips. Altare bites his tongue to stifle the pathetic noise that erupts from his throat when Axel tightens around his cock. “C’mon, c’mon…”
He tries to move without waiting for Altare’s response, attempting to impale himself over and over on his length. But the angle is awkward, and he’s not getting anywhere. So Altare places his hands on Axel’s hips, watches the crease in his brow deepen as a frustrated growl tears through clenched teeth.
Impatient. “Stop.”
The command passes through Altare’s lips in a whisper, gentle yet piercing. Axel quiets and stills immediately, and Altare rewards his obedience with a caress of his palms over his hips with a softly worded, “Good boy.”
Axel shudders, and Altare idly thinks, ‘Oh. He likes that.’
He withdraws his hips and pushes back in again, carefully cataloguing the myriad of expressions that flit through Axel’s face. Altare takes his time, each movement a slow, languid thing, fingers trailing down and pressing into his partner’s thighs. He prods them in askance, and Axel eases how tightly he has his legs wrapped around Altare.
“That’s it,” The alpha coaxes, and his next thrust is smoother, fuller. Axel moans. “You’re so good for me; you feel wonderful. D-Doesn’t–” his breath hitches when the omega twitches around him again, “–this feel so much better?”
Axel slurs something in response, meeting his next thrust with a roll of his own, and Altare hums in pleasure. Gasps and whines fill the air as Altare leans over Axel, pushes him into the mattress, watching with greedy eyes at how Axel pants and writhes beneath him. He commits his flushed face to memory, follows the beads of sweat trailing down his torso, runs his hands over the criss-cross of pale scars and taut muscle.
Altare doesn’t know how long he’ll last; Axel looks like a vision, feels amazing, smells mouthwatering, and Altare kind of wants to give him everything he wants and more. He feels the base of his cock already starting to swell as he gets closer and closer to completion. Axel’s definitely noticed, because the blonde twists underneath him, pushing back insistently with each thrust, trying to force his entrance to shape around the growing knot.
“Fuck.” The curse is spat out as Altare grips Axel’s hips hard, nails digging into skin, leaving angry red crescents beneath. He doesn’t stop moving. He doesn’t know if he can stop moving at this point. “Axel–”
“Yeah, yeah,” Axel murmurs, “Almost– nnh– there… Ah–!” He has his cock in one hand, skilled fingers working himself to the edge, the other clawing at the sheets. Altare eases himself inside, feels the omega give way for more of him.
‘More, more, more–’
Axel reaches up, wraps his arms around Altare’s neck and pulls him down. The kiss is all teeth and tongue, and the familiar taste of blood has Altare’s eyes flashing red again.
“Altare, Altare,” Axel snarls against bruised lips, “C’mon, breed me already you fu –aah–!”
His sudden gasp almost drowns out Altare’s low groan as the alpha’s knot swells, the pressure of Axel wrapping around him almost too much to handle. Altare bows his head and bites down on Axel’s shoulder as his hips twitch, emptying himself into the omega and filling him up. He vaguely registers the hot splash of fluid between them as Axel hits his peak as well, white noise buzzing in his head and drowning out almost all sound and sensation.
Instinctively, Altare reaches between them, lays a hand over Axel’s cum-smeared stomach, and presses down. Axel lets out a choked whine at the feeling, a gush of slick trailing down from where they’re connected. Altare licks and kisses his marked shoulder in apology; leans up to press a kiss on bruised lips.
Murmured reassurances and praises fall from Altare’s mouth as he gathers Axel up in his arms and presses their bodies closer together. Altare is basically lying on top of Axel at this point, but he doesn’t seem bothered by the weight. Axel returns the embrace, nuzzles his flushed cheek against Altare’s, soft pants tickling the shell of the hero’s ear as they both come down from their high.
“This isn’t uncomfortable?” Altare asks. “We’ll be stuck for a while.”
“S’perfect.” Axel mumbles.
Satisfied, Altare sighs, closes his eyes - and then they immediately snap back open when he processes just exactly what Axel said before.
“Axel, you asked me to–”
“Don’t worry about it.” The gladiator sounds totally unconcerned.
“But–!”
Altare is silenced by a hard press of lips against his own. It turns softer, chaste, and it nearly distracts him. Nearly.
“I said,” Axel pulls away, grinning lazily, “don’t worry about it. Spur of the moment thing. Trust me.”
Doubts continue to float in Altare’s head, and it must reflect on his face because Axel adds, tone sly, “It got you to cum, didn’t it? Who knew you were kinky like that, huh, Leader– ack!”
Altare has grabbed his abandoned hoodie and bunched it up, shoving it into Axel’s grinning face.
“Shut up!” The jerk is laughing, the sound muffled by the fabric, and Altare’s face is on fire. “Stop talking! You’re not allowed to talk!”
His attempts to smother Axel and silence him forever prove futile. The blonde easily overpowers Altare, pulling the hoodie from his grasp, throwing it somewhere into the nest, and pulls him to his chest once more. Axel’s snickers shake their bodies, the sounds high pitched, carefree, and Altare can’t stay annoyed for long when he looks so cute like that.
Laughter easing, Axel sighs and lets his head thunk back onto the pillow. Altare dips his head and nuzzles his neck, inhaling the comforting, satisfied pheromones Axel is emitting. Calloused fingers trace mindless patterns on Altare’s back as they lie there in comfortable silence, wallowing in their own mess and coming down from their highs.
Sex is gross, Altare concludes glumly, not liking the tacky feeling on his skin.
“How are you feeling?” He asks. Tilts his head up. Brushes his lips against the corner of Axel’s mouth.
“Better. But,” Axel sighs, “this ain’t gonna last. I can already feel it building up again.”
Altare reaches up and brushes sweat-slick bangs off of Axel’s forehead. The flush on his cheeks seem almost like a permanent thing, and the haze in his blue eyes is gradually taking over once more. Axel blinks slowly as Altare wipes the moisture off his face.
“Maybe you should take a nap.” His knot hasn’t gone down; Altare doesn’t know how he’ll keep Axel sated until the next wave. He shifts, and they both hiss when the rim of Axel’s entrance catches at the base of his length. “Sorry.”
“Donmai,” Axel murmurs, already sounding tired. A swell of affection builds in Altare’s chest, and it’s almost overwhelming. He presses his lips onto Axel’s once more and he gets a pleased hum in response.
“I’ll take care of you.” Altare tells him as he barely pulls away. “I’ll do my best. I promise.”
“I trust you,” is the sleepy answer he receives, blonde lashes fluttering shut, and Altare smiles.
=====
Day two is an exercise of endurance.
Altare knew Axel’s heat was a vicious, insatiable natural disaster. He’s heard the story from Dez. Hell, Axel’s even said it multiple times unprompted in casual conversation. The entire guild has been warned multiple times that Axel needs to have his suppressants on time, needs them updated every so often to keep up with his body’s changes.
Or else this happens.
Altare digs his fingers into Axel’s red-streaked hair, grabbing a handful as he shoves the omega’s face-down into the mattress. Red eyes take in the writhing form beneath him; Axel is flushed from his ears to his chest, heaving breaths so rapid it’s almost like he is hyperventilating. His naked body is littered with bites, scratches and hand-shaped bruises; Altare’s had to manhandle Axel so many times to prevent him from hurting himself or Altare in his eagerness.
Altare hasn’t come out unscathed either. Axel’s teeth are already naturally sharp, as are his nails, and the alpha has the marks to prove it. Bites litter his arms and shoulders, some of them getting dangerously close to his scent gland. There are scratches on his back and his thighs. Bruises are sucked on his skin, imprinted by powerful fingers. Altare wears each one proudly, satisfaction thrumming in his veins.
Axel has already overpowered Altare multiple times in an effort to take what he wants, so the hero has had to resort to his not-so-heroic abilities to match his strength. The demon in him is elated, and Altare’s eyes are almost always red throughout it all.
At least Axel doesn’t seem to mind; in fact, the gladiator is just as excited at the fact that Altare can keep up with him.
Altare growls, shoving Axel back down when the omega tries to turn his head and snap his teeth at his wrist. The gladiator has half of his face smushed into the pillow; he looks up at him with a playful grin, eyes dazed but full of unrestrained adoration. Altare can’t help but grin back, even as his chest flutters at the sight.
“Everything always has to be a fight with you, doesn’t it?” The blue-haired man complains, the words oozing with fondness as he shoves his cock back into Axel’s ready entrance. Axel half-laughs, half-moans as Altare sets an relentless pace, punched out gasps being torn out from his lungs with each pointed thrust.
“Y-Yeah, well–” Axel hisses out a rough swear when Altare rams into his prostate, hard, hands clawing into the already-torn sheets so hard they rip even more, “–s’what my body w-wa– ah– wants! What I’m… nngh–! I’m m-made for…”
Altare grabs Axel’s hair by the roots, claws scratching his scalp, and tugs. Axel’s neck arches beautifully as he forces a rasping moan out from the willing omega.
“Can’t believe– haah– Dez dealt with this. He really… downplayed the situation..” The slap of skin against skin emphasises each moan Altare manages to pull out from Axel. Delight wells up in his chest; he stamps down on the urge to laugh inappropriately.
“Magni… was smart… kept his distance– oh fuck,” Blue eyes roll upwards when Altare sends his next thrust home. Axel twitches and drips around his swelling base, gasping for air, trembling underneath him. The sight has Altare nearly purring.
Axel outright whimpers as the alpha pushes his knot deeper and continues to thrust, fast and shallow, through the former’s orgasm.
“And Rpr… actually touched you.” Altare muses, making an effort to sound a bit more composed, even as he feels his balls getting tighter as his completion nears. “A-At least he isn’t human. Don’t, ah, know how he would have… dealt with you otherwise…”
Axel laughs at him, and the sound grates something deep within Altare. “Why… are we talkin’ about other guys, hah?” He slurs out, and snickers. “Getting jealous?”
Altare pointedly shoves his knot deep as it can go. Axel gasps and scrambles for purchase on the ruined sheets as his abused hole is stretched to his limits. Altare’s knot grows to full size, plugging his partner up, not letting one drop of his spend escape as he fills him to the brim.
“Dickhead,” Axel wheezes, but he’s laughing, shoulders tensing for a scant few seconds before relaxing along with the rest of his body. Altare gently rocks forward, allowing Axel to rest his hips back onto the mattress as he leans over him, torso pressing against his back.
Altare bites the junction between Axel’s shoulder and his neck, adding yet another mark to the canvas he’s painted over. He licks and presses kisses onto each ache and hurt, a reminder and an apology all in one, and Axel hums.
Altare breathes against his skin, “Maybe I’m a little jealous.” He admits, leaning in to chase Axel’s lips when the blonde turns his head to look at him.
“Don’t be.” Axel murmurs as he pulls away, “They were just helping me out.”
Altare knows. “Is this the same situation?” He can’t help but ask anyway. Axel looks up at him - really looks. His gaze is clearer than what it was for the past few hours, and it’s reassuring to see.
“Do you want it to be?” Axel tests the waters, and Altare–
“I don’t like to share.” The words are like poison dripping from his mouth, tainted with deep, ugly feelings he doesn’t want to put names to. Altare doesn’t like it, but he just can’t help himself. “Axel–”
“Then we don’t share.” Axel replies, like it’s that simple, easy. Altare sighs, a small, trembling sound; it just prompts Axel to keep talking.
“You’re my leader, my alpha–” and oh, don’t those words send a wave of warmth through the entirety of Altare’s being, “–and I’ll do what you want me to do. Whatever you want.”
Promises like that, made in the midst of passion and high emotions, are dangerous things to make. But Altare knows Axel means it, like else everything else he says when it concerns how he feels. Axel wears his heart on his sleeve, honest to a fault with their boys, and has never been able to hide anything from Altare. Will never try to hide anything from Altare.
One of the many, many things he likes about Axel.
Still; “We’ll talk about this later,” Altare says, the corner of his lips tilting, “when I’m not six inches deep into your ass.”
The sound of Axel’s laughter is like a balm to the soul.
=====
The rest of the second day is a frenzy of roughhousing between the two men, up until the late hours of the night. There was barely any time made to eat a proper meal, but Altare did force the both of them to stay hydrated at the very least. Axel finally starts tiring out near midnight. Altare is amazed that he even kept up for so long.
Day three is where it slows down significantly. Sex doesn't happen as often. Altare is able to get Axel to actually eat something substantial this time. While the blonde dozes off, his alpha takes the time to clean the both of them up a bit with a wet cloth, and put balm on their shared wounds. He even changes the sheets and fixes the nest.
First thing in the morning of day four, an exhausted, aching Altare drags an equally exhausted but heat-free Axel into the bathroom. He forces the both of them into the shower, prompts Axel to put some clothes on with him, and then starts slowly leading the way through the guild halls.
It’s still early; they don’t encounter anyone else on their short jaunt to Dez’s quarters.
When a bleary-eyed alchemist answers the door at Altare’s insistent knocking, he takes one, long look at the two of them, golden gaze zoning in on the marks peeking from the hems of their clothes - and the sigh he lets out is heavy. He opens the door and waves them in, muttering a sleepy “mind the mess” as they trudge into the room.
=====
“Ow!”
“Suck it up.” Dez snipes as he puts the last suture in place. His hands, covered in sterile gloves, withdraw as he inspects his work with a critical eye. Altare cranes his head in an attempt to look at the bite mark he just closed, but it’s too far up his back to even see.
“What’s the verdict, doc?” Axel calls out lazily from his spot laying on the couch. His own wounds are treated as well but none of the bites needed any sutures, since Altare’s teeth aren’t as long as his. A swarm of magmites are leeching off his body heat, crawling and draping their squirmy selves all over the gladiator. Axel doesn’t seem to mind.
Dez clicks his tongue, “Well,” he starts, deadpan, “you didn’t pass on your rabies, at least. But I gave you both some shots just in case. For fuck’s sake; did you have to maul our leader?”
Axel blinks innocently when Dez glares at him.
“Couldn’t help myself, sorry.” He grins, sharp canines glinting in the light streaming through the window.
He’s not even remotely sorry at all. Altare rolls his eyes as he hops off the counter, giving Dez a pat on the shoulder in thanks. The alchemist eyes his hand like it was a particularly nasty bug. Altare refuses to withdraw it, just to be annoying.
“Thanks for this. I’m sorry I had to ask this of you…”
“Don’t mention it.” Dez moves away, and Altare’s hand falls back to his side. “Seriously, don’t. Ever.”
The alchemist walks over to the other side of the counter to put a barrier between him and his fellow alpha, picking up his wound care kit and starting to clean up.
“Next time this happens I’m prepping some fast-acting healing potions for you two idiots. Can’t friggin’ believe Axel bit you so badly you needed sutures…”
As Dez descends into sleep-deprived mumbling, Altare turns to meet Axel’s gaze, light green meeting red-flecked blue. The two of them stare at each other for a few beats in meaningful silence, full of unspoken words and complicated feelings between them that most likely need to be discussed at some point.
“I’ll do what you want me to do. Whatever you want.”
Axel’s words still linger with him, and it makes his chest feel warm and tight at the same time.
Altare tilts his head. ‘Are we good?’
Axel raises an eyebrow in response, before smiling and shooting his leader a quick wink that has no right to look so charming.
‘We’re good.’ His eyes say - and for now, that was that.