Ben trudged up the beaten path to Plutt Farm, his nostrils flaring with the sickly saccharine scent--the scent of sin--that filled the crisp, spring air, his black cassock snagging on overgrown brush. It was no surprise to him such a disorderly place was home to evil.

“Father,” Farmer Plutt greeted him with a grim frown at the gate, waiting for him.

“Take me to the witch.”

There was little point in pleasantries. He could practically follow his nose to find her.

“If I’d known what she was, I woulda never hired her on,” Plutt spat, “Filthy creature.”

Ben nodded resolutely, following the portly man across the barnyard, grimacing at the unkempt plot. The animals wandered the yard in various stages of starvation. A sign of the witch’s presence, he was certain. She leeched the life of all those around her, absorbing their energy to feed her demonic powers. 

He must be vigilant. With the stench of witchcraft lingering around them, it was very likely that she was fitful with fever, possessed by the evildoer she served. There was a reason Ben had been sent here over the other clergymen in his monastery, of his brothers, he was the only one born with a purpose given to him directly by God. 

As an Alpha, he was the only one capable of performing an exorcism. He had been called upon once before and was early enough to perform the rites before the witch had fallen fully into the demon’s possession. The crone had been coherent, her honeyed scent somewhat bearable. 

“I only did outta the honest goodness of my heart,” he continued, “following the Lord’s teachings, you know. I’m a baptized man.”

“There were no signs before now of witchcraft?” 

Plutt scoffed. “She’s a flighty, little thing. No one would suspect her of nothing…but I’ve watched her around the farm the last few months. It ain’t natural, the strength she has. Does the work of two men, chats with all the livestock like they’re her bosom friends, I even caught her dancing in the barn one night, singing like a banshee. But I’m too trusting for my own good, Father.”

Ben sighed, wondering how deeply the demon must have hooked its claws into the witch by now. If only Plutt had called for help sooner. The old, balding farmer led him into the barn, scratching absentmindedly at his gut.

“She’s up in the loft,” he nodded in the direction of a rickety ladder, “Sleeps up there like a damned bat outta hell.”

A goat brayed at him as he passed, and Ben gripped the low rungs of the ladder, testing its strength. It would hold him, at least.

“Leave us and bar the doors,” he ordered, adjusting his satchel so that it was clear of his legs and arms to climb, “No matter what you hear, even if I beg, do not open them until the stench clears. You should seek refuge with a neighbor before the demonic miasma affects you.”

Plutt’s eyes bugged out in shock. “How long does an exorcism take?”

He pulled himself up to the loft, appraising the small woman writhing on her humble cot, her golden skin flushed with the fever of possession. Her nose twitched, her bare chest expanding as she inhaled deeply. She lay naked in her sweat-drenched bedding, limbs stretched open wide like the points of a star.

“A case this severe might take days.”

Her eyelashes fluttered, two hazel eyes blinking up at him, her skin breaking out in goosebumps with her awareness of his presence.

“Alpha,” she rasped, her fingers fisting into her sodden bedsheets, eyes rolling back, and Ben whirled back at Plutt in warning.

“Seal the door! Now!”

Plutt didn’t argue this time, slamming the barn doors shut, the bar clattering into place a moment later. 

Ben reached into his satchel, retrieving one of the tiny, glass vials he had prepared in advance. White, watery fluid sloshed within it, a sacred mixture of holy water and his seed, blessed in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. He wasn’t sure he had enough to complete the exorcism, considering the state she was in. He might be forced to take extreme measures to bless more but Ben was willing to do anything in the name of the Lord, in the name of his duty. He would banish this demon from the world of men and send it back into the fiery pit it came from. It was what he was created for, the Bishop had told him it was so. 

And Bishop Snoke spoke the word of God.

📿

Staying here had been a mistake. Rey knew that now. In the months since Farmer Plutt had hired her on, she had been dreading her heat. Or rather, dreading it more than usual. For an Omega out in the world on her lonesome, heats were unbearable.

She had scented the heavy musk of an Alpha approaching long before Plutt made his vicious accusations and let him into the barn. As her blood boiled in her veins, she allowed herself to hope for a few blissful moments that she would be soothed and cared for. That relief was within her grasp.

Then she heard the Alpha speak, his deep, low voice muttering about demonic miasma and her stench.  

He was one of them.  

He wasn’t a proper Alpha, following the lush scent of her heat back to her nest to offer solace, but an aberration, trained only to subjugate. An Exorcist. She should have fled when she had the chance, feigned illness when Plutt complained about her disappearance. Rey had told herself she could hide her state from the oblivious Beta farmer and his lazy hands, but that was nothing but a delusion. An Omega couldn’t disguise what they were. And she wasn’t like this Alpha, capable of curbing his instinct for a so-called greater purpose.

His boots landed on the ladder rungs with heavy thunks, steadily approaching her small loft, and she held her breath, wishing he didn’t smell like everything an Alpha should be: warmth, protection, home, like earthy oakmoss and leather. It wasn’t fair. Her skin crawled with awareness, a cramp roiling low in her belly as slick surged down her thighs.

The word broke in her throat, a plea she couldn’t stave off slipping past her chapped lips against her will, “Alpha!”

Her traitorous body couldn’t tell the difference between a true Alpha and the abomination--an Exorcist. His response to her helpless cry was to bark at Plutt to seal them in, as if she was a threat to anyone but herself in this state. She had heard tales of what an Ecorcist did to an Omega in heat, the torture she would be forced to endure, and she could only weep in terror, unable to stop him when she could scarcely lift her head from her sweat-soaked pillow.

An Exorcist was the greatest insult to nature, to The Mother, The Daughter, The Moon above. An Exorcist rejected their own instinct to defend and protect, to provide for the Omega, they collared them instead and locked them away in their convents, keeping them too weak to go into heat again. She didn’t know what lies this Alpha had been given by his church, but she wasn’t a dangerous monster. She was only what she had been born to be.

“Please, Alpha, I’ve never hurt anyone,” she sobbed, leaning away from his large shadow when he loomed closer. Even knowing what he was, she couldn’t make herself speak the name.

“Silence, demon,” he sneered, his nostrils flared with disgust. “Your lies won’t deceive me.”

He moved his hands in the motion of the cross, uncorking a small, glass vial filled with a watery, whitish fluid, and his oakmoss scent deepened. She sputtered, shocked when he doused her with the thin liquid, small drops pooling across her chest and belly, flowing over her slight curves and settling into shallow dips. She braced herself for the agonizing pain that was sure to follow, but it was cool on her flushed skin. 

“What lies?” she whimpered, shoving down the aching need she knew he wouldn’t assuage.

“You’re hurting the woman you’ve possessed right now,” he returned, his voice sharpened with vitriol. “Begone, demon!”

He sprinkled more from the glass vial, splattering her skin with pearly drops and a soft whine bubbled up her throat, the sound dampened by her clamped teeth. While she felt no real pain, she was more…restless as it absorbed into her skin like a salve. Her limbs couldn’t sit still, urgency building in her bones.

She clenched her eyes shut, gritting her teeth as she struggled to stay grounded to earth.

He began to read from his scripture, intoning in Latin, "Exorcizo te, creatura salis, per Deum.”

Rey barely parsed the words apart, overwhelmed by the prickle under her skin, unable to contain her moan when a ripple of pain squeezed her core, though the Exorcist only spoke louder.

“Vivum, per Deum verum, per Deum,” he called, and she cracked her eyes open blearily, watching him form the sign of the cross again, a rosary wound through his thick fingers. 

The sight of the string of beads straining against his grip only reminded her how easily he could relieve her heat. She blinked, tears spilling over as she followed those meaty paws up a set of bulging arms to round, powerful shoulders. It was too easy to imagine those arms curled around her, holding her close, his skin bare against hers.

“Sanctum, per Deum, qui te per Eliseum,” he bellowed, and it was only then that she realized she was openly bawling, thrashing as he baptized her again, “Prophetam in aquam mitti jussit!”

It was more intense than any heat she had experienced, her blood surging hot, roaring in her ears, and it had only worsened with his arrival. The strange potion he had blessed her with was the cause. With trembling fingers, her chest heaving, Rey grazed the drops spotting her belly, bringing it to her face to sniffle roughly.

It...it couldn’t be. But she recognized that musky scent, rich and heavy, dense with Alpha.

Her tongue lashed at her fingertips and she rolled the flavor over her tastebuds, savoring the taste. Stark understanding wrenched in her gut, and she wasn’t able to stop herself from gathering more, sucking three fingers into her mouth. It was diluted with holy water but she could still detect the distinct oakmoss and leather notes.

It was cum. His cum.

“Why…? It didn’t work,” he pushed his thick, black hair back with a harsh shove.

“Of course not!” she snapped, frantic pants puffing through her bared teeth as she shoved herself upright, swaying before propping her palms onto her sodden bedsheets. “What is wrong with you?”

He reeled as if she had slapped him across his cheeks, jostling through his bag for another vial, crossing himself as he tossed its contents into her again, his watered-down cum splashing her face.

Oh, Goddess. It was an assault on her senses, his scent clinging to her skin even as it trickled down her chin, and Rey licked her lips, sucking the bottom into her mouth and humming her approval. Alpha would be so good for her…if only he hadn’t been warped by his brotherhood. If only he accepted his purpose.

She groaned, clutching at her belly with her arms crossed, bending in half as a pang of scorching heat twisted deep within her. Her thighs lathered together with her slick, shining up at him, and Rey wondered at his restraint.

How could he stand over her without succumbing to his instincts? How could he ignore the internal voice that demanded he take what she willingly offered?

The alleged exorcism ritual she had heard of in hushed mutters was torture, it just wasn’t the torture she had imagined. Rey would have preferred true torture as she understood it, at least if she was bound with this terrible man ripping her nails from her fingers, nothing would be up to interpretation. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel so lost, so wistful for what should have been. 

The Omega within her was too susceptible to hope, unable to differentiate between ally and foe when he smelled so perfect. If there was anything holy about him, it was his divine scent, not his rigid loyalty to a faith that demanded he deny his true self.

He frantically repeated his prayer, not nearly as collected as he fumbled over his lines in Latin, baptizing her in his watery spend each time he crossed himself. It crusted in places, his cum unable to fully mix with the holy water, drying against her skin without banishing any of the demons she supposedly harbored.

Rey flinched with each slosh of the vial, her fever boiling through her belly with growing magnitude. Slippery warmth poured from her as her insides clenched, saturating the cot beneath her to the point that she could hear the slick, sticky sounds of her fidgeting.

Rey curled into her side, turning her spine towards him as she tucked her knees against her chest as if making herself smaller could crush the burgeoning ache at its source.

“Stop, please stop, Alpha, please--”

She hated him and his heartless persistence, his determination to exorcize a demon that existed only in his mind.

“Let go!” he barked, the audible pop of a cork being unplugged driving her into hysterics.

“Please! You can’t, no more!”

If her fever scorched any hotter, she would be rendered to ash. Rey already felt as if her insides were crumbling under pressure, like the bones of a house cracking in the fire as everything else burned.

“Release the witch!” he shouted back.

If he truly believed that demons were banished with prayer and holy water, wouldn’t he be forced to acknowledge that it didn’t have the intended effect? He clung to his ritual stubbornly, unwilling to admit he and his bishop were wrong.

The sob wrenched from deep in her gut, bursting over his repetitive chanting. “I’m not a demon! I’m not a witch, I’ve never done anything to anyone in my life, I’m an--”

Her voice broke in anguish, squeezing through the solid lump blocking her windpipe. It hurt to even speak the name when the knowledge should have been written into his soul.

“I’m an Omega.”

📿

I’m an Omega.

Omega. Omega. Omega.

OmegaOmegaOmegaOmeg--

“You’re an Alpha,” she wept, heartbreak and accusation flashing in her bright, hazel eyes when she turned to him. Ben slammed back into his body after floating above it for several moments, entranced by the three short syllables. “You should know.”

He nearly staggered at the soft, aching reproach as if he had been lanced through the chest, his hand clutching at his heart. This was exactly what Bishop Snoke had warned him of. Ben must not succumb to demonic temptation, as the witch had. Pitiful as she looked, naked and trembling as she fought the demon for ownership of her body, he couldn’t allow compassion to blind his judgment.

She would have her chance to repent. Then, the Abbey would become her home, where she could be protected from further possessions. This was for her well-being as much as it was for everyone else.

Quieter still, she asked miserably, “You followed my scent to my nest, didn’t you?”

His muscles tensed at the question. She was right, he had followed her scent to Plutt Farm and had located her long before Plutt pointed to the barn. Ben had just known. Doubt wriggled in his chest, dangerous thoughts twisting him in knots. Everything within him yearned to reach out, to ease her suffering, certainty building in his gut that he was supposed to…do something.

“How could you?” she asked, her devastation another careening blow. 

Ben stumbled a few steps, propping his hand against the wall facing the foot of her tiny cot. Witches were so rare that his single previous exorcism had not prepared him for this, for the sinful desire she would inspire.

And then, before Ben could defend himself, she croaked, “You’re no Alpha. You’re a monster.”

She believed it too.

His knees buckled, his limbs crumpling beneath him like the fragile ruins of an ancient cathedral. She didn’t see the anguish her heated charge instilled, nor his stunned, gaping stare as his jaw flopped open and shut repeatedly, words failing him as they never had before. Ben had no reason to justify his actions to the likes of a witch and should be much more concerned about the mortifying sense of guilt that churned in his stomach, his body physically rejecting her rebuff.

He should be fortifying himself for the hours ahead of reciting scripture but her sly words had broken through his defenses with all of the tender care of a battering ram. Regardless of what had occurred with the crone, he couldn’t deny that his baptisms hadn’t had the intended effect. He was pretty sure demons weren’t supposed to be able to lick holy water without so much as cringing. Yet, he assured himself that his Bishop couldn't lead him so far astray.

Ben didn’t know how to proceed but it was crucial that he clarified, “I’m trying to help you.”

Though he was no longer so certain he was capable. The holy water had done nothing and the prayer had fallen on deaf ears. Even in the worst cases of demonic possession, the ritual would have some effect. Helpless, he watched as the small, pathetic creature curled further into herself with a muffled cry.

“Then help me.”

Shuddering with fever, she tumbled onto her back again, kicking aside her sheets to widen her hips. The sweet stench he had sworn to himself was a disgusting sign of possession suddenly didn’t seem as sickening as he presumed. Honey and heather clung to the fine hairs of his nostrils, seeping beneath his skin like an infection. He watched with bated breath as her thighs spread open in unspoken invitation. Saliva pooled in his mouth, her saccharine scent overwhelming his palate. 

He must remain vigilant, it was for her own good.

While many of his brotherhood took advantage of their position in the clergy to enjoy the finest offerings, he had held himself to a higher standard, eating simple fare with his head down, where he couldn’t see the others at his table signaling to each other with their hands. He didn’t believe in bending the rules to fit his personal comfort, balking at the fine, white sugar imported from Iberia as if they were royalty. He was an exorcist on the front lines to defend those most vulnerable to temptation, he couldn’t succumb to it himself. He had to be above it.

Ben watched, utterly enraptured as she shoved three slender fingers into her cunt, the tight hole swallowing them to her knuckles. She thrust them in and out at a frantic pace, her chest blooming with a warm flush as she sought deliverance.

A persistent, unbidden thought came to him, pestering in a whisper, Bless her there, anoint her insides. Purge the evil within her, replace it with your seed.

He didn’t know if it was the voice of God guiding him or his own desire awakening. Ben told himself that he was only modifying the exorcism to fit an extreme situation. This poor lamb had been led astray from her flock by a wolf in sheep’s clothing, was that not the fault of the shepherd as it was the lamb for not keeping proper guard for her soul? He acted in the name of the Lord, surely that came before the vows he’d made.

His fingers floundered with the small buttons down the front of his cassock despite completing the task without issue on a daily basis, unable to pry his eyes off the shiny, pink slit between her legs.

The tiny cot would collapse under their combined weight, so Ben laid out her discarded bedding on a mound of hay that took up most of the loft space, layering his woolen robes over it for extra padding. The witch was delirious when he gently scooped her from the cot, her head lolling before he caught it with his palm, cradling her to his chest. Her hand remained trapped between her clenched thighs, soft, wet sounds betraying her. Her flesh burned to the touch, her fever overtaking her.

A sense of calm certainty settled on his shoulders as he lowered her onto the hay. Awareness flickered in her gaze as it drifted down his naked body, stilling on the brand that divided the line of hairs that trailed from his cock to his navel. It had healed years ago, leaving a thick cross of pink, mottled skin where hair could no longer grow. The touch of God, Bishop Snoke had called it, holding the brand to his flesh as he lay bound in the throes of his first rut. It had been a rite of passage. Now it was just part of his skin, no more noticeable to Ben than his other blemishes.

“Oh, Alpha,” she breathed in abject horror, delicately tracing the healed mark, “What have they done to you?”

He gripped her wrist, shaking his head with a grimace. “There’s no reason to fret, little witch.”

Her shock was discomforting, he didn’t want to think about that rut. He didn’t like remembering the gleam in Bishop Snoke’s eye as he held the iron cross to his abdomen.

Ben had never lain with a woman before, he had never expected to, but she seemed to understand. He sighed as her fist closed around the base of his cock, dragging up its length to his tip, twisting around it.

He only committed the sin of self-pleasure for the sake of the ritual, the brand blessing his seed as he expelled it, otherwise ignoring any arousal he felt. He was as hot-blooded as any man, he had simply grown used to denying that urge and allowing his interest to fade without touching himself. With her hot little hand tight around him, stroking him until he was hard as stone, it was difficult to remember his purpose.

He didn’t realize how close he had become, drawn in by her soft whimpers and luscious scent until the points of her nipples scraped against his chest and she was guiding the round, ruddy head of his cock through her slippery, lower lips, her lungs expanding with a sharp gasp. She was taut with tension beneath him, urgently rolling her pelvis upwards in search of friction, and Ben moaned loudly, losing his tight grip of control.

“Mmm…Father, you’re so big.”

Ben jerked into her with a shudder, his length gliding along her dripping pussy, a growl building in his chest. No one had ever spoken to him in that husky tone before, low and throaty with arousal, and he needed his name on her lips.

“Ben,” he corrected, gasping into the scant space between them as they rocked together, her palm clamping him down against her.

“Ben,” she repeated in awe, and he lifted his head high enough to meet her glazed-over expression. Light glowed in his chest, astounded by her sweetness. She was nothing like the witches he had spent years studying and fortifying himself to face. 

He wasn’t sure how Bishop Snoke could be so wrong but try as he might, he could perceive nothing evil about the woman under him, only stark vulnerability. 

Her voice is so faint that he nearly doesn’t hear her speak to herself, “My Alpha’s name is Ben.”

He didn’t get the chance to ask for hers because, with the next roll of her hips, she angled his head to notch into her snug entrance, the air leaving him in a rush. Then she was filling his lungs with its soft syllable, breathing it into his lips until it filled his chest and he floated on it. 

“Rey.”

Their hips met between them, his cock buried so deep that there was no more of him to give. Rey took it all.

📿

It was unwise to trust the Exorcist, Rey knew that, but couldn’t help wanting to. There was something about his dark, brown eyes, steeped with concern, and the slight wobble to his open mouth that gave her hope. He had become what he was through pain inflicted upon him, his instincts beaten into submission. It didn’t excuse his cruelty but she sensed he only needed the opportunity to provide for an Omega. His Omega.

She felt the tension ease as they slotted together, completing one another. 

Understanding flit across his features as he slowly withdrew, huffing against her lips as he slid home again. Wonder shined in his eyes as they moved together, following a natural push and pull written into their blood.

“Rey,” he shivered, surrendering at last to his intuition as his mouth honed on the sensitive spot of enflamed flesh at the curve of her neck, grazing his teeth over the swollen point. “Omega.”

She cried out in ecstasy, searing pleasure sharpening low in her belly with each gentle scrape, his tongue lashing out to taste her skin.

He took extra care to not crush her even as he heaved into her with jagged, frantic thrusts, pounding into her at a vicious pace that she never had a chance to ache with emptiness. He was always there, filling to completion, shoving so deep it knocked the breath past her teeth with each shattering impact.

His lips suckled along her jawline, brushing over her chin to slide over her parted mouth, his tongue striking at hers in a wet glide, and it was only as he kissed her with desperate reverence that she felt the warm moisture dripping along his long, pointed nose. He wept as he devoured her whole, his hands restlessly roaming her slight curves.

Their lips split with a slick smack, a shuddering sob rattling in his chest as he clutched her close, nestling the back of her neck with his thick fingers, combing through her tangled, brown hair.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” he confessed, their hips slapping loudly in the stillness of the barn, and pity wrenched in her belly, that her Alpha had been lied to for so long he no longer knew who he was.

“Ben,” she tried to interject, but he shook his head, his black, wavy locks falling in a curtain around their faces, the tips of his hair tickling her cheeks.

“I have forsaken my oath, Father,” he said, eyes squeezed shut, and she craned her neck, gently kissing the corner of his mouth. “I have fornicated with a witch and betrayed my brotherhood.”

She cupped his jaw with either palm, smoothing her lips over his with a tender press, silently promising that all was well, this was where he was meant to be, at her side, tangled in her nest.

“Worst of all, I don’t want to stop. I don’t regret my transgressions. I’ll repeat them with a single word, I’ve fallen so deep into temptation. I am unworthy of the duty I’ve been given.”

“Don’t stop,” she moaned, sucking on the tip of his tongue as his cock stroked along her inner muscles, heavy ballocks clapping against her backside.

“I can’t,” he answered, resting more of his weight on her as he chased his pressing need, and she reveled in his sturdy heft, writhing to meet his pointed lunge. “I have to--I need--”

While he wasn’t able to verbalize what he needed, he was a quick learner. He only had to take what he yearned for. Strong hands grabbed at her hips roughly, massaging the soft curves. He lifted her easily, flipping her onto her stomach and heaving her hips up, her bottom cheeks spreading under his grip.

She clenched as cool air ghosted over her swollen pussy, Ben slowly blowing against her throbbing hole.

Before she could complain, desire buzzing beneath her skin, she felt his tip prod at her entrance, slamming forward.

“Yes!” she wailed, “Al--pha!” 

He yanked her backward to meet his pounding hips, his thick girth splitting her at the seams, jostling her with vicious jolts that pushed her face-first into the hay. Her arms unable to support her, Rey could only lay beneath him and sink into the heavy drag of his cock. Her existence narrowed to that perfect push and pull, letting go of her thoughts and fears and surrendering to Alpha’s protection.

“God’s bones,” he grunted, his arms snaking around his middle as he bent over her, his pectorals slotting against the hollow between her shoulder blades, taking up all the empty places in her body.

His bollocks slapped her split pussy lips, striking the hard, sensitive bud that sent her sailing closer to the sun, bright pleasure whiting out her vision.

She fell apart around his name, the vowel stretching out into the unseen horizon as her soul was squeezed from her body, making room for him. He seethed and hissed like a serpent as she clamped around his cock with rhythmic tugs, dying just a little bit with her. She could feel his knot start to expand, his hips growing sloppy as they battered at her round backside.

With a guttural shout, he inflated within her, her muscles forming a tight right around the bulb of his knot to hold him fast. He spilled into her with a shiver, his pelvis grinding against her bottom when he was no longer able to thrust. It soothed the flames of heat, each spurt surging deeper within her cunt. She sighed as her little death waned, welcoming the warm rush of his cum.

Rey smiled faintly as he turned them onto their sides, his palm settling heavily over her belly and rubbing in delicate circles, his other arm acting as a pillow beneath her weary head.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into her tousled hair after a long pause. “For before.”

Then, with self-derision, he added, “I should be castrating myself, not thinking about…”

His meaning hung overhead without him ever finishing the statement and Rey twisted her neck to glance over her shoulder. Guilt and longing warred in his dark, lonely eyes and she knew without a shred of doubt that he was thinking of a future they might share. 

Worrying at her lower lip, she faltered for a beat. Finally, she implored. “If your God will not forgive your sin, pray instead to the Mother.”

He pulsed thickly within her, his cock twitching. “Rey…”

“May She bless this union,” she whispered, sliding her palm over his knuckles, clutching it to her fertile womb. “It was Her who brought you to me.”

📿

Dawn parted the mist, new daylight burning through the fading night. For three days, Rey had toiled through heat, and each time she reached for him, Ben answered her call. He knew long before her sweet, floral scent dampened, he couldn’t return to being an Exorcist.

He had a higher calling. So, as the rooster crowed, ringing in the morning sun, he helped gather her belongings, unable to suppress his boastful grin each time he caught a flash of the bitemark he had bestowed her. 

They would leave the past behind, bound together intrinsically. Alpha and Omega.

The beginning and the end.

fin