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“Coffee?”
It just seems polite to offer, considering Hypno had already been putting on a pot in hope of guests—a certain guest, maybe, but still—rolling through to help him finish it, even before Xisuma had whispered to tell him he was sending Grian Hypno’s way with questions, shortly followed by Grian whispering to ask if they could meet. The little beta standing in his doorway blinks, elytra wings shifting as he rocks back on his heels, and then nods, shuffling further inside.
Hypno’s door is, thankfully, still there.
Good coffee is one of his few indulgences from off-server, the rich aroma filling his little starter kitchen as he pours two mugs, savoring his first mouthful as Grian doctors his own with milk and sugar, still looking a bit lost as he stirs it into something stripped-oak pale.
Well. Looks like Hypno’s taking point. “X said you wanted to ask me some stuff…?” the omega prompts, Grian’s spoon clunking harshly against the porcelain as he startles.
“I mean—I asked Xisuma, first, he just—he said they were better questions to ask you, directly, rather than him,” Grian explains, which narrows it down a little to… mostly personal stuff, if Hypno had to guess? He hums softly, nodding for Grian to continue as he tries to remember if he’s even spoken to the beta-morph nearly enough to prompt something that would tie him in knots like this. “It was about the, uh, meetup? And—some things I noticed, I suppose?”
Ah. Okay. That narrows it down a lot more. Hypno can’t help a little snort of a laugh, shutting his eyes and pressing his mug to his lips for a moment as he tries to regain his composure and not hurt Grian’s feelings. “Those are probably things best left to me to answer, yeah,” he confirms, looking at Grian again and offering a small smile. “Where did you wanna start?”
“Are you mated?” spills out of Grian in a rush, which, admittedly, isn’t the first question Hypno expected, but it makes sense, in a way, if Grian hasn’t considered other possibilities for his behavior at the orgy.
“Nope,” he answers, settling back with an easy grin that he doesn’t quite mean, but there’s a difference between answering questions and just offering information, and Hypno would prefer to stick to the former, especially on topics like whether he’s got a mate. That whole thing is… touchy, even with the people he wants to talk about it with. “Free as a bird.”
A little furrow pulls between Grian’s brows, looking lost. “Oh. I just thought—you’d seemed very, ah—focused, at the event, and I wasn’t sure if there was a reason for that.”
Focused is a word for how Hypno had spent his night, sure. xB had other words, like greedy and possessive and rude, guy, all said with a laugh or a breathless moan in his voice, fond and laced with clove-heavy sweetness that Hypno drank from the other omega like nectar from the gods. He’d felt no shame in monopolizing nearly all of xB’s time for the night, happily distracting him from Beef and Etho’s scene as well as the underlying eager buzz about their newly active beta-morph.
Which, Hypno figures, sipping his coffee, is probably why said beta-morph is here now. “I’ve been off-server since, like… Man, season four? So I was, uh—catching up on lost time.” It’s a little white lie, but nobody can really call him on it but xB, so Hypno’s perfectly comfortable letting it roll off his tongue, as well as a slightly insincere, “Sorry if you were looking forward to spending time with xB.”
“With xB?”
“Mmm-hm.”
“Not you.”
“Probably not,” he says. Hypno doesn’t elaborate, just watching how Grian’s fingers flex and relax around his mug as the younger Hermit tries to puzzle out his meaning, lower lip trapped in his teeth and forehead growing ever more wrinkled. He’s not trying to make Grian feel bad, but, again—answering questions, not just giving him stuff.
He raises his brows, interested, when Grian starts to speak, but it’s only to admit, “I—Look, I don’t understand. Can I ask why?”
“Man, X didn’t even give you a hint, did he?” Hypno murmurs, and Grian shakes his head quickly, brows still knit.
“He promised me I hadn’t done anything wrong to make you avoid me all night, but I still don’t get it, and you’re not helping—and it sort of feels like you’re enjoying this, actually—”
“Grian. I’m gay.”
That draws the beta-morph up short, mouth clicking shut, ramble forgotten in favor of, clearly, shifting his worldview a little. It’s fair, Hypno thinks, that Grian hasn’t had enough time to draw the conclusion on his own, having only really brushed elbows at weekly meetings for his whole UA season and barely spoken so far for his AA one, but still a little funny that it hadn’t even occurred to the young beta that it might have been the case.
“Oh.”
And, look, it’s a little mean, but Hypno can’t help but snicker into the rim of his mug, barely hiding his grin as he gets it together, shaking his head. “Oh. Very thoughtful commentary, dude, good job.”
“W-well, what am I meant to say?” the beta demands, color high in his cheeks as his voice raises, clearly trying to cover his embarrassment with energy, but Hypno knows pouting when he sees it. “Should I ask why? Tell you not to be? Oh gods, I might as well’ve, sat here asking why you didn’t want to touch me at the stupid orgy—”
He falls back in his chair a little, pressing his face into his hands like he’d smother himself with them, if he could. “M’sorry, Hypno.”
But Hypno just waves it off gently, finishing his last swallow before standing to pour himself another cup. “I don’t care, Grian, it’s fine,” he promises the little beta, leaning his hip against his kitchen counter and taking a fresh sip, warm and smooth, before he continues, “I’m sure a few people don’t know. But when it seems like the whole server’s trying to get their hands on you, especially after Bdubs let the beta-morph thing slip, I get why I stood out.”
Actually, now that he thinks about it—“Were you gonna go ask xB, too?” Hypno asks, arching a brow when Grian shakes his head. “Why not?”
“I’d, uh—” The color in his cheeks spreads as Grian clears his throat, finally unburying his face so he can take a quick drink, using the moment to compose himself. “I mean, it’s sort of because he just lives really far, and he’s not exactly chatty, so I don’t want to pry, you know? But, well, I’ve seen him with—someone else, before? Someone very much not you, ‘round the end of last season, as well as flirting a bit around the event before you had him, uh, occupied, so I figured he wasn’t exclusive, necessarily, just that, well—”
“I was calling the shots,” Hypno finishes, unable to hold back his sheer delight as Grian nods. “Oh, man. xB’s gonna hate hearing that. The new guy already thinks he’s a sub.”
“Wh—well, no, don’t tell him!”
“Nope, I’m gonna do it,” he hums, grinning as Grian tries to splutter and protest. “Don’t worry. He’s only gonna kick my ass about it. You’re safe.”
The exaggerated sulk the beta settles into is a decided improvement from his mood when he first arrived, barely hiding his smile between sips before he starts eyeing Hypno thoughtfully, and he allows Grian a few moments to maybe take the initiative before grabbing it himself again.
“Is there anything else?”
“Why? Are you trying to get me to leave? Hurry me out the door?” Grian counters, bolder now that he knows Hypno doesn’t hate him, or whatever this whole thing was about. Xisuma will be glad to hear it’s all smoothed over.
“If I wanted you to leave, Grian, I’d tell you to leave,” he promises. “You’re just lookin’ at me like you wanna say something else, so I figured I’d ask.”
“Maaaybe.” He lets the cheeky answer hang for a second before raising a brow, and Grian powers forward with, “I was just wondering—Xisuma said Impulse was a bit gay, for an alpha, but he’s also mated to Zedaph, yeah? So I was wondering if you were into just omegas, or, y’know, anyone else—and then I sort of thought that was rude, but you asked me to ask, so. There you go.”
“You wanna know how gay I am?” Hypno asks, biting back a grin as the beta-morph cringes, shoulders creeping up by his ears. “Is that what you’re asking?”
“Well, no, but that’s how it sounds, which is why I didn’t want to say it.” Grian scowls into his mug as Hypno tries his best not to laugh—it’s not very successful, but he tries. In Hermitcraft’s long history, Grian’s certainly not their first beta to encounter some culture shock, and almost definitely won’t be the last, so it’s hard for Hypno to really take offense at the way the younger Hermit fumbles through his attempts at understanding, especially since he does want to understand.
“No alphas, for me,” he explains, offering a small smile when Grian looks up from his mug, eyes wide as though he didn’t expect a real answer. “Everyone’s got their own definition, but, like, when I say ‘gay,’ I mean mostly omegas, and some betas. Like xB, or, y’know, X.”
Admittedly, Hypno sort of expected the silence that falls next, the way the beta-morph’s face folds as he tries, he assumes, to reconcile the things Hypno’s told him over the course of their little chat. He doesn’t prod, this time, giving Grian the space to figure out what he needs to—but after being told multiple times that the floor is open and Hypno wants to hear his questions, he figures Grian can get to it in his own time, glancing at his comm in the meantime as he considers shooting Xisuma a whisper about how his little beta is doing.
“So… you are interested in betas,” Grian finally starts, shoulders hunched as he waits for Hypno’s quiet hum of confirmation. “Is it… about me, then?”
“Well…Yes, and no. It’s probably not whatever you’re thinking—breathe, man,” he chides gently. Never mind the whisper—he needs to talk to X properly later, about why their new guy is so sensitive to even the idea of rejection. “Part of it was, really, just wanting xB all to myself. I let him outta my sight too long, and Keralis gets his stinkin’ claws in, and then he reeks like hot sauce for the rest of the night, which, like, gross. And I know—I know—that’s not being a very good team player at the orgy, but—c’mon. I just got back. Cut me some slack.”
The levity doesn’t seem to help, so Hypno sighs and presses on. “But—think about it, Grian. You present based on pheromones, yeah? And the whole place was full of ‘em, so, like, who knows what was going on, anyway, but—if me and xB had come over, chatted you up a little bit, got you to ourselves, smelling like not just one but two riled up omegas… What would’ve happened?”
Light dawns in Grian’s eyes as he explains, the little beta expelling all his tension in one big breath. “I… would have presented alpha.”
“Mmm-hm.” Finishing the last dregs of his coffee, Hypno stares at the bottom of his mug and seriously considers a third for a moment before setting it aside, crossing his arms over his chest to look at Grian. “xB? Probably wouldn’t have minded. For me, though? Dealbreaker. And that’s not your fault—I’d just rather deal with the whole morph thing in a quieter environment with a little more control, and, like, some prep time, that’s all.”
And that seems to satisfy Grian, nodding along, until the words really sink in and he freezes. “Wait. Y-you would?”
“Hm?”
“You’d want to deal with—the morph thing. Me, presenting,” Grian clarifies, and Hypno gives him a long, slow once-over, deliberate enough that Grian is flushed when their eyes meet again.
“I think you’d make a very pretty omega for me.” His guest chokes a little, but Hypno just continues, “Or, y’know, if we couldn’t swing that, just keeping it beta. I’d be fine with either. As long as you were interested, of course.”
“I—” A thick swallow, and Grian peers up at Hypno through his lashes—someone’s definitely been giving those seduction skills a workout. “If you think we can do it, I’d like to try. Please.”
Hypno smirks. “I might have a few ideas.”
“You smell like an alpha.” It's soft, almost awed, slipping out before Grian even seems to think about the words, and it's only when Hypno starts to chuckle that he startles, hands flying to his face to cover his eyes—but not the flush that quickly stains his cheeks. “Oh my god, I—ignore that.”
“Well, I mean, I thought that was kinda the point, wasn't it?” Hypno teases, laughing harder as Grian groans and buries himself deeper in his palms. “Pure Jevin.”
He makes a show of sniffing and pulls a face, offering a brief, gentle smile when Grian deigns to peek between his fingers before he continues, “Guy kinda reeks, doesn't he? Sorry about that.”
Finally, he gets a laugh out of Grian, some of his embarrassment melting away as he shakes his head quickly. “No! No, not at all, it's—you smell good, really good—I just was surprised how much you smelled like him, and not, well—”
“Like an omega?”
“Exactly!” Grian's hands fall from his face, hovering near his chest as he clearly resists the urge to reach and touch, and Hypno bites the inside of his lip to keep from smirking—he'd expected this to be simple, but there's simple and there's just plain easy. It's cute, how eager their new beta is. “I mean—I can do it, obviously, change my scent, but that's—I'm meant to. And I know you said you'd take care of it, but it's one thing for you to say that and the other to really smell you, and—wow. Wow.”
The awe from before seems to creep back into his voice, doing something to Hypno's head and a little something to his gut at just how impressed Grian seems with him, and he breathes another soft laugh, stepping closer and forcing Grian to look up. Taking advantage of his height to loom sees the pink on Grian's face deepen as a startled inhale fills the beta's lungs with more of Hypno's borrowed scent.
“Wow, huh?” he hums, telegraphing the way he reaches for Grian's face and smiling when the beta leans to meet Hypno's hand, eagerly nuzzling into his palm and closer to his wrist all of his accord. The scent gland he's seeking there is blocked, covered by a small patch just a few shades different from Hypno's own skin—but the rest of him is saturated in alpha scent, chili and dark chocolate that each scrub of Grian's light stubble draws to the surface for the beta to huff greedily. Soft lips brush the heel of Hypno's hand before Grian purrs, quietly, and he dredges up a low rumbling growl to answer him, grinning as the beta-morph's breath hitches again.
It's taken years to perfect playing alpha, for other omegas who like it, to learn how to make it real, how to carry his weight and pitch his voice, to wash away his natural sweetness and replace it with—well, usually a light cologne, something that mimics the rich bitterness and heat of an alpha without being overpowering. When it comes to Grian, the only real difference is that the beta-morph needs the real deal to present, a healthy dose of riled alpha pheromones generously donated by some heavy scenting with a friend, and, from the faint curl of cinnamon sugar rising to meet Hypno's nose, the extra effort has paid off.
He's gonna owe Jevin, for sure, but it's gonna be so worth it.
The beta-morph's scent continues to change as Hypno lets him drink his fill, cradling his face in both hands for a brief moment, smoothing his thumbs across the rises of his cheeks and the warmth simmering under the skin, before letting Grian get a fresh taste from the other wrist, trading scents until it's clear the beta wants more. Letting his coat slip from his shoulders and puddle on Grian's floor, a new wash of alpha fills the air, and the younger Hermit's warm eyes only grow darker as they're given whole new stretches of skin to memorize, roaming Hypno's arms and chest like he wants to rebuild his likeness somewhere later. It's so very beta of him, for a moment, that Hypno can't help but laugh, even as he closes the space between them to curl his hand around the back of Grian's neck and squeeze, scruffing him and earning a whimper that goes right to his dick, rumbling his enjoyment right back before he loosens his grip. Shifting a little, his fingers dig into the sides of Grian's neck, seeking where an omega's scent glands would lie as Grian's head falls forward against his collarbone, panting hot little breaths against Hypno's chest before he groans.
“Oh god.”
He really tries not to laugh, swallowing it back as he holds him close, a hand at his hip supporting the smaller man as Hypno scruffs him again and Grian's knees go wobbly, a keen tearing out of him, barely muffled by Hypno's skin, before he tilts his head up to squint at the omega with a pout.
“Wh—you can’t just—that's so unfair,” he protests, face nearly the same pretty red as his sweater, and Hypno can't help himself, snickering as he leans to scrub his beard against Grian's hair, spreading more of that alphan spice and grinning in satisfaction as sticky-sweet omega scent rises to meet him. “Why does that work so well?”
“Maybe because you want it to,” Hypno teases, flashing fang in a way that sends a shiver Grian's spine, hairs standing up beneath the cover of his palm, and he lets another laugh roll in his chest like a growl, finally letting up on his neck to peel the beta-morph out of his sweater.
He doesn't have the softness to him of an omega, the curves that do something to alpha hindbrains and Hypno's dick, but Grian's still pretty, swells of builder muscle and a little well-fed pooch making Hypno's fingers itch after he gets rid of Grian's undershirt, too. It's far too easy to crowd him until he's on his back on the mattress, clinging to Hypno's shoulders with a little yelp as the omega buries his face in the curve of Grian's throat, dragging his lips over those scent glands and resisting the urge to bite. No matter what Hypno wants, how his instincts want his partner for the evening properly marked, he knows his saliva will only hinder the progress he's made so far, turn that addictive sweetness into the very thing they're trying so hard to avoid.
So it's the scrub of his jaw against Grian's throat that has to satisfy Hypno's needs, leaving hot red streaks of beard burn across his skin as the beta-morph's head falls back against the sheets, arching up against Hypno with a whine and a scrabble of blunt nails against his upper back. He can feel Grian squirm beneath him as he continues to present, hips shifting with desperation—though not quite as desperate as the omegas Hypno's used to, even as he palms him through his pants and feels Grian's whole body tremble. “Hypno—”
“Yes, Grian?” he asks, all-too-casual, moving his hand up the beta's body and smirking against Grian's throat as it earns him a wounded noise, trying to chase the friction and getting nowhere fast as Hypno pulls back to look at Grian, puts space between them he can't quite close. “Hey, hey, relax. Who put you in charge, huh?”
His whole face scrunches in answer and Hypno grins, all teeth, as Grian huffs in return, “Well, if it'll get something done—”
But Hypno's not having it, a full-throated growl interrupting the beta-morph's pouting and making him shut his mouth with a quick snap, another bloom of omega pheromones filling the hot air. “I think—” Hypno starts, skimming his hand up the slight softness of Grian's stomach, tracing the bumps of his ribs as he inhales before palming at his pecs, lingering a moment by the hummingbird flutter of his heart before he travels down towards his belt again. The movements are steady, even as the beta-morph tries to push into his touch, each slow, intentional slide of skin spreading those borrowed alpha pheromones across Grian's body. “I think you don't wanna be in charge, huh. 'Cuz if you did—”
Hypno's hand lingers low on his belly, giving it a caress that makes him fluster more with the weight of it, even though they both know his body isn't built for what the touch suggests. “—You wouldn't have asked to try this.”
“...It's still taking a while,” Grian mutters, petulant, and Hypno can't help but laugh, dropping the almost stern seduction in favor of leaning down to buss his cheek, dodging his lips when Grian tries to chase him for more. “I'm—I mean. You can smell it, can't you?”
Undeterred by how Hypno won't kiss him, he buries his face under the omega's jaw, nuzzles at him and finds more chili-chocolate spice, the time and effort of making it authentic paying off as Grian's moan vibrates against the thin skin. “Please, Hypno? 'M just—you got me so wet.”
“Now that's unfair,” he murmurs back, rolling his eyes at how Grian snickers and sighing before he pulls back again to adjust, a whine dying in the beta-morph's throat as Hypno finally sheds his shirt. His dark jeans follow, the motions of taking them off shifting the plug in his cunt, pressing it up against his sweet spot, and he almost, almost, takes an indulgent moment to touch himself through his briefs—but those pheromones, like his saliva, are harder to change and liable to kill the mood, and so Hypno bites back a groan at the loss and reaches for Grian instead, stripping away the rest of the beta's clothes in search of what he'd teased.
It's not hard, as Hypno gently pushes Grian's legs open, to tell he hadn't been lying, not when the space between his thighs smells like candied heaven, fabric sticking to the curve of his ass as well as the head of his pretty cock, and the older Hermit moans, deep and rumbling, watching the way Grian's erection twitches at the noise before he answers with a wordless whimper. Every inch of Grian shouts need as Hypno touches him, but he only answers some of that cry, ignoring Grian's dick once he's fully naked to sink a finger into his dripping hole—and, when the beta-morph gasps his name, nails scrabbling at the sheets as his body just gives, so, so easy, a second, mapping his walls out with his fingertips until he finds the spot that makes Grian's hips jump, torn between fruitlessly seeking friction for his neglected cock and fucking himself back down on Hypno's fingers.
As much as the server has been abuzz about their newest member, he appreciates getting to see the change for himself, easing off Grian's prostate to avoid tempting that omega hair-trigger as Hypno slowly works him open, sporadically glancing across the spot and marveling at the gush of slick as his body tries to beg for release. It's tempting to give in, when he's dripping hot and wet over Hypno's hand and onto the sheets, to try and see if he can push Grian into orgasm after orgasm, but he resists, rubbing gentle circles in the tense muscle of the beta's inner thigh as he tries to grind down on Hypno's hand and gets nowhere, the omega easily riding out Grian's fight to hurry him along until he groans in frustration.
“God, look at you,” Hypno husks, feeling the beta's body open for the steady rock of his fingers and adding a third, the brief flutter of Grian's hole clenching at the sensation eased with a bassy rumble, and he's back to taking it like it's nothing. “Easy for it, huh.”
“Wh—I am not!”
Grian's body, on the other hand, doesn't lie, not when Hypno pulling his fingers out sees another gush of that sweet, heady slick, leaving his thighs shiny and wet as his hole clenches greedily. The older man just snorts a laugh, waiting for Grian to look down to catch his eye, any protest the beta might've had dying on his lips as Hypno brings his hand to his mouth. Careful, deliberate, his drags his lips across his skin, following a trail of slick from his wrist all the way back up to his fingertips, licking his mouth clean with another low, pleased purr at the taste of pure cinnamon-sugar need, and Grian whimpers from behind his teeth.
“Sure tastes like you are.” He arches a brow. “Now, do you wanna prove me wrong, or do you wanna get fucked?”
For a moment, it seems like Grian might try to protest—and then he huffs and shuts his mouth, red staining his skin from his hairline to his collarbones.
“That's what I thought.” With a little jerk of his head, Hypno coaxes, “On your belly and up on those knees, let's go,” and Grian goes right away—easy, just like he said.
It's clear the omega presentation has him by the throat as he rolls over, head bowed and chest pressed against the mattress as he gets his knees under himself, and Hypno can't help a low whistle at the arch of that toned back, palming his ass appreciatively and getting a little wiggle of Grian's hips for his trouble. His flushed cock bobs between his thighs, still begging to be touched as Hypno’s other hand finds the furl of his hole again instead, slicked fingers pressing back into his body and seeking out his prostate, the first touch making Grian tremble under him. Part of Hypno—maybe a little sadistic, maybe a little mean, used to drawing it out with a partner too sensitive for his own good until he cries—wants to keep teasing, but he’s working on borrowed time with this alpha stink and he knows it, hushing the whimpering beta as he keeps up the pressure.
“Come on, Grian, gimme one to start.” There’s barely any force behind it, no deep-chested growl to enforce Hypno’s request, but Grian’s long past keyed up, the relentless press of the omega’s fingertips enough to push him over the edge. Each desperate clench of his hole makes his still-hard cock kick, even the weak dribbling of a prostate orgasm filling the air with a fresh wash of candy-sweet pheromones, and Hypno clenches at the smell of it, quietly damning circumstance that he can’t get a taste.
Unsurprisingly, one orgasm doesn’t seem enough, as Grian whines into the sheets, rolling his hips back to keep chasing the sensation, and Hypno lets it happen, dialing back that unrelenting pressure so the next one is at Grian’s pace, fucking himself on the older omega’s hand until he’s coming again, the way his rim clings to Hypno’s digits all the more desperate after a second. His body’s looking for more, something Hypno fully intends to provide, third finger once again seeking entry and finding it easily as Grian chokes on air. “Oh, hell, Hypno—”
“What’d I say?” he murmurs, moving to lay himself across the beta-morph’s back and feeling him sag, oh-so-pliant, beneath his weight, nosing at the sweat-damp hair clinging to Grian’s nape before pressing a growl into the sensitive skin, earning himself a pretty gasp in return. “Didn’t I tell you what a good omega you’d make for me?”
“Yes yes yes—” The desperate chant is lost to a keen as he pushes his fingers in to the knuckle, the steady rock coaxing those soft walls to relax and just take it, more and more, experience reminding Hypno to be careful and thorough even as Grian begs under his breath. There are people he can push to their limits, but they’re not the beta who’s never taken him before, even if he does open like an omega in heat under the driving thrusts of his digits, each louder than the last with every gush of slick, until he’s wet enough for Hypno to nudge a fourth finger against Grian’s rim.
A quiet squeak slips out of the man beneath him, and Hypno can feel Grian draw bowstring-taut where he’s pressed up against his chest, letting a quiet rumble pass between their skin as the omega does his best to get closer, leaving more flushed patches of beard burn across the back of Grian’s neck in his path to tuck his nose behind his ear, nuzzling into the vulnerable skin and inhaling what is, thankfully, mostly the beta’s heady arousal. “Breathe for me, Grian,” he coaxes, lips brushing against skin, Grian’s shiver offsetting the vibrations of his own growl. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No! No, please, don’t, I swear, I’m fine, I just—” Grian’s head drops with a quiet groan, the rest of his muscles going slack as he admits, “It’s stupid nerves.”
“Nerves are fine,” Hypno promises; in his experience, betas are usually a little more conscious of their limits than bottoming omegas, so much of the latter camp happy to ignore their own comfort to chase being filled. “Are you uncomfortable?”
Slick muscle clenches around his fingers, testing—and Grian muffles a moan before shaking his head. “No. Really, it’s—s’good. I promise,” he breathes, tipping his head back to brush their cheeks together, whining soft and pleading in the back of his throat until Hypno sighs, relenting.
“Fine. But you tell me—”
“I will, Hypno, jeez!”
“Hey.” It’s edged with that same warning growl as before, right up in Grian’s ear, and Hypno can feel him gush across his hand as he bows his head, offering up his nape so, so easy.
For a moment, Hypno almost misses the fight.
Instead of dwelling on it, the omega presses his lips against the back of Grian’s neck, murmuring, “Be good,” before testing his rim again, the little beta’s copious slick easing the slide of that blunt fourth finger until it joins all the others. It’s not the most Grian has taken, surely, if he’s had the knots Hypno’s heard rumors about, but it’s no small feat, and the way his breath hitches as Hypno flexes his wrist seems to indicate he knows that. The steady fuck of his fingers, glancing off his prostate every now and then but never lingering, pushes that air from Grian’s lungs in one hot moan, and Hypno can’t help a quiet laugh at how the beta-morph buries his hands in his own hair as he shakes under him, knuckles pale like he’s trying to hold himself together.
“Hypno—!”
“Hmm?”
It’s far too lax a reply for the situation, when Grian’s voice is ragged and every breath Hypno takes is like cinnamon candy melting on his tongue, when he’s trying so hard not to grind his aching clit against the back of one of the beta’s thighs, when he brushes the pad of his thumb against Grian’s soft, heated rim and the little Hermit absolutely sings for him.
“Please! Hypno, yes, please please, I c’n take it, I swear, need it, please!”
And Hypno trusts him, really—it’s mostly for his own comfort that he reaches his free hand up to scruff the beta one last time, any lingering tension melting off him like ice in the nether before Hypno finally gives in and pushes his thumb inside. Grian sobs as the rest of his hand follows, that receptive, greedy heat swallowing Hypno up to the wrist before he curls his fingers and pulls back, just a little, tugging at his walls and settling right up against his prostate, and he swears Grian’s voice cracks as his whole body jerks, hips bucking desperately as he reaches his third orgasm on Hypno’s fist.
“There we go,” he purrs, his grin buried against the curve of the little beta’s shoulder as he lets up on his scruff, carding his fingers through the short hairs at the back of his neck as Grian’s hole clenches around him, over and over and over. “Just take that knot. Good beta.”
Hypno lets himself indulge, just a little, as Grian rides out his pleasure, those pale shoulders stained pink from the scrub of his beard by the time the beta seems to settle. He’s well-used to the long wait for a knotted omega to recover—one of the many reasons Hypno wants no part of it for himself, but keeping a partner safe and full in the afterglow is pleasure all its own, shifting his weight and putting them on their sides so Grian can breathe without denying him the comfort of a warm body against his back, persisting with that chest-deep rumble long after Hypno knows he’s going to feel it in the morning.
Even as Grian’s breathing starts to even out, the syrupy scent of omega lingers on his skin, a testament to the success of their little experiment, and Hypno is halfway to wondering if they could bring xB into the mix without Grian turning alpha or xB having to use blockers—only to be brought back to the present by the beta-morph heaving a big sigh, the slightest stretch of his back followed by a long groan.
“My god, Hypno,” he breathes, and that awe from before is back, poking at the coals of the simmering heat Hypno’s been ignoring in his gut. “Are you—is it always like this?”
He snorts softly against Grian’s back. “Believe it or not, I do know more than one trick. Like, two, maybe.” When the younger splutters at the teasing, fumbling to explain, Hypno gives in, offering him just a little more than the question he was asking. “Nope. Not all the time. It depends on what my partner’s looking for.”
“But, what about you?” Grian asks, peeking over his shoulder. “Did you even—well. Y’know.”
Humming a negative, he rolls out his neck before he answers, “I’m good. As long as you got what you needed.”
Their little beta seems to just sit with that answer for a long moment, idly picking at the sheets. “And… what if I needed to be like this for a bit longer?”
“Well,” Hypno chuckles, “Then it looks like my job here’s not quite done, huh.”