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Chapter Text

“You stupid fucking omega!” The god howled as he tore an arrow from his arm and charged toward the Anemo God.

Barbatos moved out of the way with a flourish, nocked another arrow in the blink of an eye, and let it nestle in the chest of his opponent. Stupid omega, omega bitch, none of those names mattered. The truth of the matter was that Barbatos held the Anemo gnosis, and he could overpower any god who stood in the way of his people’s freedom, alpha or not. The insults meant nothing to him. He tries not to hold it against the alphas who don’t call him such things.

Yet as he leaps to stand over the alpha god as he collapses, Barbatos feels a twinge in his chest.

Cower. Submit. Bare your neck. You are not meant to be a fighter. Let the alpha decide. Alphas know best.

At least one part is true. He knows that he is not meant to be a fighter. It’s not him, and every death feels like a scar upon his soul. He hates watching the life leave someone’s eyes. He couldn’t care less about proving himself to be a strong omega to others. At least the best of the invading gods fall for the Anemo Archon’s kindness and musical charms, but this god is not one of them.

Barbatos knocks another arrow, closes his eyes, and lets it hit the chest of the other god. The familiarity of the sight makes bile come to his mouth, and he can’t stand to wait for the god to slowly sputter away like the ones he loved did.

Hatred explodes from the dead god like a poison, so Barbatos quickly conjures a barrier to prevent it from filling the air. In the snowy hills of the mountain that will later be known as Dragonspine, the hatred has no chance of spreading far enough to harm the people of Mondstadt. His beloved children.

It’s one of the most omega parts of him, really. How maternal he feels towards them. 

You are not built for this.

It’s all lies, he knows that. Omegas have plenty of ways they were built to protect their friends and families, even if those ways aren’t as obvious as an alpha’s.

He trudges for a tree, trying to get away from the poisonous hatred before his shaking legs give in and let him fall.

There’s too much slick. Every time that alpha god growled, Barbatos could feel his lower robes grow wetter. It’s not fair that an alpha’s growl affects him like that, makes him feel like the alpha is protecting him somehow, makes him feel like he should cower and appease until the alpha is calm again. It’s not fair that when that god calls him an omega bitch, he aches because his inner omega thinks he should be put in his place like some omega bitch. It’s not fair that part of him is so desperate to be fearful, when what he really needs is to be strong for his people.

It makes Barbatos worry. What if one day, his omega side, his hormones, his inner omega, whatever— what if it takes over? What if he goes into heat or pre-heat and listens to it? 

~~~

Heats were terrible. The more that happened, the less Barbatos was able to satisfy himself. 

Early on, his heats were similar to that of a child’s—apparently they could begin in an omega as young as ten, and was how they presented. Barbatos presented in a similar way, his body temperature spiking, having an intense desire to be close to the people he trusted. Just like a child, he had no sexual urges, (although regardless, it was supposed to be a sign of one’s reproductive system beginning to work). Nor did his pheromones work to seduce anyone—if anything, a passing alpha would suddenly want to cuddle and care for him.

Though it was bothersome for Gunnhildr and Ragnivindr to see him even more as a child, he was quite young and inexperienced back then when it came to human things. Somehow, his body knew that. So he spent the occasional week hot and disoriented and always wrapped around Ragnivindr’s arm or curled in Gunnhildr’s lap. It was cozy and comforting. Barbatos liked his heats.

As years passed, things changed, however. Barbatos matured, and so did his cycle, apparently. It was all so sudden too. After a normal pre-heat, he made a nest in Gunnhildr’s bed, only to wake up feeling strange.

Wet and slippery between his thighs. A weird throb and ache there, too. A hunger and need inside him he never experienced before.

Gunnhildr woke to his whines, and tried to soothe him, too. Barbatos leaned into her, wanting something he thought she could give. Whatever that was.

When he smelled discomfort, he pulled away and met her eyes. The alpha woman was uncomfortable.

That night, keeping a space between them (it’s not appropriate for us to be so close right now, she told him), Gunnhildr explained more about the very human concept of sex and desires, bits of which Barbatos only had glazed from different conversations. How you were only supposed to do it with certain people. 

With a war going on, Barbatos was not in the market for a partner, especially with the risk of being taken advantage of by another god or an unexpected pregnancy. 

Heats were lonely and empty, nor was he able to feel sexually sated.

The lack of satisfaction led to toys, procured with a bit of shame. But it helped, slamming a (rather small, he didn’t want to start large) cock-shaped toy in his pussy until he moaned himself hoarse. Though the more he discovered, the more he wanted.

Soon, Barbatos began to ache painfully for a knot, so he eventually found a toy with one (it didn’t really fit, but the thought was nice). He felt empty without an alpha’s pheromones, so he snagged one of the Geo Archon’s tunics, since he was quite partial to the smell. Part of him began to ache for pups, but most of all, Barbatos just wanted to be touched. No, not just touched—he wanted to be cared for.

Wouldn’t it be nice, for once, to have someone tend to his needs? An alpha sating his desires, kissing his shoulders, crooning sweet words, making sure he wouldn’t grow uncomfortable, providing companionship. Being a god was sort of lonely, after all. His people didn’t touch him.

(And perhaps some of the time, most of the time, the steady arms on his body in his imagination were Morax’s. He liked when Morax touched him, even if it was always in small, respectful ways. In ways that were appropriate for an unmated alpha and omega.)

When his heats ended, Barbatos always felt a little silly for fucking himself and then crying afterward, but it couldn’t be helped. If only it were a little more manageable.

One evening, while he was tipsy and in pre-heat, the Anemo Archon snuck off from a gathering in Liyue to snag another one of Morax’s scented items. Unfortunately for him, a similarly tipsy Geo Archon had followed.

“Barbatos? Is this where all my clothing has been disappearing to?” Morax asked with a slight frown, despite the flush on his cheeks from Osmanthus wine.

“Ah…” Barbatos dropped the tunic and scratched the back of his head. Had it really been so many stolen? “I can explain…”

“Yes?”

“Ehe…?”

“Barbatos.”

The wind god sighed. “Consider it like a donation to me! For me. In order to prevent my heats from being very painful…”

At the mention of the smaller god’s heat, the alpha suddenly looked slightly awkward. It was a funny look on Morax. “I am confused.”

“You know, alpha-smelling things? For nesting and stuff?” Barbatos kicked one foot back and forth sheepishly. “You’re kind of the best alpha I know… at least, scent wise… so I may have borrowed a couple of things. Perhaps you could not get angry with me and instead take it as a compliment?”

Morax crossed his arms. “I demand that you return my things immediately,” he said sternly, turning away quickly in the doorway.

The omega sighed and nodded, wringing his hands.

The older god paused. “…but in return, I shall scent and lend you a few items upon your request.”

Barbatos perked up like a light and beamed. “Aww, you old rock, you! I knew you had a heart!”

After that incident, their dear friendship grew into something a bit more. Barbatos was able to vent to Morax about his struggles with his heats (though he dared not talk about his struggles in battle), and after a while, Morax told him about his similar issues with his ruts, and the buildup of aggression as an alpha at war and the incidents that caused. It helped the younger god to learn more about the alpha psyche, as well as grow closer to his friend. It wasn’t very long after when Barbatos discovered that Morax was partial to his scent as well (Barbatos was genuinely shocked, since he was sure that he didn’t smell of anything Liyuean), so the omega offered to lend some of his scented things for Morax’s rut. Though disappointingly, Morax always seemed to return them only after using a scent neutralizer, so he never got so much as a sniff of what Morax in rut might be like.

Barbatos began to have battle and archery lessons with Morax since they had grown so close, while he taught the alpha instruments when he wasn’t busy and in need of some relaxation. Though, Morax seemed to prefer listening rather than learning when it came to the omega. They spent a lot of time with each other, more so than with the other archons.

Until one day, Barbatos collapsed during battle practice. He was hot, in pain, and desperately putting off his heat. Morax knelt to help him up, and that’s when the omega grabbed his shoulders, panting, red-faced, eyes shining with tears and want. Vulnerable.

“We… shouldn’t,” Morax had tried to say.

The omega forced himself to swallow his pride. “Please. I need someone I can completely trust with this. That’s—only you, no one else. I can’t take another heat with only your scent.”

The great Rex Lapis set his jaw.

They fell into bed together that night, and kept their relationship private.

When Morax’s cock was pressing deep into him and words muttered against his nape, Barbatos no longer minded his heats as much.

~~~

It’s rare that Barbatos would find himself pinned down by another god. Though he easily let this alpha god into the icy caves under Dragonspine, he must be getting weak, because hands pinned him down to the slick floor.

“That gnosis is mine,” the god spat. “I deserve it! And you’re just an omega! You’re just an incubator and a hole for alphas to fuck! What do you know about running a nation?”

“Of course raping omegas should be legal, under most circumstances. Not only will it lead to more children being produced, but it is also an effective method of managing the omegas in our society. It is an easy way to ensure they understand their role as child-rearers. The omegas who already understand their role will not have to be raped in order to fulfill their duty, they will already be procreating.”

“That is enough,” Morax said, raising his voice slightly. “This discussion is about an entirely different law. Unwanted sexual advances upon omegas is illegal, and will always remain that way, no matter how often the Society for Alpha Rights chooses to introduce this issue. Nor will I allow the promotion of breaking a sacred law of Liyue, or any violence toward omegas.”

Barbatos chewed his lip as one of the adepti slipped to Morax’s side and whisper in his ear, “shall we investigate this alpha, my Lord? There is reason to believe that he may be violating this law.”

Morax sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I believe that would be prudent.”

For some reason, the discussion was enough for Barbatos to feel the need to slip out and get some fresh air. Proving himself as an omega never mattered to him, nor did he find the occasional unintelligent alpha’s bias very threatening. Yet, an alpha advocating for the rape of omegas, shamelessly in front of a crowd? Out in the open, not whispered in one’s ear as an egotistical threat? It was enough to rattle the wind god.

“What do you know about running a nation?” Barbatos says back, sticking out his tongue. “I’m the Archon here, after all! Don’t you think you should be convincing me, child?”

The god growls. “I’ll fuck you. I’ll fuck some fucking decency into you.”

The omega huffs, freeing one hand to call for the wind to return his bow to him.

Then hands grab his hips, pins them down and open,  and it’s like every defense in him crumbles. 

Maybe it’s because his heat is late, maybe it’s because he’s so damn tired. Regardless, instead of summoning the wind, Barbatos releases a small, submissive whimper. He slickens up a little, prepared to surrender so the alpha won’t hurt him any more.

And the alpha god grins.

He’s turning the archon, probably to easily access his hole. That’s when the jostling knocks some sense into the omega, and he summons a tornado. It tears at the other god immediately as Barbatos scrambles to his feet. Deep booms fill the chamber of the cave, and he realizes that the strength of his wind is making it collapse. He dashes for the entrance, the screams of the enemy only following through the wind.

Barbatos stops and lands once he’s out, watching numbly as the icy cave collapses completely and snow shoots into the air. Even once it’s all settled, he watches.

Birds begin to chirp again, as if celebrating the disappearance of that scary god. All is good.

Yet Barbatos starts to cry. He hugs himself, and begins to sob.

The alpha barely touched him. Just the sides of his hips. It could be easily fought off in a million different ways.

But why, then, does he feel so violated? Why does he feel so miserable?

Because even though it was easy to fight off, that alpha god still tried. He still tried to rape him. Someone tried to rape him.

And even though someone tried to rape him, Barbatos will wasn’t allowed to be afraid in that moment. He wasn’t allowed to be afraid, he wasn’t allowed to even be an omega.

He’s an omega, and he can’t even act like one, because if he does, someone will inevitably tear him apart for it.

The only person in the world where he can kind of be an omega around is Morax. So when his tears dry, that’s who he visits. Something inside of him is screaming for the support of someone who will let him be an omega (even though he’s feared that Morax wouldn’t like him if he were just an omega).

Morax finds him sitting on the edge of his bed when he enters the bedroom. Alarm bells immediately go off in the older god’s head, simply since Barbatos isn’t gently smiling or toying with his lyre while he sits idly.

“Barbatos?”

“Morax.” The omega turns to look at him with a wane smile and red-rimmed eyes. “Hope you don’t mind that I’ve stopped by.”

The alpha sniffs gently, and is hit by rotting apples rather than Cecelias and a fresh breeze. It’s distressed and salty like tears, but there’s also the slightest hint of a foreign alpha. It makes him bristle internally, but more than anything, the sight of a distressed omega, especially Barbatos, makes him feel much more gentle than he once thought himself capable of. 

It’s strange, too, because even when he is in battle, Barbatos should not get close enough to pick up another’s scent. Barbatos fights from the sky and with a bow, so things must have gotten difficult if he was forced into melee combat. Sometimes Morax thinks that the omega (whom Morax must remind himself isn’t his omega) shouldn’t be fighting at all. It’s simply his inner alpha, protective over the one he loves, even though he knows that Barbatos has a right to defend his nation himself just as much as anyone else has.

After a pause, Morax shakes his head. “No, though I find it odd to see you sitting so silently on your own.”

The omega hums. “I’ve just been thinking.”

Another pause, in which the alpha twitches. “Did someone hurt you?”

A small smile from the wind god. “Your alpha is showing. You can’t protect me like I’m your mate, you know.”

“I know. But I care for your well-being. This is how many alphas show it. Do you find it distasteful?”

Barbatos shakes his head, expression softening to something less forced. “I… care for you too, Morax. And no, I don’t necessarily find it distasteful. Though it does make me think. You don’t hide all of your alpha tendencies. Why is that?”

“Our tendencies ingrained in our secondary genders are not bad. There is no reason to hide them. One simply cannot lose control of them, let them get in the way of one’s rationale, or let them become extreme,” Morax says steadily.

“Even if you’re an omega?” Barbatos balls his fists. “When your tendencies make you unfit to lead or protect your people? Or when your tendencies make you weak and subservient? How could an omega survive as a god, if they were to allow themselves to be an omega?”

Slowly, the older god sits beside the omega. “I think your instincts as an omega have made you the god that you are. Not a warrior, perhaps, but a god who nurtures and protects his people as if they were his very own children. You’ve never directly led your people regardless. Your people admire you, not for your leadership and assertiveness, but for your kindness and wisdom. And to me, those are the traits of an omega.”

The unexpected kindness in the alpha’s words makes Barbatos’ throat close up. He wants to snuggle up to Morax and purr. Instead, he wrings his hands together. “What about submission? What kind of god would I be if I submitted to other gods’ wills?”

Morax hums. “I suppose that could become problematic. But you’ve never seemed like a very submissive omega to me.”

Barbatos swallows thickly. “You don’t… know, Morax.” There’s a long pause. “Were you around when it was normal for omegas to be raped?”

He can see the way the older god blinks in shock. “…yes. I was not as familiar with humanity or their customs at the time, however, so I could not tell you what it was like. Though, it was commonplace in certain small communities until several centuries ago, when I began to rule over the majority of Liyue. What is this about?”

The omega rubs his hands over his face. “If it was common, most alphas did it, so do most alphas still think about it? Kind of want to do it?”

“Of course not,” Morax says, brow furrowing. “Most alphas appreciate omegas for their kind nature, not want to hurt them. We look down on alphas who wish to exert power over omegas in such a pathetic way. Barbatos, why do you ask this?”

“If that’s true, why does every alpha I fight talk to me like I’m…” Barbatos trails off, wrapping his arms around himself and intentionally not meeting the other’s eye.

There’s a shift on the bed. “Barbatos, tell me what happened.”

Morax’s tone is a bit lower. It’s not an order by any means, but he can tell that the alpha is very serious.

“Nothing really happened,” he sighs. “It’s the same every time with those alpha gods. Omega bitch, or maybe stupid cunt or omega whore. It’s fine, I don’t care what they think, I was just wondering why so many of them are so sick.”

“You… never told me.”

Barbatos raises an eyebrow. “Really? I thought it was kind of a given with an omega fighting alphas. Besides, it’s not like I have a right to complain. They’re the ones who are dead.”

Morax purses his lips. He seems to be holding something back, but doesn’t speak.

There’s a long silence. When Barbatos opens his mouth, it’s very dry, and his eyes go glassy and blank. “This time… one of the tried to rape me.”

The alpha’s head snaps in his direction.

The omega begins to wipe at his eyes, as if to prevent the tears that so clearly want to fall. “Tried might even be too strong of a word. He threatened to rape me and touched my waist or something. It was barely anything.”

He sits back, letting out a shuddering breath and shaking his head, as if it might prevent him from breaking down. His voice becomes thick with apprehension.

“It—it was barely anything. I was much stronger than him. But… I still feel so afraid.”

Morax pulls him in for a hug, and Barbatos hides his tears and sobs in his chest. He clutches the smaller god by the back of his head to keep him close, and he can feel the way the god trembles under his hands. Morax has never seen the other so viscerally distraught, and it shakes him.

“I just keep imagining it. Trying to stop him, trying to get him off… I don’t think I could live with my body anymore if he forced himself inside of me. Or if he claimed me, forced—forced me to have his pups…”

The omega breaks off, and Morax suddenly finds himself swallowing down a mouthful of bile. It was always difficult to imagine exactly how omegas felt and worked, but now the fear ingrained in Barbatos is obvious. He begins to feel it like Barbatos does—shaky, afraid, disgusted, horrified. How could someone try to do that to an omega?

“I think I know what you would say, that I shouldn’t think about those things. You’re right, because it would never have gotten to that point. I don’t know why I’m so upset.” Barbatos shakes his head and tries to pull back, but the other keeps holding onto him tight.

Normally, he would be right. Morax would try to approach the distress from a logical standpoint. Yet—and maybe it’s due to his increasingly close connection to the omega—he doesn’t feel the urge to do that. He, too, begins to see images of the worst outcomes. He too feels something deeply instinctual and upset.

Morax tries to set his feelings and even his logic aside, and instead think of his experience. “I have seen the different ways omegas have been abused over the millennia. There was indeed good, but the bad was far too common. Perhaps these fears are ingrained in you, and for good reason. They exist to protect you. It wouldn’t be fair to chastise yourself for them.”

“I… I suppose.”

“Even I experience them,” he admits slowly. “I… fear for you and feel protective over you.”

The significance of his words hadn’t hit him until Barbatos is looking up at him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. Then he closes his eyes for a short moment and lets his head relax. “I fear for you often too.” Barbatos kisses the corner of his lips. “I hope you don’t mind an omega feeling a bit protective over you.”

Someone feeling protective over him makes Morax pause, and his stomach does a flip. How long has it been since he’s experienced such a thing? “Certainly not. That would be rather biased of me.”

A small smile crosses his face. “Thanks for listening to me. I… felt like I could only come to you about this.” He sighs, looking away. “My human companions see me as too strong to fall to my omega whims. And the immortals would see this as confirmation that I’m too weak to look over a nation on my own. But you… ha, well, you’ve seen me beg for your knot, but you’ve never doubted my abilities.”

Morax felt himself want to smile, too. “Well, I would say you have a similar view of me at this point.”

His smile turns into a little smirk. “Indeed. And I like seeing you lose your composure for once during a rut. It’s cute.”

“Barbatos,” the alpha scolds, and the omega giggles and nuzzles under his chin playfully. Then he pulls back, expression softening. “It’s good to hear that, but you mustn’t tease.”

In hindsight, Morax doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he just kisses the omega. It’s quick and familiar, like a couple, though again when he thinks about it, their relationship hasn’t been clearly defined (and maybe Barbatos doesn’t think about that fact much, but it is starting to bother Morax).

Indeed, the omega looks a little surprised when he pulls away, and Morax feels strangely embarrassed. Was that not within the strange definitions of their relationship? Should he have asked, even though Barbatos often gave him a peck in other places without needing to?

The omega’s scent melts into something sweet. “You’re dangerous, Morax,” he practically whispers, almost to himself, eyes drifting off somewhere distant. “Other alphas give me the instinct to submit, but you make me want to. But I shouldn’t want that, should I?”

For some reason, the alpha in him surges almost blindingly. Morax wants to prove to Barbatos just how worthy he is of the omega’s submission. He wants his omega to let down his guard, feel safe enough to submit around him without thought.

He curls his fists, trying hard to contain the alpha within him. Barbatos looks at him innocently, no clue of what he’s doing to the other god.

“I can’t say what you should or shouldn’t want,” Morax finally gets out. Forces himself to say.

“Yes.” The omega chews his lip for a long moment. “I… suppose I’ll have to decide for myself.” He looks up at the other, making himself a little smaller, something Morax hasn’t seen him do before. However, it seems to give Barbatos great relief in doing it. It’s a slightly submissive, nonthreatening posture. “For now… Will you scent me? I still smell that awful god on me. I'd prefer to smell of you.”

While Morax’s heart aches in concern, the alpha in him selfishly preens. Lowly, scum alpha gods can try all they please, but it is only him who earns the omega’s precious trust. In the end, it is Morax who Barbatos will smell of. 

Biologically speaking, trust is what alphas chase the most. Trust is what will earn then an omega’s precious devotion, and a litter of pups if one was lucky.

He shakes the thoughts from his head, scolding the alpha in him. Morax takes Barbatos’s offered hand, gently turning his wrist up and scenting him, precise and respectful. If he is to earn more places to scent, he must do this. It’s a formal process, but one he can sense the omega wants right now.

Barbatos considers him, eyes going half-lidded. Then he leans back, pulling down the neck of his top to bare his skin. The alpha moves in close, lapping at his scent gland. That gross alpha’s faint mousy scent is gone in one stroke, but he keeps going, if only because Barbatos runs his fingers through his hair and tugs him closer, encouraging.

The omega finally lets him go with a breathy whine, falling back onto the bed and spreading his legs. The scent of slick fills the air, and Morax just looks down at him, shocked. He’s never acted in such a way, at least outside of a heat. Barbatos looks completely submissive.

Clarity comes back into those blue-green eyes, and Barbatos quickly gets to his feet, hugging himself. Blinking back tears of humiliation and confusion, he steps back toward the window. “I—I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Barbatos—“

There’s something akin to self-hatred in the omega’s eyes as he flees out the window.

~~~

Perhaps his relationship with Barbatos was a mistake, because Morax feels like he’s on the edge of a full-on frenzy.

Marking Barbatos—staking his claim over him—would undermine the order of the archons. He knows that. But he also knows that no alpha would dare mess with the omega, knowing that he belongs to another—much stronger— alpha.

Morax tries to redirect his thoughts every time they slip up. Yet his inner alpha is raging, knowing that he could be protecting his omega from such filth. It feels like he’s failing as an alpha on a fundamental level. He’s not your omega, he tries to tell himself. He’s not your mate. You’re not a failure.

But Barbatos is the omega he loves. Barbatos is the omega who makes his heart ache strangely in his chest, and he is the omega who Morax wishes to shower with affection every day. A mischievous nuisance, too, but a beloved one. 

Throwing mountains had become a release for Morax. After he lashed out at some of his adepti, he knew that he needed a new way to cope with the buildup of aggression that comes with war.

There’s violence, far too much violence. It made Morax feel like the alpha in him was growing too strong, feeding off of the fact that he was responsible for protecting an entire nation. The trouble was, after snarling and snapping and brutally ending other alpha gods, Morax had to return to his people and be a level-headed, reasonable leader. Normally, that was not an issue. In fact, Morax would usually describe himself as incredibly level-headed and reasonable; it came to him naturally. He was always a proper, traditional alpha leader in that way.

But for some reason, he began to come into discussions with his adepti with anger. It was as if the violence had triggered something more feral in him, that wanted to dominate others completely. It was not patient, it was not reasonable. It wished to assert Morax as the most powerful in the room.

And when he lashed out, even the alphas gave him space, averted their gazes, and gave into his will. The feral alpha in him felt pleased about that. 

Until, the only omega in the area reacted. Ganyu.

She cowered immediately, apologizing with tears in her eyes. Her hands trembled.

It was like a bucket of cold water.

Omegas. It was fascinating how no alpha could break him out of a violent haze, just an omega. They had this way about them—a gentleness—that kept the alphas around them in check. An alpha could boast and display their strength and act tough, but under the scrutiny of an omega, it suddenly all seemed foolish. 

Morax apologized immediately and excused himself. He took some time to reflect upon why his outburst happened, and how he could prevent it. It was easier said than done. With the war going on, he couldn’t simply stop fighting in order to maintain his wits.

Cloud Retainer stopped by to talk about it, or more accurately, scold him for scaring Ganyu and the others. Morax couldn’t disagree. When things were calmer, he visited Ganyu personally to apologize again, and spent the day with her. Luckily, by the end of it, she seemed to be relaxed in his presence yet again. But what if one day, he does something that makes her fear him forever?

That’s when it clicked. This increasingly feral part of him was fed by fear. Fear from his opponents in battle wasn’t enough, it wanted the fear of his allies. And a proper, strong alpha, Morax had always believed, thrived off of the respect of others around them, not fear.

Fear was for weak alphas. For alphas who thought raping omegas into carrying their children was the best way for their society to run, rather than earning an omega’s devotion and loyalty.

Something had to be done.

Luckily, an opportunity presented itself in the form of Barbatos.

Barbatos was always a wash of cool air over his pent-up frustrations. Even when the omega intentionally tried to bother him, he could not find it within himself to be genuinely angry. Something about his scent, his friendliness, his genuine care… Morax never felt like a feral alpha in his presence, even after a battle. Omegas were generally a disarming and calming presence, but Barbatos even more than others.

So when Barbatos began his heat and looked to his old friend for help, it seemed like a good idea.

In his fantasies, Morax imagined himself devouring Barbatos and pumping his small, willing form full of cum (though he always felt a bit guilty about them, debasing his friend and such). But when the time actually arrived, he found himself wanting to be so gentle, and treat the wind god with reverence. All it took was a few words from the omega: “be gentle with me, won’t you? It’s my first time.”

After over an hour of fingering and rubbing Barbatos to orgasm, Morax finally pushed his cock inside the omega’s warm cunt. His hymen didn’t tear in spite of their size difference, with how well-prepared and wet the omega was. There was only a little pain on Barbatos’ face, and he only needed a few minutes of adjustment and a slow pace. When Morax came, he held his knot with one fist to ensure that it wouldn’t pop inside of the omega, determined not to make him tear or hurt that night.

Barbatos seemed quite pleased afterward, declaring that next time, the omega was going to attempt to take his knot.

The next time ended up being Morax’s rut, where Barbatos surprised him by getting on top and slowly sinking down on his knot before it could swell completely, then rolling his hips and coming as it expanded right against his g-spot. The omega ended up with several loads dripping down from between his shivering legs that day. He remained unaware that that result was one in which Morax restrained himself quite a bit. Regardless, Barbatos was proud of himself.

But when all was said and done, Morax isn’t sure if his decision to be with Barbatos was wise. Because hearing about all of the danger the omega was in already exacerbated his aggressive feelings, but hearing about an alpha threatening to rape him? It’s too much. Morax feels livid. He feels like a worthless alpha, but at the same time, his instinct to dominate is even worse. Everything in him screams to drop everything and protect Barbatos, take him and never let another soul touch him again.

It’s only a matter of time until he lashes out on his adepti or his people again.

~~~

Within a month, the archons gather again.

At one side of the table, Morax, Egeria, Ei, and the Pyro Archon talk. Barbatos doesn’t get why they talk business during what’s supposed to be a celebration, but perhaps in their own weird way, they enjoy it.

He refills Makoto’s glass as Rukkadevata tells them about the aranara’s antics, which always gets laughs out of the both of them.

“I don’t see how that is Liyue’s problem.”

Barbatos’ ear picks it up, especially how Morax sounds different than usual. His words are harsh, with a slight snap to them.

“The issue is mainly coming from—“

“You are implying that I lack the necessary security,” Morax growls. “That is enough.”

Suddenly, Barbatos feels weak. He watches as Egeria and Morax stare each other down, both bristling. But Egeria is a beta, so they’re all sure that she’s going to back down first. At least, until Ei, the alpha sister of an omega archon, grabs his arm. Morax’s eyes snap and narrow in her direction. Then he closes them for a moment, and briskly walks away. The tension that was between the three alphas and one beta permeates the air, even when he’s gone.

Makoto fans herself as Barbatos swallows thickly. It’s bizarre to see Morax act so angrily, though he knows why already. Morax has been struggling with alpha aggression with the Archon War going on. Still, it’s never gotten this bad.

In spite of himself, he’s wet. Though he’s concerned for his old friend, something deeper inside of him clenches. Barbatos wonders what it would be like to have that aggression directed at him. It should be a scary thought, but it isn’t. He’s faced a lot of angry alphas before, so maybe that’s why, but Morax isn’t like those alphas. Morax could win. Morax could beat him.

That’s right. If Morax were angry at him, he could do anything he wanted to the omega. Make Barbatos cower, make Barbatos submit to him, make Barbatos out to be nothing more than a stupid little omega. Morax could pin him down and fuck him, whether or not the omega wants it.

Why isn’t this scary? Just because I know Morax would never? Is that why I… why I like it?

Barbatos can feel his heart rattle in his chest. When Morax returns, apologizing to everyone, he balls his fists to distract from the heat in his face. 

He wants to submit. He… wants to be forced to submit. Maybe…

After too many drinks and too much teasing, Barbatos takes off into the sky. With a growl, Morax takes off after him (shirtless, of course, glistening abs and all. Because the wind god kind of wants to lick the sweat off of them like a damn dog. The fantasy has to be perfect).

He’s fast, but Morax is more persistent. His wings begin to ache, so even though his heart pounds in his chest, he slows down. That’s when he’s caught.

Barbatos finds himself barreling to the ground and landing painfully. “Get off, Morax! I was just joking!”

Morax growls, and a whimper escapes his lips. His shorts are soaked. A hand gropes his cunt roughly, making him thrash and grunt, but it feels so damn good. “Shut up,” that deep voice spits. “You’re just an omega. You had no right to do that. It’s time you were shown your place by a real alpha, Barbatos.”

“Wait!” The omega shrieks as his shorts are torn from his ass like tissue paper (another convenience of the fantasy). “I didn’t say you could do that! Stop it, get off of me!”

Suddenly Morax is mounting him and clenching his teeth threateningly around his nape. That’s all it takes for the great Anemo Archon to submit to the stronger subgender. He whimpers, makes himself small underneath the alpha, and begins to dribble slick onto the ground like some desperate omega whore. His cunt throbs painfully with arousal at the threat of being dominated completely.

And Morax takes him with no preamble. Barbatos cries out in pleasure as the alpha’s cock finds his drenched hole and thrusts inside, toes curling in the dirt. A hand shoves his face in the ground and Morax tells him to be quiet, but he can’t help the broken stream of whines and moans that come from his throat as the alpha uses him. He clenches down, feeling how much the thick cock stretches him out and reaches so deep.

“Wait, I could get—you might get me—what about pups-?” He slurs.

The thrusts grow faster, until Morax grabs his throat and squeezes. Without air, the pleasure and submission brings him to a whole new plane. The knot pushes inside of him and he comes, eyes rolling back and only managing a squeak due to the lack of air. He can feel Morax coming inside of him, too. It’s definitely going to get him pregnant.

When he’s allowed to breathe, he gasps. “You…” he croaks.

Morax grabs his hair and meets his eye. Barbatos swallows thickly, the resistance dying on his tongue. It’s like Morax knows, he knows the omega has no power to protest.

“‘M sorry, alpha…” he whines instead.

The alpha huffs, as if annoyed with how pathetic he is. “Know your place. Just because you’re an archon, doesn’t mean you aren’t an omega.”

Barbatos hiccups when the other slips out of him, cum spilling from his hole. He’s left there, panting as it slowly drips from him—

“Barbatos? Barbatos!”

“Huh?” The wind god blinks. Dammit. His shorts feel quite wet. Can anyone smell it? “Ah, what were you saying, Makoto?”

Makoto shoots him a knowing look. “Are you alright, Barbatos?”

“Oh, me? I’m perfectly fine!”

Barbatos tries to subtly wipe the sweat from his brow, tensing his shoulders as he tries to avoid the scrutiny of the other omega. 

“It’s alright, I understand,” Makoto whispers to the only other omega, smiling a little as the other archons continue on with their conversation. “It doesn’t make sense, but it can be a little… thrilling when your alpha gets aggressive. Sometimes it’s oddly attractive.”

“My alpha? Morax and I—“ Barbatos cuts himself off. “I suppose he’s sort of my alpha, but we aren’t mates…”

“But you’re committed to each other, yes? That was the impression I got.”

“I… we never really talked about it.” The truth is, Barbatos is indeed committed to Morax. But does the alpha feel the same way? “And I don’t think it’s attractive.”

“Perhaps you simply spilled something on your seat then?” Makoto chuckles.

The shorter omega’s face feels hot. “Makoto! How do you even know about these things? I thought you didn’t have an alpha!”

Another chuckle. “There’s things even Ei doesn’t know about me. You should check on Morax, though. You’re bound to calm him.”

“Pff. I’m pretty sure that I have the opposite effect on that old fool,” Barbatos scoffs, but gets up anyway.

Morax has been sitting by Ei, listening to Rukkadevata talk while remaining uncharacteristically quiet. It’s a bit more par for the course for Ei at least, though that may simply be because she’s never enjoyed Barbatos’ presence all too much. Morax, on the other hand, could talk endlessly on a good day.

“Ehe, don’t mind me!” Barbatos declares as he leans over the alpha’s shoulder, pouring a glass of wine for himself and promptly accidentally spilling some on the other’s lap in the process. He feels pleased when Morax’s eye twitches in annoyance, having gotten the attention he craves so dearly from the Geo Archon. “Oops! Let me just…”

He sends a gust of wind to clean the lap of the alpha, but ends up sending a napkin flying into his face. The Pyro Archon snorts, Rukkadevata’s mouth opens silently in surprise, and Ei looks quite disapproving.

Morax peels the napkin from his face as the omega cracks up laughing. “Barbatos, must you act like such a fool?”

Barbatos stiffens, quickly checking around for any flying rocks before relaxing and giggling again. That wouldn’t be quite the reaction he wanted, after all. “Oh come now, Morax, it was just a simple mistake!” He reaches out to blast the geo god with another gust of wind to dry the wine, making his hair a mess in the process.

Come on, old man. Lose your temper.

As the omega slaps a hand over his mouth to stifle all his giggles, Morax closes his eyes for a very long moment. 

“Lord Rukkadevata, will you excuse me for a moment? It seems I require a change of clothes,” the alpha says, voice low but deliberately calm. All the archons watch as he stands to leave. A rumble of geo remains in his wake, tripping up Barbatos to the point where his wings flail around in the air.

“Barbatos,” Rukkadevata chastises, “that wasn’t very nice. Why do you wish to make his life harder?”

“Our dear young omega simply wants attention from a handsome alpha,” Makoto says calmly.

“Perhaps a few centuries too old to behave in such a childish manner, regardless,” Ei says, just as calm as her twin but somehow more severe.

“That’s—none of that is true!” Barbatos huffs, feathers ruffled. “He’s just fun to play with!”

Despite his defenses, guilt crawls up his throat.

~~~

Barbatos hangs back after the other archons leave, gently tapping his old friend’s shoulder. “Morax?”

“Barbatos,” the alpha sighs. “I suggest you return to Mondstadt before I get cross with you.”

The omega shuffles over to plant his hands on the table, leaning over it from across Morax. “I’m sorry, okay? I know this whole war thing’s got you on edge, I didn’t mean to make it worse.”

“Oh? And what could you have possibly meant to achieve then?” The alpha crosses his arms.

He slowly sinks down to sit, a bit shamefully. “I thought you might have a better reaction, but alas, you’re as patient as ever.” The omega waves his hands. “I was getting ahead of myself. I don’t know why, but when you snapped at Egeria—“

Morax turns away slightly, frowning. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I apologize, Barbatos.”

“No, I wasn’t afraid,” the omega says. “I mean, not really. Don’t be sorry. Besides, if you wanted to hurt me, you’ve already had a million reasons and opportunities, hehe. You couldn’t scare me. That’s not what I meant.”

To his surprise, the alpha looks a bit relieved, before going straight back to annoyed. “Then enlighten me, will you?”

“Promise not to make fun of me first.”

“I cannot promise that.”

The omega sticks out his tongue. “That… occurrence may have made me feel a bit… excited. And I thought bothering you would lead to certain exciting things.” He purses his lips. “Regardless, do you think a song would make you consider forgiving me?”

“Wait.” Morax raises an eyebrow. “I do not understand your reasoning whatsoever. Don’t omegas simply feel afraid around aggressive alphas?”

Barbatos’ face goes visibly pink. “Most of the time, probably. But maybe not if the omega would enjoy that… particular alpha being aggressive with them.”

The alpha stares at him, confusion still on his features. Though this time, there’s a bit of a flush on his cheeks.

Blinking slowly, the omega studies him. Then he pushes himself up again and leans over the stone table, meeting the other’s eye. “The idea is kind of… hot, don’t you think?” He lowers his voice to something a bit more seductive. “Wouldn’t it be nice if you didn’t have to hold yourself back? Perhaps you might like to let go instead, get as angry with me as you like? Pinning me down, showing me who’s the alpha in the relationship?” The omega smiles a little. “I’m asking, genuinely. You can say no…”

Morax’s eyes are wide. “Showing you who the alpha is? Even if I get angry with you, I would never think about you or talk to you that way.”

“I know. You wouldn’t mean it. It would just be for fun. Acting on instinct, and all that.”

He looks incredulous. “Let us say, I would do that for fun. You would enjoy that?”

Barbatos looks around. “Can we go to your abode to talk about this?” He asks suddenly.

When they’re in Morax’s abode and settled in his home, the omega finds the bed and sits, hugging a pillow. It’s filled with the alpha’s scent, and the omega seems a bit more relaxed.

“Alphas generally have an instinct to dominate, and omegas generally have an instinct to submit, right?” Barbatos begins. “I know you said that I don’t seem to be the submissive type, but…” he lets out a breath, “I do feel the need to submit, you know. And if I were to submit to you, I’d feel alright about it. I know you’ve been holding back your instinct to dominate, too. So what’s stopping us from letting out the most extreme of our instincts on each other?”

The alpha is, for once, feeling rather speechless.

“Though, I suppose you were right about one thing… I’m not the most submissive omega out there. I want to fight you for it. Domination over me, I mean.” He smirks a little to himself. “You’d have to earn it.” Though Barbatos was not sure that Morax would be receptive to his idea, it seems that the way he phrased it made the alpha like it very much.

“Earning the right to dominate through battle,” Morax muses. “That sounds… exciting. But what if you were to be hurt? I thought battles were taking a toll on you and making you fearful?”

“They are. But I find the fear exciting too,” the omega smiles, sidling up to the alpha to grab his hands. “I’m quite durable though, as an archon. We heal very quickly. Maybe we can discuss limits to them though, because you are very strong. I’m not keen on getting my wings crushed by a boulder,” he chuckles.

“Well, I am certainly not keen on crushing your wings either. Yes, we should discuss things in depth. Perhaps a contract?”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes, Barbatos. It is the perfect way to enforce boundaries and ensure no one is hurt,” Morax says, squeezing his hands.

The omega makes a face. “Have you even made a sex contract before?”

“Sex?”

He stares at the alpha for a long moment, before beginning to giggle. “Yeah, sex! What, you didn’t think I wanted a big battle for dominance without sex at the end? That’s the fun part!”

A red tint washes over Morax’s face. “So crass. You want to fight me for dominance in battle, and…”

“And when you win, I want you to…” Barbatos looks away, clearing his throat. “If you’re receptive… take me while I fight you.” His face burns badly. “I-I mean, I just sort of like the idea of an alpha—well, not just an alpha, just you— taking me forcefully. I… I suppose it appeals to the omega in me. Being… being stronger than me and all that, I guess.”

The alpha blinks rapidly. “You want me to rape you?”

“Oh, dear no. It would be… acting, you know? I would only be pretending to not want it, and you would only be pretending to do it without my consent. I understand if you don’t want to, really!” The omega tugs on his braids. “I just have needs, you know, and I think you do too. Since we’re archons, I thought perhaps both of our instincts to submit and dominate wouldn’t be truly satisfied unless we were to do something… extreme.”

Morax pauses for a long moment. “You aren’t wrong about that. Though, I will have to think about it. I’m not sure if I’d enjoy having sex with you while you…”

Barbatos nods sagely. “I would never want you to force yourself to do something like that just for me. Only if you’d enjoy it. Just know, you wouldn’t be doing anything to hurt me. Don’t you dare tell anyone, but I simply… well, the idea of letting you take over completely… I like that. I like it when you’re rough and harsh, too. Or when you really make me feel like an omega. Don’t... judge me.”

The other looks away slightly, as if hiding a certain expression. “Hm. Well, let us try it. In small ways.”

~~~

Morax is conflicted at first. After they talk further and Barbatos flits off to fetch one thing or another, he can’t help but let his mind reel.

If he were to have such a fantasy, he would’ve repressed it, instead of expressing it outright like the omega did. Because wasn’t it wrong? Even to just think of such a thing? Regardless of what other gods say, Morax does not take pleasure in fighting and conflict, especially against the vulnerable.

Well, there is a massive difference between fantasizing about forcing Barbatos, and fantasizing about forcing Barbatos while he is allowing and enjoying it. But is it still wrong, just by association? To enjoy an imitation of the violence omegas endure? Would it be an accurate imitation at all? 

Barbatos is certainly fine with it, and he’s an omega. Nor is he a stranger to that violence. He is not as vulnerable as he appears either, though there are soft spots. If Barbatos is fine with it, can’t he at least allow himself to imagine it?

The omega under him, cowering. Morax could grab his chin and throat, make him take whatever he wanted to give.

Barbatos could try to fight, but they both knew who the strongest was. The thought made his inner Alpha purr. They both know who he belongs to. Who the Anemo Archon submits to.

The omega could only claw and gasp and moan under Morax, unable to slow the pace, unable to win the fight, unable to do anything but be Morax’s good, pliant little omega.

A slap, a release of tension, Barbatos taking it and taking pleasure in it. His perfect skin tinting red because of the alpha’s hand. A mess because of his alpha.

The thoughts rushed in the moment he allowed them to. Morax felt his heart racing. Once again, he felt the alpha in him claw at his chest, demanding to be let out. The hormones threatened to make his mind hazy. He couldn’t deny it. Fighting Barbatos would be thrilling. Pinning him down and fucking him once Morax beat him would be even more so. It satisfied something very deep inside of him.

Chapter Text

It takes many months of practice and discussion, all of which both archons try to hide how pent up they feel. When they do make plans, Morax tells others that he and Barbatos will be putting their battle training to the test in Huaguang Stone Forest so that they will be left alone, though there is a barrier just in case. Even the Adepti may not understand the extreme nature of the couple’s plans.

Barbatos is expecting himself to go into heat in the next couple days too, so the timing is perfect. To make things feel more real, they depart for the area separately, and the omega searches for Morax. Being part of the wind, he expects that soon Morax will be the only one doing the searching.

Yet, it’s him who is tackled to the ground out of the blue. He grabs the spear before it can touch his throat, grappling with Morax as the alpha uses his strength to try to break the omega’s hold.

“This is your last chance,” Morax says, almost stern. “I’m not going to hold back.”

Barbatos can see a strange look in his eye. Something new, something Morax has been desperately holding back. The hunger in his eyes makes him shiver too. He feels like prey already, and it feels good. Yet he steels himself. “Good. I’m not going to hold back either, old man.”

He kicks out his feet, letting out a blast of air powerful enough for Morax to become disoriented, and Barbatos slips right out from under him. Wings extending, he takes to the skies, loading his bow and dodging pillars as they begin to jut out from the earth, aimed to throw him back to the ground. It takes him a bit longer than usual to send out an arrow. When it does fly, he urges the wind to guide it toward Morax even as he moves out of the way, though it’s soon stopped by a shield.

Damn. I can’t break that. He’ll have to drop it if he wants to get close to me though.

Barbatos decides to land back on the ground, pressing his lips into a thin line. He keeps his distance, meeting Morax’s eyes as he quickly nocks an arrow. They’re both waiting, and finally, Morax moves. Barbatos expects it, and Morax knows he does, but there’s still so much strength behind the alpha’s strike that the younger god finds it difficult to dodge.

He swings away just in time to avoid the geo-infused spear, gathers his own Anemo and lands a swift kick to Morax’s shoulder. The older god grunts, having to take a split second to tear his spear from the ground. And the split second is all Barbatos needs to land a nasty anemo-infused kick to the side of his head. It throws Morax to the ground, disorienting him.

Floating above him, Barbatos places a foot on his throat and begins to press down, not too harshly at first. The alpha smirks, and it throws Barbatos off guard. He expected a stoic non-reaction, but instead he sees a feral gleam in Morax’s eyes. The glee of a good battle. Morax is letting the war-hungry alpha in him shine through, and despite being in a position of power, the omega can’t help but feel a bit intimidated. He certainly has never enjoyed a battle, but this alpha is energized by every second of it.

Submit, a voice inside him says. The alpha is more dominant and more powerful than you. You aren’t going to win this. He’s going to hurt you. Give in to what he wants.

Barbatos tells it to shut up, and digs his heel into Morax’s throat. Yet the alpha doesn’t lose that smirk, in fact, the arrogance of his expression somehow makes the omega feel like Morax is letting him do this, just for fun.

“You should concede,” the omega says with false pride, “while there’s still some left of you to do so.”

Then two somewhat humanoid hands grab his ankle and foot, claws digging in. They twist, making Barbatos cry out in pain. He panics, jerking to free himself, but it doesn’t work. Instead, he blasts Anemo in Morax’s face, enough to knock his jaw back, and flees the moment the alpha’s grip loosens. There, he stays in the air, panting and trying very hard not to clutch his poor ankle.

Morax rises back to his feet, eyes narrowing to two predatory slits. He still looks amused. “You should save your panic, Anemo god,” he rumbles. “For I have things far more difficult in store for you.”

The omega growls, though it’s softer than the growl on an alpha. Most omegas can’t make the noise. “Don’t condescend me, Rex Lapis. You underestimate me.”

Tilting his head, the alpha chuckles. “I wouldn’t dare do such a thing. Nay, if you were not such an admirable opponent, I would hardly get any enjoyment from our little battles. Nor would I find so much fun in breaking you down, bit by bit. We shall see what is under that feisty exterior of yours.”

Barbatos hates the word feisty, and Morax seems to know it. The word implies something inherently weak about him, and maybe if more gods simply knew him as strong rather than feisty, he wouldn’t get in so many fights in the first place. Yet the way Morax talks down to him just a little bit, like some stereotypical arrogant alpha, makes him just a little bit wet. Unlike the other alphas, Morax certainly has a reason to be arrogant, because despite seeing Barbatos as the strong archon that he is, he is still confident about his abilities to break him down.

It’s slowly dawning upon the omega, how feral Morax looks too. This whole exercise was made for both of them to let go, yes, but Barbatos is now aware of how much Morax has been holding back. Just as Morax seemed to struggle with imagining him holding back submission, Barbatos struggled to imagine him holding back such a dominant and battle-hungry side.

Overall, he feels… genuinely intimidated.

Not just a fleeting omega instinct around an alpha, this is something more substantial. Like Morax can and will break him down, if he doesn’t submit.

But he forces himself to do as he always does: bury the feeling deep down inside of him. “You call me an admirable opponent, yet you condescend me once again. It is of no matter, of course. I need no validation to win this fight.”

Morax’s nostrils flare, and the omega panics a bit. What does he smell? Heat, slick? I’m not that wet, am I? Can he read my instincts? All worries he’s had before of course, with other alpha opponents. It’s almost like Morax can read his mind, because that smile returns. “Apologies, Barbatos. I would never intend to be less than fair.”

Frustration rises up in his throat. Even the so-called show of respect feels like taunting. When Barbatos imagined their fight, he expected to do the taunting, since Morax was never one to do such a thing. But apparently, the alpha in him enjoys playing with his prey.

Perhaps the dynamic is better this way, because although Morax would never be taunted into striking by Barbatos due to his steadfast patience, Barbatos finds himself falling victim.

In a split second, Barbatos loads his bow and fires. It’s a singular arrow, but Morax still barely dodges it.

Ha. Caught off-guard, were we, Morax?

The next fire is three arrows, all at once. Morax plants his feet on the ground and raises the earth to block the attacks, rather than moving out of the way. Barbatos sends more and more in rapid succession, destroying the stone around them in explosions of Anemo, all while flying in the air as he fires so the alpha can’t expect where the next strike will come from.

When one pillar topples down, Barbatos has an idea. Quickly, he flies closer and lifts the pillar with his own Anemo; the weight so minor that he doesn’t even need his bow or lyre to do so. It surges toward Morax, and although he expects the older god to make it crumble, he instead stops it in the air, allowing his own Geo to grapple with Anemo.

Then a new pillar shoots out of nowhere, hitting Barbatos hard in the back. The omega is sent crashing into the nearby cliffside with a cry, the wind literally knocked out of him. He summons a barrier just in time to stop the stone spears that follow, clutching his sides and heaving in pain.

It will heal itself quickly, just like his ankle (which is already completely better), but the temporary wound is enough to give him a decent disadvantage. Barbatos can only dash away as his Anemo barrier is speared through, a grin spreading across his face in spite of his injury as he looks back to see Morax pursuing him. 

As the sky grows dark, it’s clear that neither of them can find an opportunity to land a final blow. And although Morax looks as steady as ever, Barbatos feels weary.

It’s not fair. The wind should be just as persistent as the earth, but the symptoms of his pre-heat seem to negate that fact. 

With every flighty movement, Barbatos tries to keep his composure just as confident and energized as before, but deep inside, he’s panicked. The omega can barely feel his limbs, and his head feels fuzzy.

Morax doesn’t even have a drop of sweat on him… do I? 

He’s not tired at all. I need a break. I need to get him looking for me.

Just as the Geo god raises his spear, Barbatos disappears into a puff of wind. He blows straight into the alpha’s face just to taunt him, before his breeze heads to the caves north of the area.

As his godly form appears again in a beam of light, Barbatos conjures a thick blanket, hoping to muffle the tremors his feet create when they touch the earth. After that, he creates a wind barrier with an illusion of an empty cave. All in all, the effort tires him out even more, but it’s worth the few hours of rest he might get. Hiding is his best bet for now. Morax will have to expend energy looking for him.

With a strong heave, the omega collapses onto the blanket, panting. He closes his eyes and sighs.

The god is able to lay there for an hour before something strange happens.

Barbatos opens his eyes slowly with a slight frown, bringing a hand to his forehead.

Hot.

Hot. He feels hot. His head feels even fuzzier, and his pussy is beginning to ache wantingly.

It’s true that he spent the entire hour replaying his battle with Morax in his head, mostly the parts where the alpha got the upper hand. Like how he threw Barbatos off of him like he weighed nothing, how he grabbed the omega by the arms and pinned him to the ground. Or maybe, what would come in the future. How Morax would overpower him, how Barbatos might finally find himself forced to give in.

I can’t believe I’m doing this…

It’s fine. It’ll be quick.

Barbatos slides his shorts to his ankles, and with a thick swallow, spreads his legs enough to accommodate his hand. A few strokes to his clit and his own fingers sliding into his warmth is enough for him to throw his head back and bite his lip.

Unfortunately, his mind drifts a bit to the idea of a litter of pups being put in him. When he first had sexual urges from heats, it was just a desperately horny feeling with no goal, but as he’s matured, he’s noticed how more and more he wants to be bred while in heat. Though Barbatos studied human anatomy and altered his form just a bit to prevent that from happening at such an inopportune time, the omega in him wanted it bad at times like these.

After a while, it becomes frustrating. His fingers aren’t enough to satisfy him and get in the way of properly rubbing his clit, but at the same time, he knows that he’ll ache even more if he doesn’t have something to fill him. That’s always the trouble with heats, needing something inside of him so badly…

The severe lack of Morax might have something to do with it too.

Barbatos searches for his scent on his clothes, but it’s weak. The slide of his fingers quickly grows unsatisfying, and he’s left to drop his hand with a long whine. 

He tries to sleep, but can’t find it due to the heat in his body. Overall, it’s a miserable few hours. 

The morning wind soon brushes against his sweaty temple and rouses him from his rest. Barbatos harnesses it to clean himself, dissolving any grime and hopefully, any signs of slick. It runs through his hair to tame the strands that stick out, along with washing away the sweat that began to bead at his temple from his ever-increasing heat.

It’s a wonder Morax hasn’t found me yet… he thinks as he cautiously steps out of the cave, dissolving the barrier of wind protecting him. Yet as he does so, chains of geo shoot out from seemingly nowhere, locking around his wrists and yanking him back with a violent pull. Barbatos lets out a yelp of surprise, then grunts as the stone encases his hands and tightens.

“I wondered how long you would cower,” a calm voice rings out as Morax steps out from where he stood, blending in annoyingly well amongst the rocks. “What kept you so busy, Barbatos?”

The smaller god tries not to scowl as he digs his feet into the ground, resisting the pull of the chains. “I wasn’t cowering,” he tries, his haughty tone falling rather flat. With his hands held forcefully in the air, he feels completely exposed. Especially with his clothing, his stomach completely bare.

Morax takes one stride forward, into Barbatos’ space. The god in chains never thought much of their size difference, especially since he was normally above Morax in the air, but now he hates that he has to crane his neck back in an almost submissive air just to look at the other. A strong hand snatches his jaw and yanks him even closer.

(And if Morax breaks the act just a bit with the small smile at Barbatos’ chubby cheeks squished up in his hand, neither of them comment on it. Barbatos already complains so much when he gives into the obvious temptation and pinches them.)

Then he leans in and gives a sniff. His hot breath hits Barbatos’ scent gland, and the omega’s whole body shivers.

“You’re going to start your heat soon.”

“And?” The omega huffs out, just as the dizzying urge to submit runs through him. His knees almost give out. “I… I am an archon, so I will defend myself regardless.” It takes all his effort to spit the words out, but they’re rather weak. They’re slow and a bit raspy. His wings tremble slightly.

“And…” Morax hums. “And, I could claim you right now.”

Even though they’ve planned this turn of events, Barbatos still feels himself get lightheaded. He’s so hot all of the sudden, and so wet. Vaguely, he feels a burn of humiliation at that. 

The alpha’s eyes dip down to his shorts, nostrils twitching. Barbatos knows instantly that he smells it too. When did he get such a keen nose? And suddenly, he regrets how small and tight his shorts are.

“Hmm. Is the Anemo archon truly so easy?” Morax asks, disdain in his tone.

“Has Rex Lapis stooped to such tactics?” The omega says, forcing his voice to not shake. “Forcing himself on omegas?”

“Is that what you are now?” The alpha replies quickly. “A helpless omega, rather than an equal in battle? Besides, don’t you seem rather eager for it?”

“I’m not,” he spits back. “I’m not eager for it. All I mean is that why would the mighty and strong Morax need to claim me to win a battle? Is it not the most lazy and dishonorable way to win, to take advantage of what I cannot control—my biology—rather than having a battle of true strength and will?”

“I have caught you regardless, have I not?” Morax says, finally letting his eyes drop to Barbatos’ body. “You are trapped; you have been beaten. Claiming you would be no different than running you through with my spear.” He lifts his gaze. “Would you prefer that option instead?”

Barbatos’ body relaxes slightly, and he smiles, then winks. “You haven’t beaten me yet, Morax.”

The chains snap in tandem, and suddenly Morax is thrown back by a powerful torrent of wind.

Barbatos quickly realizes that it isn’t only him who is slipping. Their battle goes back and forth, constantly threatening to break him down in a mess of exhaustion and hormones. Morax, on the other hand, looks completely energized with every strike. The omega always knew that alphas have fighting instincts, but seeing how strong it could be was something else entirely.

Morax is catching up with him. Barbatos dodges through rocks and small holes and up in the sky so he can lose the alpha and prepare another strike. Yet he can feel the alpha getting closer and closer each time. He reacts when he feels Morax right behind him, whipping around to hold out his bow in a desperate attempt to stop the blow of the other’s spear.

Their weapons connect with a clang, Morax’s spear digging into the metal of Barbatos’ bow. The omega grunts and wills his hands to hold on tight. Though as an archon, he never lacked in bodily strength compared to others, he quickly realizes that Morax is stronger. An archer, however strong, apparently could not compare to one who threw great columns of stones with his hands like javelins.

They meet eyes. Barbatos expects something calculated on his partner’s face, but then Morax laughs. The pure glee of battle is written all over his face.

The omega feels a pang of genuine fear run through him, followed by the warmth of arousal.

His hands slip. His bow goes flying, and he topples to the ground. Morax is above him, raising his spear to bring down into the other’s vulnerable chest.

Barbatos doesn’t know why he doesn’t move out of the way. Instead, he closes his eyes and whimpers.

There’s a heavy crack in his ears. The omega’s eyes blink open and land on the spear, buried into the earth beside him. He lets out a shuddering breath.

Of course. As they discussed in this scenario, neither of them were to brutally maim the other in such a way. That was the obvious, really, but Morax was determined to be thorough. And it’s clear that Morax is still in control of himself. Did he really doubt that, even for a moment?

They meet eyes again. There’s hesitancy and concern in the alpha’s eyes, almost like he regrets ever letting go. And no, that’s not what Barbatos wants at all. He wants Morax to let go as much as him.

Even the fear was strangely… exciting.

Perhaps there’s something wrong with him. Because he wants to keep pushing. He wants to keep pushing until he breaks.

“Barbatos…” Morax murmurs. “You…” he pauses, as if pulling his jumbled thoughts together, “you don’t wish for a Cecelia?”

Ah, their little phrase. You don’t wish to use the safe word? A way to clearly check if the other is okay. Though Morax came up with it, Barbatos found it rather fun. Besides, he thought that he may be the one checking if the alpha was okay more often, rather than the other way around. Maybe not.

“No,” he says quickly. “No, I don’t. I want to keep going. I’m not ready to lose just yet. I’m sorry, I just… I was very immersed.”

Morax considers him for a moment. Another part of their discussion before they began this. Barbatos gave quite a lot of power to the alpha, since the latter was concerned that perhaps he would freeze up when treated so roughly, failing to say the safeword but not wanting it to continue nonetheless. In those cases, it was up to Morax to know the omega well enough to sense if something like that began to happen.

“I’m okay,” the omega says again, more steady. “I appreciate the breather, but I’m okay now.”

“In that case,” he says slowly, “it seems that my hand has failed me in delivering the winning blow. Perhaps you should flee before I right my grip.”

Barbatos grins. “Perhaps I should.”

He pushes himself up and darts back into the sky.

~~~

This time, fighting is hard. No longer is each dodge playful, instead, it’s almost desperate. Barbatos has fought for long periods of time before, but he’s never fought Morax for long periods of time before. That seems to make the difference.

Though he lands hits here and there, it’s like Morax doesn’t even feel them. Even when Barbatos accidentally lands a gash on his arm, the alpha doesn’t so much as wince. He’s zoned in on one task: winning the battle by beating Barbatos.

It doesn’t help that the heat is weakening his body. The omega knows that in a matter of hours, he will be in a full blown heat. His mind is a scrambled mess, and all he wants to do is curl up somewhere safe to nest. In fact, whenever he has a moment to think about nesting, he feels hormonal tears prick in his eyes. Yet he keeps going anyway, desperately chasing that breaking point with Morax. Perhaps he’s insane for doing so, but he knows that he won’t be satisfied unless he gives it his all.

Barbatos knocks the alpha back with a powerful vortex of wind, enough to drag even the earth itself backwards. Morax digs his spear into the ground to hold onto, but Barbatos knows that he’s slipping. The omega steps forward, unaffected by the pull of the wind other than the way it whips his braids back and forth.

He puts a hand over the one Morax uses to hold onto his spear. Then he pries one finger back with a forced but playful grin. “Watch out, Morax. Your hand might slip,” he purrs.

Morax’s eyes narrow, but Barbatos suddenly is fixated on both of their hands. The alpha’s are so much bigger.

It would be easy for him. Easy for Morax to grab his hips, grab his throat, throw him to the ground, force him to take a thorough breeding. Claim him, turn him from a powerful god to just a womb to cultivate his pups with one bite. It’s unfair how easy it would be for him, so easy that it makes Barbatos’ thighs tremble a bit.

Why is he fighting? He’s so hot all over, and Morax could fix the painful ache between his legs. Why does he bother with so much work and so much thinking, when it would be so much better to just be owned by an alpha? His body is screaming for an alpha’s cock, for an alpha’s cum inside, to please an alpha. Certainly he’s not the most traditional omega, but he could still be a good little omega for Morax, couldn’t he? Barbatos could be so obedient and please him so well, if Morax claimed him. And perhaps all this fighting could end, if he just spread his legs for the alpha. Oh, he wants so badly to spread his legs for him.

Thickly, Barbatos swallows his own saliva. His hips twitch and he clenches around nothing. Would Morax mind it if he began to rub his pussy to satiate his needs, just a little? Would it tempt him into fucking him?

He looks the alpha in the eyes, and sees how dilated his pupils are. Oh dear, Morax certainly smells his arousal now.

The alpha stands, and belatedly, Barbatos realizes that his wind vortex has dissipated. Reality hits him like a bucket of cold water. What the hell was he just thinking? Being claimed, being owned?

He stumbles back as Morax pulls his spear from the ground. His eyes widen in fear, because he still feels so weak and hot.

Sure, Barbatos has had strong thoughts about being dominated by alphas before, but nothing like this. Nothing where it takes over his mind like a haze, where all of his reasoning disappears completely, even for a short moment. It’s scary.

(And yet it’s good, to know that he’s breaking.)

Morax looks amused as he takes another step forward. “You thought you were different, didn’t you, Barbatos? That you would never fall victim to your biology, that you could overcome your nature as an omega.”

Barbatos opens and closes his mouth. His back hits a rock, and the alpha doesn’t hesitate to cram into his space.

“You were wrong,” the alpha says softly in his ear. “This is what you were made for, Lord Barbatos.”

A knee wedges between his legs, rubbing pleasurably against his clothed pussy. The omega lets out a squeak of surprise, mouth falling open. He’s too shocked to speak.

Barbatos blinks rapidly.

I am. I am. I just want to please you.

He squeezes his eyes shut.

N… no. I’m… Mondstadt’s archon. I can’t go down like this.

The omega fixes his expression to something cold. “Don’t touch me,” he spits, hands shooting to the alpha’s knee to push it away.

But Morax doesn’t move his knee, or suddenly realize how badly he’s acting. His eyes stay fixed on the omega, whose heart races like a trapped rabbit’s. “You have no authority to tell me what to do, Barbatos. If you did, you would be able to stop me yourself.”

The alpha reaches forward and gropes his chest with an expression of nonchalance, as if to say I’m doing this because I can, and there’s nothing you can do about it. The omega feels his back arch even as he scowls, because by the gods, he’s so fucking wet. And Morax groping him is so fucking hot. He wants to moan and pant and whine like an eager slut, but he doesn’t. If only because he promised himself that he would fight until he couldn’t.

Barbatos gathers Anemo in his hands, though it’s not as easy as it was before. It’s a split second slow enough that Morax raises his hand in time to prevent himself from a nasty blow, but he’s still able to shoot into the air. “I can still stop you,” he snaps, wings flapping. “See?”

But the alpha has a point. Next time, he won’t be able to stop it.

He won’t be able to win this fight.

And when Morax does win, what will he do?

I never thought Morax would force me, but now…?

Barbatos does the only thing he can do anymore: flee.

~~~

The omega god lasted one more night, somehow. He used his remaining couple hours of clarity to find somewhere to hide, up in a large hidden tree. With an illusion barrier, he was sure that he wouldn’t be found for a little bit. His only plan was to keep moving during his heat, even though he knew that deep down, it was impossible.

Barbatos nearly cried when he settled down in the branches of the tree. He wanted his nest. He needed safety and comfort to ride out his heat. Not having any of it made him constantly on edge and close to tears.

He can’t sleep, though he tries for a short while. Eventually he forced himself to get up to move, even though it’s fucking agony.

Don’t leave, nest! Get safe! Find your alpha! 

Every trudge through the grass is painful. Barbatos clutches his abdomen with a grimace, panting as if walking was enough to wind him. The loneliness and fear eats away at him with every step, too. It’s all wrong.

Useless omega. Can’t find a nest, can’t please an alpha, can’t stop having pointless fights. 

He wants to scream. He wants to fall to his knees and finally beg for any alpha to take him, then scream guess what, I was wrong! This is all I’m fucking good for, all of you were right!

Maybe I’m a useless omega, a broken omega.

What kind of alpha would really want him, anyway? Immune to practically every command, more powerful than almost any alpha? Wouldn’t he look pathetic, yearning and begging to be cared for anyway? And wouldn’t he look pathetic, barely able to make a decent nest because he’s never had a safe place to? Barely able—barely allowed to be an omega at all? Who would want that? Who would want him?

Barbatos falls to his knees and can’t stop the tears that fall. Yes, it’s pathetic. Because he’s crying because his pussy aches for touch so badly, and he needs a fucking alpha so badly, but he can’t have any of it. He’s stuck in a perpetual fight where he’s forced to act like an alpha instead of having the heat that his body so desperately needs to have. He’s pushing his body to the absolute limits of what an omega can stand and he hates it.

Almost at…

Wait, what’s he doing? Barbatos can’t quite remember why he’s walking. He just feels so hot.

Almost there, so I can…

So I can…

He wipes at his tears and stands on shaking legs. 

Almost there, so I can get safe…

An alpha’s scent on the wind.

Barbatos stiffens, a little waft of clarity hitting him. Oh right, Morax. An alpha is chasing him. A dangerous alpha. He must be close.

Part of him wants to Present and beg for mercy, but even the heat in him questions this survival instinct. Instead, he pushes himself to move faster.

“You’re not going to get away, Barbatos.”

The omega in question whips around to see Morax, now simply standing behind him with his spear in hand.

He doesn’t argue this time. He runs.

And the alpha keeps up with him with just a swift walk.

Barbatos feels his foot catch something, and his heart freezes. He tumbles to the ground with a yelp, and knows he won’t have the strength to get up again. But he tries, gasping as he drags himself away, away—

A hand picks him up by the nape of his neck and tosses him back to the ground, on his side. Barbatos looks up at Morax with wild eyes, only to see that the alpha’s are just as wild. Morax looks like he’s going to eat him. And he’s so fucking wet, in spite of himself.

“No!” He cries as Morax gets down and pins him, claws tearing holes into his clothes. “No, you can’t do this! I’m—I’m an archon too!”

“You’re an omega,” the alpha spits, drinking in his scent with every heaving breath, face flushed and intoxicated by the smell, “and I’m going to fuck you like one. You don’t have a say in it.”

(Fuck fuck fuck. Morax has never sworn like that. Barbatos feels like he’s going insane.)

“No you won’t,” he wails, anger quickly dissipating into fear. “No, no, I do have a say in it, I’ll stop you!”

The alpha leans back slightly, though it looks like it takes him great restraint to do so. At the same time, he doesn’t stop with Barbatos’ clothes. The omega’s sleeves are torn to shreds, and his hood is ripped violently away. “Fine. Stop me, Barbatos.”

And Barbatos can do nothing. He can’t move. He lays there, panting and shaking his head, scrunching up his face. He can’t do it. He’s too weak. His body tells him to just finally submit.

His top is torn apart, exposing his chest, puffy due to his heat. Then Morax removes his thigh-highs, and without any ceremony, his shorts. He’s completely naked. He doesn’t have to be in order for Morax to fuck him, but maybe that’s the point. To humiliate him.

Barbatos cries out again, bringing up his legs to try to cover his wet pussy. They wrestle for a moment, but the alpha quickly wins. He wrenches the omega’s legs apart, while his hands weakly beat on Morax’s own like a petulant child. The scent of his slick and arousal is obvious, and it keeps the other going. It’s obvious that Morax’s mind is on one track and one goal: to fuck him, and his protests are barely an obstacle from that goal.

“No,” he cries. “Don’t, don’t—I’m begging, okay? Please don’t-!”

But it’s background noise to Morax, whose eyes don’t move from his pussy. He licks his lips and brings one hand down, parting the plush lips of the omega's cunt. Then he thumbs at the folds, and the omega’s whole body trembles in anticipation.

“Alpha—“ Barbatos suddenly clamps his mouth shut, genuinely shocked to hear the word spill from his mouth without a thought.

“Alpha?” Morax questions, roughly flipping the omega onto his belly by the hold he has on his thighs. Belatedly, the omega screams again and tries to scramble away as his hips are pulled into the air, cunt exposed again. Just as Barbatos turns around to protest some more, the alpha slaps him across the face.

Fuck.

He goes limp and whimpers, feeling his cunt twitch, slick building up so much that he drips humiliatingly onto Morax’s lap. But he can’t help it. His body acts to appease the alpha. And he feels suddenly and strangely ashamed for resisting Alpha.

“You’re pathetic. Weak,” Morax spits, throwing one thigh over his shoulder while shoving the omega’s face into the ground with the other hand. He bites down hard on his inner thigh, making the omega wail. “All this talk of being as strong as any alpha, being able to push through it… disappointing. Even after I avoided using my biology to my advantage, even though I respected your abilities… you’re still weak. You still submit to me, in the end.”

Another bite to his thigh, then fingers plunge into his cunt. Barbatos lets out a choked sob as the alpha fucks into him like a sleeve or a toy. Fuck me, please fuck me is all he can think, but he tries to babble something out. “‘M—‘m not, if I wasn’t—wasn’t in heat—“

Morax ignores him. “Why should I have leveled things out? This is the natural order of things, isn’t it, Barbatos? I am naturally stronger, and you are naturally subservient to me. Why fight it?”

“I won’t—“ the omega shakes his head rapidly, as if to shake out the thoughts of yes that’s how it should be, let me submit to you, Alpha. “Won’t submit—“

Suddenly, the fingers withdraw (somehow Morax had fit three, and his stupid cunt had taken them in greedily), Morax spits on his core, and then they’re replaced with a hot mouth. Barbatos feels himself go haywire, an unabashed moan leaving his lips as he kicks his legs and thrashes under the alpha.

Morax slaps him again, but this time it’s not enough to stop Barbatos from squirming. “Fuck!” He cries as a thick tongue runs over his throbbing folds, dives into his wanting hole, laps at his cunt like a damn animal. The alpha is only licking to prepare him, get him to open up for his cock and his knot. It’s working, too. The tension in his pelvis disappears, and he feels ready to take.

And then Barbatos seizes. Every lick hits his clit and labia, and he can’t take it, but it’ll be humiliating if he—

“No! No no no-!” The omega comes with a yowl, thrashing and clawing the ground. His scent fills the air, and the omega gives up on the delusion that he could hide the fact that he’s coming almost immediately from the assault. “Hate you, h-hate you-!”

Morax throws him back to the ground. “Omega whore,” he snaps right back, yanking his hips back into the air. Barbatos feels a shoe on his head, shoving his face into the grass as a knee presses hard into his calf. The position is fucking humiliating, and he’s never been so aroused in his life. A hand slaps his cunt and he sobs, already close again just from the degradation of it all. “You dare complain after such a ridiculous display? You deserve every moment of me violating your stupid holes.”

The omega can feel himself being mounted, the alpha’s fat cock pressing against his ass, and Morax fumbling to line it up with his pussy. He knows he’s about to slip beyond the point of no return, beyond being able to conjure any thought that’s not about pleasing his alpha. So he tries one last time, reaching into the depths of his chest and growls.

At that, the alpha pauses. Just by his scent, Barbatos knows that he’s pissed him off. Morax removes his foot from his head, only to lean in close. The omega feels hot breath against his scent gland.

Then Morax growls right back. It’s deeper and far more powerful than anything the omega can come up with. Barbatos feels a tremor run through his body, a fog over his mind, then a wave of submission. He whimpers, exposes his neck, and then he feels hot, like he can’t hold something back—

He lets out a long whimper as he wets himself. Though he’s vaguely heard of omegas wetting themselves in submission, he never thought that he would. His face burns in humiliation—completely genuine and shocked—and he can hear Morax huffing at how fucking pathetic he looks like this, on his knees and unable to control himself in the presence of the alpha on top of him. “Sorry,” he finds himself saying through the embarrassment of it all. “Sorry, sorry—“

And he slips.

Barbatos vaguely knows that he’s never slipped so deep into subspace, a mindset many omegas take when submitting so completely. His mind fills with the bliss of pleasing an alpha, and at the same time, a relief so overwhelming that his chest hurts badly.

Tears gather in his eyes and he’s crying, then he’s sobbing. So much time spent fighting it, so much time spent denying it, and now he’s finally here, finally allowed to submit, finally allowed to please Alpha like he was made to do. Morax’s cock feels so fucking good, being bent over feels so fucking good, and he’s sure that he could spend the rest of his life serving this alpha.

Barbatos weeps as Morax pulls back and picks him up, moving him a good distance from his own mess. Then he settles him on his back so he’s facing up. “Barbatos? Barbatos?”

The omega hiccups as the other cups his face. “Please. Please don’t stop,” he whispers into Morax’s palm.

(He sees the furrow in his alpha’s brow disappear a little bit, but he can tell that Morax was a bit rattled by his reaction. They knew what they were doing was extreme, so it’s only natural for both of them. Even though they’ve planned things, perhaps it was expected for one of them to hesitate. Vaguely, he wonders if it’s too much for the alpha, and if he’s going to stop or say the safeword. Barbatos knows he would be disappointed, but he wouldn’t fault him either. He wants Morax to enjoy just as much as him, so he can only hope that the reassurance is enough for the alpha to know that everything is okay.)

The alpha looks at him for a long moment, then curls his hand around Barbatos’ thin neck. “If you insist on crying so petulantly,” he growls, “I can easily give you something to really cry about, omega.”

Then Alpha squeezes down on his neck, and Barbatos’ mind goes blank in complete bliss, letting out some silly high-pitched noise. Held down, mind fuzzy and controlled, he feels strangely content. More relaxed than he’s felt in years, even. No say in anything that is about to happen, no reason to think, only his alpha and his own instincts as an omega.

He wheezes as Morax slams his head to the ground with the hold on his neck and begins to mount him. There’s a choked noise that might have been a no if Barbatos could talk, but he can’t. And his ankles that try to cover his pussy again are easily cast aside. His weight does nothing to resist the mating press he’s put into, and Morax’s cock sliding up against his vulva is far too pleasurable to resist. 

Barbatos is aching for it—no, he’s fucking dying for it. His slit is an open wound, and only Morax can staunch the blood flow. Because if Morax doesn’t brutally fuck him, he’s sure he’ll bleed out and die.

Alpha’s cock gets slippery quickly, but somehow it still catches on his hole. He can see how the older god huffs, too frantic to fuck him that he doesn’t even bother to use his hands to line up. The omega’s eyes fly open and alert, hands flying to Morax’s wrist, as if they can pry his hand off his neck. “No,” he wheezes, “no please—“

It’s so fucking big. Even when Alpha’s cockhead pushes past his very entrance, it takes some working of his hips to get his tight channel to accommodate his cock. No matter how many times he pushes into his omega, there’s always a bit of working and rolling of his hips needed before he could bottom out.

Oh. Oh god, oh god, it feels— Barbatos tries to voice the words, but instead, he can only let out a little squeal.

Morax squeezes harder on his neck, starting to really cut off the air. “Shut up,” he hisses in a way that’s so un-Morax-like. “Shut up and take it, like you’re made to do.”

His mouth falls open as he feels the alpha’s cock force his tight walls open over and over again. It’s enough to make his lower half practically seize, his legs scrambling for purchase somewhere.

His vision is spotty, and his lungs hurt a bit. Barbatos struggles, but even with every ounce of his energy and a breeze picking up, he can’t get away. He can twist and strain and kick, but regardless, the alpha still penetrates his very body. The thought creates a deep sense of satisfaction in his chest, and his body slowly relaxes under Morax’s grip. The broken, cut-off moans are something he can’t stop, not when every thrust is sending him to Celestia.

Wheezing, Barbatos first relaxes his back, no longer curled away and instead relaxing into the pinned position he’s in. Then his legs fall open, too tired from running and kicking uselessly. Even his hands and arms go slack, no longer clawing marks into the alpha’s hands around his neck. As Morax begins to pound into him faster, Barbatos finally lets his head fall back with a broken noise, too. Bright green-blue eyes go lidded as the omega meets his eyes, a string of drool running from the corner of his lips.

With his legs spread, his body is just taking, taking, taking.

Morax doesn’t avoid his gaze. Instead he leans down and presses their foreheads together, so close that his heavy pants could almost make up for Barbatos’ own lack of breath. And though the smaller god’s gaze is rather hazy in submission and lack of air, there’s something deep and unrelenting in it: complete trust. Barbatos’ eyes are filled with such a powerful look of complete trust and submission as their bodies rock that Morax feels his hips stutter, pausing in his desperate need to fuck the omega full of cum. And if he had to guess what sort of look he was giving the omega back, he’s sure it’s something more intimate than what fits with their fantasy.

Holding the omega’s thin neck in his hand is a strange sensation. For such a confident and powerful god, it feels rather fragile. Barbatos’ body as a whole is not all too big, especially pinned down on the earth rather than high in the air, the wind spreading his wings and robes. Yes, here, Morax feels like he could snap the god in half with two bare hands. Yet the omega is under him, surrendered in spite of both his power and fragility. 

It doesn’t make Morax want to destroy him, certainly not. It makes him proud of the state he’s reduced Barbatos to. His omega, in his proper place, completely dominated and submitted to his alpha’s power. It’s more fulfilling than any good battle, better than a room full of alphas going docile from his influence. Earning and besting an omega like Barbatos is all he really needed, and he’s drunk on it.

The omega’s pussy squeezes quite hard for someone who should be struggling to breathe. It prompts the alpha to start rolling his hips, not only to feel those pillowy walls massage his cock, but to watch Barbatos’s face break as the head of his cock strokes that sweet spot in firm, insistent circles. 

Finally, the omega's face goes a pale color and his head falls back, eyes fluttering. Morax gives one last squeeze around his neck, hard. And Barbatos’ back goes taught, his mouth flies open, his eyes go wide. The alpha feels him clamp down around his cock, then his walls trembling. The omega’s chest heaves to suck in little breaths that can’t come, and then it all crashes down. Morax can feel his orgasm crest too, how his pussy rhythmically squeezes around him, just as he releases Barbatos’ neck.

Gasping violently, the omega immediately lets out little high cries of pleasure in tandem to the waves of his orgasm and the alpha’s thrusts, milking his sweet spot. His chest heaves for air again, but he can’t seem to stop gasping and moaning, as if he can’t control it at all.

“Oh gods, oh g-gods—“ Barbatos gasps, throwing his head to the side, legs trembling around Morax’s shoulders. Then his mouth flies open in a silent yell as Morax’s knot expands, already deep inside him. His sensitive pussy feels overwhelmed by the pressure of it, and the alpha’s cum feels white-hot, pooling up against his cervix.

Vaguely, he feels something inside of him shift, opening up when the feeling of his alpha releasing his seed deep makes pleasant thoughts of pups spring into his heat-muddled head.

It takes a long time for the omega to come down from his orgasm, completely unable to resist in the meantime. But just as Morax rolls his hips again, instinctively working his seed in as deep as he can, Barbatos throws his hands to his chest.

“H-how could you?” He asks hoarsely, weakly shoving him before falling back. “You terrible—you terrible alpha, you knotted me. And you’re coming… coming ins—“

Morax gives a rough jab, and Barbatos’ hips jerk, legs struggling. Is that damn alpha trying to get into his womb? Because he can’t go any deeper, but he’s trying anyway.

The omega finds the room to place his feet on the grass, whining as he tests the give of the knot with a small grimace. 

Grabbing the other’s chin in one hand and pulling harshly, Morax lets out a noise of warning. “I wouldn’t dare, unless you want your cunt ruined.” He grabs the omega’s hips, forcing him up until his hole just begins to stretch around the knot. 

Barbatos hisses at the burn. “N-no! Not—not like that!”

“Yet you say you don’t want my knot, omega,” the alpha growls. “Beg for it.”

With an easy motion, Morax flips the omega so he’s facing the grass, chest pressed down but ass forced in the air. He idly rubs the other’s pussy, then uses the slick as lubricant to circle his asshole with one thumb.

Barbatos sucks in a trembling breath, twitching away. At first he shakes his head vehemently, but Morax pulls further and further out, until he feels his relaxed hymen burn. “W-wait! Okay, o-okay.”

“Yes?”

“I—I want your knot.” The omega’s lip trembles. “I mean—I mean, I want your knot, alpha.”

A finger idly slips into his ass, making the little god whimper and bite back a moan, all the while gritting his teeth in concealed anger at the treatment. “Tell me whose slut you are,” Morax demands lowly, leaning down to nip at his scent gland. It’s absolutely filthy, and that’s probably the point. “Keep going.”

“I’m your slut, alpha,” Barbatos says, pussy pulsing around his cock in arousal despite the fear and embarrassment he shows. “I’m just—just an omega. Made to serve you, alpha. Made to take your cock.”

Morax bucks his hips as best he can, forcing out a sharp moan from the omega. A second finger joins the other, crooking and sliding in and out. Barbatos feels far too exhausted to bite back his noises, unable to hide his pleasure. They’ve never tried it before, but the extreme sensitivity of his other hole makes every movement explode in his senses. It feels good, and he wants it deeper. The humiliation of being sprawled on the ground, worked up over a pair of fingers has the omega’s arousal spiking back up again rapidly.

“N-not again,” he squeaks as the alpha ruts deep. “Don’t fuck me again. Can’t go again, alpha…”

A large hard snatches his hair and yanks him up by it, making him yelp, hands uselessly grabbing at his assaulter. “You don’t have a say in it, omega.”

A wave of foggy submission hits him again. “Y-yes, alpha.”

Barbatos could only take it as Morax fucked him with his fingers, making him pant and squirm and moan. His pussy clenched painfully around the knot inside him, and the alpha would grunt and rut shallowly at the feeling.

“Dumb omega,” he murmurs, “you’ve acted so powerful, but look at you. Unable to control yourself when an alpha fills your holes.”

All the omega could think about was snatching Morax’s hand and shoving his fingers in as deep as they could go. Sweat gathered at his hairline from the heat in his body. In the haze of his mind, words echo in his head. “‘M a dumb omega,” he parrots, almost slurred, head lulling.

A tongue licks at the bleeding bite at the back of his neck, then sharp teeth threaten the soft skin of his shoulder instead. Barbatos kind of wants him to do it. Kind of wants Morax to bite him until no bit of shoulder or neck is unmarred. He kind of wants Morax to eat him. It would hurt, but right now, the pain is so fucking addicting.

“I’m going to ruin you for every other alpha,” Morax says against his shoulder. His voice has taken a similarly desperate and frenzied edge to Barbatos’ own, completely taken over. “No other alpha can make you feel like this. No other alpha can beat you in battle. No other alpha can reduce you to this. I took your first time. I make you come like this. You’re mine. I’ve shaped your virgin cunt to my cock. No one else can have you.”

A new wave of heat hits Barbatos as Morax’s fat knot digs into his g-spot as the alpha ruts against him. The fingers in his other hole reach deeper, and he can’t. The words are what get to him the most, though. Barbatos never expected him to mention his first time, how he let Morax take his virginity, knot him for the first time, let him do all these filthy things to him.

Morax… Morax is his alpha. He’s Morax’s omega. No other alpha could make him feel like this—feel like a real omega, he realizes. Vaguely, he feels the other firmly push his wings away, likely only because they’re twitching and jerking so much that they’re getting in the way.

“Yours… I’m—I’m—“

Then teeth dig into his shoulder, breaking skin. His pussy can’t take the rub of his knot either, and something—something is coming, he can’t hold it back—

Just as the omega tries to squeeze his legs shut, Morax yanks him up by the hold his teeth have in his shoulder, forcefully spreading his legs.

“Y-yours—‘m gonna—gonna—“ is all Barbatos can choke out before he comes, squirting all over the grass below.

He trembles with the force, at the shock of coming like that for the first time, and with how Morax keeps moving. His face burns, too, at the feeling of his release slowing to trickle down his thighs, then to soak the alpha’s balls and thighs, too. It’s a bit humiliating, making such a mess on the alpha forcing him, but he can’t stop it. The noises of him being shallowly fucked become so wet that he’s sure all of Liyue can hear.

“Tch,” Barbatos hears Morax grunt. He lets out a cry.

No one would ever believe that he was forced. Not when he’s soaking both of them, not when he’s submitting and coming more than he ever has. All from being Morax’s cocksleeve. Morax isn’t even touching his clit, or trying to make him come. He just can’t stop himself from orgasming around the alpha’s cock over and over again.

The alpha drags him back by his thighs and hair, then shoves his face down into his own release. Barbatos lets out a squeak, hands flying to intervene but ending up clawing at the ground uselessly. He’s pinned there, like a puppy being punished for its accident. He whines like one, too.

“Look at this,” the alpha growls, his voice and scent so overwhelming and dominating to Barbatos’ senses that he whimpers and tries to bare his neck submissively. “Look at your mess. Look at how your silly omega body responds to real strength. You want this.”

Morax’s knot is finally small enough to slip out of him, so he can start working his cock into the omega properly. Barbatos clenches and squeezes his thighs together, savoring how it increases the sensation and stimulates his clit.

“Don’t want it,” he says, all small and whiny and pathetic and omega-like. Then a wave of heat hits him. A trail of drool seeps from the corner or his lips. There’s nothing but his alpha. A hand raises, and he cowers, whimpers. “‘M—no, sorry, Alpha, want it Alpha.”

His alpha pulls his hair to turn his face, spits on him, then slaps him. And Barbatos submits, clenching in apology. It’s fucking perfect. He pushes back on Alpha’s cock, fucking himself the best he can with the heat and submission-induced weakness in his body.

Suddenly, Morax withdraws and the loss makes genuine tears prick in his eyes. Barbatos slowly crumples to the ground completely without the other holding him up, far too weak with such a powerful heat to do so himself. “Alpha,” he says in a slurred whine, fumbling to get on his back and spread his legs.

The alpha stands above him, then bends to snatch him by the hair again, right at the back of his neck to trigger even deeper submissive instincts. Barbatos goes limp for him, allowing himself to be yanked to his knees, facing Morax’s dripping cock. His lips part immediately, a bit of drool trailing from his pink tongue.

“Clean up your mess.”

The omega nods rapidly—at least, as much as he can. Morax drags his cock across the other’s face, smearing the omega’s own slick on his cheeks. He can’t resist the big doe eyes Barbatos gives him from his kneeling position, his gaze engulfed by a heavy, lustful dark blue. The omega’s face is dwarfed by his cock—truly, how did they ever make it fit?

Barbatos doesn’t move when his face is lightly slapped by his alpha’s cock. Instead he dives down, lapping all of his own release from the other’s balls. They still seem heavy with seed, something that makes him want to drain Alpha completely.

Slowly, he draws back, jaw protesting as he eagerly tries to take the tip and more in his mouth. The taste of his own slick and cum becomes even more prevalent, gathered by the head of his alpha’s cock. Barbatos sucks gently and swirls his tongue, but it’s not enough. It’s hard to take all that much more.

Morax must think the same thing, because he yanks the omega back and slaps him across the face. It stings bad, but Barbatos barely lets it break his concentration. Whimpering in apology, he takes the alpha’s cock again. He gets farther, but as eager as he is, he’s too hazy and dumb to push himself. 

Finally, the alpha takes his hair and pushes. Barbatos feels the tip of his cock try to enter his throat, pushing and pushing until it somehow pops through. A long moan rumbles against the other’s dick, followed by a little gag.

His throat must be irrevocably stretched by the time the omega feels his nose press harshly into Morax’s pelvis. The hold in his hair shifts, and slowly, he’s being pushed to the ground, the dick never leaving his throat. Heart racing, he looks up at the alpha kneeling above him, positioned to fuck his throat exactly like a cunt. He tries to shake his head, but it’s too late.

The feeling is a whole new level of submission. Barbatos sputters and gags at first as he’s pounded into, but then he finds how nice it is to empty his head. Imagining himself as just a warm hole to fuck makes it easier, even as tears and spit run down his face. Every thrust feels deeper and deeper, until he’s sure that Morax has reached his stomach somehow. A fist grabs hold on one braid, keeping him still.

Something prods at him, hard and laden with Geo energy. The omega is too fucked out to react, nothing in his head but the sensation of his throat being fucked raw. The stone, shaped like a small cock, rubs against him anyway. It presses against his ass, coated with residual slick and cum and still sensitive from Morax’s fingers.

Barbatos tenses, struggles. Last time, it was barely anything. He’s not prepared—

It pushes into him, and he groans wetly against the alpha’s cock. And it hurts—not so much to be entirely unpleasant, due to the smaller size. Something about Morax making sure he’s fucked in every hole makes his whole body throb with arousal. He squeezes his legs together, to fight the burning it causes or to keep it there, he isn’t sure.

At the same time, a large hand wraps around his throat. Buried deep, Morax lets out a heavy breath as he rubs his cock, flexing it to make the bulge in the smaller god’s throat more prominent. The omega’s eyes squeeze shut.

Then the alpha pulls out and slaps him, and Barbatos moans, bucking his hips against the Geo construct. He parts his lips with heavy pants, open and waiting for his alpha’s cock. It’s all so much, and between his ass being slowly fucked and his throat used, Barbatos feels himself getting close. Just as he squeezes his legs again—to stimulate his clit this time—he feels Morax’s cock twitch in the tight warmth of his throat.

Hot seed shoots deep into him—he doesn’t have to swallow to receive it. Then the alpha pulls out, quickly stroking his cock as he releases ropes of cum onto the smaller god’s face and open mouth. Barbatos licks up and swallows what he can between pants. Morax lightly slaps his dick over his face, so the omega laps at it, then moves to suck at the head of it, tongue swiping over the slit to gather and swallow the rest of his seed.

Finally, Morax falls back, chest heaving. Barbatos trembles, then goes completely slack as the Geo construct stills.

“W-wait,” he gasps, voice raspy from the abuse. “Need—need to cum again.”

It wasn’t quite the plan, but Morax goes with it. Gently wiping his own seed from the omega’s brow to keep it from his eye, he sits back. “On my lap.”

Barbatos struggles to get up, his poor behind sore and stretched from being fucked unprepared and the toy still inside of him. But he still does as he’s told. In fact, he grabs the base of the makeshift toy with slippery fingers and begins to fuck it into himself as Morax gropes his pussy. It’s sloppy, between the excessive amounts of their combined release.

“You’re a mess,” the alpha mutters, scooping what he can. He brings his hand up, shoving it into the omega’s mouth. Barbatos sways, licking at the fingers shoved between his teeth and whining breathily at his own ministrations in his other sensitive hole.

With his other hand, Morax begins to stroke his clit back and forth with the tips of his fingers. The other reacts immediately with an eager buck of his hips, the poor nub not getting much attention since they started.

Then his alpha reels back and slaps his cunt.

Yelping, the omega twists around and trembles in his hold, hand shooting away from the toy inside of him. However, he doesn’t try to scamper away this time, or even try to retaliate by biting.

“Alpha,” he sobs against the fingers still invading his mouth. Vaguely, he knows he’s drooling pathetically all over himself now, but he can’t help it or stop himself. He just wants to be touched and fucked.

The toy in his ass slips out as he relaxes, falling onto Morax’s lap. His sharp eyes fixate on it, spent cock twitching in interest.

“Look at yourself,” the alpha growls, removing his hand from Barbatos’ mouth to give him a sharp slap. “Just like any other omega—a whore. Yet you were insufferable, insisting that you’re better. This is your place, omega. Even as Mondstadt’s archon, your place is my lap, filled with my seed, taking everything I give you.”

“Sorry,” Barbatos says in a shaking voice, head falling forward when Morax’s hand found his clit again. “Oh, please, please—bite me, please, bite me all over—“ the desire he’s had since the beginning finally spills from his lips.

Sharp teeth dig into his pale shoulder without hesitation, making the omega throw his head back with a cry of pleasure. There’s no pain, not when it’s so close to his scent gland, aching to be taken and mated. The sound is so whorish that Morax slaps his cunt again, but even that only draws out a breathy, gasping moan.

Morax even grabs the toy from his lap, slippery as it is, and makes it larger. Then he shoves it back in, Barbatos squealing in broken protest. The omega gives pathetic little hits to his chest as pain and pleasure take over in an entirely new place. From this position, his wings are free to tremble and flap frantically, giving away his pleasure.

Between the omega’s trembling and wet thighs, the alpha works his fingers. Barbatos thrashes, legs twitching and hands pushing away, so Morax bites him into submission. Over and over again, both of them too blinded by arousal to assess any sort of damage. Vaguely, he feels like prey, finally being eaten by the predator who caught him. The alpha pulls away only to lap into his parted lips, making him taste his own blood on the other’s tongue. He must be prey who has completely succumbed, because he accepts it all.

Under the alpha’s teeth, Barbatos finally goes more still, a particularly harsh bite holding him in place, occasionally jerking him back and forth by the teeth in his flesh.

He comes with a stuttering whine, shaking all over. Barbatos is sore, so sore, and so fucked out. The orgasm is so much for his overloaded system, forcing his legs to twitch and his eyes to roll back as the waves of almost painful pleasure run through him. He’s not quite sure how many times he came, but it’s more than he ever has before, and the result is almost too much. 

As his orgasm grows less intense, the omega goes limp, his outer shoulder still between Morax’s jaws, the only movement the occasional twitch of his limbs as another little wave washes through him.

Gently, Morax releases him, settling him on the ground. He has to do a double-take—Barbatos’ shoulders and neck are rather bloodied. It makes him a little concerned. He pulls the toy out of him too, which makes the other relax in slight relief.

“Cecelia,” he says, and the omega gives a small, exhausted nod in acknowledgment. The end of their scene. Morax brushes his hair from his face, still sticky with semen. “How do you feel?”

“Alpha,” Barbatos whines, almost slurring. Clearly, he’s still in a very submissive place. “‘M good. Really good.”

With that, Morax collapses beside him, feeling rather exhausted too. Idly, he begins to wipe the other’s face clean, before nuzzling in close. Then he rubs his arms, soothing the twitching and shaking. “Love you,” he says on instinct, reassuring.

The omega burrows into him, body relaxing as he lets out a shaky breath. “I’m yours.”

Squeezing him closer, Morax teleports them to his abode.

~~~

During his pre-heat, Barbatos created a more permanent nest in one of Morax’s spare rooms. The alpha had watched in strange interest at how intense the omega could look as he arranged it, mixing fine, lightweight fabrics Morax had purchased for him with some older, more familiar things. He was fond of varying shades of blue and teal, but he decided to throw in some gold, too. There were even pretty little trinkets hung and tied to the ends of the nest, like the feathers he sometimes wore.

To Morax, he never cared about nests very much. But Barbatos certainly did have a certain style that was appealing: an arrangement that looked like it could float, cozy without being too heavy or hot. Most of all, he just enjoyed seeing the pretty omega get so comfortable in his space. It gave him a little sense of pride. Being allowed in and out of an omega’s nest whenever he pleased gave him even more so.

Though Barbatos insisted that he wasn’t a huge nester, it was clear that the behavior gave him more comfort than he readily admitted. Because as soon as Morax teleported them to his home, the omega began to whine for his nest.

“You need a bath, dear,” he says, gathering the omega in his arms.

There’s no protest after that, as Barbatos appeared very content to be held. Satisfied, the alpha draws them a bath, discarding the few things he’s wearing to join the younger god.

Morax isn’t used to being so tender like this, but it strangely feels rather natural to clean off his omega’s face, rinse his hair, wipe up the cum he left between two warm thighs. All the while, Barbatos nuzzles him and rubs up against him like a cat, a bit too out of it to express his affections verbally.

With a sigh, Morax gives into his instincts too, pulling the omega onto his lap by the thighs. After pressing his nose to the other’s neck, he lets out a rumble and leans back, keeping Barbatos held tight. The purr he gets in response gives him butterflies in his stomach.

After a longer than expected bath, the alpha dried the both of them, applied salve to Barbatos’ wounds, dressed both of them in lightweight clothes, and finally carried him to where he wanted to be the most.

Once the omega was in his nest, he purrs again. For some reason, Morax feels a bit guilty and hesitant to enter the other god’s nest, at least until a sad look and whine was sent his way.

“I…” he begins as he settles down, balling his fists, “you’re okay?”

Blinking away a bit of the heat in his eyes, Barbatos nods and cuddles up close. “Yes… I love you too.”

He’s in heat, he’s…

“Morax.”

Morax looks at the omega, his eyes a bit shiny. It only hits him now, how sweet his scent is. Begging for affection. Not of the sexual kind, just closeness. Reassurance. Companionship. And if he were honest, Morax would admit that he wants that too.

“I’m… sorry. I’m sorry.” The alpha pulls him in close, pressing his heat into the omega’s unmarked scent gland. He lets out a soft, comforting rumble.

The floral scent in the air soothes to something more pure and clean, rather than harsh and begging for attention. Barbatos relaxes into his arms.

“You’re precious,” Morax murmurs into his skin, almost to himself, but meant to reassure nonetheless. “Owned by no one, and much more than just an omega. You’re strong. Stronger than me, perhaps.”

“Perhaps.” A soft chuckle against his hair, then a gentle hand against his cheek. “Well… I enjoyed every second. Don’t… don’t forget it. I like you. I like doing this with you.”

The words ease the ache in Morax’s chest that he hadn’t even completely noticed. With a rather affectionate huff, he kisses the other god’s throat. “Good. Get some rest, Barbatos.”

~~~

The omega practically passes out once his head hits the pillow, leaving Morax to hold him. In spite of it all, he looks peaceful while he sleeps. It’s a relatively short nap, though, because when he opens his eyes again, blue-green eyes are staring at him, clearer than they have been since the start of his heat.

“You look concerned,” Barbatos whispers, reaching out to run his fingers through the other’s hair. His voice is a bit raspy from all his throat went through.

“You’re truly okay? With everything I said? With all of it?” Morax traces his throat, which was a few different shades of red.

“I could ask you the same,” he points out, then nuzzles into his chest. “Of course I am. I loved every second.” A pause. “Though, it is nice to hear you talk kindly to me after. I might be upset if you didn’t.” His lips curl into a little smile. “So keep telling me how much you love me.”

As they both discussed, Morax never laid a hand on his wings. Barbatos simply didn’t like them being handled roughly or trapped. It made him genuinely panic and get upset—neither of them wanted that.

“I love you,” the alpha says with a simple nod, hands gently going to his feathers to smooth them. 

Barbatos let out a little moan of contentment. “Oh, I like that.”

Morax finds himself smiling a little, too. “You’re beautiful. You, wind spirit, are far above a lowly beast such as myself.”

“A lowly beast?” The other chuckles softly.

“At times.”

The alpha bends to press kisses along his wounded shoulders, all red and bitten up. Barbatos moans a little again at the dull pain that blooms when Morax kisses a little firmer. It’s a reminder of being marked.

“You like it too much when I hurt you,” he comments, not harshly.

The omega lets out a breath. “It makes me feel… strangely human. I like that. I like that you make me feel it. It’s hard to remember that I’m here, in this body—an omega body—and that it’s my body.”

“Hm. I’ve always had a body and a designation, so I suppose I’ve never thought of it so deeply.”

Morax runs his fingers through his hair, then kisses his scent gland. It’s completely empty of bites, Barbatos vaguely realizes. Nothing that would risk an unwanted mating bite.

Warmth spreads through his chest. How is it that Morax can let go and be so feral, yet so controlled?

A good alpha, the omega in him tells him. An alpha worthy of being allowed to be so rough with you. Controlled. Dignified. Loyal. Respectful. Caring. He’s more than worthy of claiming you completely. You could give all of yourself to him.

Barbatos is somehow not so shocked to hear that powerful voice in his head again. It’s less distressing now, perhaps because it’s more in line with what he actually wants. It’s more rational now.

He’d be a wonderful father to my pups, too. Looking after me while I’m pregnant, providing for and tending to the babies. He deserves as many children as he asks for. I should have him breed me when it’ll take easily.

The omega purrs in contentment. “You’re a good alpha,” he whispers.

Morax looks away, almost bashful. “Must you release those pheromones? You’re far too sore to go another round. Nor should I… should I mate you right now.”

Suddenly, Barbatos feels a bit embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to. It’s just… my heat, I need…”

The other presses a hand to his forehead. “You do feel hot. I suspect it’s going to hit you again soon.”

“Please,” the omega sighs, leaning into him. “I want you to touch me.”

Swallowing to level his head, Morax pulls him in close. He wants to touch Barbatos too, so badly. It’s difficult, resisting when the omega lies beside him, completely naked. It’d be so easy to kiss him, let his fingers find their way inside a warm and wet hole…

“Where do you want me to touch you?” He rasps, kissing along the other’s faintly bruised neck and lower. Perhaps his self-control is a bit of a delusion.

“I guess I’m sore, but maybe… maybe my wings? You haven’t touched me there yet—“

Morax barely realizes how he’s already getting up, helping arrange the other god on his stomach to expose his wings. He spreads his hands across the feathers as he kisses down his back, earning a hum of contentment. It’s surprising to himself, how eager he is to do it.

Part of him thinks that really, maybe it’s sacreligious for the God of Contracts to be holding the God of Freedom’s wings in his hands like this. Though he considers himself too wise to give in every time, he’s still possessive by nature. Some tiny, evil and feral instinct in him will always covet these wings, wanting to clip them so he can have what he wants all of the time. Every other part of him knows that a hurt and miserable Barbatos is something he would never want. Every other part of him values freedom, in some way. Yet he’s never been ignorant to the small, primordial voice inside of him, wanting to take and take and bite that patch of empty skin.

That’s why he’s selfish, when he runs his fingers through those silk-soft, pristine feathers. Such wonderful symbols of freedom shouldn’t be marred by his hands. But he keeps touching, ghosting the delicate tips and base of the wings until Barbatos trembles with pleasure.

In truth, Barbatos is too smart not to know anyway. There’s trust between them regardless.

(Maybe a part of Barbatos, just as small, is intrigued by that part of Morax.)

“They’re beautiful,” is all the alpha says, a bit teasing in how he says it as he makes the other writhe. Barbatos shoots him a small, knowing smile, and they kiss.

~~~

“You know, Morax,” Barbatos says sleepily, a day later into his heat, “there might be a time when the order of the archons is set in stone, and omegas mated to alphas are seen as absolute equals.”

The alpha hums. “I would hope.”

“If that time were to come… I would like to be your mate. Do you feel the same?”

He blinks, looking closer at the omega. Blue-green eyes are soft and vulnerable, despite the confidence of his words. 

They were already a lot like mates, though mating, Morax thought, was a formal contract. Of course, he likes contracts. He likes that stable foundation and connection, rather than this unsure thing he has right now with Barbatos.

But even now, if he were to say yes, he would be promising this to Barbatos. Morax did not break his promises either. So, he decided, a promise cannot be made without ample thought.

Do you feel the same? Of course he does. In fact, he hates that these days, to mate with Barbatos would be to essentially degrade him to some lower status. That’s one reason he wants to wait. It’s offensive to him, too, that his presence and companionship somehow makes Barbatos weaker.

In this future—hypothetical or not—that would not be much of a problem. Though Barbatos was a flighty creature who found endless entertainment in gaining his attention via mischief, he was also an irreplaceable companion.

“In a heartbeat,” he says, and quickly, the alpha in him claws its way up his throat: “I promise myself to you.” Do you promise yourself to me? I want you to be only mine.

The omega gives him a funny look, then smiles. “Snatching me up all for yourself?” He asks, as if reading his mind.

Morax gives him a look right back. “Are there other alphas you wish to run off to?”

“Well, you’re all of my firsts,” Barbatos says, slinking an arm around his neck. “Isn’t it greedy to have me to yourself?” A pause. “Oh, please don’t make that face, I was only teasing!”

The omega looks apologetic, but the alpha didn’t realize that he was making a face. Maybe his displeasure was obvious.

“I was the one who proposed it. Of course I promise myself to you. I’ve been only yours for a while now, even if you’re too much of a bumbling buffoon to realize it.” With a little smile, the omega kisses his cheek. “I’ve been scenting you so other omegas stay off my turf for years now.”

“What?” Morax almost stammers, taking a moment to process it all. “I don’t believe it. You, God of Freedom, are not possessive in that way.” 

Was that why Streetward Rambler always chuckled when she smelled him?

“It’s not being possessive!” The other complains, all petulant as if he were expecting this accusation. “It’s just… getting what I want. Perhaps with underhanded means, yes, but, um… you should’ve realized it. So I didn’t do anything wrong?”

“You never fail to surprise me,” the alpha sighs, exasperated. “Using your status as an archon to scare suitors away from me. How shameful.”

“I—I was desperate and hormonal, okay? It would’ve killed me if someone else approached you. I would’ve died from it!” Barbatos shakes his head. “But seriously, if I was just some omega to fuck for you, I would’ve felt like trash. I took drastic measures to save my ego. Sorry.”

“I was teasing too,” Morax says, nipping at his cheek (ignoring the other’s whines of having been bitten enough). “It’s attractive to see you feel possessive. Though I feel that I may be a bad influence on you.”

“You? Then what am I?”

With a little exhale, the omega clambers on top of his alpha, a little smirk on his lips. Only now does Morax notice that tell-tale heat-induced flush returning on the other’s chubby cheeks.

“Innocent?” A surprisingly firm hand lands on the alpha’s collarbone, and hazy blue-green eyes look his body up and down, then he hikes up Morax’s shirt with a flippant look. “Helpless to your wiles?”

Suddenly, Barbatos bends, pressing his teeth firmly against Morax’s scent gland, empty of any mating mark. The alpha feels himself stiffen, his instincts slowly catching up. Omegas don’t often mate first, so his body doesn’t exactly know what to do. In fact, most omegas can’t mark alphas until alphas mark them first. Somehow, he knows that isn’t the case for Barbatos. This omega could take him as his almost as easily as if the roles were reversed.

The scent of slick fills his nose, and it’s addicting. He grabs Barbatos’ hips.

“Ignorant notions, don’t you think?” The omega purrs hotly. “They don’t know the lengths I’ve gone to just to make you mine.” A deceptively sweet cock of the head. “You’re mine, aren’t you, Alpha?”

Yes, he’s found a good alpha, capable and worthy of giving him a strong litter and caring for him through it. A loyal alpha. Barbatos decided that he had to secure such an alpha and keep him close. It’s only instinct. 

A soft, wet groin rubs up against the fabric of Morax’s pants, and he holds back a hiss. “I’m yours, Omega,” he admits, too dazed by the scent of heat to be as begrudging as he wants to sound.

“Good boy,” Barbatos smiles sweetly, kissing his forehead.

~~~

It quickly becomes clear that the Archon War is finally coming to a close, though Barbatos does face a few more minor alpha gods. Strangely, he finds himself defeating them without an instinct passing through his head once.

It might help that after, a certain more dignified alpha god comes for a visit and some wine. Barbatos allows himself to be scented and courted like a proper omega, an omega with a promised mate. When his friends ask him where he’s been, he just smiles.