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The bolster beneath Maekar’s knees had shifted again. That small, petty betrayal was enough to make him want to set the entire bedchamber on fire.
He grunted—a low sound of pure aggravation—and shoved his heels into the mattress to hoist his hips. The movement was devoid of the martial grace he had spent his youth cultivating. Instead, it felt like trying to overturn a loaded supply wagon in the mud. His belly, high and hard and immensely rounded with child, plagued him more with each passing day.
"Curse the pup," Maekar muttered into the dark, his palms pressing hard against his own flanks.
The child within him was active at night, a trait Maekar grimly attributed to his own restless nature. For hours, the sharp press of a heel or a fist had been striking against the walls of his crowded womb—a relentless drumming that paired miserably with the dull, throbbing ache in his lower back. He had tried everything. He had discarded the furs, leaving only a single sheet of thin linen over his lower half, but his skin still felt hot to the touch, flushed with the burning, feverish blood of a carrying omega.
His silver hair was a hopeless tangle. He had refused to let his mother’s girls braid it before bed, snapping at them until they fled the room with their little combs and bone pins. Now, the long, pale strands were caught around his neck, sticking damply to his collarbones whenever he turned his head.
He looked down at himself in the dim glow of the low-burning candles remaining on the hearth. His stomach was absurd—a taut mound that had completely swallowed the defined planes of his abdominal muscles. The pale skin was stretched so tight it caught the candlelight like polished marble, the thin, pink tracks of fresh marks beginning to bloom around the base of his navel.
He had never felt more unsuited for his body. Maekar was a creature of movement. To be reduced to a brooding hen, confined to soft cushions and told to rest, was a punishment worse than any cell in the Red Keep.
Lost in his wallowing, he startled when a floorboard creaked in the outer antechamber.
Maekar’s ears twitched, his jaw tightening. He didn't need to look at the door to know who it was. The air beneath the crack of the oak portal was already changing, the stale smell of old rushes and melting wax crushed instantly under a rolling wave of dark heat.
Baelor.
The scent arrived before the man did—a suffocating cloud of saffron. It was Baelor's fragrance, but tonight it carried a dense undertone of heady arousal that made the fine hairs on Maekar's arms stand on end. His rebellious flesh, no matter how much his pride fought it, responded immediately. Deep within his lower belly, beneath the strain of the child, a warm twitch of slick moisture pooled between his thighs.
Maekar cursed under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut as the latch turned.
The door swung closed with a soft click. Freeing himself of his attire without the aid of servants, Baelor began to strip away the day's duties. In the dark, Maekar counted every familiar sound—the scuff of leather boots, the clatter of a signet ring in the bronze basin, the soft rustle of velvet thrown over a chair—until the mattress finally groaned under the alpha's weight.
Then came the rustle of linen as Baelor slid his long legs beneath the sheet. The sudden shift in balance caused Maekar to roll slightly toward the center, a fact that only worsened his mood. Baelor’s skin was cool from the corridors, but the moment he settled beside him, he felt like a blacksmith’s forge brought into the bed.
Maekar didn't even turn his head. He threw a sharp, defensive arm backward, his elbow catching the solid muscle of Baelor’s chest with a dull thump.
"Keep your hands to yourself tonight, Baelor," Maekar ground out, his voice a petulant rasp that lacked any royal dignity. "I mean it. If you touch me, I will bite you until you bleed. I am not in the mood for your nonsense."
Baelor let out a low chuckle. The sound traveled through his chest, vibrating directly against Maekar’s shoulder blades as the alpha pressed closer, brushing aside the warning. He looped an arm over Maekar’s flank, his large hand settling possessively over the hard curve of Maekar’s belly.
"I shall be good, little brother," Baelor murmured smoothly against the damp crown of Maekar's head, his nose burying deep into the silver strands to inhale the sweet, milky scent of his carrying mate. "I promise."
"Your promises are worth as much as stale bread," Maekar huffed, though he didn't pull away from the hand.
The warmth of Baelor’s palm was, unfortunately, exactly what his aching flesh wanted. Baelor’s thumb began to move, tracing gentle circles across the sore skin of his stomach. The pressure was perfect—firm enough to soothe the overstretched muscles, yet gentle enough not to disturb the sleeping child within. For a few minutes, the silence of the room returned, broken only by the crackle of the dying fire and the deep, even drafts of Baelor's breathing.
But Baelor’s hand did not remain stationary for long.
The slow circles on Maekar's belly began to widen. Baelor’s fingertips slid downward, hooking into the hem of Maekar's shift and pulling the fabric up an inch, then two, until his bare palm was sliding over the heated skin of Maekar’s hip. The touch was deliberate, the calluses on Baelor’s thumb catching against the lines of Maekar’s pink marks.
Maekar's breath hitched. He tried to stiffen his spine, but Baelor’s other hand was already moving, sliding up his ribcage to cup the heavy, full weight of his chest, his thumb brushing over the prominent peak through the thin linen.
"Baelor," Maekar warned, a growl catching in his throat. "What did I just say?"
"You said many things, Maekar," Baelor whispered, his voice dropping into that gravelly register that always made Maekar's knees weak. He leaned over, his lips pressing a hot, lingering kiss to the pale line of Maekar’s shoulder before his tongue darted out to lick the salt from his skin. "But your body tells a different tale. Your scent is turning the air to wine, little brother. You are not wholly displeased."
Maekar tossed his head back against Baelor's shoulder, his hair blinding them both as he turned his face to glare up at his brother with flat, unadulterated exasperation.
"You are insufferable," Maekar scolded, his face flushing in the candlelight. "Look at me, Baelor. I am huge. I am sweating. Most alphas wouldn’t even look at their omega in such a state. They would have the decency to leave me to my rest until the child is born. They see their mate pupped and they think of septons and cradles, not... not this."
Baelor’s mismatched eyes—one dark as midnight, the other pale as lilac glass—grew hooded. A dangerous intensity settled over his features, his jaw tightening as he gripped Maekar’s hip with enough force to leave a faint mark.
"Most alphas," Baelor rasped, his teeth lightly grazing the swollen scent gland at the crook of Maekar's neck, sending a jolt of heat straight to Maekar's groin, "do not have an omega like you."
Baelor leaned over him further, his broad frame blanketing Maekar’s form. "Let the lords of the realm look upon their carrying mates as porcelain vases to be set on a shelf. Do you truly think a few handfuls of extra flesh could ever make me desire you less? If anything, it only makes me desire you further."
Maekar’s mouth opened slightly, his breath hitching as a liquid heat pooled between his thighs. He wanted to argue—his pride demanded he find some biting retort—but in truth he was pleased.
"Fine," Maekar sniffed, turning his head away to hide the color spreading across his cheeks. "If you mean to have your way, you are doing all the work. I am not moving a finger for you tonight, Baelor. I am exhausted, my back feels as though it has been broken on the wheel, and I am not putting myself through any more exertion."
Baelor’s smile was a slow, wicked thing that bared his teeth. "A bargain I gladly accept, little brother. Lie still. I shall devour you raw."
True to his word, Baelor did not give Maekar time to reconsider. With one smooth, powerful tug, Baelor pulled the linen shift completely over Maekar’s head and tossed it to the floor, leaving the pregnant omega completely bare to the candlelight. Maekar shivered as the cool air hit his damp skin, but the chill vanished an instant later as Baelor crawled back down his body.
Baelor dropped to his knees between Maekar’s parted thighs. Maekar’s head snapped up from the pillows, his dazed eyes widening with wariness. "Baelor, wait—what are you—"
Before Maekar could muster the strength to kick him away, Baelor leaned forward and pressed his mouth directly to the underside of Maekar’s swollen belly.
The sensation was unexpected, and Maekar could not swallow down the high-pitched gasp before it left his throat. Baelor’s lips were hot and firm against the tightly stretched skin, trailing soft kisses across the base of his womb.
The child within seemed to recognize the proximity of its father. A sharp, distinct thud rippled across Maekar’s stomach as the babe kicked right against Baelor’s cheek.
Baelor let out a content sound—a true alpha’s rumble that vibrated directly through Maekar’s skin and into his very bones. He pressed a firm kiss to the exact spot where the child had struck, his scent blooming into something so thick, sweet, and protective that Maekar felt as though he were drowning in it. Spicy saffron filled his lungs, melting the last of his stubborn resistance.
"He is strong," Baelor whispered against his skin, his voice thick with pride. "Like his mother."
"Do not call me that," Maekar muttered, though the retort lacked any real venom. His eyes were half-lidded now, his mind growing delightfully foggy under the onslaught of Baelor’s pheromones.
Baelor rose slightly, his frame shifting back over Maekar as he settled himself carefully between Maekar’s thighs, mindful of the belly between them, and braced his forearms on either side of Maekar’s head.
"You are so beautiful, Maekar," Baelor said, his gaze dropping to Maekar’s swollen breasts.
With a low growl, Baelor leaned down and captured one tightened, red peak between his lips. Maekar arched off the bed with a moan, his fingers instantly clawing into the mattress as Baelor began to suckle him fiercely. The alpha’s tongue swirled over the slick bud before drawing it deep, using a firm suction that sent another wave of heat to Maekar's groin. Maekar whimpered, his head tossing wildly as his brother’s teeth lightly grazed the aching flesh, claiming it fully before shifting his wet mouth to devour the other side.
"Baelor, please," Maekar choked out, his chest flushing a burning pink from the intense attention. "You said you would... you promised..."
"I am a man of my word," Baelor murmured, breaking away from his chest with a longing look.
The alpha slid upward against Maekar’s body, moving higher up the mattress until his hips hovered directly over Maekar’s face. Bracing his forearms on either side of his brother's head, Baelor reached down between their crowded bodies, snapping the ties of his own trousers and freeing his thick, formidable length. It was fully erect, dark with blood, and intimidatingly dry.
"Wet it for me, little brother," Baelor commanded softly.
Maekar's eyes flared with a sudden, stubborn defiance. He glared up at Baelor through a curtain of pale hair. For a long moment, he didn't move, a grouchy pout settling on his lips. Baelor merely waited, his mismatched eyes darkening with a quiet, unyielding dominance as he nudged the hot tip against Maekar’s closed mouth.
“Please, Maekar,” Baelor coaxed silkily.
With an exasperated, grudging huff, Maekar finally relented. He parted his lips and leaned forward just enough to take the flushed head into his mouth. He kept his movements deliberately minimal—a lazy, petulant flick of his tongue against the slit, sucking the very tip with a sullen, tight pressure that was meant as a protest.
But even his most grudging efforts were devastating. Baelor let out a sharp hiss past his teeth, his knuckles turning white as he gripped Maekar’s hair to hold him steady against the friction. Maekar swiped his tongue over the ridge one last time, coating it in thick saliva, before pulling away with a wet smack and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
"There," Maekar muttered crossly, his face burning hot. "Are you satisfied?"
"Not yet," Baelor whispered smoothly.
Before Maekar could draw another breath, Baelor grabbed him by the hips and dragged the omega down the mattress. The alpha dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed, spreading Maekar's trembling thighs wide over his broad shoulders.
Maekar grunted, his hands flying back to brace himself as Baelor leaned in and buried his face directly between Maekar’s parted legs.
The first swipe of Baelor’s rough tongue against his weeping folds made Maekar’s entire body arch. It was a brutal, cruel stroke that left him keening. Baelor grinned against his skin as he drank from Maekar greedily, growling into the dampness of the omega's heat at the noise, his hands gripping the undersides of Maekar’s thighs tighter to hold him in place.
"Baelor—ah!" Maekar cried out, his knuckles turning white as he clawed at the bedsheets.
Baelor lapped broadly across the swollen opening, parting the slick outer lips to expose Maekar further. Every wet stroke of his tongue was demanding, pressing hard against the aching entrance, drinking down the abundant, sweet fluid that poured from him.
Maekar’s head thrashed against the pillows, his hair scattering wildly. His hips, which he had sworn to keep still, began to betray him completely, bucking down against Baelor’s face in a desperate search for friction. The alpha met every clumsy heave with a ruthless upturn of his chin, burying his nose and mouth deep into the drenched flesh, his warm breath fanning over Maekar’s sensitive skin until the omega was all but sobbing from the sheer intensity of it.
Baelor’s thumb found the hot, pulsing bud of Maekar's heat, pinning it down and rubbing in rapid, tight circles while his tongue plunged inside the opening as deeply as it could manage. The dual assault was overwhelming. Maekar moaned unabashed, a high, needy sound, his spine arching completely off the mattress as a violent tremor shot through his legs.
"Patience," Baelor growled, pulling back just enough to look up at his gasping mate, his mouth smeared wet and shining with Maekar's slick. His mismatched eyes were completely dark, wild with a suffocating possessiveness. "I am nowhere near finished with you."
Moving with careful precision, Baelor shifted his weight. Because of Maekar’s heavy belly, the typical positions would not do. Baelor gently grasped Maekar’s right leg, lifting it and draping his thigh over his own broad hip, opening Maekar up at an angle that left him comfortable while exposing his thoroughly prepared depths perfectly.
Maekar whimpered at the sudden vulnerability, his fingers clawing into the muscles of Baelor’s back. "Baelor..."
"I have you," Baelor assured him, his voice steady. "Do not move, my love. Let me do it all."
Baelor aligned the blunt head of his cock against Maekar's dripping folds. He didn't thrust. He simply leaned his weight forward, sliding into the tight, scorching narrowness of Maekar’s depths with a slow, agonizing patience.
Maekar’s eyes flew open, his breath hitching in his throat as his body stretched to accommodate the fullness of his alpha. The sensation of being filled while carrying a pup was unlike anything else he had experienced. The internal pressure was intense, a burning ache that made Maekar’s heat clamp down tightly around the intrusion.
Baelor froze. "Gods, Maekar," he choked out, his voice sounding wrecked in the dark. "You are so tight. Hold still..."
Maekar couldn't hold still. The pleasure was too much to bear. A broken groan tore from his throat, his head tossing blindly from side to side as his hips gave a weak, instinctive tilt upward, trying to draw his brother deeper.
"I can’t," Maekar pleaded, his fingers tangling frantically in Baelor's dark hair, pulling his face down. "Move, Baelor. Please. I need it."
Baelor would deny him nothing.
With a feral growl, the alpha began to move. He kept the rhythm steady, his hips rolling forward in a relentless cadence that completely mastered Maekar’s senses.
The room filled with the wet, heavy sound of their bodies striking together, accompanied by Maekar’s undone moans and pleas. Baelor devoured his body, leaning over to suckle again at one of Maekar’s breasts, then moving up to bite and lick at his jaw, leaving bruising marks all over the omega’s flushed skin.
"Who do you belong to?" Baelor rasped, his thrusts growing harder, shallow and rapid as the peak began to call to them both. He gripped Maekar’s lifted thigh, pushing it back further to drive himself impossibly deep. "Whose claim do you wear upon your shoulder?”
"You," Maekar cried out, his spine arching off the bed once more, his belly shifting with the motion as the coiling tension in his groin reached its breaking point. "Yours, only yours," he promised.
"Good boy,” Baelor praised, before he gave one last thrust, burying his cock to the absolute root just as Maekar shuddered and spent himself, the sheets growing soaked beneath them.
The scent of Maekar's release broke the remains of Baelor’s control. The alpha let out a rough grunt, his hips locking flush against Maekar as he spilled his seed, burying his face in the crook of Maekar’s neck as they caught their breath.
They lay together afterward in the quiet room, the fire dying down to a dull, red glow. Baelor did not pull away at once, his tongue sweeping over Maekar’s scent gland in soothing strokes. Only once Maekar started squirming did he carefully lower the omega’s leg, shifting his own weight so he could wrap his arms around Maekar’s waist, hauling the spent omega against his chest.
Maekar slumped weakly into the embrace, his eyes growing heavy.
"You see?" Baelor whispered, his nails scratching lightly across Maekar’s hip. "I did all the work."
Maekar let out a soft, exhausted huff, his eyes fluttering shut as a profound sense of safety and completion washed over him.
"Shut up, brother," Maekar slurred against his skin, his fingers loosely curling over Baelor's chest. "Let me sleep."
Baelor chuckled, pressing a brief kiss to Maekar’s lips. "Rest, my love. I have you."