Chapter Text
Buck’s rounded belly was covered by the fabric of Tommy’s fire department t-shirt, shielding him from the gentle, cool breeze drifting in through the kitchen window—the very window of the single-story house where he lived.
The soft cotton of Tommy’s old shirt felt warm and protective, and Tommy’s scent danced in his nostrils; yet it wasn't the only scent—there was another, Sal’s perfume, a fragrance that offered him sanctuary just as Tommy’s did.
A hand larger than his own moved up to his hip as his body arched—seeking to hold him steady—while Sal positioned himself between his legs. His second Alpha was right there between his thighs, gripping his hip and right thigh firmly, keeping him from moving any further than his Alpha allowed.
"Alpha," he stammered foolishly, his hips trying to keep pace. "Wait... please, wait."
But Sal paid no heed; it was always like this. Both he and Tommy loved pushing Buck to the limit—a respectful limit that wouldn't hurt him or the pup growing in his belly—yet they also loved commanding Buck’s total submission during sex.
As his hips swayed in a clumsy, uncoordinated rhythm—his back arched, soft gasps and moans escaping his lips—Buck let himself drift into his own thoughts, until something snapped him out of his reverie.
The cool air from the kitchen window soon made Buck shiver; Sal had pulled away, moving out from between his legs and exposing what he had been doing. His 1.88-meter frame towered over Buck’s smaller 1.78-meter figure—even seated on the dining table, Buck didn't gain much height and had to look up at Sal, who gazed back with a teasing glint in his eyes.
"See anything you like, Omega?"
Buck was silently grateful he wasn't drinking anything; he would have choked at the sight before him. Sal was still wearing his station uniform—it looked as though he’d just stepped off his shift without changing or even showering; Buck could even catch the faint trace of smoke that still clung to his clothes and skin. His dark hair was completely tousled, with a few strands falling over his forehead, and he wore the weary expression of someone who had been working far too long. His eyes—light and tinged with green in the glow of the lights—were fixed intently on Buck, though the Omega wasn't looking back at them—at least, not directly into his eyes.
No. His gaze had dropped to his jawline.
More specifically, to the stubble.
It was short—barely a few days' growth—but perfectly distributed across his jaw and cheeks, further accentuating his features. Buck studied it for a few seconds, as if discovering something he hadn't noticed before. After all, Sal had always worn a beard, hadn't he? So why on earth did it seem so fascinating now? The answer was simple: Buck was looking at the trail running down past his lips and chin—a trail that betrayed the obscene act they had just been performing in the dining room.
"Omega," Sal called out again, his voice softer this time, gazing at Buck with tenderness and a ravenous hunger. "Everything okay?"
"Y-Yeah," he nodded, his voice coming out as a stutter; his hand—slightly smaller than Sal’s—caressed his Alpha’s cheek. "Alpha..."
"Yeah?"
"Can you?"
Buck knew he was being obscene and brazen, but ever since entering his fourth month of pregnancy, his sexual appetite had skyrocketed—reaching alarming levels that had nonetheless captivated his partners. So, without trying to hide a thing, he spread his trembling legs a little wider, revealing the mess Sal had helped create, as well as some of the mess Tommy had left behind before heading off to his shift.
"Baby, you need to tell me in words what you want," Sal said.
Buck whimpered; his full, pink lips—the very ones that had more than once wrapped around the thick length of Tommy’s or Sal’s cock—pouted.
"Come on, baby, tell me: what do you need?" This time, with a touch of mischief, Sal’s right hand slid down between Buck’s legs again, sinking into the heat and wetness of Buck’s vagina and making him whimper. "Come on, baby, tell me."
"I... I... Alpha, I want..." he began, panting; his hips moved instinctively, seeking Sal’s fingers with a desperate urgency, trying to set the rhythm.
"Darling, tell me," the older man urged.
Buck wasn't entirely sure when he answered—it might have been while his hips were riding Sal’s fingers inside his tight vagina, or perhaps when he came—but soon, he felt Sal’s cock stretching him open. He felt that thickness forcing him open in a way that was aggressive yet relentless; he felt the rapid, pounding thrusts and the obscene sounds of their skin slapping together.
Buck stopped thinking coherently; the sounds escaping his mouth merely reflected what was happening in that moment. At some point, he found himself lying on the dining table, his legs wrapped around Sal’s hips, feeling the older man’s thrusts gently shift him across the pine surface.
His alpha’s hand—warm, calloused, and larger than his own—had ventured beneath Tommy’s t-shirt to gently caress the curve of his belly, where their pup lay. It was a sweet, tender, and kind gesture—a stark contrast to the movement of his hips and the symphony of their colliding skin. It was the touch of an alpha concerned for his omega and the pup he carried. Suddenly, the hand moved upward to cup his breasts—swollen from pregnancy—which bounced with the movement as Sal held them.
"Fuck, baby... no panties, no bra," he rasped, shifting so his lips could latch onto Buck’s nipples right through the t-shirt. "Where are they, sweetheart? Where are your panties and bra?"
Buck whimpered as the thrusting slowed; he had registered the question and knew the answer. He hadn't put on a bra—that infernal garment made him uncomfortable, and he preferred sports bras. Yet, lately, his drawer held more lace bras and panties than the comfortable sports tops and underwear designed specifically for male omegas.
One particular thrust made his back arch, a moan escape his lips, and his vision blur; soon, his head lolled to the side, his right cheek resting against the dining room wood. His unfocused gaze settled on the living room—on the sofa where, before Sal arrived, Buck had been riding Tommy while they watched a movie—and he spotted a small piece of light blue fabric.
"Panties," he stammered.
"Yeah, baby. Where are your panties?" Sal asked.
"Panties... panties... panties..." he mumbled. With the little strength he had left, he pointed toward the living room, where he could see the scrap of fabric. "Panties."
Sal chuckled; it seemed he finally had the answer he wanted, and his thrusts picked up their rhythm again.
"God, baby, tell me something: did you ride Tommy?" he asked, taking Buck’s full weight into his arms and lifting him onto the table. He let Buck’s body rest against his own without stopping the thrusting. "Baby? Tell me, did you ride him?"
Buck nodded.
"Lucky bastard. Tommy took advantage of those twenty-four hours before covering the B-shift to screw you good, didn't he?" he teased, pulling Buck’s body closer to the edge while supporting his weight—and the weight of the baby he was carrying. "How many times did he fuck you good? Once? Twice? Three times? Tell me."
"More," he stammered, because it was true.
His face, still pressed against Sal’s neck, felt the vibration of the laugh that escaped him. He knew that if it had been up to Tommy and Sal, he would have ended up pregnant the moment they met; he remembered the way they looked at him, the times they invaded his personal space, and the times they used any excuse just to touch him. The thrusting continued; he could feel the climax drawing near, feel Sal’s cock swelling, feel the pressure inside his own vagina. It was only a matter of time before they both came—he around Sal’s cock, and Sal deep inside him.
"God, baby, you’re still so tight; it doesn't look like we’ve just fucked you hard," he said, running his hand gently down his back. "Just wait for the trip to the cabin—there won't be a single moment when you aren't filled up."
Buck whimpered; he could still feel Sal inside him, could feel his rounded belly pressed against Sal’s toned abdomen, could feel the older man’s hands on his body—God, Buck could feel everything.
He felt Sal gather him into his arms, felt him kiss his head and murmur something—but Buck didn't care. How had they ended up like this?
Well...