Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11639337.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage, Rape/Non-Con
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Fantastic_Beasts_and_Where_to_Find_Them_(Movies)
  Relationship:
      Credence_Barebone/Original_Percival_Graves, Credence_Barebone/Theseus
      Scamander_(past)
  Character:
      Credence_Barebone, Original_Percival_Graves
  Additional Tags:
      Dead_Dove:_Do_Not_Eat, Age_Swap, Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics, Father/Son
      Incest, Daddy_Kink, (is_it_daddy_kink_when_he's_actually_your_dad),
      Watersports, Explicit_Sexual_Content, Dubious_Consent, Possessive
      Behavior, Porn_with_Feelings, Non-Consensual_Somnophilia, Omega_Original
      Percival_Graves, Alpha_Credence_Barebone, Rape/Non-con_Elements
  Collections:
      Anonymous
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-07-28 Words: 10216
****** Gethsemane ******
by Anonymous
Summary
     The door opened before he could touch it, magic outrunning him by one
     step and he was too impatient to shake off his shoes, take off his
     coat-
     There was no mistake - he scented an Omega, an unmated Omega in his
     own house.
Notes
     happy birthday, satan ♥
     written vaguely following this_prompt with a twist aka age/dynamics
     reversal
     there's also a small nod towards this inside, because bois, do I love
     the bible
See the end of the work for more notes
White marble and dark feathers, the boy was like one of Michelangelo’s works of
art, unaware of his own beauty as his rosy lips parted, letting out a soft
gasp.
With his hand on Percy’s slender thigh, Credence leaned down to sniff the odd
scent that was bothering him all evening. Licking up his pale neck, he felt it
on his tongue - the change. His sweet little boy, his kitten… Soon, he’d be a
man.
The thought was mildly disturbing, but not as much as the things he was
planning to do, ecstatic about seeing his boy again, after the seemingly
endless months spent apart between Christmas and Easter, the nights he had
dreamt about Percy - his delicate skin, unbruised, unmarked, his soft hair, the
rosy buds of his nipples, hardening under his touch as he opened his shirt,
just like his cock did under the robe he bothered to put on.
Magic helped him take off Percy’s pants, leaving him the time to kiss the dip
of his lean stomach, sucking at the warm skin until a path of drool was marking
his way, glistening in the moonlight.
There was no mistake, his boy was growing up. The muscles of his legs grew
stronger, revealing his training, but held no chance against his own strength,
parting easily when he nudged them to open, shifting back to look at the
treasures hidden between Percy’s thighs.
His limp cock laid flat against the mostly hairless skin, small - pitiful -
compared to the one peeking from under Credence’s robe; his balls, round and
drawn tight to his body, were begging for a kiss. Credence was never one to say
no to such voiceless pleas.
Like Percy’s neck, his legs tasted differently too, stained with the foul odour
of Alphas and Betas, though not many had presented so far in Percy’s class.
Still, he had to do something about it.
He had to make sure Percy was safe. It was a dangerous world out there,
Credence knew it like no one else. He had lived through it, he lost someone to
it.
And was Percy stopping him? Wasn’t he asking for it? With the plush softness of
his hips, the angelic crown of his dark hair?
A strangled groan escaped his mouth when his hand moved faster, up and down,
without finesse, without much care. He wanted the boy to be his, forever his.
White covered white, and his knees trembled as he hovered over the lithe body,
taking in the view.
Percy winced in his sleep, but didn’t wake up. He couldn’t, not with all the
spells Credence carefully casted on his sleeping mind.
His son looked beautiful, but Credence knew it wasn’t enough. It had to soak
through him.
And it did, triggering Percy’s nose, mixing with the slowly drying come,
dripping down onto the white sheets and gathering in the shallow space under
his navel. Credence brushed the stray lock off Percy’s furrowed brows, kissing
it away with mildly bothered conscience.
He was doing it to protect him, wasn’t he?
Thirty minutes, Credence told himself, looking at the old watch on Percy’s
bedside table. Thirty minutes should be enough to make it last for some time.
 
===============================================================================
 
“Lance!”
What exactly happened to his cat over those past few months when he was in
school was a question Percy desperately needed answers for; after coming back
home he didn't recognize his pet. In December, during Christmas break, Lance
was grumpy as ever, and only Papa could touch him, somehow getting on his good
side with a balanced mixture of treats and petting and what had to be his Alpha
scent - Percy never really knew, he couldn’t feel it - but now that he was back
home for his spring break, those two weeks before his sixth year exams when he
was supposed to study and do nothing more, Lance just wouldn’t give him peace,
not even for ten minutes. He was everywhere - in Percy’s bed when he woke up,
on his lap when he was trying to eat breakfast, between his legs when he was
brushing his teeth… And Percy loved Lance, he really did, but he had to pass.
He wasn’t about to loose his perfect studying record because his cat was high
on the spring aura.
“I have no idea what possessed him,” the soft hand in his hair took Percy by
surprise. Papa walked on him again, strolling into the sparse library with his
usual nonchalant elegance, a kind smile on his lips. “Maybe he doesn't want you
to pass, kitten, what do you think? Maybe he wants you to stay home forever?”
“You would want that, Papa,” he couldn’t help smiling seeing Papa laugh;
something warm bloomed in his chest, soft like the spring sunlight that woke
him up. “So I can’t get your job.”
He was trying to joke, keep up the careless atmosphere - it was so rare between
the two of them - but Papa looked at him oddly, with some unreadable concern in
his dark, haunting eyes, and soon Percy felt Papa’s palm on his face, stroking
his cheek in slow, gentle motion, and even though it was colder than his own
skin, something shifted in him, deep in his belly, and his blood murmured like
the cherry blossom in the wind outside his bedroom window.
“I could never keep you home, Percy. You’re a brave, young man who’ll get
further than me, I’m sure of it.”
He was ready to smile and nod, because it was so nice, so warm to be praised,
so pleasant that his lips started to curve up, but then, then- Something odd
stinged deep down in his stomach, like a bee or a needle, and only a small wail
breached his lips, his eyes closing to run away from the pain.
“Alright, kitten? You look a bit feverish.”
Papa’s hand was on his forehead before he could move back, before he could
say no, please and I’m fine and don’t worry, but instead his lips parted in
another gasp, air leaving his lungs in a spasm of strained muscles, and when he
caught his breath again - a single gulp, shallow and painful, caressing his
throat -  he felt something odd, fuzzy like a crackling fire, and Papa’s
cologne seemed more potent than usually, rich and heavy in the back of his
nose, threatening to make him sneeze.
He didn’t, in the end. Instead, Papa flicked his fingers in an effortless
display of wandless magic - something Percy was getting better at too - and
soon a blanket was draped around his arms, nicely soft, enveloping him in
Papa’s scent; it must have been laying in Papa’s closet, for sure, and Percy
found it comforting. It’s been years since he rolled into Papa’s bed - other
boys from Wampus told him they were all too old, too mature for such things -
so even if he missed it badly, so badly some mornings he had to clutch onto his
sheets not to spring out of his bed and run for Papa, he tried to stay away
like a young man should.
“You do look tired, Percy,” Papa murmured into his hair, pressing a kiss right
there. “I don’t think you can go to auntie Tina tonight.”
Percy nodded, barely stopping himself from whimpering at the thought of being
left alone again. Digging his nails into his palms to stop himself from
reaching for Papa’s arms - to shelter himself next to Papa’s heart, hear its
rhythm, listen to it until his own blood calmed down, the same way it used to
when he was younger, hidden in Papa’s bed on Sunday mornings, watching him
sleep - Percy kept his sudden terror to himself. It was stupid, ridiculous.
School was nice - most of the time - but he missed the green plains of his
family estate, the fireplace, the gardens; he missed Lance and books and
homemade meals, but most of all he missed his Papa.
“Don’t wait for me, kitten, I’ll be late.”
Another kiss - this time on his cheek - the graze of Papa’s stubble on his
chin, and then the steady footsteps clicked on the floor, growing more and more
quiet.
Percy wished he could be like Papa one day, just and strong and gentle, not
like the Alphas his so called friends told him about, those who were violent
and kidnapped Omegas - why would anyone do such a thing? - and acted like some
entitled brats. There were only two Alphas in his class, and instinctively, he
despised them both.
“Looks like we’re left alone, hmm?”
It was really pointless to talk to a cat, but sometime Percy felt like only
Lance could be trusted with his secrets and struggles.
The wet nose bumped into his chin when he took Lance into his arms, giving up
on studying for the rest of the afternoon. Maybe if he rested for a bit, just
like Papa said, he’d be able to go through his notes on history of magic later,
after a cup of coffee and a bit of toast to crunch.
His stomach rumbled a bit at the thought, oddly empty even after the dinner.
 
===============================================================================
 
The wine Tina served them had a strong dry edge to it, Credence noticed as he
took another sip, wincing at the odd taste; it just wouldn’t go off his tongue.
And the lights... The lights seemed brighter than usually, or maybe it was just
the unexpected headache... He wasn’t sure what to make of it all.
“Lonely without your boy, aren’t you, Director?”
Bergamot on the surface, rock rose right underneath, and saffron, the sign of
spring, at the bottom of it - somehow Gellert’s scent got even more unbearable
during his short visit to Europe. There was always something disturbing about
meeting other Alphas, but Gellert was the worst of them all. Despite everything
that Newt and Seraphina thought about the ambassador, Credence was weary of his
tricky words, his tactics and games.
Most of all, he was weary of Gellert’s worldview, dangerously close to the
attitudes he still remembered clearly from his childhood every time he looked
in the mirror after shower, silver spiderwebs melting into crosses on his back.
“Did he present at last?”
Credence barely stopped himself from growling in anger. He hated it, the
wholedid your child present? oh, so your daughter is an Alpha? what will you do
now? and all the other variations, talks about marriages and heats and pups, as
if being anything else than a Beta was suddenly transforming children into
livestock, something to be sold and discussed.
There was not much he could do about it though, nothing more than rising Percy
the right way, without the old prejudices. Secretly, he hoped Percy would turn
out to be a Beta. It would be the easiest for him, safest. Alphas were… He knew
how hard it was to live without a mate, and even if his position was somehow
easing the ache hiding underneath his ribs - what better place to care and
protect than his department? -  some days it hurt to get up, knowing his hunger
would now forever go unsated. And Omegas… Already rare back in his days, they
were even less common now. Like diamonds among manure, they were jewels both
beautiful and fierce, even if people still tended to see them as weak.  
Clearly, they had never met his bondmate.
“He’s not a trophy,” biting back the bile that had gathered in his throat,
Credence tried to smile. “One may think you’re personally interested, Gellert.”
“If he turned out to be an Omega, why not?”
There were many nots and Credence felt his blood boil in protective instinct
telling him to defend his child even if Percy wasn’t directly threatened. His
teeth gritted, his muscles twitched, and he couldn’t understand why - to react
like this, well, it was unheard of. He’d always tried to keep his love for
Percy at bay, letting him breathe freely like a curious kid should.
Taking care of his safety was an entirely different thing.
These past few days he simply couldn’t help himself. Maybe he really was afraid
Percy might leave him forever?
“An Omega!” He heard Newt say, a tone of disbelief in his voice. “They're
basically extinct at this point and Alphas will follow, Gellert. You two, my
brother, Madam President,” he nodded in the general direction of Seraphina,
“your generation was probably the last one so potent.”
A murmur of general approval hummed in the air as they all agreed with what New
had to say - in the end he was a scientist, wasn’t he? - and Credence wanted to
believe it too, with all of his weary heart. There was only one Omega in his
department, Tina herself. Sometimes, when her heats were approaching, he could
feel the tempting promise of what was hiding under her smart clothes, the
delicate mess she was about to become, and it called him, a siren song.
He hated himself for every thought, every vision his nature planted in his
mind.
Thinking that his son could be an object of such thoughts was making him sick.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine, whatever he turns out to be,” Queenie whispered in his
ear, taking him by surprise. “You raised him well. Theo would be proud of you.
Both of you.”
He tried not to focus on her words too much - Theo, Theo - he couldn’t possibly
break down in front of all these people. And yet, his eyes stung and burned,
and he had to blink to hide his sudden emotions. What was wrong with him? He
missed Theo all the damn time, but what triggered this stupid mood?
“You all right?”
“I- I think I need to lay down for a moment.”
He knew the apartment well enough - down the corridor to Newt’s study, probably
the safest place right now. He didn’t want to wake up the kids by mistake.
The old sofa crackled under his weight; his head was spinning like a buzzing
fly caught in a jar. Somewhere in the corner of his eyes he spotted Theseus’
photo on Newt’s desk.
“Credence?” Newt’s voice was calm, even if a bit worried. His hand brushed the
loose hair back from his forehead. “What’s wrong? Is it...”
“Impossible. I didn’t go into rut since Theseus-”
He heard the splash of water filling a glass. He’d gladly take a freezing
shower, if it only meant getting rid of all the sweat gathered upon his brows.
“I never mentioned my brother’s name, Credence. Or ruts, now that we’re at it.”
Newt’s touch was methodical and trained when he put the cold cloth to his
cheek. “But you do look a bit flushed...” He didn’t have to open his eyes to
know that Newt was frowning. “Is it Tina...?”
Credence looked at him with puzzlement. Tina? No, no, it was definitely not
Tina, he knew the smell of her heats, elegant hints of jasmine over a grassier
tone of rum and sandalwood, he was there for her a few times when her
suppressants failed and she was all over the place, writhing and mewling in his
arms before Newt could come and take her home. Some days Credence wondered how
exactly a Beta could sate an Omega, but it wasn’t his place to ask; he felt
embarrassed enough to think about it, let alone ask. Maybe if Theo was alive-
Theo. Once again his only love decided to haunt his thoughts and suddenly he
knew what threatened this unexpected fever. It seemed... It felt like the days
when Theo was with him, the light of his life, the fire to his ice... But it
was ridiculous, it couldn’t be him. It had to be someone else, someone he
passed by on the street perhaps, someone who accidently reminded his senses
about the past and triggered his mind too.
“It’s not her, don’t worry,” he said in the end, Newt’s bright eyes observing
him with scientific interest. “Can I- Can I stay for the night? I don’t think I
can apparate right now.”
“Of course... If you don’t mind sleeping down there.” There. The suitcase. “We
turned the old guest room into a playground.”
Newt’s smile was almost apologetic and for a brief moment Credence saw Theo in
that smile, the last time they saw each other, little Percy in his arms,
reaching desperately for Theseus, as if he could foresee what was about to
happen.
Some days it was too hard to be strong. He pushed on, fueled by his love for
Percy, the only thing connecting him with Theseus through something more than
memories - Percy was Theo’s blood and bones, his optimism, his reckless
bravery. Some days Credence could swear he even smelled a bit like Theo.
Hazelnut and macadamia, karite and rich oils.
 
===============================================================================
 
Percy wasn’t sure what exactly woke him up - was it Lance? or maybe the odd
hollowness in his stomach?
Maybe Papa was right in the end and he had caught a cold. It was a pity it
happened now, when he really had to study, but hopefully there was enough
Pepper-Up Potion in Papa's first aid kit to help him ease the pain.
Reaching for the wall for some leverage, Percy stumbled off the warm bed on
shaky legs.
It hit him harder than he thought - his bed was damp with sweat, so wet it
clinged to his back, and oh, it felt so odd to peel if off. Slowly, it parted
from his skin and the chilly morning air hit him like an unexpected punch,
making him bend in half, his hand hugging his stomach in some unexplained
instinct that told him it was time to hide.
From what? He didn’t know.
Lance shifted closer, rubbing his fluffy side against his ankles, and even
though the day before it would drive him mad, Percy picked him up from the
floor, scooping him in his arms. He needed comfort. He needed-
"What's going on with me?"
Lance only licked his cheek in response, sending a sudden shiver down his
spine; his legs trembled.
He had to find the potion before it was too late. He wasn’t especially good at
healing magic - combat was always his forte, just like Papa's - but he knew it
was required to start Auror training and it was always his dream, his only
wish. To be like Papa. To be like Dad.
Something watered in the corner of his right eye and before he could do
anything, a single tear ran down his cheek, triggering another and another,
until he was crying in earnest, sobbing like a child, as if it was that day
once again, the day he saw Dad for the last time...
Lance meowed in his embrace, nuzzling closer; his fur started getting damp too,
just like the sheets. It felt like crying with every cell of his body, with
tears and sweat and drool falling from his half-open mouth, and his hands shook
in a poor attempt to stop it somehow. He hadn't cried over Dad in years, he
tried to keep his grief at bay for Papa, because it was hard for him too, maybe
even harder than for Percy. They were bonded. Papa never talked about it, too
hurt to scratch old scars - and he had so many of them, on his hands and his
back and Percy didn’t know why - but at school he learned enough, as much as he
could. It wasn’t required for mates to bond; these days, it was strongly
discouraged-
His muscles clenched without a warning. It was worse than that one time he fell
off his broomstick and healers had to stitch his wounds with magic - he felt
every little spark of it, every wave, the slow drag of meat and muscles and
skin, the sound of, squelching of what was inside him, but somehow this new
pain was even worse, like getting stabbed, quickly and mercilessly and it
echoed deep in his bones, threatening to break him.
Back then, Papa was with him, sitting by his side and whispering how brave he
was, how wonderful, his good son, his boy.
Somehow, the thought comforted and distressed him at the same time.
He knew Papa didn't come back home for the night, probably staying with aunt
Tina and uncle Newt, but deep down Percy felt an odd sting of jealousy and
fear. What if Papa found someone? What if he was tired of him? What if he
didn't come home, because Percy was a bother?
Another portion of tears escaped his reddened eyes and he knew it was
ridiculous - it was, really - to think so selfishly about Papa after everything
they went through together, but he was so afraid, so terrified that one day
Papa may just leave him, move on to someone better, someone who could lay down
next to him, warm his forever cold hands-
His fingers reached for the blanket Papa gave him. He wanted to feel Papa,
smell him. There was nothing as good as Papa's scent, nothing made him feel
more content and secure and... He didn’t know why, but suddenly thinking about
Papa made him awfully hungry, as if his stomach was a bottomless well,
absorbing everything he ate.
Well, he hasn't eaten since the early afternoon the day before. He was feverish
and tired and smells were odd. Even his favourite pasta seemed rotten, consumed
by flies or disease, juices flowing from under the freshly green skin.
Maybe he could try eating-
His stomach rebelled at the mere thought and though his knees threatened to
give up, he ran for the bathroom door like a rabbit trying to outrun a wolf.
His knees hit the ground hard, cracking on the greenish tiles, and Percy felt
his cartilages graze against each other under the pressure before he leaned
down and a flow of bile and salty water escaped his mouth. Like a sick kitten,
he was still crying, now from exhaustion and shame, and Percy really wished
Papa was home at last, because Papa would know what to do, how to help. There
was nothing Papa couldn’t do.
The blanket was still draped around his shoulders, like an armor, and for a
moment the scent lingering on the soft fabric made Percy dizzy with need. It
was odd, very odd, to want something - someone - so badly, let alone the
company of his own father, but he gave into the feeling easily, mindlessly
rubbing his cheek against the nearest shelve in a poor attempt to spread Papa’s
lovely scent and that other thing that was  happening somewhere inside him.
It calmed him down a bit, Papa’s scent and trying not to think about food, and
soon the world regained a bit of its sharpness once again, no longer blurred
around the edges like a watercolour painting.
Percy craved something, something hidden in the house. He felt it. It was like
an ache between his ribs, growing stronger with each passing minute, a whisper
soft like spring breeze, cherry blossom ripe with the promise of sweet fruit
melting in his mouth.
He followed it like a hunting dog. Papa teached him how to chase pray, how to
gut its fluffy insides, but what he liked most about hunting was the run
itself, the moment of hesitant wishing.
At the threshold of Papa’s study, it hit him, a scent so sweet the air bearing
it tasted like cotton candy and hot chocolate at once, and his body was
suddenly light and at ease, his wandering hands touching everything on his way
finally put to a stop when he tried to localize the source. What could it be?
He wasn’t roaming through Papa’s wardrobe in years, not when he was so
hopelessly trying to prove that he was an adult now, but the cloying fragrance
called him, and his feet turned and went on, guided by the promise of a lavish
reward waiting for him at the end of the road.
His fingertips returned to the odd game of touch-everything and when he was at
the door to Papa’s bedroom, he leaned against the wall for a moment, pressing
his cheek into it, rubbing. Percy had no idea why he had to do it, but it felt
right and for a moment the pain lingering in his stomach was sated, dulled, not
tearing him from inside but nicely grazing, like the tickling sessions with Dad
so many years ago. They used to lay down in the garden the moment the first
spring sun shone over the earth, picking up March flowers and chasing
butterflies, rolling on the fresh grass until Papa started bickering that the
ground was still too cold or that it would rain soon, that they should come
back home.
Where Papa was like fire on a long winter night, Dad was like the first ray of
spring sun.
Some days Percy missed him desperately.
Some days he wished he could be Papa’s sun now.
Something thick and wet rolled down his thigh and he couldn’t help the groan of
anticipation merging with fear. His feet were shaky as he moved on, trying to
keep his eyes away from his legs, but he could still feel it, the wetness under
his striped pyjama pants, slowly getting rubbed into the fabric, soaking
through it. He knew what it is, of course he knew, he’d read all about it, so
much he should've recognized the symptoms earlier, the day before when he
scented Papa for the first time in his life. But he had never believed the
books, not when he read about slicking and clenching and hunger - he’s laughed
at it. And maybe… Maybe if he knew, deep down, what really was happening, he
didn’t want to let go, didn’t want Papa to send him away to the hospital or to
aunt Tina where he would be safe, where he could stay in her embrace and go
through it guided by someone experienced and trusted.
His heat, his first heat-
The realization hit him hard, and like under a spell, his skin slicked, down,
down, between his legs, and his muscles clenched and relaxed in rhythmic
pulsing, painful, but not unbearable. It was odd and new, and he was a little
bit terrified, but he’s read enough to know he wasn’t going to die, even is
Papa didn’t come back home soon.
It was almost as if his mind triggered the next wave of slick, as if his easy
acceptance could somehow make his body more pliant, more welcoming. His soft
pants were clinging to his skin, damp from the thick liquid, and what was once
tight relaxed, his muscles opening slightly without a touch.
Percy was dizzy, but Papa’s bed didn’t seem the right place to lay down, even
if his scent was so rich there, familiar and comforting. The other thing was
still calling him, his trembling legs moving almost against his will, in slow
motion, one step at a time, each of them followed by a new portion of slick
rolling down his thighs.
His senses grew oddly disproportional - his vision was blurred, his posture
uncertain - but his nose picked up the smallest hints of odour, the bergamot of
Papa’s cologne, the mint of his bath oils, even the lavender lingering on his
winter coats in the wardrobe, where his steps lead him in the end. It was a
small kingdom of handsome suits and elegant robes - for some reason wizard in
Europe were fond of traditional clothes and when they were visiting grandma in
England, Papa always insisted that they should wear something British - and
Percy still remembered the days when he would play dress up in Papa’s shoes or
hide behind his shirts, hanging in a neat row..
The scent was growing stronger now, with every inch he was getting closer; it
was almost like another adventure, a treasure hunt - it would be if not the
growing discomfort of his body. He should find himself a place to stay,
somewhere warm and dark, hide there, grab a bottle of water-
It crashed him before he understood what exactly lied in front of his eyes. It
was a bundle, a mess, a pile of beige sweaters and delicate fabrics, hidden in
the far corner of the room, behind Papa’s travel suitcase; his knees met the
floor, suddenly overwhelmed.
There was no mistake, he felt, he knew it was Dad’s scent and his eyes watered
and his stomach hurt again and suddenly he longed for Dad so badly it surpassed
the pain and the fear; his trembling fingers clutched on the nearest sweater
and Percy cried into to, wailing. He wanted Dad to guide him through it,
through things he couldn’t understand even after reading so many books; he
craved the comfort of another Omega and suddenly it all made so much more sense
- his aversion towards unbonded Alphas, his endless craving for Papa’s touch,
the longing that seemed a bit too dramatic compared to all of his classmates.
It surged through his bones, electrifying, and before he could stop it, the
sweaters fell off the shelf, splayed on the floor, soft and beautiful,
comforting because they smelled like another Omega and he wanted to rub himself
all over them, graze his skin against the knitted wool until he was covered in
it too, enveloped by the sweetness that smelled like home, like love, like a
long summer day spent outside in the sun.
“Ah-”
His knees buckled, his breath hitched. Even though he knew he should expect
pain, it still caught him off guard. What was uncomfortable became unbearable,
and more slick wetted his skin.
He reached for it, both intrigued and afraid, fingers slowly travelling down
his side, the fabric of his shirt getting in the way, and lower, where his
pants started, the elastic band giving into his touch, slowly pulling down,
past his thighs, his knees, his ankles, until he was half-naked. Rolling over
the pile of clothes, his soft cock - why did it never occur to him how small it
was, how pitiful?  - now freed from the confines of his pyjama pants rubbed
against the softness of Dad's sweaters, and his hips rolled on their own
accord, pushing into the slowly warming wool, into the comforting embrace of
Dad's scent. He was getting hard from the mere movement, and his lips parted in
a helpless gasp; it was wonderful and terrifying all the same, the wetness
seeping from his body, so sweet yet barely perceptible, because it was not his
to feel. It was meant for an Alpha, so he could find him and-
Percy whimpered, his nose buried in the flower-patterned sheets that had to be
Dad's once, and the emptiness inside him became more potent, like a growing
wound, an opening to some other dimension sucking in everything around him,
leaving behind only pain and confusion.
He knew how to end it. There were some methods to temporarily sate the pain,
before it grew bone-breaking and blinding, leaving the Omega hopeless and easy
to take. In a short moment of clarity he thanked... Percy wasn’t not sure whom
or what - someone, something - that is happened during the break and not at
school. Everyone would know, everyone would want to have a piece of him and he
wasn’t about to resign from his future plans because nature decided to make him
fertile in the unusual way. If anything, he was going to use it to his
advantage, like no one else before. He wasn’t a coward, he wouldn't stay home
and hide-
Another spasm ran through his abdomen, like knives shoving into him without
mercy, some invisible enemies trying to hurt him not to kill, but to make him
suffer, to remind him that all this was supposed to bring an Alpha his way, the
pain, the desperate wailing, the scent he was so recklessly leaving behind on
the way from his bed to Papa's wardrobe, all of this and the slick, the way his
muscles started clenching without touch, begging for an Alpha to claim him-
Percy yelped arranging himself on the floor again, this time trying to reach
for his once puckered hole, now opening beautifully, pink if he imagined it
right, heated, and so, so wet it was dripping off his fingers when he finally
pushed one knuckle in, without resistance, without pain.
The sound that escaped his throat wasn’t human - it was a cry of a wounded
animal. His hips thrusted back, trying to take more of his finger in, and he
felt his insides, warm and soft and wet, inviting.
It wasn’t his first time touching himself, but it had never felt so satisfying,
so completing - he liked it before, the slowly drawn pleasure, but his fingers
weren’t enough now, not even when he managed to put more than the usual one
inside.
The warmth spreading through him was like nothing else he's ever felt, waves of
pain mixed with pleasure rearranging him around the new center of himself, the
raging emptiness that had to be filled or he might collapse into nothingness,
disappear and turn into ashes, like a spring flower dying in unexpected night
frost. His fingers moved, in and out, and the sound reaching his ears was lewd
and delicious, natural in the most primal of ways; it was the sound of spring,
of rebirth, of lovers uniting after a long time of separation. Percy felt his
ears burn in shame, but it was only his mind that made him feel bad - Papa
always told him that whatever he'd turn to be, he'd still get everything he
wanted.
Percy’s cock begged for pity, but when he touched it, guided by need, something
he knew, the touch stained and hurt, and his throat spasmed in a desperate
attempt to catch some fresh air, overwhelmed by the foreign sensation. Why
couldn't he touch himself? Why did it suddenly feel so bad? Another hushed
whisper - like a call for help - slipped from his mouth with a wave of drool,
running down his chin and onto the already ruined sweater, and his hot tears
followed soon; he was growing desperate.
He added another finger to the two already filling him, hoping for some kind of
relief, but it was only temporary, barely enough to let him roll onto his side,
with prying eyes glued to the door - as if he was expecting intruders, the same
Alphas he used to mock - and his hand never left his hole, thrusting on and on,
until it was unbearable not to come, but his cock was still only half-hard, his
balls weren’t even all that heavy, revealing another side to his nature - he
wasn’t supposed to plant children, he was supposed to carry them.
The thought was both revolting and exciting.
He felt something under his fingers, something that made his body shiver when
he grazed over it, as if he was standing naked in a snowstorm, so strong it
was, so unexpected. He tried again and, oh- It happened once more, stealing his
breath.
It was hard to move without letting go of his fingers, his hole sucking them
in, but he tried nonetheless, limbs weak from pain and hunger. Hips rolling
against the soft wool, he kept pushing on and on, until he was nothing more
than a mewling mess, a bundle of nerves dictating him what to do.
When he came, only a bit of oddly watered come dribbles down his leg, followed
another portion of slick, much more substantial.
He wanted to scrubs the filth off himself, even if only temporarily, but he was
weak, so weak, kitten-limp after the first wave of bliss, one that was still
able to sate him for a quick, betraying moment.
“Papa,” he whispered into the silent room. He was no longer sure what to do,
how to do it. “Papa, please come back home.’
 
===============================================================================
 
It hit him the moment his feet met the cold ground, still hard after winter,
only slowly coming back to life.
There was no mistake - he scented an Omega, and not any Omega, it was his mate,
his long, long gone-
He surged forward in a amok, eyes focused on the door, ears alarmed in search
of any possible threat. An Omega, his Omega-
Blood stirred in his veins, singing like it hadn't in years, and his usually
pale skin regained its colour, his cheek flushing from the speed and need and
want, the sweet promise of burying his nose in his lover's hair, his neck,
taking him apart piece by piece, draping him in his own scent, marking him
until everyone knew they were each other's-
The door opened before he could touch it, magic outrunning him by one step and
he was too impatient to shake off his shoes, take off his coat- His reckless
run was getting more and more uncomfortable now that his cock started getting
hard in his slacks, the fabric a bit crumpled because he slept in them-
Something moewed under his feet. Stopping last moment, Credence bumped into the
wall with a hiss.
"Lance,” his voice was croaked, from the run and the sudden arousal.
But it was enough to calm down his senses a bit, to understand that something
was terribly off.
Lance looked at him with curious puzzlement, rubbing against his ankles, and
Credence felt, finally, that what he took for Theo's scent - how could he? how,
when his bondmate was dead for the past seven years? - wasn’t, in fact, Theo's.
There was an Omega in his house, an Omega in heat, leaving a trace of slick on
the way from Percy's bedroom to the bathroom and then to... to his own room.
And then he understood.
His mind raced on like a storm, already close to his little Omega, licking the
sweetness off his skin, marvelling at the taste, devouring the nectar-
For a brief moment Credence considered running away, going back to the
Scamanders, begging them to lock him in Newt's suitcase and sending Tina to
help his boy before he could do something stupid, enchanted by how similar
Percy's scent was to Theo's, how sweet, how alluring. It was his damnation, the
bond he insisted to create, forever binding him to Theo's blood, his soul, but
Percy was Theo's blood too and somehow the possibility never occurred to him
before.
His son, an Omega.
A sound reached his ear, a wailing he couldn’t misinterpret. A mating call.
The thought about impossible ran through his mind, but of course it was all
possible - the chance was always high, at least as high as the chance of Percy
being an Alpha - it was possible and it was happening, in his house, in this
very moment, and he was glued to the floor, unable to move on or go back,
stilled in the passing time.
Percy cried again and it was a desperate plea, one that made Credence’s hands
fumble the edge of his coat. What was he even doing? Why wasn’t he trying to
help? It wasn’t the first time he was faced with an Omega, for God's sake,
neither was it above his skill to keep his hands away from his own son, even if
his sweet crying was like a treacherous invitation to sit between his parted
legs and drink him whole, open what was left to be open - Theseus was always so
eager, so beautiful down there - and make it easier for him, end the pain-
His thoughts were about to follow a dangerous route, one that lead to a point
of no return, and his palms were sweaty when he took a step inside his bedroom,
looking for his sweet, only child, following his scent. He knew Omegas tended
to hide when their heat was getting near; one year he found Theo hidden in the
basement, draped in old blankets and nesting with little Percy by his side.
Hide and seek, that's what they used to call it.
"Papa-" He heard the boy before he saw him, splayed on the floor, covered in
Theo's scent, mewling in despair. He wasn’t presenting yet, it was still early
enough to organise it all, help Percy go through it with as  little pain as
possible. "Papa, please-”
“Shh-hh, I’m with you, baby boy.”
It was so easy to scoop Percy in his arms, to let him nuzzle closer, embracing
him as tight as he could, because he knew, he knew it was the only thing he
could do now, offer Percy a bit of his scent, now that it was the right thing
to do and he didn’t have to feel guilty, but oh, Percy looked beautiful, he
always had, he was going to be a handsome man, just like Theo, strong and
brave, healthy and smiling. But now he was blooming, a flower someone would try
to pick up from his garden sooner or later.
The thought made him growl, baring his teeth.
He felt Percy shiver in his arms.
“Papa?” His voice was meek, barely hearable. “Are you angry with me, Papa?”
“Never, Percy, never-”
“I thought that maybe-”
“That maybe what?”
“That you’d prefer me-”
His voice broke and Credence felt his heart stop.
“Percy...” It was hard to keep his eyes and hands away from his son’s cock,
trapped between their bodies, leaking steadily against Percy’s taut belly,
finally exposed after he put the boy down and lifted the sweat-soak shirt. “I
love you, you, my little sun, not for what you are, but because you are,
kitten.”
He’s not sure whether his words or the soft kiss - one he couldn’t stop himself
from offering - made Percy limp, relaxing a bit, enough to be placed in the
slowly filling bathtub. Just like Theo, Percy ignored the boiling water - his
heat was sense-dulling enough, but Credence had to grit his teeth to stop
himself from cursing. The water was supposed to ease Percy’s fever for a bit,
let him rest until he found a solution, like a good father should-
Against his palm, Percy drew in a shaking breath.
“Papa- Don’t send me to aunt Tina, please, please-” A daring tongue breached
the seam of Percy’s rosy lips, and when Credence wanted to move away, it was
already too late. His son was tasting him, looking for comfort. It couldn’t be
want or desire, it was merely his nature, Credence tried to tell himself,
ignoring how heavy his cock felt inside his slacks. “Can I stay home? With
you?” From under half-lidded eyes, Percy looked at him a little bit more
coherently. He must have come at least once, judging by his temporary
 composure. The thought made him oddly envious of his own kid’s pleasure. “You
smell so good, Papa. I want to-”
“Don’t say it.”
His voice was harsh, but his fingers brushed Percy’s damp hair.
“Papa, don’t you feel it?”
Percy’s smaller hand grabbed his and guided it underwater, down to where he was
still hard and lower, past the curve of his balls, where water was thicker,
mixed with the steady flow of slick.
“It’s for an Alpha, kitten, any Alpha you-”
“No,” Percy sounded desperate as he shivered through another wave of cramps.
“Papa, please- Papa, if you can, take it away from me,” he begged, his eyes
full of tears. “But- but whatever you decide, I’ll do.”
He was falling into the pliant state of mind quickly, Credence noticed, letting
Percy guide his fingers deeper, until he felt the puffy inside and only the
uncomfortable position was stopping him from grabbing Percy’s damp hair and
trying to feed him his cock, now begging for a touch, ready to take what was
his.
Percy opened so easily under his touch, and God, he missed it so much, the
struggle of becoming, of uniting. It all made sense now, the softness of
Percy’s hair, his strength cumulating in muscles rather than in height; even
his own nightly endeavours were now more understandable.
He had to protect his Omega from the world, from the bad things that could
happen if Percy was running around unmarked, without an Alpha smell on him.
The water was getting lukewarm and it was obvious that even if he could keep
Percy’s heat at bay for a little bit longer, drape him in enchanted blankets,
take him to bed and cover in Theo’s sweaters, nothing could ease the pain in
the end, nothing but an Alpha.
Somewhere on the edge of his mind, Gellert’s words come back to him and
Credence growled, low and angry, making Percy shiver and whimper softly into
his arm, wetting the fabric of his dark shirt. Tight muscles closed around his
fingers as Percy tried to take him in deeper, writhing like an impatient cat.
His eyes were closed and if not the shirt, he’d be mouthing at Credence’s skin,
baring his even teeth to take a bite.
“It hurts, Papa-” His heart broke at the wanton sound of Percy’s cry. “It hurts
so bad-”
“Shh-hh, it’s normal, kitten, you’re all right.”
But words weren’t enough to sate Percy’s pain and it was getting harder and
harder to ignore how hungry he was, eager to taste Percy like he had never
before, marking him in new, wonderful ways.
“You want it badly, don’t you, kitten?”
Percy nodded, willingly giving into his touch, trying to move closer despite
the bathtub separating them.
It took him barely a few pushes; Percy was so touch depraved it was a wonder he
hadn’t combusted yet. How many hours did he spend in the wardrobe, desperately
trying to fill himself and failing? He felt how sweetly his walls clenched
around his fingers, and the boy whimpered into his arm, tears of confusion
running down his cheeks.
“Papa will take care of you, don’t worry.”
There was almost on point in draping the boy in a towel - he was so warm the
water steamed off his skin - but Percy started sweating instead and clutched
onto his arms on shaky legs, two lean columns glistening from the bath and the
slick running freely again. The blanket he put on Percy’s arms was ruined
before they got back to bed, soaked with the thickness of his slick, and
Credence felt it on his fingers, right under Percy’s bum, the curve of it
fitting perfectly into his palm.
“Lay here for a moment, kitten. I’ll be back in a minute.”
The desperate cry of his only child reached his ears and went straight to his
groin, reminding him once again how wonderfully wrong this whole thing was, how
wicked, but his nature was more pliant than his morale - an Omega needed him,
and Omega that accidentally happened to be his son.
Didn’t he deserve it? After so many years of celibacy? It was stupid and
reckless to bond with Theo, they should’ve listened to people older and wiser
than them.
What he needed now is a quick fire call to his secretary and a lot of water for
when they were finished. He wasn’t going to risk dehydrating the boy, his sweet
kitten, it was hard enough for him to go through it all alone, without another
Omega by his side. If only Theo was there - they could all nestle in his bed,
just like they did during the long summer days when Percy was little, kiss his
pain away. Credence knew no one was doing it this way these days, but wasn’t it
the most natural? To keep his own child company? To be his first Alpha?
The mere thought about giving Percy into someone else’s hands, selling his
first heat-
Credence knew Theo wouldn’t want it.
And he- He craved the sweet nectar hiding between Percy’s legs and the plush
softness of his young skin, the flush covering his body, everything, he wanted
everything. For himself.
He should've known, he should've read the signs. His own body was telling him
so often that something was happening, his cock was hard on so many occassion
when they were in close proximity, lying on the couch or sitting side by side
at the kitchen table. It was all there.
The few steps he had to take back to his bedroom were easier, lighter. When he
was no longer trying to fight it, the scent washed over his senses like a
summer hurricane ready to sweep him off his feet. And maybe it did, maybe he
was flying a few inches above the deep-green carpet, shedding off his vest and
shirt, still wet from the bath, kicking off his shoes, unbuckling his belt.
It's been so long and yet it all came naturally; his fingers didn’t hesitate,
his knees didn’t buckle. All he could see was the pale expanse of Percy neck,
the wave of his dark hair - the only thing they shared in looks - and the curl
of his form, hunching on his side, knees to chest, arms around them, in a poor
attempt to somehow stop the pain, make it go away.
Naked, he didn’t wait long to take the ruined blanket away - it smelled like
Theo, he thought, but then it wasn’t Theo at all, it was Percy and Percy alone.
"Hurts-" The boy mewled again, but it was weaker this time, more ragged, just
like the breaths he was trying to take, his small chest heaving in pain.
"Papa's with you now, kitten, Papa will take care of you."
He was repeating himself, but there were no words of comfort he could find.
Only his deeds could help Percy now.
His lips were begging for a kiss, slightly parted, dry from the constant fever,
but Credence didn’t go for them, not yet. It was Percy's neck that attracted
him first, and he sniffed all the differences, the subtleties of Percy's scent;
it was like a new variation on something known, a reedition. Fresher and
richer, like full summer, and ripe like an apple ready to fall. It took all of
his will not to bite down, not to force himself onto the sweet bundle of
hormones and tears lying underneath him, tiny hands clutching onto the sheets,
as if Percy was afraid to touch him without permission.
"Papa... Am I good …?"
"You're perfect, kitten."
He knew it for sure - they said there was nothing like an Omega's first heat -
and as he tasted the skin under his tongue, it got right to his head and his
cock, the sweetness of innocence, something that could be only felt once and
never again.
He licked on, and Percy melted under the caress, limp in his embrace. If he was
in pain, he didn’t made it obvious, opening his mouth only to moan prettily,
thrusting his hips up in search of some pressure.
Not wanting to be cruel, Credence palmed Percy’s cock and he felt the shiver
running through him, right under his lips, currently busy lapping on his
nipples, sucking in a pointless attempt to draw something from it, and when he
moved down Percy arched his back to follow his mouth.
The tension pooling in him was rising, slowly yet steadily, threatening to make
him lose his control, and his tongue got messier as he moved back, settling
between Percy’s parted legs. His boy was breathing heavily, his chest moving in
unison with shallow gasps, but his cheeks were flushed beautifully, and if he
was crying, it was only because he wanted more.
“There you go,” Credence smiled at the boy, rubbing two fingers over his wet
hole, and it opened easily at his touch.
Percy tried to press his hips up, but it wasn’t time yet. He didn’t have his
bite.
Ignoring the constant throbbing of his cock, Credence pressed a kiss to the
inside of Percy’s thigh. It wasn’t his first time there, not really, but how
much sweeter was it to have his boy conscious, voicing his need without
restrains.
If Percy’s scent was intoxicating everywhere else, it was maddening where his
hole was fluttering, closing around nothing. A bit puffy, pinkish and wet -
Credence couldn’t imagine anything more beautiful. And when his lips touched
the sticky secretion his mind went blank, filled with nothing more than
enlightment, a realization that this was where he should be, where he wanted to
be, between the safe shelter of an Omega’s legs, drinking the sweetness of
their heat, the promise of a bright future filled with endless spring.
Oh, how he missed it, how he craved it.
He caught what was sliding down Percy’s soft seam, worried it may be lost in
the sheets, and then he got his fill, sucking with little thoughts, holding his
boy close when he tried to wiggle away, overwhelmed by the foreign sensation,
by the tongue entering him instead of fingers.
“Let go, beautiful,” he whispered between thoughtless kisses, and Percy tensed
and came, sobbing as pleasure moved through him, once more giving into his
release. “See, kitten? Papa’s taking good care of you.”
His boy was open now, ready for more, and Credence shifted only to place a kiss
on his lips, make him taste how sweet he was, how wonderful.
 
===============================================================================
 
“You’re smelling good, baby,” Papa purred into the crook of his neck, his
fingers moving down his chest, towards where he was wet and in pain, where the
walls of his hole where aching. He’s never felt like this, not even when he was
trying to fill it himself, riding his fingers.
He felt Papa’s smile and a kissed followed, warm and lazy, unfitting for his
state.
He needed something inside, something that would stop the constant spasms.
Another whine, softer this time, left his mouth when Papa moved away.
“What do you want, kitten?”
“Papa, I- I need-”
He was almost sure Papa chuckled, so he rocked his hips a bit, trying to thrust
up, wondering how much did it take to attract an Alpha.
For some reason, Papa wasn’t listening to him.
Percy whined in distress. It burned, awfully, like walking on glass, and he
needed relief. He was starving for touch, any touch; he’d thank Papa for a slap
right now.
Why wasn’t Papa touching him? Why did he stop? Percy could feel the strong
presence of an Alpha in the room and yet Papa wasn’t moving closer... His
emotions were a roiling mess of abandonment, and he cried again, begging to be
taken.
“What do you want, kitten?”
“Please, Papa, I need to be touched-“
He needed to be filled, he needed it so badly... His hands moved on their own,
travelling down his chest, hoping to touch, to press inside-
Something odd, a force he couldn’t see, stopped his fingers right above his
navel.
Percy sobbed and banged his head down against the mattress.
“What do you want, kitten?” He heard the same question again, this time in a
slightly less amused tone.
“Please, A-alpha,” the word tasted odd on his tongue. “Please, make it stop.”
Papa didn’t move.
“Please!” Percy sobbed in frustration. He was covered in sweat, aching, his
body begging for release. He wasn’t even sure what was he asking for - his
imagination was failing him, filled with textbook’s illustrations. He already
knew life was nothing like textbooks. How would Papa’s cock fill him? How would
he push into his aching hole, opening him even more, finally giving him
something to clench down on…? Oh, it was beautiful and painful to think of,
because he had none of it.  
His hands were still locked, but only when he tried to moved down - up they
went freely, and Percy rolled onto his stomach, pressing his face into the soft
pillow and arching his back, presenting, begging to be taken at last. His own
cock, only half-hard and small, hung between his spread legs.
“You’re ready now, kitten.” Papa seemed relieved and hungry, and Percy felt
calmer, warmth spreading through his chest. “Was it really so hard?”
He shook his head, because no, it wasn’t hard at all. It was good and when Papa
kissed him again, lapping and biting down the peachy curve of his bottom,
another wave of slick dribbled down his legs, almost cold against his feverish
skin.
“You smell so good," Papa was whispering, and for a moment there Percy was
afraid he’d drink him again instead of giving him what he needed most.
“Sticking your pretty ass up in the air for me. You need it badly, don’t you,
kitten?”
Why was Papa like this? Why couldn't he just take? Fingernails danced on his
spine, up and down, and Papa tugged on his cock, drawing a long moan out of his
lips. He trembled with need, and he craved attention after his earlier
unnatural abandonment.
“Please-”
“Shh-hh, baby, I’ll give you what you need now.”
He felt the heavy length of Papa’s cock on his ass and whined.
And then, then, finally, Papa held his hips, stopping his desperate moves, and
Percy felt his hole flutter against the emptiness, breached by nothing but the
air, until Papa was right there, thick and warm, pressing into him so slowly
Percy cried in frustration, feeling every inch, every single muscle stretching
to welcome Papa where he belonged, panting when the head popped in, bringing
him more relief than pain.
Papa was moving slowly but steadily and soon Percy understood how much there
was to take and- Oh, he was still in pain, but it was better now, no longer
desperate. Even his own cock twitched a bit, the tip grazing over the sheets
when he arched his back further, willing to take Papa deeper inside if it was
possible.
“You’re so tight, kitten,” Papa leaned down to whisper in his ear, worrying the
flesh between his teeth. “So good for me.”
He felt Papa so deep inside he was worried it might break him, making a  space
for himself inside Percy’s body. His heavy, Alpha balls were flush against his
own softer ones and suddenly it all felt right. The pain felt right. The press
of the Papa’s thick cock against his swollen walls soothed the terrible aching
inside him. His mind calmed as he felt Papa move.
Percy kept his legs spread wide, accepting each deep thrust of the cock inside
him.
And when he started to adjust, following Papa’s cruelly slow pace, the pain
lessened at last, turning into something quite different, a feeling of safety
merging with pleasure.
He let out a sigh of relief. It felt right to be taken by Papa, it felt
complete.
“We should move now, kitten,” Papa whispered and though his voice was kind,
Percy knew he had to listen. “I’ll turn you-”
A whimper he couldn’t control fell from his parted lips when Papa moved back,
leaving his empty again, but soon he was straddling Papa’s waist, barely
keeping his head up, and waiting for what was about to happen next.
Papa raised him with ease, and this time it didn’t take so long to be filled -
he wanted it and he was no longer scared, and even the pain had vanished,
leaving only warmth and peace behind.
“You can try moving a bit, kitten. Make Papa feel good.”
Percy didn’t need anything else than the simple encouragement. Looking down, he
saw Papa’s dark eyes observing him carefully, and he clenched experimentally,
making him moan.
He tried it once more, lifting himself up then sinking back down, working
Papa’s cock in his tight hole.
“Kitten,” Papa choked with an amused smile, grasping his hips. “My little
minx.”
The grip on his hips got stronger and soon they’ve found a rhythm, Percy’s
lithe form bouncing atop Papa’s toned body. It felt right, perfect, and he felt
it again, the wave of falling stars and white light approaching him with each
thrust, wilder this time, fuller when the at the base of Papa’s cock started to
expand, and he moaned, rubbing his balls against Percy’s hole as he grounded
in.
He felt it all, every pulse filling him, and his muscles stretched impossibly,
almost painfully and yet he wanted it, the completion, the end of his
suffering, and when he fell against Papa’s chest, he sighed in relief and
kissed him gently on the lips, not worrying what would happen next. He was
safe, he was loved. The pain was taken away.
When he nuzzled into the crook of Papa’s neck, he was exhausted.
When Papa stroked his hair, he hummed and felt another rush of come inside him.
“You’re so beautiful, Percy, so brave.” He couldn’t disagree, not when Papa was
petting his back so nicely, fingers stroking his nape until he went limp in his
embrace, the tension finally gone from his body.
“Papa, what-” He wanted to ask, to be sure. “What are we going to do now?”
“It’s going to be ok.” A kiss, barely a peck, was pressed to his temple, an odd
reminder of their last talk. “Are you feeling better now?”
Percy nodded. He nuzzled closer on instinct, breathing Papa in. He smelled
really good, Percy thought, like home. Content, he licked the drops of sweat
gathering at the seam of his lips. Papa wrapped his arms around him.
 
End Notes
     ♥ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ♥
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!