Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1103502.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Shingeki_no_Kyojin_|_Attack_on_Titan
  Relationship:
      Armin_Arlert/OC
  Character:
      Armin_Arlert
  Additional Tags:
      Non-Consensual, Fisting, Medical, Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-12-26 Words: 3114
****** Training Accidents ******
by Anarhichas
Summary
     ‘Don’t be a baby,’ David said, mouth working before he could stop
     himself. He placed his hand back on the flat muscle of Armin’s upper
     thighs. ‘I need to examine you.’
Notes
     For the prompt: self-lubrication, humiliation.
     Concrit is welcome, as always, thank you for reading!
The room was warm and a little stuffy despite it still being spring. The new
castle headquarters were massive, and this together with the fact that there
hadn’t been an expedition in a while, the victims of the last one having long
since died or moved out, meant that David and his latest patient were entirely
alone. The boy, a soft, young looking soldier with straw coloured hair and legs
short enough that his feet didn’t touch the ground as he sat on the edge of a
bed, cradled his arm to his chest. His sleeve had been rolled up, exposing a
long scrape up the side of the forearm, only barely warranting treatment. A
small training injury. Still, it was something to do in the otherwise boring
days, and an injury bound to heal well was always something a doctor liked to
see.
David had always admired the Scouting Corps, more than he had the other
factions of the military. Since childhood fighting for them had been a dream of
– going outside the walls, fighting titans! Survive through sheer skill and
returning home victorious! Saving his teammates from the rather literal jaws of
defeat! It was just that when signing up had happened he’d always been
somewhere else, or busy, and he’d sign up next time of course he would. Life
continued, the years passed, and somehow David ended up a doctor instead.
Of course, then Wall Maria fell and with such a conscription push in the
aftermath he found his way to the Scouting Corps all the same.
Which meant that middle age crept up on him while he looked on and felt his gut
clench with envy at the tales his patients told him. Two kills, this time! And
the titans had been so close, just a hair’s breadth away. David stitched them
up, reset their bones, amputated limbs, tended to infection, and occasionally
administered the lethal dose to those too far gone for anything other than an
easy way out. It wasn’t bad, truth be told, especially now he’d had a more
intimate view of the survival rate statistics.
David got to work. The boy, introducing himself as Armin Arlert, sat a little
nervously, tense and looking away as if embarrassed about something. That
wasn’t unusual in itself. Few soldiers liked ending up in the infirmary, even
less for training accidents. Still, the air in the room seemed to be getting
thicker, noticeable as David got a bowl of water and antiseptic, picking out
the bits of dirt and twig from the wound with a pair of tweezers. It stuck on
the tongue, a scent he couldn’t place but knew distinctly. Distracted, David
accidentally poked into the red raw flesh of Armin’s wound, and Armin hissed
loudly. David blinked and apologised. It wasn’t like his hand to slip. But the
air was definitely carrying something, a taste that felt like it was driving
right up into his skull.
Had someone left dirty laundry in the room? But while it was undeniably an
organic taste it wasn’t a bad one. Nothing like the stink of decay.
The tweezers slipped again. David realised that his hands were sweating. He
stared at the wound, now more or less cleaned and shining with tissue fluid.
What next? He could barely think.
Armin shifted, the motion small and tight. His face was flushed, David saw.
Then he snapped back into professionalism and went to get the bandages,
wrapping Armin up with hands a significant deal more clumsy then their usual
state. It was if he’d been drinking, though he knew he hadn’t.
‘Are you,’ David hesitated as he stood away, thinking in the back of his mind
that such an easy job had taken far too long, but unable to concentrate on the
fact. ‘Is there anything else you want to ask me?’
It was a question he usually asked patients with illnesses he couldn’t name, or
those he remembered as too proud to ask for help on the more embarrassing
issues. But he suddenly knew that he didn’t want Armin out of the room. Not
just yet. He needed to know what the smell was first, that smell that itched in
his lungs and made his fingers want to grasp something undefined.
Armin hesitated. He was still sitting, legs tight together, back straight. He
looked so small, David’s mind supplied from nowhere. Never mind that he was a
trained soldier. He looked so fragile. Breakable.
David’s mouth was dry. With a jolt he realised that somewhere along the line
he’d grown half hard.
‘No,’ Armin muttered, looking away again, and got up from the bed stiff legged.
David watched him as he left, noticing something.
‘Hold on,’ he said, blurted without thinking. There was a dark patch on the
seat of Armin’s trousers, a small wet stain just in the crease. ‘You have–’
Armin straightened, as fast as if the words had been long needles. He whirled
so that his back was to the wall, hiding the wet patch. His face was burning a
bright red with miserable embarrassment.
‘It’s nothing,’ he stuttered.
David gathered his words, the beginning of an idea coming to him, on the tip of
his tongue but not quite there yet. ‘Rectal discharge is not nothing,’ he said,
and even speaking through the thick taste in the air was like watching meat
being cooked but allowed none of it. ‘You’ll need to let me have a look, in
case it’s something serious.’
Armin looked in that moment like there was nothing he’d prefer more than
breaking open the door and making a run for it. But he hesitated, and David
took the opportunity to step back towards the bed, beckoning.
Which was how he found himself staring down at a boy not even old enough to
have finished puberty, whose trousers and underwear were folded gracelessly on
the side table, and who was lying on his stomach with a couple of pillows
wedged under his hips, tilting them up. His legs bent in a wide angle, spread
so that his knees poked over the sides of the bed, and his arse was pushed into
the air.
Unusual but not unheard of. Soldiers got all sorts of injuries, especially the
younger ones. What was new was that David’s cock had decided that a lifetime of
being not into men, let alone boys, was now irrelevant. He could feel himself
strain in the confines of his trousers.
The mysterious wet patch, however, had been undeniably explained. Armin was
leaking a viscous clear fluid from his arse, in small quantities but quantities
none the less. David reached out to touch it, press his finger into the
wetness, then stopped himself inches above the skin. He knew what this was
already: Armin was an omega. David had never seen one, or if he had he hadn’t
known of their identity – their condition, and likewise the alpha condition,
was hereditary, and those who had it existed almost solely within the upper
classes of society. He should tell the boy, take away his hand, and let that be
the end of it. It was none of his business.
But god, he’d never realised that omegas in heat had such an affect on normal
men. The scent. How could he have not realised earlier?
Armin clearly didn’t realise what he was. And this would be the last time David
would ever get to see one, examine one, and on heat to boot. David’s heart was
beating a fat rhythm in his veins. What a missed opportunity it would be if he
stopped now. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt the boy. He just wanted a look.
There was nothing wrong with that.
David placed a single finger on the rim of Armin’s arsehole, letting it slide
down and over. Armin flinched at the contact but didn’t move away. The fluid
felt slick, like that from a woman. His skin flushed red, heated, and David
would have called it infected had he not known better.
He could barely think of anything else as he let his index finger slip into
Armin, so easy with the fluid. Armin made a small noise in his throat and David
felt his body shiver. Insertion like this would be next to impossible on a man
without having added some sort of external lubrication, but Armin’s body
practically sucked him in. David pressed in further, letting his fingertip
explore the heat and tightness. When he withdrew his finger glistened wet with
the slick, clean of any shit that should have existed.
He didn’t think as he reinserted the finger, this time with the middle one
also. He needed to see more. How easy would it be to fuck Armin while he was
like this? David bit his lip hard, clenching his free hand into a fist as he
moved his fingers in and out, slowly. His cock throbbed.
Armin’s hips jerked without warning, a sharp motion into the pillows under him
that withdrew David’s fingers from him. He was panting, David realised, a
ragged sound.
‘Please stop,’ Armin said, voice small and pitched high, brittle. His hands
were grasping the bed sheets. ‘I can’t – I – please, stop.’
‘Don’t be a baby,’ David said, mouth working before he could stop himself. He
placed his hand back on the flat muscle of Armin’s upper thighs. ‘I need to
examine you.’
Without warning he pushed his fingers back in, as far as they’d go, until his
knuckle was pressed up against the hot flesh of Armin’s arse. His hands were
thin, bony, but Armin was small and the ring of muscle stretched visibly around
David’s fingers. David watched it avidly as it squeezed around him pulling in
and out, slow and careful. He needed to see it stretch more, to shiver and
strain.
He crooked his fingers as he inserted a third, pressing them together at the
tip. There was a definite pressure as he pushed in, knuckle deep, that hadn’t
been there before. Even so there was enough give that he could still spread his
fingers a little way, stretch out Armin as he continued to thrust slowly with
his hand. The fluid Armin was producing coated his fingers, making wet sucking
noises as he moved.
His mouth was full of saliva. David swallowed. Armin’s pants had descended into
messy little whines that hitched with the thrusts. Fuck, David thought, as he
pressed his free hand down on Armin’s lower back where his shirt had ridden up,
holding him still and forcing his spine to arch. He sounds like a fucking
whore.
Three fingers together were larger than even a pretty big cock, but despite
Armin’s size and lack of preparation he could fit them in easily. Were all
omegas able to stretch like this? There’d be no way a boy would be able to do
this otherwise, surely.
David paused, looking at his hand pressed half into a boy’s arse with a sudden
and keen sense of surrealism. A boy who couldn’t be much older than mid-teens.
Younger than his own little niece. A boy who was very clearly trying to twist
away, whose face pressed into the mattress didn’t disguise the sobbing of his
breath.
He shouldn’t be doing this, David thought. The concept appeared in his mind
unexpectedly, but abstractedly. His cock throbbed in his underwear and the
stink of the boy’s fluid still filled up his head like hard alcohol.
No, it was fine. Besides, it wasn’t harming anyone. Omegas were built for this
sort of thing.
David pulled out his hand then pushed it back in again, this time with all four
fingers. How far could he reach inside? There had to be a gland somewhere to
produce all this lubrication. And omegas must have a side channel leading to
the womb, but where? Could he reach it?
It was wrong and David stopped again, an almost unbearable squeeze tightening
around the top of his hand, past the knuckles, the limit of insertion before
his thumb got in the way. But Armin was shaking, clutching the bedframe with
his thighs tight enough it creaked, even as his hips had started to jerk.
‘Please,’ he whined. ‘Please stop, please–’
Except, David realised with a jolt like lightning down his spine to his cock,
Armin wasn’t trying to pull away. He was trying to push onto his hand.
David only just managed to stop himself groaning aloud at the sight. He leant
his own hips against the bed, trying to press his erection into control against
the hard frame. Armin was fucking himself on his hand. He wanted it. He was a
fucking omega, of course he’d want it.
David clenched his fingers into a half-fist, forcing Armin to stretch just that
bit further. Armin gasped wetly as he did so, breaking his string of begging.
His hips didn’t stop their little thrusts. God. Fuck. The sight of his pale
little arse, flushed red, sticking in the air – David gritted his teeth. He
wanted to slap it, smack it until the boy cried like a bitch in heat. He wanted
to pin him down and fuck him so hard he squealed, fill him up with come until
he bloated fat with it.
The fluid squeezed down David’s palm with a squelching noise as he forced his
hand in an out, fingertips to palm, an unsteady repetition. Alphas knotted,
didn’t they? He didn’t really know what that meant, at least not exactly, but
Armin hadn’t shown any signs that he couldn’t fit in just a bit more. Not yet,
anyway. He was tiny but his arse felt so greedy as it swallowed up his hand,
sucking it into the heat and tightness inside, squeezing muscle around his
fingers. He had to be able to fit more. And if he couldn’t – well, only one way
to find out.
David’s hand got stuck half way up the thumb. He pushed harder, even grasping
Armin’s shoulder for leverage when the additional force just shoved him bodily
forwards. He tried squeezing his hand together, more narrow, and rock in and
out with small thrusts, but to no avail.
‘Stop!’ Armin said. His voice sounded like it was breaking. ‘Please stop it
hurts, really hurts, stop, please–’
‘Be quiet!’ David let his hand slide out, wet and slick, and the inch of loss
felt like being cheated. ‘It’s a standard procedure, now grow up.’
How could he do it? David wriggled his hand, rotating it at the wrist.
Underneath him Armin had started to twist violently, clawing at the bedframe as
his chest shook visibly with great heaving breaths. His moan turned into a
sharp whine as David gave a little thrust, pushing in just that little bit
further. Not much more to go. Just another centimetre or two.
Armin’s thighs were straining, trembling. One kicked out, a short spasm. David
kept rotating his hand, pumping it in and out to work the slick up over his
skin. Fuck, he didn’t think he’d ever been this hard before.
‘Stop,’ Armin whined, more of a drawn out stutter than any proper word.
‘Please.’
David didn’t bother answering. His hand had finally slipped in entirely, with
Armin clenching around his wrist. Heart beating so hard it was almost painful,
David pumped his fist within Armin. He could move more freely now, though still
so hot and tight, incredibly so, even with the natural lubrication slipping
between his fingers, around his wrist. He’d – he’d wanted to find the gland and
passage to the womb, but with his own hand engulfed and Armin squirming and
crying, he could barely think. It looked – god, like nothing he’d seen before.
To see the boy impaled, stretched skin red and shining with fluids leaking from
his own arse. Trying to fuck himself even as he begged and whined for it to
stop.
David came in his trousers, closing his eyes as the orgasm raced through his
body, setting it alight. He almost staggered as it finished, grasping at the
bed to steady himself, and breathed open mouthed to try and calm his racing
heart. He felt light headed, swept up in a rush, euphoria cradling his skull.
He hadn’t ever achieved orgasm without physical stimulation before.
Armin had fallen still, save for his shivering, lying there at the end of
David’s fist. When David started to withdraw Armin twitched, forcing his body
forwards to pull away also, and when the tightness of his arse stopped them he
sobbed out wordless noises.
Amid the afterglow David became aware that he hadn’t locked the door. There was
horror in that thought but still – the fuzziness about his head and the smell,
so damn thick in his mouth, seemed to block most of it. He pulled his hand back
quickly, brutally, and the sound Armin made would have been a scream had it not
been so strangled, broken, on the wrong end of a ragged breath.
David turned. His hand was wet, so wet it practically dripped. And more
importantly his orgasm had left its mark on the front of his trousers. He
thought vaguely that he should feel ashamed, but couldn’t manage it.
Washing his hands in a bowl of water, then holding the towel in front of him to
hide his crotch, David turned back to Armin. Something in his chest stuttered
to see the boy curled at the head of the bed, clutching the blanket around his
legs and waist as he cringed and averted his wet eyes, but it still couldn’t
get through the cloud in his head.
‘Well that was unpleasant, wasn’t it?’ he said, and ignored the tears with the
practice of a doctor long used to breaking bad news. His voice was dry, rough,
but didn’t think Armin would notice. ‘Rather disgusting.’
Armin didn’t reply. He didn’t look like he could: his ribs heaved with small,
unsteady breath. His trembling hands gripped the blanket hard enough it looked
like he was trying to rip the thing in two. Looking down at his lap he hid his
crumpled and tear-wet skin behind the tangled curtain of his hair.
‘I think,’ David continued, not knowing what he was saying but letting his
mouth speak anyway, ‘you’ll need to stay here overnight at least, on the off
chance it’s contagious. I’ll have to do some reading up on your condition, and
tomorrow I’ll give you another examination.’
He watched Armin flinch, a visible shudder across his whole body. The dread
feeling welled up at the sight, but David could still taste that scent on the
air, thick enough to blind, and couldn’t stop.
 
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