Chapter 10: San Diego, June 20, 2016: Happy Together
Summary:
Pete raises his face, reacting to Bradley with a mock-scandalized tone and playful eyes.
"Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw, do you intend to satisfy your lust with me?"
"I'll let you know, it's Bradshaw-Mitchell, and," he lifts Pete into his arms. The omega lets out a slight squeal of surprise, "it's not lust. It's love."
He pushes away from the wall, turns, and looks over his shoulder at his other husband.
"Jake?"
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Fandom: Top Gun (Movies)
Relationship: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw / Pete "Maverick" Mitchell / Jake "Hangman" Seresin
Characters: Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw
Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Implied Mpreg, Age difference
INDEX: https://palabraspulsares.blogspot.com/p/happy-together.html
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Now
The only light comes from the fireplace. California
doesn't need heat in June, but La Hacienda is so luxurious that each
room has a holographic fire and strategically placed lights to simulate
it.
The golden light tints the bodies with a ghostly, ethereal halo.
Only their gasps and the sound of skin against skin can be heard.
Bradley
sits with his back against the headboard, breathing heavily from the
effort, grunting. His hands are on Pete's hips, guiding his rocking
movements as he rides.
The omega has his hands resting on his
husband's shoulders, his eyes glassy. He bites his upper lip and lets
out high-pitched moans, half pleasure and half demand. His torso is
covered in a light, perfumed sweat. His distinctive scent of leather and
sea fills the entire room. He throws his head back and intensely enjoys
the second pair of hands caressing him.
Jake is on his knees
behind the omega, his erection almost painful as he waits for his turn.
His hands roam over Pete's neck, back, and chest. His eyes locked on the
other alpha, wide with desire.
"Jake," Pete pulls one arm back, fingers splayed.
The blonde rushes to shake hands.
"Here I am, love."
He kisses him between his shoulder blades. He licks the bittersweet sweat of his arousal.
"Come… Get inside me…"
"Later,
love," he promises. "We don't want to hurt you." He exchanges a proud
look with Bradley. Their omega is so lost in pleasure that he has
forgotten that they can't penetrate him at the same time, as if they
were an alpha and a beta.
"No, no… Now… Get in behind…"
"Behind?"
Jake can't help but sound surprised and bewildered. Pete is talking about anal sex? That's it...
Jake
doesn't consider himself a Puritan, not by a long shot, but anal sex
with an omega is one of the few taboos that makes him tick. Omegas don't
have a prostate, so they can't feel pleasure from anal penetration. The
beta rectum has a prostate, lubricating glands, and a consciously
controllable muscular system. It's designed for intercourse. The omega
body is different. Only the vagina is really made to be penetrated. But
for a long time, anal sex was the only natural method of birth control
available, so the practice has an intricate relationship with sexual
violence within marriage. After all, many people assume that being an
omega means always being available to fulfill your spouse's sexual
desires.
Even today, in the popular lexicon, each act has a
different verb. "Being" with an omega is not the same as "using" an
omega. Jake would never think of suggesting anal sex with Pete. From
Bradley's astonished face, his husband feels more or less the same.
"Pete, that's not…"
"That's
it!" he cuts them off. "It's my wedding night, isn't it?" he guides
Jake's hand to his butt. "I want to have you both, as it should be."
The
alpha brushes his fingertips against the hole and is surprised to
notice a bulge emerging from the omega's body. Startled, he probes more
closely.
"Holy Trinity! When did you put that dildo on, Pete?"
The omega looks at him over his shoulder.
"Before
we leave for the ceremony," he ignores Bradley's interjection of
astonishment. "I wanted to be well prepared," he looks back at the
brown-eyed alpha. "Brad, don't you want to feel our husband inside me?"
at the same time, he makes a rocking motion and tightens his vagina.
Overwhelmed
by the sensations, Bradley is unable to utter a word. He only makes an
inarticulate sound, a grunt that could be either affirmation or
submission.
"Jake," Pete repeats, "please."
Before
The night they proposed to Pete, they slept piled in his
bed. They were too exhausted from the argument to do anything but hug
each other. In the morning, the alphas woke to find Pete was already
back from his usual morning run, emerging from the bathroom with a towel
tied around his waist and a scowl on his face.
"Ah, you're finally awake."
"Hey,
handsome," How Jake could have a seductive voice as soon as he woke up
was one of the universe's most profound mysteries. "Do you want to burn
some more calories?"
"No."
The seriousness of the answer made the two alphas exchange fearful glances. Hadn't they already figured that out?
"Pete…" Bradley began, but the omega silenced him with a gesture.
"Before
we continue with this," he drew a vague ellipse with his right index
finger between the bed and himself. "we need to talk seriously."
"Weren't we serious enough for you last night?" Jake complained, not hiding his irritation.
Pete bit his lip and nodded.
"Yes,
you were. So I owe you," he paused, took a deep breath, and lowered his
eyes. "I owe you the truth, not the version of me that's circulating
publicly. If later on you still want... for us to last a little longer,
that'll be fine. You're adults, after all."
“You’re starting to scare me,” Bradley admitted.
Pete didn't answer. He sat on the bed's border, gripping the edge of the covers with his fingertips.
"Just stay there until the end, okay?" he began to speak with his eyes fixed on the wall.
What
followed wasn't easy. Jake knew Pete's life had been hard before he
found his father, but he had no idea of the horrific upheaval that could
be in store for a loud-mouthed omega orphan in the 1960s and 1970s. Not
that the Navy had been much more generous to his beloved, but at least
there were regular meals and a safe bed. Bradley had some idea of the
abuse and harassment he suffered while becoming the greatest aviator of
his generation—perhaps of the 20th century—but that morning, he realized
that he had always been given the watered-down version. First, because
he was a child. After, because his resentment against Pete excluded him
from the small circle that knew the truth.
Beside him, Jake paled
and slowly shrank as if every slap, insult, disappointment, or betrayal
was hitting him physically. His breathing became loud and irregular.
Bradley put an arm around his shoulders and pressed him against his
neck, forcing himself to emit a soothing scent. It would do no good to
drive Jake into a frenzy. Who was he going to fight? The trick worked
halfway: Jake was able to control his breathing and just cried silently.
In
the end, the story they had sensed the night before was confirmed: a
couple who tried to force him to maintain an unwanted pregnancy, an
abortion, and almost a decade of monogamous relationships after the
traumatic experience.
"So I don't know if I'm still fertile," he
concluded while wiping his wet cheeks with the palms of his hands. "I
was using the contraceptives to feel safe, but really… So I can't
promise you…"
At last, he turned his face towards them. His green
eyes tinged with fear and shame. Because he honestly believed that all
his suffering would make him less valuable, less desirable, less worthy.
Jake took a deep breath and pulled away from Bradley. He crawled across the bed to face the omega, holding out a hand, palm up.
"May I?" he asked very softly.
Pete looked at him in confusion, eyes darting from his hand to his face.
"I don't understand…"
"For God's sake, Pete!" Jake cut him off. "Just let us hold you. Let us be your alphas, for fuck's sake."
But
Pete still didn't move. He looked doubtfully at Bradley, who just
smiled and nodded slightly. Only then did he take Jake's hand, who
quickly pulled him and dragged him to the center of the bed. They made
him lie down, lay down on either side of him, made a protective cocoon
out of pillows and blankets, kissed him until his lips were red and he
could only exude pheromones of delight, and a satisfied purr began to
sound from the center of his chest.
"Hmm, I never thought I'd become this kind of alpha," Jake said quietly, his tone somewhere between amusement and amazement.
"What kind of alpha?" Pete asked sleepily.
"The one who proposes to his omega as quickly as possible. As in, marry us next solstice, Pete."
Bradley
felt the sudden tension of the body beneath his fingers and became
afraid. Now he's really gone too far, he thought. He'll be kicking us
out of the house and on an aircraft carrier halfway around the world in
less than twenty-four hours. He tried to meet Jake's eyes, but his
boyfriend's gaze was fixed on Pete's. His green eyes were honest and
expectant.
"Bradley?" Pete asked without moving, seeking confirmation.
He
wanted to cry because their omega's voice was so fearful yet so
hopeful. But he couldn't let himself be dragged back into the past now.
This was the moment, he realized. This is when Hangman drags them both
into the future. He twisted to put his head on his lover's chest. Pete's
fingers quickly found their way into his hair, moving randomly.
Everything was perfect at last. So he couldn't help but repeat what he
had said twenty-four years ago because it was still true.
"I want you to be my husband, Pete Mitchell."
The
hand on his skull stopped short. The omega's scent was a complex mix of
feelings. Under his cheek, Bradley could feel what Jake could feel
under the palm of his hand casually resting on Pete's waist: the tense
muscles, the rapid pulse. His lover was a cornered animal ready to
pounce. Finally, Maverick exhaled very slowly.
"You'r serious,"
and the pensive tone of the barely murmured sentence made them
understand that he was not talking to them but himself. "I don't
understand," he admitted in a louder voice. "the world doesn't work..."
"The
world can go to hell." Bradley cut him off. "You've saved the world how
many times already? The fucking world owes you, Pete."
"I am…" he started again.
"The
most amazing omega in the world," Jake interrupted. "I'm the best, and I
want the best," He traced his jaw with his index finger. "You, Pete
Mitchell, are the best. Not even your enemies doubt it. Let us be your
alphas in shining armor."
Bradley let out a laughing snort. He placed a wet kiss on the omega's flat, well-defined stomach.
"Let yourself be loved, Pete, please," he begged, kissing his sternum. "We will not give up."
"You guys want a family, and I…"
"One
hundred eleven thousand five hundred and eighty-nine," he cut him off
because he already knew where he was going, and Bradley had done his
homework.
"One hundred and eleven thousand what?" Pete asked, bewildered.
"There
are one hundred eleven thousand five hundred and eighty-nine minors
available for adoption in this country, over fifty percent of them
omegas. Jake and I have talked about it."
"There are too many Seresin in this world," the other alpha added, not hiding his disdain.
"So, if you don't want to, or if it's not safe for you, there are other ways," Bradley finished.
"I
was kicked out of the clan," he said at last, with pain. "Bradley, you
are the eldest, you can't say that you will marry the omega who stabbed
you in the back. The clan has moved up. It's important now. Marrying me
would jeopardize the legacy of Viper and Ice. They won't allow it."
That
made Bradley swallow hard. Was that really what Pete believed about the
rest of the clan? Had he hurt him so much? How could he ever repay this
wonderful man for all the pain his teenage outburst had caused?
Across
the bed, Jake’s “I told you so” expression was unmistakable. Yes, he
had warned him, but he’d always been pretty good at ignoring things that
hurt. Imagining that Pete’s expulsion hadn’t been a big deal for the
omega was part of his arsenal of justifications for moving forward all
these years. He convinced himself that Pete was simply capable of taking
care of himself. Besides, Ice never stopped protecting him. Everyone
knew that!
Clearly, he was wrong in this, as in many other things.
It is ironic how believing someone is stronger than they actually are
can hurt them. He pulled away so he could look him in the eyes.
"Pete,
love, of course the clan wants you back. You are the best aviator of
the 20th century, any military clan would want you in their ranks. Only
my stubbornness and your dignity stood in the way of your return. I hope
you forgive me for what I did to you, for taking your family away in
revenge. But I swear to you, Pete, there is no scenario in which I will
accept assuming my role with the clan if you are not by my side."
Pete
looked at them alternately, his expression bewildered and incredulous.
His mouth opened and closed, unable to articulate a sound. He had run
out of arguments.
"So, Captain Pete Maverick Mitchell, we want to
marry you on the upcoming summer solstice. I speak for myself and for my
beloved Bradley when I swear that you would make us the happiest and
luckiest alphas in the world. Do you accept?"
Pete pursed his lips, looked at the ceiling, and sighed.
"I guess if I refuse, you'll just keep insisting."
Now
Jake looks at Pete, who holds his gaze. He has stopped
moving his hips. He is simply impaled on the meat rod and waiting. He
looks at Bradley, totally lost between the omega pheromones that
saturate the room's atmosphere and the deep satisfaction that being
inside Pete always gives him.
"I guess if I refuse, you'll just keep insisting."
Acceptance
earns him a lopsided smile and a nod. With trembling fingers, he probes
the object buried in the omega's ass and searches for a grip. The
protruding part is small, so it didn't restrict Pete, who spent four
hours with it inside, and neither Bradley nor Jake noticed it as they
stripped him. To compensate, the surface is uneven, allowing a firm grip
with just the tips of his fingers. It further proves Maverick's keen
strategic thinking, who wanted Jake to…
The thought hits him like a punch: Pete did this especially for him.
Over
the past few months, their relationship has stabilized, with defined
ways of acting on the street, in the air, at home, and in bed. They have
a bond based on mutual respect, and Jake thinks that in that they are
not very different from millions of other heterosexual relationships.
Except in bed. They are one omega and two alphas, so double mating -
which films has romanticized and presents as something inherently simple
and natural when it is far from being so without causing pain to the
omega - is something physically impossible for them.
In bed,
Bradley and Jake take turns penetrating Pete. It's less intense, but
their lovemaking lasts much longer than average. Which satisfies the
omega greatly.
Jake is always the second inside Pete if the three of them are together. He doesn't quite know why.
Actually, he does know. He just doesn't bother to think about it anymore.
Before
Jake discovered this little art house cinema in downtown
San Diego. The place offers food made by culinary students to boost
their intake. It's an unusual experience to eat chef-level food while
watching a vintage film.
Bradley knows Pete's taste in films very
well and immediately marked the special screening of "The Firm," a drama
about the struggle to do the right thing in the face of mediocre laws,
on his calendar. This will be his first date of December.
Pete
loved the venue, the film, and the menu. He spent the entire screening
feeding the two alphas with his fingers, a bold gesture for the public
space that made Hangman blush and Rooster swell with pride.
Later,
in the parking lot, they kissed, leaning against the Bronco hood like
teenagers. They were smiling all the way back, relaxed by the perfect
mix of their pheromones. Pete with each hand on the thigh of one of the
alphas. An easy conversation about the film's merits and the food's
quality.
Maverick lives in one of those little houses the
Department of Defense builds for its personnel without families. It only
has parking space for one car, but he has taken to leaving his
motorcycle on the side of the road so that Bradley's truck or Jake's car
doesn't have to be left on the sidewalk when they visit.
Bradley turns off the engine and turns to the omega.
"Here we are," and looks at him with eyes lit up with desire.
Since
their third date, their outings have ended with a good make-out
session. They spend up to half an hour caressing each other through
their clothes until the omega stops them—there is something deeply
exciting about obeying these kinds of orders, proving to him that they
are trustworthy—and leaves. Bradley and Jake watch him walk to the door,
drunk with lust, wave goodbye, and disappear into his house.
But
today, Pete doesn't put his hand on his neck to draw him towards his
face. Instead, he runs his tongue along his upper lip and says
hesitantly.
"Would you like to come in for a coffee?"
Across
the seat, Jake is wire-tight. He nods encouragingly to his boyfriend.
But Bradley hesitates. Years of waiting have made him cautious.
"The thing is, Pete, it's really late. If we have coffee now, we won't be able to sleep."
The omega's expression goes from insecure to amused.
"That's the plan, Rooster, if you're willing to get off your perch."
Bradley
doesn't respond with words. A victorious growl comes from the center of
his chest, and he captures Pete's lips in a possessive kiss. He then
reaches out a hand to Jake across the truck cabin.
"Stop," Pete says, placing his hands on his shoulders and pushing him away. "I'm too old to do this in the seat of a truck."
"You're
not old," Bradley says as he clumsily opens the Bronco's door and jumps
out. "You're well-aged wine." He holds out his hand to help him down, a
completely ceremonial gesture that makes Pete blush to his ears.
Jake
grabs the overnight bag they always keep in the backseat, takes Brad's
keys from the console, gets out, locks the Bronco, and joins them at the
front door. Pete looks at the package in his hands in surprise.
"A bit bold to imagine you would need that today, isn't it?"
To which the alpha replies with a smug expression.
"When courting an omega like you, one has to be prepared."
And
he passes Bradley the bag to grab Pete by the waist, press him against
his body, kiss his neck and lips. He stops when he feels him tense.
"Someone might see us," the omega mumbles as an excuse to slip out of his arms, take out his keys, and open the door.
Inside, Pete gestures vaguely to the right.
"The guest bathroom is over there. I'll wait for you in the bedroom."
The
alphas are so stunned by the whole situation that it takes them a
moment to understand the suggestion. Bathroom? Oh! They ate on the
street; they hadn't peed in a while. Bathroom, of course. The last thing
they want is for their first night with Pete to be ruined by bad breath
or involuntary urination. They rush to the bathroom. The space is small
but elegant. On the sink are two toothbrushes with gift bows. One brush
is hazel and has a label with a rooster on it. The second is green,
with a neon yellow gallows on the label.
They can't help laughing.
They
strip, relieve themselves, and wash up, caressing and smiling. When
they are about to leave, Jake can't hold back and takes Bradley's
erection between his fingers. The alpha forcefully pushes his hand away.
"It's for Pete."
Suddenly,
Bradley's expression changes from relaxed to menacing. He pins Jake
against the wall, his hands resting on either side of his head.
"We're
not going to fight in front of him, Seresin," he says in a harsh voice.
"Save your competitiveness for the aerial maneuvers."
Jake raises his eyebrows, shocked by the sudden aggressiveness.
"Shouldn't he be the one…?"
"No!" there is a desperate gleam in his brown eyes. "I go first."
Jake
doesn't answer because he understands his boyfriend's sanity is hanging
by a thread. He has wanted Pete for more than twenty years. There are
still days when he wakes up in his arms and asks, incredulously, if they
are really courting him or if it was all a dream. Anyone with eyes to
see knows that Bradley Bradshaw has an inherently violent nature and
that his legendary restraint is a carefully cultivated skill that allows
him to act civilly.
But tonight, Bradley doesn't have the mental
capacity to be civil. He's not going to fight Jake, but his perception
has closed off at the prospect of finally having Pete Mitchell, the
omega he's loved since he was eight. Today the possessive, almost feral
side of the alpha comes out. Jake knows his boyfriend doesn't love him
any less for it. You could even argue that this brutal honesty is proof
of love. Because Bradley doesn't want to fight Jake, he just wants to
set the record straight.
Can he accept it?
Jake thinks that,
in some ways, it might come down to who came into whose life first.
Pete came into Bradley's life first. They avoid mentioning it, but the
fact is that the omega saw him born. Rooster already loved Maverick when
he came into Hangman's arms. He didn't know who they were, but he did
notice that Bradley was accompanied by a shadow, that there was someone
he was comparing his every move against. He didn't care because he
always seemed to win that competition.
In retrospect, he could
have guessed the identity of the omega who held his lover's heart
between their fingers. But he had promised Bradley, so he tried hard not
to think about it.
Jake loves Pete but doesn't carry decades of
longing and pain behind him. Yes, he decides, he'll let Bradley guide
him to conquer Pete's body, just as he had guided him to conquer Pete's
heart.
He puts a hand on his cheek.
"Your first," he nods and moves forward to give him a short kiss on the lips.
The tension disappears from the alpha's shoulders.
Pete
is waiting for them, completely naked. Bradley almost jumps on him. He
marks Pete with his sweat and his saliva, and when he finally penetrates
him, he remains attentive to the omega's slightest reactions.
"Are you okay, honey?"
"Do you like it like this?"
"Is this okay?"
It
would have been the perfect image to promote monogamy - horror of
horrors - if it weren't for the fact that, at the same time as he is
attentive and considerate with Pete, Bradley remains constantly alert to
his surroundings, that is, to Jake.
With grunts and gestures,
Bradley has Jake sit cross-legged on the headboard and put a pillow on
top of him. Pete has his head propped up there. So Pete is breathing in
Jake's scent, brushing his fingers along Jake's thighs, exposing his
slightest expressions in close-up for Jake, but he hasn't touched his
erection. When Pete makes a particularly joyous sound, when he jerks
with pleasure, Bradley looks at the other alpha with a strange mix of
pride and defiance. See how I make him enjoy it? He seems to say.
It
takes Jake a moment to understand this concern until he remembers one
of his confessions from that weekend in Austin, "The Trinity knows I
tried. After all, I grew up in a military clan. I knew what was expected
of me.” Oh, right. Bradley has been with omegas before, but he knows
Jake never had any interest in the opposite gender before the Mission.
Pete is his first omega (if things go well, he’ll be his only one), so
his mate wants to make sure he’s taking notes.
Bradley finally
comes with a gasp and quickly pulls out of Pete, fingers wrapped around
the condom. The omega makes a little noise of protest.
"Do you want more love?" Bradley laughs and gives him a kiss on the sweaty chest.
"Jake," the omega raises his arms to grab his face. "Please, don't leave me hanging."
"Your wish is my command," he answers vehemently.
Bradley
remains in control during the second coupling. He puts the condom on
Jake, helps Pete straddle his erection, and guides the alpha's hands to
the perfect spot on his waist where he can help the omega ride him
without taking control away from him. It happens naturally. There's no
confrontation for dominance. It's just that Bradley knows how to satisfy
an omega, and he wants to make sure Jake doesn't screw up this.
They never reviewed those roles.
When
they stopped using condoms, Jake found himself especially enjoying the
thought of entering Pete after Bradley. It wasn't just the smoothness
that came from the extra lubrication of a channel where the other alpha
had already left his seed. It was the idea. The idea of being immersed
in both Bradley and Pete, of being surrounded by both as he thrust into
the omega's hips and felt the alpha's hands all over him.
He always thought it was the closest he would ever get to ideal double mating.
Now
Tonight, for one time only, Pete offers to bring him
closer to the dream, to the ideal of normality that society has hammered
into his head. He said it himself, didn't he? He wants just one
coupling "as it should be."
Determined, Jake places a hand on
Pete's lower back and pushes gently, making him lean over Bradley. He
then parts his buttocks and pulls the dildo very slowly. Pete makes an
inarticulate noise and tenses his muscles, pushing the object out of
him. He jerks as the toy begins to move.
Bradley hugs him and gives him a kiss on the forehead.
"You're wonderful," he whispers, then gives him a kiss to drown the sob that comes from the final release of the dildo.
Jake
tosses the object aside and watches, bemused, as his husband's asshole
gapes slightly and drips. It looks a bit like the omega's pussy towards
the end of heat - Pete is demanding on his usual days; during heat, he's
simply insatiable - when they've mated so many times that his labia
stays open, revealing a vagina dripping with semen and lick.
"I'm getting old here, Seresin."
Oh!
If he's using his last name, it's because he's definitely on the edge.
The alpha moves closer to his husbands and guides his erection into the
virgin channel.
Is…
"Oh!" Pete and Jake exhale at the same time.
A tremor shakes the omega's torso.
"Are
you okay?" Bradley asks, not hiding his concern. Of course, he accepts
anything his husbands imagine in principle, but not pain.
"Yeah…" Pete gasps. "It's just… unusual."
"Do you want me to stop? Do you want me to get out?"
"No! Keep going."
Jake
lets out a grunt and slowly enters Pete. When he feels the unusual
pressure around his entire cock, he rests his chin on Pete's right
shoulder, puts one hand on his chest and the other on Bradley's
shoulder.
"What now?"
The omega's breathing is ragged, and
sweat is beginning to run down his forehead. His scent has changed a
bit, he's definitely aroused, but there's a hint of discomfort.
"Now
you move inside me alternately, and I have the best fuck of my life,"
he says in a strangled voice. "At least that's what the book promised,"
but there is a slight hesitation in his tone.
"Uh! So you looked
up bibliography?" Jake can't help but mock. "What classification does
that little book have in the Library of Congress system? XXX fucking
harder?"
Their husbands can't contain their laughter, which eases
the tension. Pete's scent stabilizes, and Bradley gives him an approving
look.
"Okay, Lieutenant Commander Seresin, Rear Admiral Mitchell gave us our orders. Let's go."
"It's Mitchell-Bradshaw," the omega clarifies with a smack of his lips.
It's
the last coherent thing he says for a long time because Bradley shifts,
and the extra pressure from Jake's cock is… The omega can only throw
his head back and howl.
Before
Jake insisted that they address Pete's concerns about his fertility first.
Annia,
the eldest of Ice, Slider, and Sarah, is a doctor and recommended a
discreet clinic in San Diego that specializes in reproductive health for
queer couples. A place where they wouldn’t ask questions about the
unusual setup of their relationship. Because there is so much
pseudoscientific information and bias within the medical community
surrounding non-heterosexual couples. The last thing they needed was a
place that judged their marriage instead of giving them all the help
available.
One of the most persistent myths is that only the union
of alpha, beta, and omega can produce a natural pregnancy. This is
false. Since the mid-sixties, it has been scientifically proven that
semen from two different donors, alpha or beta, is necessary to
fertilize an egg. The chemical configuration of each seminal plasma must
be sufficiently distinct to cause a series of chain reactions, which is
how nature prevents incestuous reproduction. The chemical resulting
from these reactions opens the shell of the fertile egg and allows
fertilization.
They were seen by an amiable beta doctor. She
ordered a series of basic tests and listened attentively with a
sympathetic smile to their concerns about Pete's age and the use of
chemical contraceptives.
"Those injections aren't a problem," she
said. "They're designed to have a life cycle of twenty-four to
forty-eight hours, that´s why they must be administered daily. Your
system will process them in less than a week, Pete. As for your age.
From what you tell me, your cycles haven't changed."
"No," the omega confirmed.
"So
there are no symptoms of menopause. The reasons why people's fertile
lifespans are longer or shorter are still a mystery to science. It is
speculated that lifestyle has an impact in addition to genetic factors.
You are an extremely healthy omega, Pete. Your body has performance
indices similar to those of a person under forty. Jake and Bradley's
tests show good sperm counts. That means that, in principle, the three
of you don't need outside help to start a pregnancy.”
Pete had each hand entwined with one of his boyfriends, and he squeezed convulsively.
"Really?" he asked in a hopeful voice.
"Really.
That doesn't guarantee that you'll get pregnant during your next heat,
of course. Give yourself three cycles to wait. We'll do more specific
research if nothing has happened by then."
Three cycles is about
four and a half months. It's only been ten weeks since they stopped
using birth control, and all indicates that… But they don't talk about
it because Pete doesn't talk about it, and they've tacitly decided that
if he doesn't initiate the conversation, they won't either. It could
just be stress, after all. There's no denying that the last ten weeks
have been hectic. They had the wedding to plan (Penny threatened them
with slow, painful deaths if they didn't have the party at the Hard
Deck), accepting their promotions (Bradley and Jake to lieutenant
commanders, Pete to rear admiral), training with the Daggers, and
renovating the old Bradshaw house (it's the first time Bradley sees what
the Seresin inheritance money can do).
The wedding was a success.
Thanks partly to Maverick's long and convoluted military record, the
guest list became a bizarre mix of family gathering and reunion event
for several generations and branches of the Department of Defense and
the intelligence community. Despite only announcing the event two and a
half months in advance, the vast majority of people RSVP'd.
The
bar was packed. After the obligatory parts of speeches and the first
dance ("Can't Help Falling in Love" by Elvis Presley, the classics are
classics for a reason), everyone started dancing, and part of the
celebration naturally extended to the beach.
They didn't stay for
too long. As soon as Pete showed signs of exhaustion, they rushed
through the ritual of the last dance ("All of Me" because we must
recognize that there is no perfection, only acceptance) and tossed the
bouquet before leaving. Surprisingly, the quiet Bob made a jump worthy
of Michael Jordan and grabbed it. He immediately turned to Natasha with a
determined frown, and… let's just say that this wedding will not be
remembered only for the passion of Mav, Rooster, and Hangman.
Pete
falls asleep on the twenty-five-minute drive from the bar to Rancho
Valencia, where they will spend their honeymoon. That was the gift from
the British Crown, which has never forgotten his role in rescuing
Princess Meghan. The prices of the exclusive resort took Bradley's
breath away. Jake, raised in opulence, just looked wistful. Pete
shrugged and said something about things you should accept without
question.
As the omega breathes softly with his head resting on
Bradley's chest, the alpha reaches out a hand to squeeze Jake's fingers
affectionately. The two alphas look at each other, happy. This is the
beginning of the rest of their lives.
The car stops. Jake gently shakes the omega's shoulder.
"Pete, love, wake up."
Pete
shakes his head slightly, steps away from Bradley, blinks several
times, and rubs his face with the palms of his hands to ward off
drowsiness.
"Are we there yet?"
"Yeah."
Jake gets out
of the car and offers his husband a hand to help him. Bradley follows
them. He takes in his surroundings for the first time and holds his
breath.
Streetlights overlook a dirt road that disappears into the
trees and nothing else. The illusion of seclusion is almost perfect.
Although Rancho Valencia is not far from San Diego, the careful
arrangement of groves and narrow paths creates a private setting ideal
for a weekend getaway or honeymoon.
In front of them is a wall
with an elegantly carved wooden entrance door. On the other side is the
residence where they will stay this week, La Hacienda. According to the
description on the website, it is a magnificent 19th-century-style adobe
house with 21st-century comforts. The more than four hundred square
meters contain a living room, office, and three independent suites, each
with a luxurious private bathroom and a full and well-stocked kitchen -
so they don't have to go out for anything - a swimming pool and a
Jacuzzi. All the rooms have wood-burning fireplaces - purely decorative
in June. One detail stuck with Bradley: "deep bathtubs." His imagination
runs wild at that suggestion.
"Shall we go?" he says, moving his chin towards the big house.
Pete takes his husbands by the hand and walks purposefully towards the entrance of La Hacienda.
A
small flagstone path opens onto a patio surrounded by forget-me-nots
and nightshades, which keep the area scented. To the right, a fountain
emits a soft, lulling murmur. On the other side is the main door.
None
of the three pays any attention to the elegant decor of the house. They
will notice the wooden furniture and colorful design details tomorrow.
Or maybe the day after? The control they maintained during the ceremony
disappears as soon as the door closes behind them. They are a mess of
arms and mouths. They are six feet, struggling to keep their balance
against the wall. They can't. They fall to the ground right there and
then, narrowly avoiding a bruise or contusion.
"Where …?"
“To the right, past the kitchen,” Jake gasps, struggling to open Pete’s shirt.
The
omega jumps up. His eyes have a gleam that is somewhere between amused
and calculating, making him even more desirable. Suddenly, he lets out a
mischievous laugh and runs off. The bittersweet aroma he leaves behind
excites and confuses his husbands, so it takes them a few seconds to
react, awkwardly getting up and running after him.
When they get to the dorm, they see their bags, which were brought in before their arrival, but no Mav.
They look at each other, confused.
"Pete?" Bradley calls.
There
is no answer. They scan the room again. It is large, but there is not
much furniture. The space is dominated by a spacious bed, which would
serve equally well for very energetic lovemaking or accommodating a
married couple and a couple of children on a family night.
"The bathroom?"
Following
Jake's suggestion, they backtrack to the bathroom, a few feet down the
hallway. The interior is luxurious, with a slate-gray marble vanity
whose rounded edges and height cannot be accidental. The tub is a giant
piece of white marble, wide and deep, decidedly decadent. But their
husband is not half-submerged in warm, fragrant water. Nor is he in the
other two separate shower and toilet spaces.
Just as the two
alphas begin to fear something horrible and confusing has happened, they
hear the sound of another toilet flushing.
What the hell?
They
go out into the hallway. To the right is another door. Its decoration
is more discreet, but it is the same green color as the entrance to the
main bathroom. They didn't notice it as they passed by because it was
before the bedroom door. It is probably a powder room that belongs to
the kitchen.
"Mav?" Bradley calls again.
"I'll be out in a moment," the omega replies, but his voice sounds tense and jerky.
"Are you okay?"
A glass object falls to the ground with a crash.
"Yes, Jake, I'm fine," and now the stern, annoyed tone is undeniable. "I'm not a porcelain doll."
The
couple exchanges looks of surprise and bewilderment. What is the reason
for the sudden change of mood? An alarm sounds inside the dressing
room. And then…
"Shit! Shit! Shit!"
"Pete, please…"
Bradley
can't finish his sentence. The door opens. Pete's hair is disheveled,
his face pale, his eyes fearful. He holds out one hand, palm up. In it a
white rectangle about the width of a finger and less than four inches
long. A slit runs down the center, and at each end, it says, in tiny
print, "white - negative" and "blue - positive." The slit is tinted blue
almost halfway.
"That's…?" Jake gasps.
"Yes," he confirms with a tearful voice.
"Baby…?"
Bradley rushes to hug him, presses his husband's face into the crook of
his neck, and tries to calm him with his essence. "Pete, don't cry,
sweetheart. There are options if you don't want to…"
The omega gives him a push that sends him against the opposite wall.
"How can you say that to me!?"
"Let's calm down."
"Calm down?" Pete turns to Jake, eyes shining with fury. "Now you're going to tell me I should have an abortion too?"
Bradley
lets out a grunt, clearly offended by the implication. Jake struggles
to keep his panic at bay, but this is quickly spiraling out of control.
"Of
course we're not going to tell you what you should or shouldn't do,
Pete," he congratulates himself because his voice doesn't tremble.
“We're your husbands. We'll support you in any decision you make," he
gives Bradley an urgent look. "Right?"
"Of course. It's just that..."
"What?" Pete demands, radiating disgust.
"You
didn't want to talk about this even though we've noticed the symptoms
for weeks. And now you're showing us the pregnancy test, all teary-eyed.
I thought..."
"We thought," Jake says, "that you'd changed your
mind. You're under no obligation to bear our offspring, Pete. It's your
body, it's your choice."
"Oh," the omega's expression goes from
anger to surprise in seconds. He wipes his cheeks with the back of his
hand. "I guess..." he sighs. "I jumped to conclusions again."
Bradley snorts.
"Brad," Jake warns.
"What?
Do I have to endure physical violence too? Pete, you can't keep
assuming the worst about us. This is a marriage, not an elaborate plot
to imprison you. We love you."
"I know, I know they love me. That's the problem."
"Excuse me?" Jake is lost now.
"You
two are young. You're idealists. You believe that love is stronger than
prejudice. If I want something, you two go out and get it done without
thinking about the rest of the world. I can't stand seeing you put your
careers at risk for me. I'm still waiting for the moment when you'll
realize that my pussy isn't worth that much."
“Oh, love,” Bradley moans, opening his arms.
Pete stops him with a gesture.
"I
took the pregnancy test because I thought it would be a lovely wedding
gift, but while I was waiting, I started to think that I must be four
weeks along already. There's no way to hide the fact that this," he
points vaguely to his lower belly. "started before we got married."
He hugs himself, embarrassed.
"So
what? It's the 21st century, Pete," Bradley's voice reflects the
exhaustion of someone who doesn't understand what all this fuss is
about. "Everyone we care about knows that we were living together and
that the wedding was a formality, a celebration."
But Jake holds his breath because he remembers that there is one aspect of their lives where the date of conception matters.
"Were you thinking about my inheritance?"
The omega gives a minimal nod.
"I'm really sorry, but I'm the age I am, Jake. I can't promise there'll be a next time."
"No,
Pete, no!" he rushes to wrap him in his arms. "I'm the one who owes you
an apology. I didn't tell you because I wanted to..."
"What are you two talking about?"
"Don't
you remember the terms of the will, Bradley? If I have a child before
I'm forty, the million-dollar-a-year allotment from the conglomerate
will extend until they turn eighteen. If not, they'll liquidate my share
of the inheritance in nine years. But the baby has to be legitimate,
meaning conceived in wedlock," he kisses his husband's forehead. "I
don't want that money, Pete. I don't want our offspring to bear the
Seresin name or be tied to my family. I don't want them anywhere near
you or our babies."
"Really?" the omega asks, his voice still anxious.
"Really,
love. I already have more money than we'll need for the rest of our
lives. And my sisters won't be able to reverse the changes I forced them
to make in the company. Starting a family with you two, moving the clan
forward, and becoming the new Maverick. That's what I want for my
future."
"The new Maverick, huh?" Pete can't contain his smile.
"Well,
we didn't marry him because of his modesty," Bradley comments as he
joins the hug. "So, is it official?" and slides a hand towards the
omega's belly.
"Yes. We are going to have one or two babies in eight months."
"Two?" Jake raises his eyebrows in amazement. How can Pete know that?
"The
chances of multiple pregnancies increase by fifty percent if the two
sperm are of the same gender. Plus, there is a history of twins in my
family."
"Then we have to celebrate twice as much."
Pete raises his face, reacting to Bradley with a mock-scandalized tone and playful eyes.
"Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw, do you intend to satisfy your lust with me?"
"I'll
let you know, it's Bradshaw-Mitchell, and," he lifts Pete into his
arms. The omega lets out a slight squeal of surprise, "it's not lust.
It's love."
He pushes away from the wall, turns, and looks over his shoulder at his other husband.
"Jake?"
The
alpha blinks. Does he really want to do this part of the ritual? It is
absolutely ridiculous for the alpha to cross the threshold with his
omega in his arms and the beta on their back. Heterosexuality includes
the most bizarre and retrograde practices.
"I can walk to the bridal room perfectly on my own two feet."
Bradley rolls his eyes.
"And
Pete can too. Plus, you have a ton of money, so I won't be your
provider. But you've joined our clan. You're the one who got me to talk
to Pete. We're here because of you. Let me give you this. Let me be your
alpha in shining armor for a few minutes."
Jake cocks his head, considering. When he puts it like that.
"Okay."
He climbs onto his broad back, crossing his legs around his waist to steady himself.
"Go
ahead, my alpha, take us to the bridal bed, and let's celebrate..." Two
mocking laughter interrupts his ridiculous speech. "Okay, just walk. I
want to fuck my husband."
Now
Bradley and Jake never thought they could apply their
coordination skills in bed with Pete, but here they are. They move in
and out in time with their husband, and the usual feeling of pressure
around their dicks multiplies this time as they feel each other through
the body that welcomes them. It's almost overwhelming, and they have to
use all their willpower not to spill in the first few minutes. The omega
shakes between them, totally incoherent with pleasure. He only emits
high-pitched whimpers, which would be taken as an alarm signal if it
weren't for the fact that Pete has his right hand like a claw on
Bradley's shoulder and his left arm curved back, fingers extended, and
nails digging into Jake's back.
It's Pete who cums first. He
announces it with a particularly intense howl. Immediately, his arms
fall limply to the sides of his body, and he rests his forehead on
Bradley's shoulder. The alphas look at each other and increase the speed
of their thrusts, snorting and grunting. Bradley spills into the
omega's pussy, and feeling the contractions of his member sends Jake
over the edge.
Little by little, they return to reality.
Jake
takes care of Pete. The omega whimpers a little as he wipes the
remnants of cum and lube off of his ass but doesn't seem to have
suffered any significant damage. Bradley tosses the stained sheets aside
and makes the bed ready for sleep. As usual, they get on either side of
Pete. The omega moves around until his back is pressed against Jake's
chest, and his forehead is resting on Bradley's neck.
"Yes," he murmurs, smacking his lips and moving his hands, "it's mine."
Their husbands exchange confused glances. What does he mean?
Pete finally finds what he is looking for. He pulls one of each husband's hands and brings them to his belly.
"I have it, at last," he announces in a sleepy voice. "I'm not going to lose it."
"A baby?"
"Don't be silly, Brad. I have a perfect triangle."
THE END
INDEX: https://palabraspulsares.blogspot.com/p/happy-together.html
