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
