Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In the span of a warbling breath, it happened. In the same moment you stole a lungful of air in through the moth bitten wool of your fathers coat, you remembered, and you knew it was over. Even through the crumbling fabric, you could taste his spiking scent, filling with anger and arousal.

You had forgotten the orange peel on the floor.

_

The 1st was, decidedly, the most tedious and wasteful day of each month of his life. Konig and his men pushed into the crumbling buildings the pathetic little villagers called homes one by one, scenting the air with routine disinterest and consistently bad tempers. As was always the case, they found nothing but the stench of piss and shit and fear, and occasionally would escort the increasingly rare newly presented Omegas back to the keep, where they would eventually be prepared for the most "eligible" Alpha, used as coveted little bargaining chips in political schemes. 

Nose wrinkling at the faint, pungent scent of death in the air, Konig slowly ran his finger over the arm of a chair, disrupting the thin layer of dust covering the meager remaining belongings in the shitty little hovel he was currently in. Too small and dilapidated for more than one to enter at a time, he moved through the house like a looming unwelcome visitor in the quiet, vacant house, Horangi and the others waiting for him outside.

Breathing deeply, he reasoned that body snatchers must've gotten to the former occupant before he and his men did, the old mans scent faded and slowly receding from the little shack. Floor creaking beneath him in protest, he ducked into the last room of the house, scanning the kitchen quickly with open disdain at the pungent fragrance of rot lifting from a forgotten bowl of food congealing on the dilapidated table. Teeming with flies and coating the roof of his mouth with its stench, he inhaled reluctantly, calling out to his waiting envoy.

"All clea-", he froze, zeroing on the sweet, tangy scent of citrus lurking beneath the smell of the old man and rot. Eyes following its path down, down, down, his focus narrowed to pinpricks as he saw the bright little piece of rind forgotten on the floor. And there, almost ephemeral underneath the orange, was the scent of a girl. Irritation rising, he dropped down to a crouch, lifting the peel up and under his hood and dropping it into his mouth, biting down with a decisive crunch, and- oh, there she is. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, Konig groaned as the scent of an unclaimed Omegas frightened pheromones cloyed in his throat, blood going straight to his cock, chest rumbling with anticipation and indignation. With the taste of her filling his mouth now, he could smell traces of the little rat all over the dilapidated shithole.

He was running out of patience. Spitting the rind onto the floor, he spoke.

"I am going to give you to the count of 30 to come out on your own before I get you myself, little one."

Body thrumming with need, muscles taught with anger, he stalked across the kitchen towards the growing scent of her fear and counted aloud.

"..24, 23, 22, 21."

Stopping next to the peeling wall farthest from the hall, Konig bit back an appreciative moan, his own lust climbing as he grew closer to the little stowaway hiding in the wall, previously veiled under the aggravating scent of her old man. 

"14, 13, 12, 11... You try my patience, little one!" He snarled, ignoring the call of his men outside as they inquired over the commotion, world narrowing to the effervescent girl who sat, defying him. 

"6, 5, 4, 3.." He trailed off, taking the final stride that separated him from the panel concealing her, cocked fist sinking through the flimsy wood with ease in a burst of white hot anger, right as his little rat finally conceded, little barefeet pushing away the door of her alcove with a shriek. 

"Too late, baby." He called out to her in mock apology, drunk off osmanthus and honeysuckle, nerves flayed open and raw at the sight of her wide eyes, fat tears rolling down soft cheeks as she started to shake in earnest. Looming over her like a bird of prey, he pulled his hand from the shattered wall and curled it around a little ankle, fingers wrapping around her limb so severely that he failed to notice Horangi stumbling into the kitchen behind him, head filling with white noise and the sound of her hummingbird heartbeat, world reduced to the wild eyed little girl in front of him. 

Growling as he pulled her free, her hands scrambled for purchase, pitifully trying to hold herself in her hiding place. She came to life then, legs flying as she lashed out, kicking him in the chest like a little banshee before his other hand found purchase on her waist, pulling her flush to his body like a rag doll, paying no heed to her frantic squirming. 

"No! Put me down!" She cried, balled up little fists swinging and hitting wherever she could, unaware that her squirming was only causing his dick to swell more, her flailing body flush against him now as he held her in his arms, one hand spanning her entire back from shoulder to hip and the other one wrapping around the back of a kicking thigh. 

Groaning, he pushed up his mask in a frenzy, leaning in to lap at the tears falling across her face, burying his face in the junction of her neck and breathing in deeply- too deeply. "Fuck, sweetheart." Teeth roaming the expanse of her neck, he was jerked back into reality when she gave a sharp, petulant tug at his hood. Fabric riding up and threatening to peel away altogether, he let out a bellowing growl as he snatched her hand away, shaking her to regain her attention. "Enough!" He bit out, watching as she went rigid, the slack in his hands. 

Little pleas were starting to bubble up from the exhausted little thing when Horangi interjected, hand firmly over his own mouth, voice muffled as he spoke out, "Sir, we should go... men are starting to gather outside, the boys are running damage control." 

Konig snarled at the mention of other Alphas waiting outside. Breathing deeply to remind himself that the honeysuckle girl was here, in his possession, he took a moment to compose himself. He needed to get her out of this fucking shithole, and away from the dozens of lonely Alpha villagers that would be too stupid and pussy drunk to mind their own business. More importantly, he needed to report to Price immediately; there hadn't been an unrecorded Omega in years, let alone one who had somehow gone unnoticed this far into her presentation. And that was the other thing- despite her appearing to be over the initial presentation age, where girls are kept in a safehouse where they are made to have their first heats before being mated, this girl smelt... new. Somehow, she had not had a heat yet, and it was proving to be the downfall of Konig's willpower. The thought of anyone else touching her would be his undoing- he was going to have to claim this girl, for better or worse. 

Wrapping a hand into her matted hair, he cocked her head back and made to look her in the eye. "Look at me, baby. It's over. The more you fight me, the more it's going to hurt later. Do you understand me?" 

Anger and fear capitulated out of her, mixing together with a murky undercurrent of her yearning as she nodded; Konig wondered how long the poor, feral little thing had been on her own, part of her already relaxing into his touch. 

After years of working together, his men were all finely attuned to each other, so it was no surprise when Horangi began to shout in alarm as Konig's scent spiked, covetous, seconds before he lifted his hood, leaned forward, and bit.