Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lambert hates being an omega.

It's absolute bullshit that his subsex dictates people treat him differently from anyone else. He's just as capable as any of those pompous, stuck up, alpha pricks of the ton, and a great deal smarter than a lot of them too.

But everyone else doesn't see that, they just see omega and immediately dismiss him like he's nothing.

Other omegas see Lambert as competition. He's just one more person that they must outshine for their desired alpha's attention. Sometimes they try to talk to him, spreading gossip or their usual condescending bullshit as if he actually gives a fuck. Usually, all it takes is one sentence out of Lambert's mouth to make other omegas avoid him for the rest of the evening.

Betas usually don't give him the time of day. He's of little use to them after all, since betas usually wed other betas, and omegas aren't meant to have careers.

The alphas are the worst though. Always talking down to him like he couldn't possibly comprehend a word longer than three syllables or the intricacies of finance or politics. (Everyone knows that omegas shouldn't have a say in that anyway, considering their habit for hysterics. You know, as opposed to these alpha knot-heads that are stuck in an endless loop of posturing for dominance and lose their temper at the drop of a hat. Those kinds of people are surely more capable of keeping a level head for making important decisions.)

And then there are views on what omega are good for: demure activities like needlepoint or playing the harpsichord, keeping good table manners and only speaking when spoken to. Being agreeable . And let's not forget being a broodmare for however many heirs their alpha feels like having that year.

Lambert fucking hates it all.

Although he supposes he has it better than most others in his subsex.

Vesemir adopted him when he was ten after both his parents died of a fever and there was no living relative to claim him. Instead of going to an orphanage, he found himself staring down the massive doors to Kaer Morhen, the Duke's main estate in Kaedwen, bag in one hand and the other balled into a fist in case anyone tried to harm him.

Inside he would meet Eskel and Geralt, the Duke's other two adopted sons-- both alphas-- and would end up punching the latter in the face when the boy scented the air, eyes widening before declaring, "you're an omega." Vesemir broke the fight up pretty quickly, and Lambert was deposited in his room to await what he was sure would be some horrible punishment for daring to lay a hand on the Duke's precious firstborn alpha heir. But there was no punishment, and instead the old Duke had a long conversation with Lambert about their roles in society and the way things worked in his household.

"An omega deserves just as much respect as anyone else," the old alpha stated firmly. "In my household you will be treated no different from my other wards. All that I ask is that you show them the same respect in return."

Lambert didn't believe him at first. He was sure there would be some unspoken caveat that would place him below the alpha children. The moment he let his guard down he was bound to be treated as terribly as he expected.

But over the years Lambert realized that the old man really did mean those words, and he softened towards him.

Lambert was given the same tutors and lessons that Geralt and Eskel were. He was allowed to rough house and play with them, learn to fence and box. Vesemir also gave him the option to learn more refined talents, the ones that were common for omegas of nobility, but he never forced anything. Lambert was allowed to pursue anything that interested him, regardless of the sex it was deemed appropriate for, but it was his choice.

When it came time for Geralt and Eskel to attend university, Vesemir tried to have Lambert admitted as well. It was unheard of for an omega to achieve a further education such as this, but the Duke was adamant in his belief that Lambert should be afforded every opportunity that his brothers were. Geralt and Eskel's acceptance came within a matter of weeks. However, Lambert's did not. They waited months, until just a five days before the start of the semester they received the following letter:

To Vesemir Rochefort, Duke of Kaedwen,

Your Grace,

We regret to inform you that the application for your son, Lambert Wolfe Rochefort, has been rejected. After lengthy discussion by the council board, it was decided by unanimous vote that having an omega at the university would be both a hindrance and distraction for the other students. Therefore, for the sake of our fine clientele, Lambert will not be permitted to attend classes this semester.

We thank and acknowledge you for your continued financial support of our institution and look forward to having your other sons present at the University for the coming year.

Respectfully,

Oxenfurt University Council

To say Vesemir was furious is an understatement. That day had been one of the few times Lambert would get to see his surrogate father lose his temper. He remembers looking at the floor, feeling defeated, because of course the Duke's name and title meant nothing in the end. The attitudes of one man could not change society; regardless how Lambert was treated at home, he would always be less than his brothers in the eyes of the ton.

He thought that was that, until Vesemir ripped up the letter and declared that if the university wouldn't teach Lambert, he would find someone that would.

The Duke brought in professors from Toussaint and Nilfgaard and paid them such a hefty sum that they couldn't possibly refuse a position in his household. He had Lambert given a private education, one that was just as extensive as the one his brothers received, whether that be in a school or not.

By the time Lambert was twenty, Geralt and Eskel had finished their schooling and grown into two fine young men, just as kind and even tempered as their father. Vesemir made sure that they shared his views on subsexes and would continue to treat everyone they came with the same respect and dignity regardless of presentation. A year later Lambert would finish his studies as well, and though he'll never be as even tempered as the rest of his family, he still became a respectable, mostly level-headed man.

Except, despite the Duke's best efforts and the way he treated his own household, the attitudes of society around them still viewed Lambert differently from his brothers. And his eligibility on the marriage market, for instance, was becoming a rather pressing matter.

You see, Vesemir Rochefort already had the title, the wealth, the estate-- he had no need to acquire any of that through matchmaking. The only request he made was that his sons at least try to find someone that they would like to marry because he wants some grandchildren to dote upon, gods damn it. He would not force any of his sons to find a match, if they wish to end up alone that was their choice, all he asked was that they put in the effort to try.

For Geralt, this wasn't an issue at all since he was already married to a lovely omega named Jaskier, who Lambert liked well enough but had to admit was rather annoying at times. As the eldest son, with their legacy and family lines already secured, old pops had most of his wishes satisfied.

Eskel wasn't the marrying type at all, and preferred flirting and dancing when it suited him, leaning more towards a single occasion dalliances with adventurous women. Although he doubted he would ever settle down, he still promised their father that he would make an honest effort to find someone eventually.

And then there was Lambert's predicament. Lambert had no intention of finding an alpha whatsoever, but like his brothers, had agreed to at least attempt to do so at some point. Except where omegas were concerned, he couldn't just put off the task for a decade or so until he felt ready like Eskel.

"As much as I hate it, it's different for you," Vesemir tells him one night. "In the eyes of the ton, by the age of five and twenty an omega is already becoming an old maid."

"That's rich," Lambert scoffs, "considering half the alphas looking to get married are pushing forty."

"I know. But like it or not people don't see it that way. If we want you to have any bit of a fighting chance you'll have to attend the upcoming season."

The thought alone is enough to make him grimace. "Can't I just end up a spinster and die alone?"

Amusement dances in the old man's eyes. "Lambert, if spinsterhood is what you desire, I will make no attempts to stop you. But life is long, and can be terribly lonely. I want you to be happy. And that means giving love a chance."

"I would rather die," Lambert says flatly, to which the Duke only chuckles.

"No you wouldn't."

Fine. No he wouldn't. But he still hates the idea all the same.

"You'll attend this season," Vesemir says, standing from his chair. His voice offers no room for argument. "And every season until you turn twenty five. You'll dance with each eligible suitor that asks you at least once, and attend all the events to which you are invited-- unless you are otherwise indisposed. After that, if you still haven't found someone that you wish to marry, I will leave you be. As we agreed, all I want you to do is try, Lambert."

Lambert watches as his father heads for the door. "I won't find someone," he says.

The old man pauses in the doorway. "Alright. Married or not, you are still set to inherit a third of my assets when I pass. If you don't find someone, then you don't. But you will attend this year's season."

And so, come October Lambert was swept into the preparations for the upcoming marriage season whether he liked it or not.

He was poked and prodded for what felt like a hundred years as he was fitted for a new wardrobe at the tailor's. The Duke spared no expense where Lambert's appearance was concerned, commissioning hundreds of suits and jackets with ruffles, lace, embroidery, and all kinds of other nonsense that omegas put on their clothing. He was kind enough, at least, to choose the darker, more reserved color palette that Lambert preferred.

The Duke also made him read up on all the eligible bachelors who would be attending that season, requesting that Lambert make a list of any he would like to receive an introduction to. When Lambert handed in a blank piece of paper, his father just sighed and tucked it into his jacket pocket, making no further comment on the matter.

The rules were as follows:

One: He must dance with every suitor that asks him at least once.

Two: He must attend every event to which he receives an invitation so long as he is not sick or otherwise indisposed.

Three: He must make an effort to be on his best behavior, or as close as he can be to it.

Other than that, he was free to do as he wished. Lambert could marry someone regardless of family, wealth, or title.

He was fortunate, really, to have lucked into the situation that he did. He knew other omegas would be dressed up like a prized cow and auctioned off to the best match that their parents could find for them without any care for their feelings on the matter.

Still though, it didn't make him feel any less of a prized cow when he was ushered into the room for the very first ball of the season and the leering eyes of about a dozen alphas fell on him.

Lambert's first season was the worst. Since it was his debut and his father was a Duke, he had to fend off droves of marriage-minded alphas. That was, at least, until each actually had the pleasure of speaking with him. Then their attentions were suddenly elsewhere, which was more than fine by Lambert.

Some were better than others; but whether they were stuck up and belittling directly or through subtlety and backhanded compliments, it didn't matter. Lambert didn't want to even breathe the same air as any of them. Because at the end of the day, they didn't see him as a person, they saw him as an omega. Nothing more than chattel, breeding stock, and a hefty dowry. Something pretty and silent to have on their arm that they could show off to their friends.

Still though, Lambert had made an agreement to his father, so he gritted his teeth, put on as best a smile as he could manage (a very awkward, somewhat unnerving one), and endured each stuck up lord with bad breath, each dance partner with wandering hands, and every last pitiful attempt at small talk and humor that society dictated he indulge them in.

By the end of the season Lambert had gained a reputation for being spirited, discerning, and prickly, which was strong enough to repel a decent portion of suitors come his second year.

He managed to make it through three years of the ridiculous torture that is the marriage season unattached and uncaring. All Lambert had to do then was make it through one more year, then he would turn twenty five in the summer, and all this would become a distant memory.

He had no reason to expect this season to be any different than the last three.

But then again, he could never have expected Aiden.

-----------------------

It's the third ball of Lambert's final obligatory season and he's hugging the wall near the drinks table, wishing he could indulge in one of the many bottles of fine alcohol instead of the lemonade in his hand. The music of the string quartet across the room soars around him as he dully watches various couples twirl about the dance floor.

Every ball it's the same boring people and tedious conversation. Lambert is sure that if he has to listen to one more person talk about the weather he's going to throw up. His only comfort is knowing that this will be the last season he must endure events such as these. After that, he'll be comfortably into his spinsterhood and able to focus his attention on more important pursuits. The old man does give him a substantial monthly allowance; perhaps he'll invest in some business opportunities.

Speaking of the old man…

Vesemir is standing next to him, sipping a glass of scotch and repeating the same conversation he attempts to have every time he is Lambert's chaperone for the evening.

"Are you sure there are no alphas that catch your eye, son?"

The omega scoffs. "No one who isn't a pompous asshole."

"Lambert," the Duke's voice is a low hiss. "Not so loud. That kind of language is fine within our estate, but here... people could talk."

"What's the matter? Worried I'll besmirch your good name?"

"My name will be perfectly fine. It's your prospects I'm worried about. If you keep scaring off the new suitors how will you ever find someone you enjoy the company of?"

"I suppose I shan't," Lambert replies, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Pity."

"Would finding someone with whom you are in love really be so bad?"

"Considering the parade of alphas I'll have to sift through? Probably."

The old man lets out a sigh. "Lambert. Son. I just want you to be happy--"

Whatever he was about to say is lost as soon as an unfamiliar figure approaches the pair.

"Pardon my interruption, your Grace," the stranger says in a voice as smooth as silk, "but might I trouble you for an introduction?"

It's an alpha; tall, with tanned skin, stunning green eyes, and dark wavy hair that reaches his shoulders. He's dressed in a dark blue jacket and a waistcoat in a lighter shade of blue that's embroidered with a floral pattern. As much as Lambert hates to admit it, this alpha is incredibly handsome. Great. The handsome ones are always the worst. They think their looks will make any omega swoon the moment they so much as glance in their direction.

Vesemir smiles as he turns to face the other man. "Ah, Lord Blackmore, I wasn't aware your family was back in town."

"We just returned this past week, your Grace. My father had some business to attend to with his banks that should take the greater part of the year, so he had us move to the town estate for the season."

The intrigued glint visible in his father's eye suddenly gives Lambert a bad feeling about this.

"Excellent. I would be delighted to facilitate an introduction. This is my youngest son, Lambert Wolfe Rochefort. Lambert, this is Lord Aiden Blackmore." The Duke gestures to Lambert and the alpha turns his attention on him, giving a polite nod and a brilliant smile.

"It is lovely to make your acquaintance," Aiden tells him.

Lambert waits for the moment that Aiden's eyes will leave his face and sweep over his body, inspecting his would-be-conquest, but it never comes. Instead the alpha holds his gaze until Lambert replies, "charmed."

Lord Blackmore, however, either doesn't notice or is completely unfazed by the lack of enthusiasm in Lambert's voice, and continues on by asking, "Mr. Rochefort, would you honor me with a dance?"

Lambert fights the urge to groan.

"He would be delighted," Vesemir says, nudging Lambert towards the alpha.

Aiden smiles, taking Lambert’s hand in his and leads him towards the dance floor while the omega contemplates the many ways he might kill his father in his sleep for this.

The quartet begins playing a waltz and they take their positions; Aiden's hand around Lambert's waist and Lambert's hand on Aiden's shoulder. Something about the way the alpha squeezes his other hand where they’re joined just oozes pretentiousness. 

This is going to be a difficult dance to get through, isn't it? He can only hope that Lord Aiden Blackmore is not a talker.

"So tell me, Mr. Rochefort--" ah fuck, here we go-- "am I wrong, or does your facial expression indicate that you want to be here as little as I do?"

Lambert blinks, taken back. Well that's... different.

In his experience, not bothering to mince one's words usually makes unwanted attention disappear that much faster, so he answers honestly. "I despise this farcical performance that is high society."

Aiden hums. "I see. And what aspects of society make it so despicable? The etiquette? The social graces?”

"All of it. But especially the people that want to talk to me."

“The conversation can become terribly dull."

"As can the company," Lambert replies flatly.

The alpha chuckles, obviously not getting the hint. "True indeed."

Lambert frowns, eyes narrowing in on the man's face. "If you hate it so much, why approach me at all? You could have very well left me alone to suffer the evening in solitude. I'm sure we both would have been much happier that way."

Something playful slips into the alpha's expression. "Because," he replies, "I suspected that the omega staring daggers at everyone would likely be the most interesting person in the room." He pauses to twirl Lambert around before repositioning his hands where they belong. "It appears I was right."

The omega breathes a scornful laugh. "You don't even know me."

"And yet, with less than a minute of conversation you're already exuding character. And a rather thorny one at that."

Yes. Character that would have otherwise already sent another alpha running. Yet Lord Aiden Blackmore remains, persistent as a cockroach. Perhaps he is just too stupid to recognize when he's not wanted.

"Oh so you did notice,” Lambert grunts. “And here I thought you were just an imbecile."

The other man pauses, the corner of his mouth twitching, and Lambert thinks, here it is, now he'll show his true colors. No alpha stands for being insulted. But then the bastard smirks-- smirks!-- and replies, “You have an extremely quick wit, Mr. Rochefort."

Lambert raises an eyebrow in challenge. "For an omega, you mean?"

"For anyone."

Huh. "And you have an incredibly persistent nature."

Aiden smiles. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"It wasn't one."

"Regardless, I'll continue to perceive it as such."

Just who does this asshole think he is?

Lambert glares at him. "Are you really so desperate for praise, you're willing to find it where it doesn't exist?"

"Are you so desperate to be alone that you'll attempt to verbally repel any alpha that compliments you?" Aiden retorts.

"I am," Lambert says firmly. "I have no desire to find an alpha. In fact, I find your lot insufferable."

"My my, a sharp wit and a sharp tongue to go with it. I find your obvious disdain for me refreshing." Aiden pauses to offer the omega a bow as the dance finishes. "Thank you for such a welcome break from the usual drawl of these events. I quite enjoyed it.” He bows his head then flashes him a dazzling smile. "Until we meet again, Mr. Rochefort."

And with that, Aiden Blackmore is gone, leaving Lambert confused, baffled, and for the first time in his life, at a loss for words.

Um, what the fuck just happened?

---------------------------

"Who the fuck was that?" Lambert asks his father once they're inside their carriage, "and how do you know him?"

The Duke looks at him, eyebrows raised. "Lord Blackmore? His father, Guxart, is the Duke of Ebbing; he and I fought in the war together. The emperor appointed us both our titles at the same time."

"So his father was one of your old war friends, then?" Lambert asks, "why haven't I heard about them until now?"

"They moved to their estate in the country some years back," Vesemir explains. "It was shortly after I adopted you, actually. That's why you haven't had occasion to meet any of them." He shakes his head. "It's a shame, really. His children are close in age to you and your brothers. It would have been nice for you to have some friends around growing up."

Huh. That explains that then.

"I'm glad they've returned to town for the season," the Duke continues, "it will be nice to reconnect with my old friend."

"Hm."

"And his son, Aiden, would make a rather fine match for you, Lambert. It seems like he made quite the impression at the ball."

Oh he certainly made some kind of impression. But it wasn't the kind that Lambert's father is suggesting.

"And what makes you think that?" Lambert asks, glancing out the carriage window in an attempt to appear disinterested.

"Simple. He's the first suitor you've ever asked about."

The omega whirls around "That's not-- it isn't like that! He's just annoying, is all. Impressively annoying."

The Duke shrugs. "If you say so."

He does. He does say so. It's just been a while since an alpha has been able to get under Lambert's skin. That's the only reason Aiden has him so rattled.

The only reason.

The only--

Fuck.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Lambert is reading a book in the drawing room when there's a knock at the door. He turns to see his father standing in the doorway.

"Lambert, go get dressed and head to the morning room. It appears you have a caller."

He has a what now?

---------------------------

The last time Lambert had a gentleman caller was during his very first season. That was back before he gained his reputation for venom and disinterest, and despite his best efforts to ward off any ambitious alphas he should meet at social gatherings, his substantial dowry and father's title proved too tempting for some to ignore. If any of these so-called gentlemen did happen to grace him with a morning visit, Lambert made damn sure that they wouldn't be coming around a second time. This, of course, displeased his father to no end, but like it or not they had their deal and that meant Lambert had no obligation to entertain these men past a single dance.

He had thought that the message was clear enough to never have to deal with this nonsense again, but apparently there was still one alpha that was determined to pursue him. And Lambert has a sneaking suspicion he knows exactly who that is.

It's confirmed to be correct the moment he steps into the morning room to find Lord Aiden Blackmore waiting for him.

"You," Lambert says, accusation lacing his voice.

The alpha just offers him a pleasant smile in response. "Me," he says simply, bowing his head towards Lambert. "Good morning, Mr. Rochefort."

"Lord Blackmore. Come to subject me to your presence once again?"

"Actually, I was hoping we might share a cup of tea."

"Ugh, fine. But only because the rules of hosting dictate that I indulge you."

Amusement dances in Aiden's green eyes as he steps closer. "Do the rules of hosting dictate that you also be nice to me?"

"There isn't a set of rules in the world that can make me do that," Lambert grumbles, under his breath.

"Excellent. I would hate to have come so far only to be disappointed."

Across the room, he hears Jaskier choke on a laugh and he shoots a quick glare in the other omega's direction. Suddenly, his brother-in-law is extremely interested in his needlepoint.

Gods' damn it, Jaskier. Lambert knew that asking him to chaperone would involve this shit. Then again, at least there's less teasing than if it were one of his brothers. Or Vesemir. Fuck that.

He orders the house staff to bring up some tea and cakes and not five minutes later he's glancing at his reflection in his teacup as he avoids making eye contact with Aiden Blackmore's stupid handsome face. Neither of them have yet to say anything, and Lambert is beginning to wonder if Lord Blackmore seeks to torture him using sheer awkwardness alone.

When they met the previous night, Lambert hadn’t been able to scent the other man amongst the overwhelming atmosphere of the ballroom. Now that they’re alone however, he can catch the faintest hint of the alpha’s scent wafting over from across the table. Cloves and Lavender-- a rather calming scent for an alpha. Usually they have some heavier musk so strong it overpowers Lambert’s breath, coats the roof of his mouth and his tongue. But Lord Blackmore’s scent is actually quite pleasing, and for some reason seems to make the uneasy pit in Lambert’s stomach dance with butterfly wings.

Mercifully, the alpha chooses then to clear his throat, and Lambert is saved from having to process the meaning of his body’s reaction. He lifts his gaze from the teacup.

"I understand you received a college level education, Mr. Rochefort. That's rather unusual for an omega."

"Because we're barely intelligent enough to articulate thoughts or opinions?" Lambert challenges.

"Oh please," the alpha says, brushing a stray crumb off his lap. "We both know that's hardly the case. You seem to have nothing but opinions. What I meant to say was, ‘I was unaware that Oxenfurt University allowed omegas to study there.’"

"It doesn't," Lambert replies tightly. "My application was sent along with my brothers' but the university council felt that an omega attending classes would be a…distraction to the other students. My father hired professors to teach me privately from Kaer Morhen Estate."

Aiden hums, taking a sip from his teacup. "That's quite the shame. I have no doubt that a man as sharp as yourself would have excelled in his studies."

Lambert knows it's all just talk, but a tiny part of him preens anyway. He would have, had he been given the opportunity. He would have probably gotten better exam scores than Geralt or Eskel too.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," he warns the alpha.

Aiden shrugs. "I was being honest. I think society would benefit from having more educated omegas."

"You don't mean that."

"I do mean that. My younger sister is an omega and has an incredibly intelligent mind. My father and I have been looking for a school that would be willing to teach her, but have so far come up empty-handed. I should like to learn more about your private studies, perhaps that would be the best route for her."

Lambert stares at him blankly and nearly drops his teacup. Of all the places he was expecting this conversation to go, that certainly wasn't it. "I... suppose I could discuss that with you, yes."

His agreement seems to make the other man smile. "Wonderful. Tell me everything."

And so Lambert does.

He tells Aiden about the professors his father hired from Toussaint and Nilfgaard, how he was made to study business so that he might make use of his inheritance but greatly preferred the sciences-- he even briefly touches upon his own personal chemistry experiments and artistic pursuits-- and to his surprise Aiden listens. Oh anyone can sit there and nod along, of course, but Aiden Blackmore seems genuinely interested in what Lambert has to say; adding his own comments and questions here or there, prompting him to expand upon the topics that interest him further.

And when Lambert dips into his more colorful language or tests the waters by hurling borderline insults in the alpha's direction, the man's calm and collected demeanor never waivers. He actually seems to find Lambert's turn of phrase amusing, sometimes retorting with remarks of his own that almost leave Lambert at a loss for what to say next.

It's...it's downright unusual, is what it is. And it occurs to Lambert about halfway through that this is the first intelligent conversation he's ever had with an alpha outside his family, and he... doesn't hate it.

In fact, he doesn't even realize how much time has passed until they've finished an entire pot of tea between the two of them.

"You know," Aiden says, putting his teacup to the side, "your expression doesn't look anywhere near as venomous as it did when I walked in here. If I didn't know any better I'd say you were having a good time."

Lambert feels his ears heat in embarrassment as he realizes he'd almost been smiling, and turns his face away. "Yes, well, I suppose your presence isn't as torturous as I initially perceived."

The alpha places a hand over his heart in mock surprise. "Mr. Rochefort, was that another one of your signature almost-compliments?"

Yes. No. Maybe. Fuck. "Don't let it go to your head."

"Oh it's far too late for that," Aiden declares, rising from his seat. "I must go, I'm afraid. But I greatly enjoyed your company today. Hopefully we can have a repeat occasion soon."

Lambert crosses his arms over his chest, refusing to meet his gaze and witness that terribly gorgeous smile. "Don't get your hopes up either," he says.

"We'll see about that. Good day, Mr. Rochefort."

"Good day, Lord Blackmore."

And with that Aiden bids him farewell.

Once Lambert hears the sound of the front door closing, Jaskier saunters across the room from where he'd been working on his embroidery.

Lambert holds out of hand, stopping his brother-in-law right in his tracks when he sees the smirk on his face. "Please don't. I'm sure I'll endure enough teasing from Geralt and Eskel at dinner this evening."

Jaskier holds up his hands in surrender. "I was just going to say that he seems nice."

"Yeah," Lambert grouses, "I'm sure."

"And I don't think I've ever seen someone respond to your venom so well. He's different, that one."

"That's one way of putting it."

"All in all, he’d probably be a good match for y--"

"Aaand that's enough of that," Lambert says, turning on his heel. "I'm going to my room. Don't follow me."

He leaves to the sound of Jaskier chuckling behind him.

----------------------------

"Lambert had a caller today," Vesemir says during dinner, nearly making him choke on his soup. Instantly all eyes are on him, but his brothers only offer Lambert a brief second of sympathy before taking advantage of his coughing fit to ask their questions.

"Did he now?" A sly smile spreads across Eskel's face as he shoots his younger brother a glance. "I thought you scared all the eligible bachelors off, Lamb."

"As did I," Geralt comments, "tell us, brother, what brave alpha have you caught the attention of now?"

Before Lambert has recovered enough to strangle his brothers across the table, their father answers for him. "Aiden Blackmore." 

"Aiden Blackmore," Eskel repeats, "I don't think I know him."

"He's Guxart's son. The second eldest, I believe. You met him when you were five, though it was brief. I'm not surprised you don't remember."

"I think I might," Geralt muses. "Dark wavy hair, green eyes, legs like a bean pole?"

"That would be him, yes. Though he's grown into those legs during the past two decades. He's become quite a kind and respectable young man."

Eskel waggles his eyebrows at Lambert from across the table and the omega's grip tightens around his fork as he resists the urge to throw it. "And did this morning's call end in the usual-- hmm-- events?" Eskel asks.

"If you're asking whether or not I told him to fuck off, the answer is yes," Lambert growls. "Little good it did though."

"Imagine that. An alpha that's not intimidated by our baby brother's temper. I'm surprised the morning room is not in shambles."

Geralt breaths a laugh. "Or Lord Blackmore. Remind me what happened the last time you had a caller that wouldn't take no for an answer, Lamb? I believe you threw a teapot at his head?"

"It was a tea cup," Lambert corrects, "and it didn't even have tea in it. He was fine."

"Well I for one am glad you didn't throw a teacup at my friend's son's head," Vesemir declares, dabbing his mouth with his napkin.

"On the contrary--" Lambert braces himself as Jaskier, who is yet to join the conversation, leans forward in his chair. "Lambert behaved very politely-- er--  by Lambert standards, that is. The two seemed to be having quite a nice time."

"Jaskier," he hisses in warning.

The other omega gives him an innocent expression. "What? You did, didn't you?"

"I did not. It was merely... tolerable."

Geralt grins, elbowing his husband at his side as Jaskier smirks. "’Tolerable ,’ he says. From Lambert that's as close as you'll get to a compliment."

"Well I'm happy for you, Lamb," Eskel adds.

Lambert groans. "Can we please stop talking about my prospects? I'd prefer anything-- literally anything else. I'll even listen to Jaskier talk about his new mandolin."

"And what a fine piece of craftsmanship she is!" the musician exclaims excitedly, and thankfully the conversation drifts over to him.

Lambert turns his attention back on his food. The sooner he finishes eating, the sooner he can be excused and avoid any potential pitfalls of conversation.

It was merely a morning call, he reasons, there's no need for everyone to be up in arms about it. He doubts it will happen again.

--------------------------

The next day, a bouquet of blue hydrangeas is delivered to Rochefort House. They are accompanied by a note with Lambert's name on it, where inside, loopy penmanship has scrawled:

To Mr. Lambert Wolfe Rochefort:

Hydrangeas are an interesting flower; both beautiful and poisonous.

I thought a man who displays similar qualities would find this as amusing as I did.

Hope we might meet again soon,

-Aiden Blackmore

As soon as he's finished reading it, Lambert crushes the note in his fist, holding it tightly to his chest as he tries to steady his breathing. The cakes he had eaten for breakfast suddenly sit heavy in his stomach, his face feels hot. When he recognizes that the paper carries the slightest trace of the alpha’s scent, his face grows even hotter.

Could Aiden Blackmore actually be serious about courting him? He’d been so adamant in his dismissal of all alphas that he never actually prepared himself for what he would do if one actually liked him.

Gods, this is turning into a disaster.

Lambert can't be courted. Then people will start seeing him as they do all the others in his subsex; nothing but an eager, naïve omega, desperate for whatever attention an eligible alpha might give them. And if he were to actually share Lord Blackmore’s feelings-- doesn’t that make him exactly as they say he is?

Worse still, Lord Blackmore's actions might indicate to others that Lambert is still an eligible prospect, an idea that he has worked very hard these past years to snuff out.

No-- no. The alpha just caught him off guard, is all. He simply feels uneasy because of it; these feelings shall pass soon enough. Lambert just needs to put in a little more effort next time to scare him off and then this whole matter will be dealt with.

He has to.

Once Lambert is able to steady himself, he swiftly takes both the flowers and the note up to his room, placing them on a table in the far corner. He spends the rest of the day glaring at them whenever they're in his field of vision.

Despite his attempts at a scowl, however, he has to admit; they are very nice flowers.

----------------------------

"Why must I come with you again?" Lambert asks, eyes scanning the many paintings along the walls of the opera house entrance. He would much rather be at home working on his latest experiments, yet here he is, dressed in ruffles and silks once more, on the arm of his father about to engage in a pastime he doesn't even enjoy.

"Because Geralt and Jaskier are having dinner with the Pankratz family, Eskel is still relishing the consequences of his previous night drinking, and I wanted someone to accompany me," Vesemir replies coolly. "You couldn't come up with a good enough excuse, therefore, here you are."

Here he is indeed, Lambert thinks dryly, with any protests he might have had silenced by the terrifying fatherly glare the Duke gave him earlier.

"Besides, you haven't been out since the ball last week and have been cooped up in your laboratory for the past three days. A change of scenery would do you well. Come, let us make haste to our box."

The two are about to head upstairs when a voice cuts through the hall.

"Vesemir, you old codger, is that you?"

An older man with graying hair approaches them, beaming from ear to ear. Lambert doesn't recognize him, but clearly his father does because his face breaks out into a matching smile and he quickly leads Lambert towards the stranger. "Guxart! I heard you were back in town! It is wonderful to see you, old friend."

Ah. So this must be Aiden's father, the Duke's old friend from their war days. That explains it then.

"Indeed I am," Guxart says with a nod. " We shall have to make time to get reacquainted."

"I should like that," Vesemir replies, then he nudges Lambert forward. "Allow me to introduce you to my youngest son, Lambert Wolfe Rochefort."

The Duke of Ebbing tips his head towards Lambert. "Mr. Rochefort."

"Your Grace."

"It is good to finally meet you in person," Guxart muses. “My son has told me much about you.”

Lambert feels he's just been hit by a carriage. "He...has?"

"All good things, I assure you. What a happy coincidence that he and my other children happen to be attending the opera as well tonight."

Oh. Oh no.

"The two of you should join us in our box."

Lambert's eyes snap to his father, hoping the intensity of his stare will get across the message that he should refuse the offer. Vesemir either doesn't notice or doesn't care and instead smiles at his friend, declaring, "we would love to join you."

“Very good. Our box is just this way.”

When they reach the Blackmore box, five other figures greet them. Aiden, Lambert recognizes, but there are also his three brothers-- two alphas and a beta-- and the omega sister he mentioned.

"Vesemir and Lambert Rochefort are going to join us in our box this evening," Guxart announces, leading them inside. "Please, meet my children. Cedric, I'm sure you remember, as well as Aiden--" the alpha sends a smile in Lambert's direction and all of a sudden he finds himself very interested in the carving on the wall-- "but there is also Gaetan, Kiyan, and Dahlia, though we all tend to call her Dragonfly."

Each of the Blackmore children greets them politely in return before Vesemir joins Guxart in the front-most row of seats. Aiden's siblings fill the middle row, leaving only the seat at the back beside their brother vacant. The alpha smiles at Lambert, looking like the cat that got the cream and pats the cushion next to his before the omega reluctantly sits down.

"It appears I get to receive the pleasure of your company once again, Mr. Rochefort. Could it be that you're now finding excuses to meet with me? If you wanted to continue our conversation from last week all you had to do was ask."

"You know that's not the case," Lambert snaps, deliberately keeping his gaze on the opera glasses in his hand instead of the man next to him. "My father forced me to accompany him."

At that, Aiden seems to perk up further (if that's even possible). "Really? As did mine. My father adores the opera, but I confess I have no fondness for it myself. However, the man continues to insist that we all attend as a family. I fear now that we're residing in the city he'll be dragging us here every week."

"My father already drags us here every week."

Aiden hums. "Well I suppose if that's the case, this whole affair would be much more tolerable if it means I get to spend time with you."

Lambert rolls his eyes. "I'm already sitting next to you, isn't that enough? Don't push your luck."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Mr. Rochefort.” The alpha's smile sharpens, then, “I trust you received the bouquet I sent you. Were the flowers to your liking?"

"I did," Lambert replies coolly. "But you can't sway me with gifts, my lord. I will not be bribed into submission by pretty things."

"So you admit you found them pretty."

Yes. They're still sitting on the table in his room, though he put them in a vase of water so they keep longer. It's not because of who they're from. They just brighten up the room, as all.

"They were adequate."

"Then perhaps next time I shall have to fetch you a more extravagant arrangement."

Lambert crosses his arms over his chest, turning his head away. "I don't want anything from you."

"If you find the gesture so unwelcome, you could always slip some of those petals into my tea next time I call on you."

"Try my patience any further and I just might."

Aiden doesn't say anything in response to that, he just grins and shakes his head. Perhaps he was dropped on his head as a child and that's why he seems to find Lambert's attempts to repel him amusing. Or maybe he's just an idiot.

The opera begins and the two fall silent.

Tonight’s show is some tragedy that his father picked out, one where all the characters die at the end. Lambert does his best to focus on the stage, but finds it difficult with him sitting in such close proximity to Aiden. The alpha's scent drifts over from the man’s direction, settling in the air around Lambert and curling itself across his form, making his stomach flutter and his head rather dizzy. Fuck, an alpha's scent has never affected him like this before; so calming and pleasant, yet overwhelming at the same time. His omega instincts make him want to roll in it so he can smell of Aiden for days-- or at the very least scent him directly-- but he could never do that. Scenting someone outside your family was unthinkable unless you were married.

He's shocked out of his scent-induced haze when the alpha in question leans towards him, lips mere inches from Lambert's ear, and whispers, "do you know what's happening right now?"

Lambert jumps a little, blinking as he brings himself back into focus. "Uh what?"

"The play." Aiden nods towards the stage where the leading lady is singing a rather intense number surrounded by what looks to be an underwater set. "What's going on? I don't understand."

"You don't speak Elder?"

"Oh I learned it. Allegedly, that is. But I was never quite able to grasp it like I did other languages. I find it's harder to understand when they're singing."

"Ah. Well it appears the lady," Lambert says, pointing towards the stage, "was jilted by her lover, and is singing a sorrowful ballad while she drowns herself."

"She's singing while she drowns herself?"

"It would appear so."

"That doesn't make any sense. If she's able to sing, she's not really drowning, is she?"

"You want to know what doesn't make sense?" Lambert replies. "Last year our father took us all to see Othello at the Cintran theater. Desdemona apparently dies after her husband smothers her with a pillow, but between the smothering and her death, she is able to speak nearly half a paragraph. She can't have magically suffocated after having enough air to speak all those lines."

"Exactly!" Aiden exclaims, laughing, "I thought the very same thing when my father took us. And she claims to have smothered herself! You cannot smother yourself, that's ridiculous."

"I know! And don't get me started on Romeo and Juliet where Lady Montague dies from a broken heart." Lambert snickers. "What does that even mean?"

"Lambert." His father's voice is a harsh whisper as the Duke turns to glare at them, a finger pressed to his lips. The others are all staring.

Shit. He hadn't even realized how loud they were getting. "Apologies, father," he says.

Aiden nods in agreement, muttering apologies of his own, and they go back to watching the opera in silence.

Once the show has ended, Aiden finds Lambert in the lobby. "Might I call on you again tomorrow, Mr. Rochefort?"

Lambert looks the other man up and down, still amazed by how eager he is. No one's ever shown this kind of repeated interest in him before-- he's never let anyone try.

He sighs, tilting his head in question. "Will my saying no really make a difference?"

Aiden blinks, looking taken aback, and for the first time Lambert sees a glimpse beyond that calm and casual demeanor. "Yes," he says honestly, which is not at all what the omega was expecting to hear. He steps forward, holding Lambert's gaze, unwavering. "I do not wish to cause you any strife, and I apologize if my advances thus far have made you uncomfortable, Mr. Rochefort. My interest in you is genuine, but if my actions truly trouble you so, then tell me now and I shall take my leave."

"You--" never before has an alpha outside of his own family expressed a concern for how Lambert feels. They've always just seen him as a conquest, something to be won and then paraded around like a trophy. His feelings of romance or attraction didn't matter; neither did expressed wishes to be left alone when their advances became uncomfortable. Lambert hated them all because they never truly saw him as a person. That's why he had to resort to cutting remarks and offenses to make past suitors leave him alone. 

But Aiden, he-- Lambert stares at him, looking for any sign of deceit, yet cannot seem to find any. "You really mean that," he says slowly, the realization dawning on him, "don't you?"

Aiden's eyes never leave his. "I swear on my very life. Until now I thought your apparent disinterest was merely a result of your colorful personality, but if I have been placing my attentions where they are clearly unwelcome, then I must ask for your forgiveness and leave you in peace."

Lambert is silent for a long moment, pondering these words. When he does speak, his voice is soft. "I...admit that my being difficult was not without intent to make you leave," he says, and the alpha's face falls. "But, that was when I believed you to be just like all the others that have attempted to court me. In truth, however, these past days I have come to find your company...compatible with myself. So…if you wish to call on me tomorrow, I suppose that would be alright."

A slow smile spreads on the alpha's face. "So you're saying I wore down your thorny brambles after all."

"Oh don't be mistaken, my lord. If you seek to win my affections, then you must win my affections. I will not settle for anything less."

"Nor should you," Aiden agrees. "Very well, Mr. Rochefort, the game is afoot. I declare I will win your heart before the season is up."

The slightest smirk pulls at Lambert's lips. "We'll see about that."

"And one more thing; if I am to court you, then you should call me Aiden."

"All right then, Aiden," Lambert says, turning on his heel. "I will see you tomorrow."

"Might I also call you by your first name?" Aiden calls after him, and Lambert pauses, looking over his shoulder.

"Let's see how you do tomorrow and I'll think about it."

Chapter Text

"Ah, no flower petals," Aiden says, inspecting the teacup that Lambert hands him. "I must still be doing something right if you're not attempting to poison me."

Indeed, the alpha had begun the morning with his usual flair, arriving at Rochefort House for ten o'clock exactly with another bouquet of flowers in his hands. They’re irises this time; beautiful but poisonous just like the last, and Lambert accepted them somewhat awkwardly before having the housekeeper put them in a vase of water on the mantle.

He rolls his eyes, as he prepares his own cup of tea. "Yeah well, you're not the worst, I suppose. If anything, you're the least objectionable alpha I've met outside my family."

"Least objectionable," Aiden places a hand over his chest, "you flatter me, Mr. Rochefort. Since you're not attempting to ward off my presence any longer, perhaps you might tell me a bit more about yourself."

"There isn't much to tell," Lambert admits.

"Indulge me anyway."

The omega sighs. All right. Best to start at the beginning so that Aiden knows what he's really getting into.

"Well, if you really want to know, then I suppose you'll find out sooner or later that I am not the Duke's biological son. None of us are."

The fact that they're adopted has never really bothered Lambert before, but it still tends to cause a stir from time to time amid the people of the ton. It's not unheard of, of course-- many alphas have bastard children that they care for in one way or another-- not so many adopt though. Lambert and his brothers walk a line of contradictions;  not illegitimate children, nor of their father's line, given the wealth and status of nobility, yet not born into it.

"My parents died of a fever when I was ten," he explains. "The Duke never married and needed heirs as he grew older so he adopted the three of us; first Geralt, then Eskel a year later. He finally got me eight years after that. Even though we're not related, I love them like my own family. I know it can be hard to understand but--"

"Not at all," Aiden says, "I understand completely."

Lambert is unconvinced. "You...do?"

"I was adopted too."

"Wait, what? But your father is married!"

Aiden shrugs. "The Duchess has never been able to have children. Since their efforts remained fruitless, they decided to adopt as an alternative. Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't figure it out yesterday. My brother, Kiyan, looks more like Geralt, than he does the rest of us, Cedric is blonde, and look at me--" he gestures to himself as if Lambert needs reminding of those perfect dark curls and rich tanned skin-- "none of us look alike, but we're family all the same."

Huh. Now that he mentions it, Lambert feels like a fool for not noticing sooner. "I suppose you really do understand," he says at last. “What else is there then? Let's see... you already know that I received a university education-- though I'm not sure what I'll actually do with it. Despite common practice, my father has allotted me one third of his wealth when he passes, so I suspect I'll have to figure that out eventually. Omegas aren't exactly allowed to have careers so I'll have to get creative, I suppose."

"What would you do?" Aiden asks, "if that wasn't an obstacle for you. If you had your pick of any life you wanted?"

Lambert pauses to think. What does he want to do?

Further pursuing his scientific hobbies would definitely be a welcome option, but he can't exactly do much with that since he mostly just enjoys blowing shit up. There’s always his drawing but that’s not exactly something he’d want to dedicate his life to. He could travel, perhaps see the world, but there are many places that are dangerous for an omega alone, regardless how well prepared they are.

"I think," he says slowly, "I would just want my freedom; to live a life free from the expectations of society, to come and go as I please, and to do what I want without anyone telling me I can't. I'll buy a house in the country away from the ton, and just live my life how I want to live it."

"And you’ll do that all alone?" Aiden asks. "No mate? No family?"

Lambert scoffs. "I have no intention of letting some alpha prick keep me confined to a household all day to raise a gaggle of children." He shudders at the thought. "Children are fine enough, so long as their parents take them away after a while. I couldn't bear to have one myself."

Aiden offers him an amused smile, though if Lambert is correct there is something pained behind it. Perhaps he should not have sworn off alphas right in front of the man attempting to court him.

"I agree with you on that front," he says, after a beat. "I've never been fond of children; they're too loud, and always have sticky fingers." He pauses, watching as his finger traces the rim of his teacup before his eyes return to Lambert. "I wouldn't mind having a mate though," he murmurs, voice dropping to a low purr. "Someone to love, to hold at night. A person with whom I can talk about my interests, my joys, my fears. Someone I could share my life with, who sees me for me."

Lambert swallows thickly, feeling his cheeks flush. Is it getting hot in here or is he just imagining it?

"You wouldn't want something like that, Mr. Rochefort?"

"I..." he suddenly finds that his mouth is dry, and takes a gulp from his tea, half choking on it. The alpha keeps staring at Lambert, green eyes practically burning a hole right through him.

Fuck what is wrong with him today?

"I suppose that if the right alpha existed, I would consider it," he admits.

Keyword here being "existed" since Lambert is pretty sure they don't. In order for him to mate with someone they would have to have absolutely no prejudices whatsoever towards his subsex, something which seems to be unheard of outside of immediate family (how Vesemir came to have the beliefs that he does, is a complete mystery). And then on top of that Lambert would have to like them enough to feel attraction, and they would have to like him. The thought that the universe could somehow align perfectly to make all of these factors present has always seemed like an impossibility. An alpha that meets his criteria would be impossibly rare.

But then again, he thinks, eyeing the man across from him, so far Aiden Blackmore is turning out to be quite the rare alpha indeed. 

Although Lambert is skeptical that he really is what he claims to be, because coming across a gorgeous, wealthy alpha, raised with the same principles as he and his brothers, able to understand his situation on a very personal level, who seems to like him, and who Lambert may or may not be starting to like back, is far too good to be true.

"Well," Aiden declares, taking a sip from his teacup, "I am glad to be considered."

And because he is the way he is, Lambert's automatic responses to snap, "who says I was considering you?" Though he should have suspected that a statement like that would not be enough to fluster a man like Aiden Blackmore, because the alpha smile only sharpens.

"Weren't you though?"

"I--" yes-- "no!" he stammers, aware of the fact that his ears are probably as red as cherries. "I was most certainly not considering you, and it is rather presumptuous of you to assume I was."

"Uh- huh."

"Shut up, you bastard."

"I didn't say anything."

"It was the look on your face."

"Pity. I'd rather thought you liked my face," Aiden replies with a grin. "You do seem to stare at it a lot."

"That isn't-- ugh. Why must you be so vexing?"

"I imagine you would find anyone vexing, Mr. Rochefort."

"That's because I despise the company of other people."

Aiden is silent for a moment, then asks, "do you despise my company?"

"Yes!" Lambert cries before thinking.

Aiden makes a face as though he just slapped him. "I...see," he says quietly, putting his teacup aside. The genuine hurt in his voice instantly makes Lambert feel like scum. "Perhaps I should go," he moves to stand, but Lambert grabs his hand, stopping him.

"Wait-- Aiden, don't. I didn't mean it."

"Your words had a rather clear message, Mr. Rochefort."

"I know," he says. "I'm sorry. Please stay?" He grips the alpha's hand tighter and Aiden looks down to where their fingers connect as if surprised to see them.

"Alright," he says at last. "I'll stay." He sits back down on the sofa and Lambert lets the man's hand fall from his grip.

"I don't despise your company," he tells Aiden. "In fact, I rather enjoy it, and the very thought…terrifies me." The omega shakes his head, looking for the right words. "When I'm around you... I can't seem to think straight, I have these feelings I don't understand--  I don't despise you, Aiden Blackmore, I despise how you've turned my world on its axis and I don't seem to understand anything anymore."

When he's finished speaking, he looks to the other man for a reaction.

Aiden is silent for a long time, then says, "have you considered that not understanding is not necessarily a bad thing?"

"I...no," Lambert admits.

"Hm. Perhaps you should, Mr. Rochefort."

"Lambert," Lambert says quickly.

"I'm sorry?"

"Call me Lambert."

"Alright, Lambert," Aiden says, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I have a proposition for you."

The omega raises an eyebrow. "And what's that?"

"I propose we start over. It seems that my advances in courtship have overwhelmed you thus far, so perhaps in order to ensure that we are both comfortable, we might begin as friends? I still intend to court you, but I would rather have your friendship first-- no demands, no expectations-- and you may decide when or if you choose to return my affections."

Lambert's eyes widen. A friendship? "That would... I would like that, I think."

Friends. Yes, that could work.

-------------------------------------

And so the days pass, and Lambert finds his newfound friendship with Aiden beginning to develop.

It turns out that their fathers share more than just a years long friendship, and in addition to adopting all of their children, raised them with the same morals and beliefs when it comes to viewing one's subsex. Like Vesemir, Guxart taught his sons to view omegas with dignity and respect-- he never passed on any of the superiority bullshit and alpha posturing that so many families of the ton engage in either.

Aiden, (as well as his brothers as Lambert would learn) was raised without prejudice. He supports omega education and their right to vote-- something even Lambert hadn't thought about before-- and is a strong believer that all people should share the same rights afforded to alphas. In the time they've spent together, Lambert hasn't even caught a whiff of sexism from the other man.

But on top of that, Aiden is so calm and level-headed; completely unusual for a man of his presentation. Where Lambert is fiery and quick to anger, he is a soothing presence. They complement each other well, Lambert has to admit. And the nosy members of his family do not hesitate to remind him of this. Vesemir was ecstatic, of course, when the two began spending more time together. As was Jaskier. And though Lambert has yet to see any proof of this conspiracy, he is almost certain that the two are planning his and Aiden's wedding in secret.

But Lambert isn't thinking of marriage at the moment; it's far too early for that-- and he's not even sure he could even go through with it, if it did come up. Though he is able to admit to himself that the more he gets to know Aiden Blackmore, the more Lambert's fondness for him seems to grow.

It's nice to have a companion at all the events he must attend. With Aiden at his side, Lambert doesn't have to worry about other alphas approaching him or other omegas trying to pull him into their gossip circles. He has someone to dance with, someone to fetch refreshments for him, and best of all: company that he doesn't find abhorrent. And with Lambert’s attention focused on Aiden, his father has finally, finally, deemed his efforts in sampling courtship acceptable and has stopped trying to introduce him to new potential suitors.

In fact, the old man encourages him to seek the alpha out at every opportunity, declaring one night, "I'm glad you finally found someone, son. You seem good for each other." 

Lambert assures the Duke that he and Aiden are just friends and not to get his hopes up for a wedding anytime soon-- or at all. But the old man just smiles and tells him, "a friend can be just as valuable as a mate. Regardless of what he is to you, I'm happy."

And Lambert is happy too, he realizes, because he's never had a real friend before, and it turns out that friendship is something quite nice indeed.

When their family attends an art show at the museum, Aiden slides up behind Lambert while he's studying the marble sculptures and whispers in his ear, "is it just me or do these sculptures look rather...phallic to you?" making the omega release a snort of laughter so loud, it silences the room.

He and Aiden share a look as everyone quickly goes back to their own business, chuckling quietly at the display. "I believe the collection is supposed to be 'spiritual talisman of the ancient world,'" Lambert says. "But I think you're right, and they just added the label to save face and hoped the people of the ton would be so repressed they wouldn't notice."

"I mean, I think I've seen enough talismen in my day to know what these were used for."

"Exactly," Lambert agrees, nodding towards the rather sizable marble specimen in front of them, "they're cocks."

"Agreed."

"This is a collection of cocks, Aiden."

"It is."

"We're at the most prestigious art showing in the country, and it's just a bunch of cocks," he wheezes, and with that all remaining composure between the two of them seems to break down.

They end up laughing so hard, Vesemir asks them to leave.

Aiden's sense of humor is one of the things Lambert likes most about him. The alpha takes just as much pleasure in making fun of all the stuffy etiquette that the ton loves to engage in as he does, and he responds to Lambert's more colorful language and dry humor with vigor.

Lambert has never been able to just be himself with someone before-- aside from his brothers, at least-- but Aiden never judges or chastises him for the way he acts. Bizarrely, he seems to revel in it.

Lambert also admires how kind Aiden is to those around him. He's always held firm to the belief that you can tell a lot about a man from the way he treats his family, the omega members especially. He watches sometimes from across the room for glimpses of Aiden interacting with his siblings. Based on his spying, Lambert has determined that they appear to have quite a loving family, one that reminds him of his own, and they all dote on the young sister especially. As for his interactions with the alpha, Aiden makes a great effort to be conscientious of Lambert's feelings.

A month into their friendship, Aiden invites him to promenade.

This was a rather big deal for couples, you see. A promenade was basically announcing to the entire ton that you were courting, and would surely cause many more rumors than the odd dance might.

Aiden assured him profusely that if Lambert wasn't in any way uncomfortable, he needn't agree. In truth, he did mull over the idea for the entire day beforehand, a mixture of worry and excitement coursing through him. But in the end, Lambert put on his best smirk and declared, "it's just a fucking walk, Aiden. Don't be so dramatic," and off to the park they went.

Now that they're here though, Lambert can't deny how uncomfortable the stares are. They seem to turn the heads of everyone they pass, and before long he finds himself becoming quite wary of it

This is just what he's always wanted to avoid, he thinks, unease churning in his gut. The stares, the judgment, the role he's fulfilling. Lambert has spent many a year, scoffing at the couples he's seen walking in the park, pitying the poor omega that was soon to become this alpha's property. He knows if he was in their place he would have felt like he was suffocating, but the worst part of it is that the omegas being paraded around were probably pleased with it.

Lambert has fought against being an omega his entire life, and yet here he is, doing the very thing he vowed never to do: allow himself to be courted.

Good gods, what has he become?

No. No. It's not like that. Aiden is his friend. A friend who might be interested in him, but one that cares about Lambert's feelings before any romantic prospects that could happen between them.

Beside him, Aiden is doing his best to engage in conversation, despite Lambert's only responses being hums and grunts as he has his own silent personal crisis.

"Are you sure you wish to be seen with me?" the alpha asks him quietly, snapping him out of it. "You could always return to your family's picnic if you are uncomfortable. I would not fault you for it."

Something warms in Lambert's chest as once again Aiden prioritizes his comfort over his own. He is a bit uncomfortable, it's true, but he should be used to their stares by now.  Besides, he likes Aiden's company-- he can be mature enough to admit that to himself. Backing out now would mean letting all those rich fucks of the ton win. 

"Are you sure you wish to be seen with me?" he asks. "Where the people of the ton are concerned, I'm practically a scandal waiting to happen."

The alpha just hums and offers him a smile. "I enjoy your company, Lambert. I would gladly be seen with you any day, even in scandal."

It's then that they pass by a group of women and Lambert hears one whisper to another, "that's the Duke of Kaedwen's omega son, is it not? I thought surely he was past his prime by now. Unmarriable, I hear."

"Unmarriable indeed," the friend replies. "Not even his father's title is enough to persuade an alpha after the mess he's made of himself these past few years. Did you hear about what happened when Lord Pembroke called on him during his first season? He threw a china teapot at his lordship's head."

"Oh I'd believe it. He has a dreadful personality. Completely uncivilized. Not that I'm surprised. What else could the Duke expect when he adopted an omega of...lower breeding."

Aiden's hand hovers over his where it hangs at his side and Lambert wonders briefly if he's going to grab it. Despite his inhibitions, a small part of him wishes that Aiden would.  Now that would surely cause some scandal. Physical contact would have those stuffy ladies clutching their pearls in seconds.

"Is that the Duke of Ebbing's son? What is an alpha like that doing with an omega like him?"

"Don't listen to them," Aiden murmurs when Lambert glances in the direction of the gossiping ladies. Lambert can smell anger rolling off of him in waves, and though he's mostly keeping his facial expression together, the alpha appears to be livid. "They're just spreading rumors," he growls, "Come on, let's go walk somewhere else."

Aiden heads off in the direction of a large willow tree and Lambert has to quicken his pace in order to keep up with him. "They're true though," he says, shaking his head as he follows.

When Aiden turns to look at him, he seems to soften greatly. The alpha raises an eyebrow. "You really threw a teapot at Lord Pembroke's head?"

"It was a teacup-- and it was empty. Though I'm beginning to wish that it was full. Lord Pembroke deserved it."

Of all the alphas that attempted to court Lambert in the past Pembroke was the worst. He called on Lambert one time and when Lambert rejected his advances, the man started spewing all kinds of filth about how his "omega hysterics were clouding his judgement of a fine alpha" and that he could "make Lambert understand by putting him in his place." The teacup went flying only seconds later.

"Lord Pembroke is a prick," Aiden agrees. "I'm sure that whatever he did, the teacup was rightfully earned."

"It was."

"Then it's not a scandal, it's a job well-done." He glances over his shoulder, and sure enough the ladies are still watching them. From the glint in his eyes, Lambert can tell mischief is brewing behind them. "Now here, give me your arm. The ribbon on your cuff is undone and I'd rather enjoy an indecent brushing of skin while I re-tie it. Let's really give them something to talk about."

Lambert shares his smirk, doing as he says, and Aiden gently takes his wrist between his hands, green eyes staring intently into his own as he slowly re-laces the garment. Though it's mostly for show, a fluttering feeling still makes its way into his stomach. It only grows stronger when the alpha finishes by placing a gentle kiss on the back of the omega’s hand.

Lambert stares at him in disbelief. "You... you are not like other alphas, Aiden Blackmore."

The other man smirks. "Of course not. How else would I be able to handle a spitfire such as yourself? I might get a teacup thrown at my head."

------------------------

That night when Lambert goes to sleep, he tosses and turns, his mind replaying an endless loop of green eyes and soft lips on the back of his hand, the rich purr of Aiden’s voice.

Heat and frustration tingles across Lambert's body. He rolls over and screams into his pillow.

Fucking fuck.

Chapter Text

At precisely 3:00 p.m. on a rainy Sunday afternoon, a letter arrives at Rochefort House addressed to the Duke. It reads:

Dear Vesemir,

It has been far too long since you've come to visit the main estate, has it not? I confess I wish I had more time to spend with you, but my obligations with my business have kept me quite occupied. We will be hosting a ball next week at our main estate, to which you are all invited, of course. By the time you receive this note it is likely that we shall have already left for the country to begin the preparations.

I believe it is only prudent to have some extended time for both our families to mingle before then. Please, join us at Blackmore Estate so that we might spend the week together.

Your dearest friend,

Guxart

"We shall leave tomorrow morning," Vesemir declares, passing the letter around at dinner so that all his boys might read its contents. "I think some time in the country could do all of us good. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Sounds lovely," Geralt agrees.

Eskel nods. "I would welcome a break."

Lambert doesn't say anything, his eyes just keep scanning over the letter that his father just handed him.

Surely this visit doesn't have a second purpose...right? He knows that their fathers are friends and the invitation might be innocent enough, but it also sounds a lot like a 'meet the parents' kind of situation, and part of him wonders if Aiden is responsible for this sudden visit. Or perhaps their fathers have ulterior motives at play here.

Not that spending a week with the alpha away from the prying eyes of the ton sounds like a bad idea. On the contrary, Lambert would welcome a break from the constant social exhaustion that the marriage season brings. And time with Aiden is always time well-spent. Still though, a combination of nerves and excitement thrum steadily within his chest.

When they set out the next morning, the feeling only seems to grow stronger with each hour that passes. As their carriage makes its way through the vast countryside towards Ebbing, Lambert's mind is running rampant with thoughts of their visit. His fingers clutch tightly to the carriage window, his foot nervously taps against the floor.

Across from him, Eskel groans and nudges Lambert's foot with his own, finally growing fed up after his last hour of nervous fidgeting. "Whatever you're thinking about,” he drawls, “stop. It's giving me a headache."

"No, that would be baby Cirilla's crying from the carriage in front of us," Lambert replies, and his brother nods tiredly, rubbing at his temples. If anything, Lambert is just grateful he got the carriage with Eskel instead of the one with everyone else. He loves his niece dearly, but that baby definitely inherited Jaskier's lungs. At least from this distance her screaming is dulled somewhat.

"Well tapping your foot is definitely not helping the situation," Eskel adds. "Tell me, what's on your mind little brother?"

"What makes you think there's something on my mind?"

"You only get tappy when something's bothering you. Now come on, talk to me about it so that I might have a distraction from this incessant heat and pounding headache."

"Hot, are you?" Lambert pulls himself away from the window long enough to make direct eye contact with his brother while he whips out his fan and deliberately caters to himself. The one perk about being an omega is that wearing short sleeves and carrying a fan for the heat is socially acceptable. He would die in that thick jacket his brother is wearing.

"Alright, now you're just being a little shit," Eskel says, shoving him playfully and wrestling the fan from Lambert's fingers before aggressively using it upon himself.

As he does, Lambert turns his gaze back out the window, contemplating his words for a moment before he asks, "Why do you think father agreed to this trip?"

"He wants to catch up with an old friend, I imagine. Need there be more reason than that?"

"Of course not. Though I fear there could be."

"You think it has something to do with your Aiden Blackmore," Eskel says. It's not a question.

The omega shrugs.

"Well, so what if it does? I seriously doubt any matchmaking scheme our father could concoct would sway the choice you make. You and I both know you're far too pig-headed for that. Besides, you like this Aiden Blackmore don't you? What harm could an extended social visit possibly cause?"

"We'll be alone for the week in the privacy of the country…" Lambert explains. And when Eskel doesn’t seem to understand his implications, he adds, "What if he asks me to marry him?"

His brother's eyebrows raise all the way to his hairline. "Well, little Lamb, typically, when you like someone, you say yes."

Lambert shakes his head. "You don't understand. It's different for you, Eskel. If you marry, you gain a wife, if I marry, I become my alpha’s legal property. Even if I like Aiden, I’m not sure I could do that to myself.”

His older brother sighs. "You're right," he says eventually, "I don't understand-- and I probably never will since I'm not put in the same position that you are. But you know none of us see you that way, right, Lamb? And I doubt Lord Blackmore does either."

"It doesn't matter how nice Aiden is," Lambert says. "It doesn't matter that he's funny and handsome and-- fucking amazing, okay? The fact of the matter is that he could be the perfect alpha. But that won't change the way that our society, our world, sees me. If I marry him, I'll still be--"

Nothing, a cruel voice in his head hisses. All the respect and kindness in the world can't make up for the fact that Lambert is powerless, completely trapped by the circumstances of his birth.

For a long while neither of them speak, then Eskel quietly says, "Look. I wish that things were different, I really do, but there isn't much we can do about that. You might not be able to control how the world sees you, Lambert, but there is one thing that you can change: how you see yourself."

Lambert opens his mouth to respond, but finds he can't seem to make it form words.

Change how he sees himself? How the fuck is he supposed to do that when nothing in the world makes sense anymore?

--------------------------------

It's nearly evening when they arrive at their destination.

Blackmore Estate is just as grand as Lambert expected for the country home of a Duke. His own father has always been rather reserved when it comes to displays of finery and aesthetic. Kaer Morhen is a fine property indeed, but it lacks the extra touches that make Blackmore Estate so...much. All around him are perfectly trimmed lawns and finely manicured gardens, ordained with countless fountains, benches, and topiary sculptures. The house itself is lavish as well; made from sandy brown stone with dark carved accents and sporting what must be at least a hundred windows.

Mercifully, by the time their carriages pull up to the driveway, Cirilla has stopped crying, and the other members of his family pile out of their vehicle looking disheveled and exhausted. In contrast, Lambert's niece is sleeping soundly in Jaskier's arms as if nothing was amiss to begin with.

"Have a fight with your baby, did you, Geralt?" Lambert asks. "Looks like you lost."

His eldest brother groans, straightening the lapels of his jacket and attempting to smooth out his hair. "We forgot her toy horse at home," he says grimly. "As soon as she woke up from her nap, she realized it was gone. As you might have heard, she was not happy about it."

"Ah, the joys of parenthood," Eskel muses. "I do not envy you and Jaskier one bit, brother."

"Perhaps not now," Geralt replies, "but you too will come around to the idea, Eskel."

"And what makes you so sure?"

"Simple really. I know your type, and it is a woman that does not take 'no' for an answer."

Eskel chuckles. "Too true. And what about Lambert then? Have you any grand predictions for him? He's the one that's actually courting someone."

"I do not," Geralt confesses. "Because I know Lambert would stab me in my sleep if I so much as suggested the notion."

Lambert nods, smirking. "Damn right I would."

"I understand that you're all having a conversation," Jaskier cuts in, "but perhaps we could do it a bit more quietly so that this little banshee of ours does not wake up from her nap?"

Silence falls over the group immediately.

Servants arrive to take their bags and everyone is led inside where they're greeted by the Blackmore family. Lambert has had a chance to meet Aiden's father and siblings numerous times now, but the dark-haired woman that stands beside the Duke of Ebbing, he's yet to encounter: Aiden's stepmother, the Duchess.

"Welcome, Rocheforts!" Guxart declares, holding his arms open. "May our home be yours for the week. Please, make yourselves comfortable and don't hesitate to notify the servants if there's anything that you should need."

Once the formal greetings and introductions are made, Aiden immediately crowds himself into Lambert's space, smiling warmly. "I'm glad you could make it," he says, and the earnest excitement in his voice somehow manages to instantly wash away all of Lambert's anxieties.

The omega snorts, "as if father dearest would even think about letting me stay behind."

"Well I hope that perhaps I might have had something to do with why you came?" The alpha asks hopefully.

Despite his attempts to keep a straight face, the corner of Lambert's mouth twitches. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Uh- huh. I didn't cross your mind at all?"

"Not for a minute."

"But perhaps maybe a second?"

"Alright, fine, I came for you. There. Are you happy?"

Something flutters inside him as the alpha beams, taking a step closer so that their faces are only inches apart. "Immensely." Lambert clears his throat, feeling his face heat up, but mercifully Aiden continues before he can stammer his way through a sentence. "Come on, I'll show you to your room."

He follows Aiden down the winding halls of Blackmore Estate until they arrive at a door on the upper level.

"Here it is," Aiden says, pushing open the door to reveal the room beyond. It's finely decorated and elegant, with plenty of natural light coming in from the huge window and balcony along the far wall. A large four poster bed sits to his left, along with a vanity, wardrobe, sitting area, and a floral print chaise. Beside the bed is a small night table upon which is yet another bouquet of flowers.

"They're fire lilies," Aiden tells Lambert as he picks them up to admire them.

"Poisonous?" He asks, an eyebrow raised.

"Of course. I find that motif fitting for you-- as well as the fact that these lilies are as fiery as your personality-- and your hair. Do you like them?"

"They're nice," Lambert admits. As are all the flowers that the alpha picks out for him. "Perhaps I might get a vase with water in order to display them?"

Aiden nods. "I will make it so."

A servant enters with Lambert's trunk and bags and as he leaves, Aiden sends him to fetch something for the flowers.

"Dinner is in an hour," the alpha tells him. "I'll leave you to prepare and get settled in. Someone should come along to fetch you when it is time." He turns to leave, but pauses in the doorway. "Oh, and Lambert? I really am glad you decided to come."

"Yeah. I suppose I am too." He only hopes he doesn't come to regret it.

And with that, Aiden is gone.

Lambert spends most of the time between arrival and dinner sprawled out on the bed and stewing in his own thoughts. Occasionally, he reaches for a lily, breathing in its sweet fragrance, and since no one is around to see, finally allows a smile to spread across his face. As much as he tends to avoid all things branded "omega" Lambert does have to admit; receiving flowers makes him feel rather nice.

Before arriving, he was nervous, but now that he's here, the idea of spending the week with Aiden free from any consequences or responsibility sends both thrill and excitement coursing through his veins.

Eventually a maid arrives to help him dress for dinner. He settles on a lacey white shirt, dark pants, and a finely embroidered jacket in a rich turquoise color. Lambert would normally shy away from such a bright color, but there's no gossiping ladies here to discuss his eye-catching fashion choices, he reasons, and the color looks good on him. (He briefly wonders if Aiden will think so too, and then immediately chastises himself for having such thoughts in the first place.)

Once everything is finished, he is escorted to the dining room.

The others are already seated and it doesn't surprise him to see the only vacant chair at Aiden's side. The alpha rises from his seat as soon as Lambert approaches, and pulls out the empty chair for him.

"You look quite fetching," he murmurs as the omega sits down, and Lambert most definitely does not blush.

You're one to talk, he thinks, taking in Aiden's appearance.

He's dressed in a forest green tailcoat with a cream-colored shirt underneath-- the shade of which only makes the brilliant green of his eyes more noticeable. Like usual, his dark hair is falling down his shoulders in perfect waves and Lambert wonders briefly if it's as soft as it looks. A brief image of him running his fingers through the alpha's hair flashes through his mind, but he quickly banishes it.

The first course is brought out-- sweet pea soup with steaming rolls of bread-- and Lambert busies himself with eating.

A few bites in, Aiden leans towards him. "If I recall correctly, you told me you were quite adept at fencing. Fancy a match tomorrow?"

Lambert hums, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth. "Only if you don't mind losing."

"Oh is that what you think is going to happen?"

"That's what I know is going to happen."

"Then it appears we shall have to see what tomorrow brings, no?"

Oh they'll see all right. And Lambert has a feeling that victory will taste just as delicious as the soup.

Across the table it appears that everyone-- save for the three youngest Blackmore siblings-- has joined into a conversation regarding baby Ciri.

"Parenthood can be delightful," Jaskier is telling Aiden's father, "but I admit, there are times when I severely miss the routine of sleep."

Geralt nods in agreement. "Cirilla has been having trouble sleeping through the night and I'm afraid her napping has not been much better as of late. An overtired pup is not something I was prepared for, especially when she was gifted with my very talented husband's lung capacity."

The Duke of ebbing lets out a hearty chuckle. "Well hopefully the two of you can have some much-needed reprieve during your stay here. I'm sure you'll find our maids are well-equipped to look after the girl for a few days."

"That would be most appreciated," Jaskier replies, "but I confess, I don't think I can be away from her for that long-- even if it does mean I don't sleep."

"However did you do it, Da?" Geralt asks, turning to his father. "Raising three boys all on your own. I feel as though I've been run ragged with only one child-- I cannot imagine three."

"Well the three of you were no picnic in the park, I'll tell you that," Vesemir says, and Lambert has to agree. Growing up, he and his brothers were absolute terrors. "It helped that you were all older. A baby is something I never had to experience. At least not until our dearest Cirilla."

"It was like that for us as well," Guxart agrees. "The youngest we had was Gaetan when he was two-- and he was a handful, mind you, but I would have loved to have a baby in the house. In fact, I thought there would be one by now considering four of my five children are of marrying age." He sends a stern yet gentle glare around the table and all of the Blackmore men are suddenly very interested in the next course that the servants place in front of them.

"Alas," the Duke continues, "so far Aiden is the only one to have brought someone home to meet the lot of us."

The collective gaze of everyone at the table drifts over to where Aiden and Lambert are sitting and Lambert immediately busies himself with his plate, though he doubts that will allow him to escape attention any more than Aiden trying to blend into his chair.

"Forgive me for my directness," Guxart says, "but have the two of you given any thought to children?"

Lambert almost chokes on his potatoes the same time Aiden takes a sip of wine too quickly and the two begin a simultaneous bout of coughing.

"It's a bit early for that, isn't it?" Aiden says, once recovered, "Saints, Papa, we aren't even married."

The old Duke waves his hand dismissively. "These are exactly the kind of things you should talk about when you're courting. You need to know if you're compatible and what kind of life you wish to share together. So tell me, Mr. Rochefort, have you any thoughts towards children?"

Lambert stiffens as the gaze of the Duke falls upon him. Oh he has thoughts alright, but he doubts they would be welcome at the dinner table.

"--Papa, please, this is hardly the time."

"Hush, Aiden, I wish to hear what Mr. Rochefort has to say on the matter."

"Aiden and I have… talked about it..." Lambert begins carefully, but before he can figure out an eloquent and polite way to explain to his father's oldest friend and potential father-in-law that he would rather die than be forced to birth a child, Aiden cuts in.

"Forgive my directness, but I don't see how that is anyone's business aside from mine and Lambert’s."

"Oh come now, my boy, you know I don't mean anything by it. I just want to know if I can expect some grandkids anytime soon."

"And I would appreciate it if you did not ask questions that make the omega I am courting so clearly uncomfortable," Aiden snaps, stabbing his fork into his roast beef rather forcefully.

Guxart's attention falls on Lambert, realization dawning in his eyes, and the omega begins to seriously consider sliding out of his chair and under the table to avoid the awkwardness of it all. Thankfully however, the Duke's expression looks to be remorseful.

"My apologies, Mr. Rochefort, and to you, son," he adds, nodding to the pair of them. "I did not wish to cause you any distress or make you feel unwelcome in our home."

"It's...it's fine," Lambert says quietly.

"Now, perhaps we might engage in other topics of discussion?" Aiden suggests. "We are in the midst of planning a ball in a few days."

And thankfully the conversation veers in that direction.

Chapter Text

Rain pours outside the window, the sound a loud mishmash of droplets smacking against the glass, trailing down across the tiles of the roof and hitting the damp earth. It's all-encompassing, a blanket of noise that seems to consume everything in the stillness of Lambert's room. Occasionally, the sound will be interrupted by the rumbling of thunder in the distance, but mostly it's the ever-present pit-pat-pit-pat of rain.

Lambert lies on his back, awake, and stares up at the ornate ceiling of his bedroom. In the darkness, he can just make out the lines of a carved pattern in the stone, and he traces them over and over again with his gaze, willing his mind to succumb to the same aching tiredness that he feels in his body. Instead, he's met with the pounding of his heart in his ears and a dull headache. Despite the many hours that he's been lying here, sleep still eludes him.

It's not because of the storm, not really, but the rain makes an awfully good excuse for his restlessness, and so Lambert will blame it on that. Or perhaps that he couldn't get comfortable on this fine bed with its absurdly plush mattress and soft sheets. Or maybe on baby Cirilla's crying three doors down despite the fact that it ceased two hours prior.

Because his inability to sleep is most definitely not because he is thinking about anyone-- least of all the handsome and charming alpha whom he knows resides at the end of the hall.

Because that would be ridiculous, wouldn't it? And Lambert has no reason to have that man occupying his thoughts. Not even if he makes Lambert laugh and is fun to spend time with, or cares about Lambert's feelings to the point where he'll defend them fiercely. Not even if the omega is filled with feelings of excitement and warmth every time Aiden sends a smile his way, with those perfect straight teeth and hauntingly beautiful green eyes--

Fuck.

He sits up, wiping the sweat from his brow and gripping the sheets tightly in his fist as he mentally stamps out any budding emotions that that image conjures.

He can’t stay here. Staying here is just going to make everything worse.

Throwing the blankets to the side, he reaches for the candle on the nightstand and lights it, then slips out of his bedroom into the darkness of the hallway.

Lambert has no destination. He wanders through Blackmore Estate aimlessly; studying the paintings and tapestries that line the walls, peering out windows, and into cupboards until he settles on the door to a random room and pushes it open.

It’s an office of some kind; with a large oak desk that's piled high with ledgers and documents, a bookshelf that spans the entirety of the left wall, and a cozy looking sofa in the corner.

Lambert pauses in the doorway, considering. He probably shouldn't be in here. He should turn around right now and go back to bed instead of snooping through what is probably the Duke's study-- except he just spotted one of his favorite books on the shelf and can't resist getting a closer look.

Giving into temptation, he pulls it from the shelf, placing the candle down on the desk in favor of running his fingers over the worn leather of the cover. Whoever this copy belongs to, it's been well loved and well read. It even looks as though its owner has folded the corners of certain pages and marked out the passages that they like best.

Perhaps some reading might ease his mind. Surely it wouldn't harm anyone as long as he puts things back the way he found them, right?

After a brief moment of consideration, Lambert collapses on the sofa and makes himself comfortable. He becomes so engrossed in the book, in fact, that he doesn't hear the sound of approaching footsteps in the hallway.

"Lambert?"

The omega jumps at the sound of the other voice and looks up to find Aiden standing in the doorway. The alpha is dressed in his nightclothes, the shirt of which has been unbuttoned halfway, revealing the defined muscles of his chest and Lambert's eyes fall on the exposed skin immediately, feeling his mouth water.

"What are you doing in here?"

Aiden's question shocks him out of his temporary trance and he blinks, collecting himself. "Reading," he says, holding up the book. Then after a beat adds, "and perhaps snooping. But mostly reading."

"...I can see that. And why exactly are you snooping around my study in the middle of the night?"

"This is your study?"

"It is," Aiden says, putting his own candle down next to Lambert's on the desk. "And that's my book."

"Oh." Lambert says dumbly. "Sorry. I couldn't sleep and I--" He offers the book to the other man, but Aiden shakes his head.

"It's alright. I couldn't sleep either, actually. I've always found reading to help calm my nerves so I came in here looking for a book-- didn't expect to find you, though I'm not sure I'd be adverse to the company." He takes a step closer and gestures towards the empty spot on the sofa. "Might I sit down?"

Aiden's voice wavers on that last sentence and it's only then that Lambert notices the tension in the alpha's posture, how his hair falls unkempt and tangled around his shoulders, the sheen of sweat glistening on his brow. As poor a night as Lambert is having, it appears that the one Aiden is having is much worse-- and from the hopeful look in his eye, the other man is begging Lambert to say yes.

"Sure," Lambert says.

A somewhat pained smile flashes on the alpha's face and he sits down. "Thank you."

"It's your study," the omega replies with a shrug.

For a long while neither of them say anything; the only sound that can be heard is the rain outside as Lambert stares at the open pages of the book in his lap, pretending to read it yet never making it further than a paragraph before he loses track of the words and has to start over again.

At last, Aiden breaks the silence. "I'm sorry about what happened at dinner. My father is usually quite respectful, but I'm afraid where the topics of marriage and grandchildren are concerned, he becomes rather forward."

"Eh, it's not a big deal," Lambert assures him. "I mean, it was awkward enough for me to debate throwing my fork at him and fleeing, but we got through it okay, so, no harm done."

"Ah. Well, good."

"But if you ever speak for me again, I really will poison your tea. I understand that you were trying to be mindful of my feelings, but I can handle myself just fine. I don't need you to fight my battles for me, Aiden."

The alpha gives him a somewhat amused expression. "No, I suppose you don't. My apologies, I should have been more tactful."

"It's fine."

"Honestly, I think I did it more for myself than I did for you-- I did wish to quell your discomfort, of course, but I'm afraid I don't have your directness when it comes to expressing my own feelings. My father has always wanted me to have children, and I just haven't yet found the words to tell him that I don't want to. Using you as an excuse allowed me to avoid admitting it."

Lambert can definitely sympathize with that. If not for Geralt's child, he's sure his own father would be breathing down all their necks by now. "Well," he says, "I suppose if you should need an excuse, I wouldn't mind providing one."

Aiden smiles softly at him, eliciting a light flutter in Lambert's chest. "Though to be clear," the alpha says, voice becoming serious, "if we did ever marry, I trust your stance on children would remain..."

"Absolutely none. Not under any circumstances." The very thought of being forced into raising a family, tending a household-- being all the things a good omega should be-- it makes him feel as though he’s trapped in dark water, struggling and gasping for air.

The alpha lets out a relieved breath. "Good. We are in agreement."

"We would have many nieces and nephews to dote upon, after all," Lambert reasons.

"Exactly. Why should we lose hair and sleep when our brothers can be the ones to do it?"

A loud crack of thunder splits through the room and Aiden jolts.

“Shit, are you--”

"--I'm fine," the alpha says, quickly, though his face is considerably pale and the omega doesn't miss the way he wraps his arms around himself tightly.

Suddenly, everything clicks into place.

"Aiden," Lambert asks slowly, "are you afraid of thunderstorms?"

More thunder rumbles in the distance and the alpha flinches slightly. "...no?"

"Uh- huh."

"Hey, don't do that. That's what I say to you."

"It's alright if you are," Lambert tells him and the other man shakes his head, curling in on himself further. For some reason the sight makes him want to reach out and comfort Aiden, but Lambert resists the urge.

"It's not fear, exactly," the alpha says quietly. "It's more that I associate them with...bad memories. Remember how you told me that your parents died of a fever?"

Lambert nods.

"My birth parents, they...died in a shipwreck. We were traveling back from Skellige after my father had some business and got caught in a storm. Lightning struck our ship; cracked the whole thing in two. I was lucky to have survived myself-- one of the other passengers grabbed me and we clung to the wreckage, drifting for hours until we were picked up by a fishing boat."

He pauses, as if to collect himself, and takes a long slow breath. "I'll never forget the sound that it made; thunder so loud you could have sworn that it shook the very earth. Even after all these years have passed, every time I hear thunder, the memories haunt me."

As if in response to his words, a bolt of lightning flashes in the sky outside the window, followed by a loud cracking rumble. This time when Aiden flinches, Lambert doesn't hesitate.

"Come here."

The alpha's eyes widen. "What?"

More thunder, another flinch.

"Come here," Lambert repeats, more insistent this time, spreading his arms in invitation.

"I couldn't possibly--"

"Yes," Lambert says, grabbing the other man by his wrist and tugging him forward before wrapping his arms around him, "you could." Aiden gasps at the sudden contact, but Lambert holds fast, hugging him tightly and burying his nose in the alpha's hair as the sounds of the storm play on around them. "It's okay," he whispers, "You're okay, I've got you."

Aiden is tense in his arms, as if he's afraid to move or even breathe. Then, all at once he seems to relax into Lambert's embrace-- and Lambert just...holds him. He presses Aiden's ear against his chest to dampen the sounds of the thunder, cards his fingers through those dark, silky curls, and continues to whisper words of comfort.

You're okay, it's okay, I'm here, I've got you.

Somewhere at the back of his mind, Lambert knows that he should be horrified at his actions; alone with an alpha, dressed in nothing but his night clothes, unchaperoned, touching, yet he can't bring himself to care. Before everything, Aiden is his friend, and he needs Lambert to be a friend right now.

"We shouldn't be doing this," Aiden murmurs into the soft lace of Lambert's nightshirt. "It's entirely inappropriate. What if someone sees?"

"Since when do you care what anybody else thinks?"

"Since my very being here could damage your reputation beyond repair. I would not be the cause of such strife for you, Lambert."

Lambert rolls his eyes with a huff. "It's just us," he says, giving the other man's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Everyone else is asleep-- and I'm not going to say anything, are you?"

The alpha lifts his head to meet Lambert's eyes, looking scandalized by the very idea. "Of course not."

"And do you want me to stop?" Lambert asks, gently brushing a straight piece of hair behind Aiden's ear. He doesn't miss the way that the alpha's breath catches at the action.

"...well, no."

"Then shut up and let me hold you."

Aiden hesitates for a moment, then slowly lies his head back down on Lambert's chest, relaxing into his arms once more. Lambert closes his eyes and listens to the sound of the storm, continues to rhythmically carve his fingers through Aiden's hair. Eventually a dull rumbling sound can be heard amongst the rain and he realizes with some surprise that the sound is Aiden purring.

He's always known that alphas were able to purr when experiencing extreme contentment or happiness, but he's never actually witnessed it in person-- not even from the alpha members of his family. Part of him doesn't know how to react; once more he's flooded with all kinds of feelings that he can't quite decipher, but in the end Lambert decides that he's... pleased to have been the cause of it. And the sound is rather nice to listen to.

His eyes slip closed without him realizing it. He focuses on the sounds, on the subtle vibrations of Aiden's body against his; the incredible warmth that engaging in such physical contact brings, both physically and emotionally. He focuses on Aiden's scent-- cloves and lavender-- lets it wash over him with deep, slow breaths, then searches for the hints where it mingles with his own. He smells of Aiden, and Aiden smells of him. Something is right about it, and it makes his omega instincts incredibly pleased. 

Feeling calm and content, Lambert basks in the feeling, and allows the mixture of sensations lull him into a state of relaxation.

The next thing he knows, he's waking up, the rain has stopped, and the early rays of dawn can be seen just peeking over the clouds.

"Aiden," he rasps, nudging the alpha who is still asleep on top of him and is steadily drooling a wet spot into the front of his shirt, "C'mon, we have to get up."

The other man makes a muffled sound of protest and snuggles further into Lambert's chest. The omega sighs and takes a moment to admire his sleepy companion, allowing himself to appreciate this intimacy just a little bit longer. Aiden's face is peaceful, dark hair tousled, and pink lips parted ever so slightly. They look incredibly soft, and for a fraction of a second, Lambert wonders what it might be like to feel them against his own. Then he regains reason and banishes the thought before it can fully form.

"The house staff will be getting up soon," he murmurs, nudging the alpha again. "We should make haste to our rooms before anyone notices that we're missing."

Aiden seems to wake up more at these words; slowly at first, then all at once. "Shit," he says, finally coherent enough to remember the situation that they're in and scrambles to get off of Lambert. "Shit. I didn't mean to fall asleep. Okay-- fuck." He runs a hand through his mess of curls, shaking his head. "We'll stagger our exit in case anyone is around. You can take the north staircase, it's down the hall to the left-- it's the fastest way back to your room."

Lambert nods, heading for the doorway, but stops as Aiden's hand catches his shoulder.

"Look, Lambert I..." He trails off, as if the words are lost somewhere on his tongue. "I'll see you at breakfast," Aiden says, taking Lambert's hand in his own. He presses a lingering kiss to the back of his knuckles, making Lambert's stomach swoop, and then he's pushing the omega out the door into the empty hallway.

Lambert makes his way back to his bedroom as quietly as he can, arriving just as he hears the sounds of servants rising to begin the day's work. Once inside, he collapses on his bed, throwing the blankets over him and curls his legs up towards his stomach.

Heart pounding in his chest, he stares at the back of his hand where it lies on the mattress in front of him. If he tries hard enough, he can still feel the phantom touch of Aiden's lips against his skin, the weight and heat of his body, the lingering traces of his scent.

What's happening to him? Why is he like this? And what in the living hell was he thinking last night?

Slowly, he brings his hand up to his lips, touching them to the same spot and squeezing his eyes shut.

Gods, he is so fucked.

Chapter Text

"Ha!" Lambert exclaims, staring down his sabre to where the tip is planted neatly in the center of Aiden's chest, the clear surprise on the alpha’s face, only making the feeling of victory that much sweeter. "I told you I would win."

The other man raises a single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow and pushes the blade to the side. "Who's to say I wasn't going easy on you?"

"Simple. I don't think you're the type of person that likes to lose. In any circumstance."

Aiden grins. "Are you referring to my incredibly persistent nature?"

"Maybe."

"Then I suppose it would be in character for me to request a rematch. Say, best two out of three?"

"If you can handle having an omega best you three times in a row."

"We'll see about that."

The two ready their stances and the match begins.

Lambert strikes first, Aiden parries. Another strike, parry, riposte. Back and forth they go, until Lambert's heart is pounding in his chest and his grip is sweaty. The match is a dance; with each participant attempting to take the lead yet neither willing to relent.

Aiden is an admirable foe, he has to admit. But Lambert grew up with two older brothers that were trained by the top generals in Kaedwen's army; two brothers that are incredibly skilled and the sorest losers imaginable. He's had his ass beaten to Cintra and back more times than he can count during his youth, and was unfairly dubbed the "baby brother" as a result. That was, until he learned to employ a skill that even Geralt and Eskel would not think to use: fighting dirty.

As an alpha and a gentleman, neither of his brothers would be willing to do what it takes if they really wanted to win. Honor is everything for high class society; at least when it comes to the façade that those who lead it will put on for others-- perhaps not so much behind closed doors. Lambert's brothers were raised to be honorable gentlemen, but in his opinion, an omega couldn't afford to be honorable, not when the whole world was against them. You had to do what it took to survive in a society designed so that you are seen as lesser. And so, Lambert learned to fight with teeth and claws and blood just so that he could prove everyone else wrong.

That's why Lambert always wins, because he knows that the key to success is--

Aiden parries Lambert's strike, pushing back against the other man's blade with his own saber. As he does, he pauses for a fraction of a second to grin and send a wink in his direction. The look sends a fluttery feeling in Lambert's chest and next thing he knows, Aiden has made it past his defenses and has the tip of his saber pointed at Lambert's throat.

"I believe that's a point for me," the alpha purrs, and Lambert swallows thickly, unable to speak.

That bastard! He's fighting dirty too!

"That was a lucky shot," Lambert grumbles, stalking back into position.

Aiden just keeps smiling that stupid smile at him. "If you say so. Or perhaps it's the fact that I'm just as good a swordsman as you are."

Not a chance. "One more," he snaps, "winner takes all."

"So long as you don't mind me being the winner."

"In your dreams, Blackmore."

The final match begins. This time Lambert makes no move to strike first, instead circling his opponent, waiting to see what he'll do. Aiden lunges towards him, Lambert dodges then, delivers a blow of his own that's deflected just as quickly.

Back and forth they go; with each man putting equal parts ferocity and skill into their strikes. The pride and thrill of victory is pushed out of Lambert's mind-- this time he won't let his guard down, this time he won't be distracted by Aiden's charming wiles.

"Ha! Take that, you bastard!" The tip of his saber is touched against the alpha's right side. "I win!" Except where he expects to see the sting of defeat on his opponent's face, instead he sees amusement.

"Lambert, darling, I implore you to look down."

"What?" He follows Aiden's gaze to where the other man's blade is pressed against his thigh. Fuck!

"I believe it is a tie," the alpha declares with one of his perfect stupid smiles. Once again it sends a pang of that fluttery feeling through Lambert's body.

He throws his saber to the ground, screaming in frustration as he stomps away.

"Rematch tomorrow?" Aiden calls after him.

“Piss off!”

“I’ll pencil that in as a maybe.”

------------------------------

Knock-knock-knock. "Lambert?" The sound of Aiden's voice is muffled behind the door, but Lambert does his best to ignore it, curling further into his chair and deepening the scowl on his face.

"Go away," he calls. "I want to be alone."

"I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I had no intention of upsetting you. Can't we just talk about this?"

Lambert growls, snapping his book shut and all but throwing it down on the table. He stomps towards the door, swinging it open to reveal a concerned looking Aiden, still sweaty and dressed in his fencing gear. The alpha's disheveled looking appearance does nothing to quell the fire burning in Lambert's gut, in fact, looking over the other man's tousled hair and glistening skin only makes it burn that much stronger.

He jabs a finger in Aiden's direction, and snarls, "begone, you- you siren!" Then slams the door in the other's face.

Fuck. Lambert runs a hand through his hair, tugging. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What is going on with him, and why can't he just calm down? His heart is racing, his palms sweaty, and every inch of his body feels like it's on a fire. Not in a painful way, but alight with a need that only grows stronger with every minute that damned Aiden Blackmore is on his mind.

How was it that he's able to get under Lambert's skin so easily? He thought that these feelings would calm down once he and Aiden were friends, but somehow they've only gotten stronger now that he knows how kind and gentle and witty the man is. Despite his best efforts, Lambert is drawn to him. Some wild, primal thing, buried deep within him wants to have as much of Aiden as it can possibly get and that thought is terrifying.

In desperation to calm his nerves, Lambert rings for a bath.

Once it arrives, he sends the servants away, sinks beneath the water, and exhales.

Yes. Oh yes. This is just what he needed.

The heat of the bath feels wonderful against his skin, relaxing his muscles and washing away the thin layer of grime and sweat that accumulated from the morning's exercise. The pleasant scent of bath salts and dried flowers dances in the air, filling the room with its fragrant sweetness: lilac and roses and-- wait. Is that lavender?

Instantly, the pang of fire returns to him at the familiar scent. Lambert knows he should be ashamed, but in the privacy of his room, selfishly allows himself to indulge in it, taking deep, slow breaths.

Mmmm, fuck . Stupid Aiden always smells so fucking good. If Lambert tries hard enough, he can almost imagine the other pieces of the alpha's scent wafting around him.

The fire burns brighter and to his horror he feels his cock twitch with interest.

Alright, fuck. It looks like he’s doing this.

He cautiously slips a hand beneath the water and brings it between his legs. Palming himself, he lets out a groan, biting his lip to stifle the sound as his body brings itself to full attention.

Unlike other omegas, Lambert was not sheltered from the intricacies of pleasure and reproduction. Oh his instructors would never have taught it, of course, but he has two older brothers and a completely uninhibited access to anatomy books, and once you know what a body part can do, it's easy to connect the dots on how to use it.

Even still, it's not often that he will indulge in activities such as these, and the combination of time and arousal is making everything feel extremely sensitive.

He closes his eyes as he strokes himself, sighing at the way it brings relief to the burning ache within him.

Normally he won't picture anything during the few times he has occasion to touch himself, only focusing on the physical sensation, but today his mind is swirling with thoughts of Aiden. 

Thoughts that he can't banish and only rile him up further.

Aiden's eyes, Aiden's smile. The strong, flexing muscles of his forearms. The glimpse of caramel skin and sprinkling of chest hair framed within the unbuttoned “V” of his nightshirt. Aiden's body; firm but soft, and warm against Lambert's front-- having the alpha in his arms had felt wonderful and some traitorous part of his mind wonders what it would be like for Aiden to hold him.

The ferocity of his swordsmanship. Mmmm, now there's a stimulating thought. Something about the intensity in which he fights sends a thrill coursing through the omega's body, one that Lambert doesn't know what to do with, all he knows is that he wants.

He strokes himself faster, mouth falling open on a silent gasp.

He pictures the way that Aiden looked after their fencing match: disheveled and sweaty, and imagines a different end to their fight. One where the alpha beats him in the final match and crowds him up against a tree, the blade of his saber pressed a hair's breadth away from Lambert's throat.

"Do you yield?" Imaginary Aiden would ask him, and Lambert would nod, not trusting his voice to speak without wavering. And then Aiden would grin-- that sharp and cat-like, perfect grin-- throwing his sword to the ground and pressing his lips to Lambert's.

Fuck. Fuck. Lambert shudders at the idea as pleasure courses through him.

Aiden's mouth on his; hot and demanding, as he uses his weight to pin Lambert to the tree, perhaps even shoving a knee between his legs so that Lambert can grind down on it. And for once Lambert wouldn't be afraid or disgusted at the idea of letting an alpha touch him like that because it's Aiden, and in the safety of his fantasy, Lambert is not too ashamed to admit that he wants it.

He cums with a gush of slick, choking on a cry as he works himself through it, quaking at the intensity of his climax.

As he comes down from his high, he sits panting in the bathtub. The final clouds of arousal fade from his mind just as the realization hits him; crashing over Lambert's psyche like a wave.

He likes Aiden.

He wants Aiden.

Lambert wants to kiss him and touch him and hold him and have Aiden all to himself.

Fuck.

-----------------------------

When Lambert finally emerges from his room he finds a bouquet of marigolds (also poisonous if the reading Lambert has been doing on plants lately is correct) lying at the foot of the door. Unlike the previous flowers he's received that were arranged and cut by a florist, these look hand-picked and are the same shade as the ones in the front garden. They come with a note that reads:

Perhaps I acted a bit too forward this morning. I apologize if I have offended you. That was furthest from my intention.

Please accept these flowers as a peace offering?

-Aiden

Guilt looms inside his stomach as he reads over the note and suddenly Lambert regrets the way he reacted. Sure, he was overcome and frustrated by weeks of foreign emotion that Aiden was the cause of, but poor Aiden didn't know that. To him, Lambert just keeps snapping out of nowhere.

He sighs, taking a whiff of the flowers before handing them off to a servant to take care of.

When Lambert finally arrives at the dining room for lunch, everyone else has already finished and left. Everyone else, that is, save for Aiden who is sitting in front of a mostly full plate as if he'd been waiting for him. He smiles when he sees Lambert approaching and instantly the omega can no longer find in his heart to be upset with him.

"You are a very skilled swordsman," Lambert says tightly, sitting down on the chair next to him. Even though he loathes to admit it. It’s not quite an apology, but he has a feeling that Aiden will understand the hidden meaning in his words.

The alpha smirks. "Why do I feel like there's a 'but' coming somewhere?"

"But--"

"There it is."

"I'm kicking your ass tomorrow for sure."

"Of course," Aiden says, smiling, and this time instead of making him feel uneasy, it feels Lambert with comforting warmth.

------------------------------

Beneath the draping branches of a willow tree, Lambert sits atop a blanket sipping a glass of champagne as he looks out across the shimmering water beyond the sandy bank of the river. Sheltered beneath the tree, he could almost imagine that they're alone, save for the sounds of their family talking and laughing a short distance away.

It was Aiden's idea, to have a picnic with just the two of them, though of course it would be improper to suggest such an idea. And so, it became a family affair, with everyone else partaking in the food, drink, and games further up the lawn while he and Aiden are left to the relative privacy of the willow tree.

The alpha question is not currently with Lambert on the blanket, however, and is instead crouched over the river bank, feeding a family of ducks with little pieces of cucumber from their tea sandwiches. Lambert watches with amusement as the ducks crowd him and Aiden struggles to feed them all at once before they grow impatient and start nipping at his fingers. Only Aiden would take time out of their romantic picnic to feed ducks their lunch instead of eating it himself--  and Lambert can't help but find the ridiculousness of it all rather endearing.

Aiden looks rather beautiful like this, he thinks, face alight with laughter, hair swaying gently in the warm breeze. In the bright light of the midday sun, the outline of his body is tinged with gold, making him look like something out of a baroque painting-- an angel or prince perhaps.

"Agh-- fuck!"

Lambert's admiration of his companion is swiftly interrupted as one of the ducks really does bite his finger and is now wrestling with the alpha for the remains of the sandwich in his hand.

He's a bit of a buffoon, really. But an adorable buffoon that Lambert can't help but be fond of.

"Lambert!" Aiden cries, scrambling away from the mob of ducks as a large male chases him away from the shore, hissing. "Mr. Quack bit me!"

The omega raises an eyebrow. "Mr. Quack?"

"Yes, that's what I named him. There's Mr. Quack, Sweet Pea, Yorkshire Pudding, Daffodil, and Bartholomew."

Lambert shakes his head with a grin as the alpha comes to sit next to him on the blanket, showing him his injured finger. "Those are terrible names. He probably bit you because you named him Mr. Quack."

"I beg your pardon, sir. Those are perfectly acceptable names for a family of ducks."

"Oh, Aiden, they're really, really not."

"Fine then, what would you call him?"

Lambert studies the duck thoughtfully as it hisses at them and begins devouring the remains of Aiden's sandwich at an alarming rate. "Lambert," he says.

"Is that supposed to imply that you'd like to bite me as well?" The alpha purrs, tilting his head to the side. With his hair draped over one shoulder, Lambert doesn't miss the exposed skin of Aiden's scent gland peeking out from the color of his shirt, smooth and perfect, just waiting for a mating bite to claim it.

The implication of Aiden's question hits him like a ton of bricks, and in a moment of panic, Lambert retorts, "Only if you let Lambert The Duck steal my sandwiches," hoping to appear as though he's missed the intended meaning all together.

"Then I vow to protect your sandwiches with my very life,” Aiden declares, “even if I have to fight off droves of angry ducks. In fact," he grabs a sandwich from the basket, "I should need my energy if I am to defend our picnic from such sly beasts."

"The only sly beast I see is you, trying to eat one of my sandwiches without me noticing," Lambert replies dryly.

"Oh come on, Lambert, just let me have one."

"Nope. You got your sandwiches, and you wasted them on the ducks."

"But I'm hungry," the alpha whines.

"You know, regular alphas don't normally even partake in luncheon. Unlike us frail and delicate omegas, you’re not supposed to need the sustenance."

"Really? Now is the time that you play the subsex card? When I'm wounded from battle and starving?"

"You are hardly either of those things."

"I am too!" The alpha exclaims, holding up his finger. "Look, I'll surely get a bruise. If you won't share your food, the least you could do is kiss it better."

Lambert rolls his eyes and in an effort to make the other man shut up (or at least that's the excuse he gives himself), takes Aiden's hand in his and presses his lips to the injury.  "There. Happy?"

"Yes," the alpha replies, a smile spreading across his face. "I can already feel the magic of your kiss working to heal me."

Lambert snorts. "You're kind of an idiot, you know that?

"Oh please, you love it."

"I mean, you lost a fight to a duck."

"It was a very agile duck!"

"Honestly, I should be appalled, yet somehow I find myself fond of your idiocy."

"Is that so?" Aiden turns to him, a soft look on his face. "Your words speak venom, my dearest Lambert, yet your tone conveys something else entirely. Only you could make my heart flutter from such an insult."

He pulls a daisy from the grass beside the blanket and gently tucks it behind Lambert's ear, making the omega blush.

"I-- you--" suddenly Lambert can't seem to find words. He can't seem to do anything except stare into Aiden's eyes, unblinking.

Do you feel what I feel? Lambert wonders. The way I'm drawn to you? Does Aiden feel the same magnetism, the same pull, every time they're close? He doesn't know what to call this feeling, all he knows is that it's wonderful and terrifying and makes him want to seek out the alpha's company even further.

Aiden caresses his fingers through Lambert's hair with a soft smile, murmuring, "shhh, don't think too hard about it, sweetheart. You'll burst a blood vessel."

Sweetheart. Lambert has never been sweet anything. Even still, the nickname stirs something inside him.

And as Aiden's hand falls away from his face, Lambert is suddenly struck with the very intense urge to kiss him.

It would be easy too, they're already so close, all he would have to do would be to lean in a little further and touch his lips to Aiden's.

But then the sounds of the family further up the lawn shatters the moment and Lambert regains reason just as he found himself leaning forward.

Chapter Text

The remaining days at Blackmore Estate pass with a general sense of ease and tranquility.

Lambert has long held the belief that too much time spent with any one person was a recipe for eventual annoyance-- that certainly is the case when his family is involved, even though Lambert loves them all to death-- but spending the week with Aiden hasn’t been torturous in the slightest. In fact, it’s been pretty damn nice.

They continue to fence every morning. Most of their duels end in a draw, but sometimes Lambert will win one, or Aiden will. Though Lambert kind of hates to admit it, he has also come to respect how skilled of a swordsman Aiden is. So skilled, in fact, that he may have very well met his match. 

The afternoons are filled with varying activities, usually ones that Lambert and Aiden will engage in together. Aiden shows him around the grounds and the many amenities that Blackmore Estate has to offer; they read in the library, go for walks or rides around the property, play gwent, and spend hours together just talking. Before arriving, Lambert had been sure that he would grow weary of Aiden's constant presence by the end of the week, but if anything he finds himself seeking out the alpha even during his alone time, somehow drawn to the other's company despite the fact that Lambert has been a solitary creature most of his life.

"It's the mark of a compatible relationship," Vesemir has told him many times throughout the years. "When spending time with the other person never gets old. You become so accustomed to their being near you that when you're apart it feels like a piece of you has been lost."

Considering his general distaste for other people, Lambert always thought that was utter bullshit. Yet here he is, and it turns out his father was right. Though of course he would die before telling him that. Not to mention the fact that if he did, the Duke would likely begin planning their wedding even more aggressively than he already is. In fact, just the other day Lambert walked in on his father and brother-in-law discussing potential floral arrangements.

(And it's not like Lambert is thinking about it or anything, but if he and Aiden did get married, it should be poisonous flowers only.)

The afternoon before the Blackmore Ball is to be hosted, Guxart has everyone meet in the parlor for an announcement.

"I have one last surprise for you all," the Duke declares. "A game of sorts. We've enjoyed an excellent week getting to know one another and it brings this old man a great deal of joy to have our families reconnect after so many years apart. This game will be our final challenge. I've had the servants hide a number of purple flags around the estate and grounds. We will pair up-- one member from each family-- and see which team can retrieve the most before dinner. The game begins now."

As soon as the Duke has finished his announcement, Aiden turns to Lambert.

"Shall we begin at the end of the west wing and spread out from there?"

"And who said we were going to be partners?"

"It's not like you have anyone else," the alpha retorts.

"I don't know, Kiyan and I really hit it off at dinner last night. Perhaps I'll ask him."

"Lambert! Shame on you! You would really betray me like that? And to think I was going to share all of my excellent battle strategies with you."

The omega rolls his eyes. "Well, if you insist."

 The two make a pact right there and then that they are going to smite the competition. And that's how Lambert finds himself wandering through the twisting halls of Blackmore Estate with Aiden in search of purple flags.

They find one in the library and one in Aiden's office, then another behind the frame of a painting in the hallway. As it nears dinner time they have a total of 16 flags between them and begin wandering the estate grounds when the flags inside become few and far between.

"Come on," Aiden says, leading Lambert towards the back of the property. "I have an idea of where we might find some." The omega follows him through the seemingly endless lines of flower beds, patios, and fountains, until they come to a large hedge wall spanning fifty feet in either direction with a small entrance at the center.

"It's a maze," he explains, when Lambert raises an eyebrow. "Father had it built when we were children. If there's any out here, they're bound to be somewhere in there."

Lambert stares at the entrance of the maze for a long moment. Aiden wants to go in there? Together? Alone? Even though they're just playing the game, something excites him at the idea. "Alright," he says at last, "let's go."

The alpha grins and grabs Lambert's hand, lacing their fingers together before tugging him towards the entrance. "Stick close to me," he says, "I used to spend a lot of time here as a child. I know this maze like the back of my hand."

And Lambert is glad he does because the maze is complicated and twisting, steering them this way and that, until he has absolutely no idea which direction they came from and where they are going. Though to be fair, he's not exactly focused on the maze. He's focused on Aiden's hand in his, the alpha's grip firm and warm. Aiden's hands are bigger; with long dexterous fingers that almost dwarf Lambert's own; he can feel each and every callus pressed against his skin.

It's an innocent act, of course, but if they weren't alone in the safety of the Blackmore family's estate, if they were in public, the two of them holding hands would cause quite a stir indeed. Lambert has never really thought about it much before, but any sort of physical touching between those of different sub-sexes is taboo in their society-- even between married couples, though to a lesser degree. But then again, before he met Aiden, Lambert's goal was to keep every alpha as far away from him as possible.

Now that he knows what the sensation of physical touch can feel like, however, it's...nice. It's a casual sort of intimacy with someone that he really cares about. It's as though Aiden has made a crack in the dam of Lambert's desire and suddenly water is rushing through the floodgates and his body craves more.

( Mate , his inner omega whispers, although the sound is quickly stomped out.)

"There," Aiden says, as they come across a small alcove within the maze where the hedges part just enough to display a marble statue with a purple flag dripped over its arm. "I knew there'd be some in here." He grabs the flag and waves it triumphantly at Lambert who snatches it from his hand and adds it to their bag.

"Great, that's seventeen. Let's keep going; we're going to make our brothers regret ever competing."

The alpha smiles, giving him a playful nudge that Lambert definitely does not blush at. "My thoughts exactly."

They continue on in the maze, coming across three more alcoves with statues and find a flag at each. As they walk, Lambert notices the sky has become overcast and darkened clouds in the distance. He feels something cold hit his arm.

"Did you feel that?" he asks his companion.

"Feel what?"

"I think I just felt a drop of rain hit my arm."

"Why would I feel what happened to your arm?"

Lambert rolls his eyes and feels another cold drop, this time on his cheek. Then another, and another, until fine raindrops are suddenly falling all around them.

"Shit," Aiden says.

"I suppose we should head back." But as soon as the words are out of Lambert's mouth, it begins to pour.

Aiden grabs his hand. "No time. Come on, we're almost to the center of the maze, we can take shelter there."

They run through the endless lines of hedges, rain pouring all around them, until finally they make it to the circular clearing at the center of the maze with a stone gazebo that they flee to for shelter.

"Fuck," Lambert groans, looking down at himself with a grimace. "I'm soaked."

"As am I," Aiden agrees, and then Lambert turns to look at him and-- oh.

He really is. And the billowing white cotton of his shirt is completely see-through, plastered against the defined muscles of the alpha's chest. Lambert stares at it dumbly and fights the urge to lick his lips, excitement pulsing within him.

"Lambert?"

Aiden's voice shocks him out of his stupor and Lambert realizes his mouth had literally been hanging open. He snaps his jaw shut quickly, embarrassed. The other man is staring, waiting for a response to something that he said while Lambert was busy ogling him. "Uh, what?" he replies, very eloquently.

"I said we were right," Aiden repeats. "I just found a flag under the bench." He holds up the purple scrap of fabric as if to prove his point.

"Oh. Uh-- right. Good job then. Guess we'll head back once the rain stops." Except Lambert doesn't care about the game anymore, he's just noticed a stray curl that has plastered itself to Aiden's cheek, and now he's studying the water droplets that slide down the alpha’s jaw. Fuck, he looks really good like this.

"Is... everything alright?"

Oh yes. Everything is perfectly all right. At least it would be, if Lambert wasn't currently thinking about kissing the man in front of him.

"Yeah," he replies. "Just...got lost in thought there for a second."

The alpha hums. "What were you thinking about?"

"I was thinking about..."

In that moment, he decides to take a chance.

"This," he whispers, then presses his lips to Aiden's.

It's short; barely a touch of the lips and lasting hardly more than a couple of seconds. Lambert has never kissed anyone before, but he's walked in on Geralt and Jaskier doing it enough times that he knows what it's supposed to look like. Even still, he feels clumsy and awkward, like he's fumbling around in the dark while Aiden remains completely still against him.

When he pulls back, the alpha's eyes are wide with shock

"Aiden, I--"

"You like me?" Aiden's voice is full of awe, as if he can't believe that it could possibly be true.

Lambert raises an eyebrow, wiping his lower lip with his thumb. "I just kissed you. Do you really have to ask?"

The alpha shrugs. "Not really. I just wanted to hear you say it."

"Fine. I like you, Aiden. I like you a lot."

That seems to be all the other man needs to hear because as soon as the words are out of Lambert's mouth, he's leaning back in for another kiss.

The second kiss is nothing like the first, mostly because Aiden takes control of it, guiding Lambert where he's unsure and taking over when he falters. Aiden's lips are soft against his-- just as soft as Lambert imagined they would be--  and it seems he has experience enough for he and Lambert both when it comes to using them.

The alpha’s mouth is parted ever so slightly, moving in a way that Lambert is unsure how to replicate, but feels really good against him, only making the omega's desire for that much stronger. The fire of need that's been burning inside of him for weeks now transforms from an aching blaze into something warm and exciting.

He wants more of it, but is unsure of how to make that happen.

In desperation, Lambert presses forward-- too fast and sloppy-- and their teeth clack together. But then Aiden is there with a gentle hand against his cheek, tilting his head so his nose is no longer squished, and slowing down the kiss into something that makes his toes curl. When Aiden's tongue teases at the seam Lambert's lips, the omega follows suit, opening his mouth and --oh. This is so much better.

Gods, it’s good. It feels so fucking good. Is it always this good, or is it just that it’s Aiden?

Lost in the moment, he pulls the alpha closer. With one hand he grips Aiden's shoulder, the other slides through the alpha's damp curls, gripping a little too hard when the other man delivers a soft bite to his lower lip and makes a low, breathy sound as Lambert's fist tightens in his hair.

Aiden pulls back, panting. Lambert tries to chase him, leaning in again, but a firm hand on his shoulder stops the motion.

"We should... we should stop."

"Why?" Lambert snaps, perhaps too forceful, "am I not good enough?" Fuck, he should have known someone like Aiden would not be content with someone like him--

"No!" The alpha says quickly, taking Lambert's hands in his. "Not at all-- You-you're perfect, Lamb. But I've already allowed my desires to overcome me when I should have remained a gentleman." He shakes his head. "I do not wish to dishonor you further by continuing."

Oh. Is that all?

"How about you let me decide I'm being dishonored, hmm? Because I certainly don't feel it."

"Lambert--" he shakes his head. "Come on, we shouldn't."

Hands still linked with the alpha's, Lambert brings Aiden's knuckles to his lips, feeling immensely satisfied when he hears the other man's breath catch in his throat.

"Aiden, do you like me?"

"Of course I do! What kind of question is that?"

"Do you want me?"

"I-- yes, but--"

"Great. Because I want you too. Now for once in your life would you stop being so damn honorable and kiss me again?"

Aiden stares at him for a long moment, then all at once his composure seems to break. "Fuck. Fuck, okay."

When their lips meet this time, Lambert is more confident; moving his mouth alongside Aiden's, weaving his fingers back into the alpha's hair, and after a brief moment of psyching himself up, placing the palm of his hand against the other man's chest. Aiden seems hesitant to touch him at first, but eventually his hand settles on Lambert's waist while the other cups the omega's cheek.

He becomes completely lost in it; the slick slide of their mouths together, the gentle yet grounding way that Aiden holds him. Their combined scents sit heavy in the air, intertwining and curling around them until Lambert is unsure where he ends and the alpha begins.

He's never seen the appeal of things such as this before, never understood why all those other moon-eyed omegas were so desperate for an alpha's attention. Now, however, Lambert understands-- at least when it comes to Aiden. He wants everything the alpha will give him and to take everything he can possibly get.

Mate, his instincts whisper, alpha, mate, want, want, want, mine.

Eventually Aiden breaks the kiss in favor of kissing across Lambert's face and down his jaw. The omega whines at first, but quickly relaxes into it once the man's lips start trailing down his neck.

He didn't realize that people kissed each other there. The idea is sort of odd to him, but the feeling of Aiden's mouth, hot, on his cold, rain-soaked skin, makes a breathy sort of moan escape Lambert's lips before he can think to stop it. And as the alpha's lips make their way towards his scent gland, pretty soon all he can do is hold on for dear life and tremble.

Aiden buries his face in the crook of Lambert's neck and groans.

"Gods , Lambert, now we really have to stop. If we don't, I'm worried we might do something we'll regret." 

Lambert doesn't want to stop, but he heeds the alpha's warning anyway and reluctantly lets his hands fall to his sides, pulling back. Aiden looks more unkempt than Lambert has yet to see him; lips pink and glistening, hair mussed up, eyes dark with lust. It makes his instincts purr in delight to know that he’s the reason Aiden looks like that.

It's only then that he notices the rain has stopped.

"Right then," he says, straightening the collar of his shirt and smoothing back his hair. "I suppose we should head back inside."

Aiden nods in agreement, "I suppose we should." 

"This was nice though."

"It was."

A long moment of awkward silence passes between them, until Lambert asks, "to the house then?"

"To the house. We have a game to win, after all."

-------------------------

They don't win. While they were wasting time kissing in the rain, Jaskier and Dragonfly found enough flags to beat them by two points. Yet for some reason Lambert can't bring himself to care in the slightest.

He repeats that afternoon's events in his mind over and over as he returns to his room, a smile on his face and a fluttery feeling in his gut.

---------------------------

As Lambert is getting prepared for the ball that evening, there's a knock at his door.

"Oh Lambert, my dearest brother-in-law," Jaskier's voice calls from the other side of the door. "Open up, I have a surprise for you."

The omega rolls his eyes and opens the door to find the musician standing there with a grin. "I've come to help you prepare for the ball," Jaskier declares, opening his arms with a dramatic flourish as if he's the savior of the continent himself. Behind him, a servant carries a large white box with a blue ribbon that they hand to the omega as he steps into the room despite Lambert's attempts to block him in the doorway. 

"Jaskier. I'm fine. Now go back to your own room and--"

"Ah-bap-bap-bap," the other omega chides, waggling a finger at him and placing the box on Lambert's bed. "No you're not," he says in a sing-song voice.

"Yes, I am."

His brother-in-law places a hand on his hip and nods towards Lambert's outfit. "Is that what you're planning to wear?"

"Well, yes, but--"

"Then I was right. You need all the help you can get. Now, make haste, everyone out. I will be overseeing Mr. Rochefort myself."

The maids that had been assisting Lambert moments before quickly file out of the room as his brother-in-law cheerily waves them off. Once they're alone, he turns back to Lambert, grinning.

"I can't believe you just did that," Lambert grumbles, glaring at the other man.

"And I can't believe you were going to wear that to a Duke's ball when you are practically the guest of honor."

Heat rises and Lambert's cheeks. Guest of honor? "What? No! ...did Aiden say that?"

"Oh relax, Bertie--"  Lambert's teeth clench at the nickname-- "he said nothing of the sort. I just have an eye for spotting these kinds of things."

"Alright, one: I told you to never call me that again. Two: I'm not the guest of honor. And three: what I'm wearing is fine."

Jaskier sighs, shaking his head. "You see, that's what you're saying, but I know for a fact that you wore that same outfit at dinner two nights ago and spilled a drop of soup on the front of it, which you are now attempting to hide behind a cravat. Absolutely unacceptable."

"I--" Lambert gapes at him. He often forgets how terrifyingly observant Jaskier can be.

"No matter! Luckily for us, I foresaw this and took matters into my own hands. On my last trip to the tailor's, I had him make up an outfit for you along with my order." He pats the lid of the box. "When you're wearing this, I guarantee you'll have lord Blackmore tripping over his own feet at how good you look."

While that idea does sound rather nice, Lambert is hesitant. "The last time you tried to help me with my wardrobe I ended up looking like a circus performer."

The omega scoffs in protest. "Ack! Rude. I dressed you in the finest fashion the ton had to offer. You looked very stylish."

"Stylish, circus performer, same thing. I looked ridiculous and you know it."

He almost shudders at the memory of it. That had been when Jaskier and Geralt were still courting and the musician was trying to win Lambert over. Though he's learned to get over it now, at the time Jaskier couldn't fathom why Lambert had no interest in fashion and had attempted to dress him up like a porcelain doll. The only problem was Lambert did not look good in the same ribbons and lace that his brother-in-law favors and had come out of the room looking so ridiculous, Eskel nearly lost his voice laughing so hard.

"It won't be like last time," Jaskier says, "I promise. This time I had them design a garment with your specific tastes in mind. Now, off with that sorry excuse for an outfit." He shoves the box in Lambert's hands and pushes him towards the dressing screen. "I'll be waiting out here when you're done so that you can thank me-- erm-- or if you need help with the buttons."

Lambert grumbles quietly under his breath as he opens the box to reveal several pieces of elaborate clothing and begins dressing himself. The fabric is surprisingly soft to the touch; a far cry from the itchy lace and materials that he's usually forced to endure from omega clothes. Once dressed, he finds that the outfit is surprisingly comfortable as well.

He steps out from behind the dressing screen and Jaskier gasps softly, placing a hand over his mouth.

"What?" he asks, "is it that bad? Let me see." He tries to head for the mirror but the other man blocks him.

"No! Not yet. Close your eyes. Let me do your hair and accessories, then you may see."

Lambert rolls his eyes, but doesn't protest, and allows his brother-in-law to seat him down at the vanity, eyes closed. In his experience, it'll just be easier to let Jaskier have his fun instead of protesting. Once it's done and they can both agree that Lambert simply isn't meant for these kinds of things, the sooner he can get back into his old clothes.

He sits patiently as Jaskier styles his hair and adds rouge to his cheeks, then adorns him with a necklace and earrings. Finally, the musician leads him away from his seat and over to the full mirror, declaring, "All right. Now you may look."

When Lambert opens his eyes, he can hardly believe that the person in the mirror is truly him.

The clothing he's been given is somewhere between a woman's gown and a man's suit. The outer layer is a rich burgundy with tiny red beads, made in the style of an empire-waisted gown that's been cut down the front so that panels of fabric drape on either side of his hips. Beneath that is a burgundy silk shirt with delicately embroidered flowers and a pair of soft velvet pants. Jaskier has finished off by styling Lambert's curly hair in a dramatic sweep to one side and completed the look with a fine ruby necklace and a set of matching droplet earrings.

He touches a hand to his face, not quite believing the side in front of him. "I... actually feel pretty," he whispers. Lambert has never felt like that before. Handsome on a few rare occasions, but pretty? Usually whenever he wears the sorts of things that omega is supposed to, he just feels awkward. 

But the clothing that Jaskier has chosen for him isn't like the typical omega fashions that he loathes to wear. The darker color is comfortable, not screaming for everyone in the room to look at him, and while the fabrics are soft and decorated with beads and embroidery, it's not flashy or loud like the styles that are common. The outfit is more feminine than he's used to, but it's... nice. The sort of feminine that maybe Lambert doesn't mind being but has never had the confidence to try.

"That's because you are pretty, Lambert," Jaskier replies, smiling at him through the mirror. "You just need to wear what makes you feel comfortable. And I went out of my way to make sure there were no itchy fabrics."

Lambert chuckles at that. "Thank you, Jaskier."

"Now, let us make haste, hmm? The guests should be arriving any minute now and I wish to see the look on Lord Blackmore's face when you knock him off his feet."

Chapter Text

The main hall of Blackmore Estate is buzzing with energy by the time Lambert makes his way down from the upper floor. Decorated in shades of blue and white; with flower arrangements, silk banners, and ice sculptures dotting the interior, the room shares equal parts serenity and intrigue. Droves of finally dressed members of the nobility fill the space, some standing around to socialize, others making their way towards the ballroom where a sweeping melody can be heard rising above the noise.

Jaskier left him a few minutes prior to go and meet up with Geralt, leaving Lambert alone and feeling rather hesitant to immerse himself into a crowd of people that he'd rather avoid. Instead, he stands at the banister of the main staircase and scans the room, looking for signs of Aiden or any of his family members that he can latch onto so as to appear too busy to socialize with anyone else that may approach him.

Then suddenly, at the far end of the room for a fraction of a second, Lambert spots a head of dark curly hair among the crowd, moving in the direction of the ballroom. He'd know that head of hair anywhere. He all but runs down the stairs, eyes scanning the people around him as he looks for where Aiden disappeared into the crowd. He's so busy looking, in fact, that he walks right into someone.

Lambert lets out a deep "oof" as he smacks into a figure from behind a nearly topples over.

"My-my apologies," he stammers as the man grabs him by the shoulders to steady him, except when he looks up to see who it is, he feels himself churning with displeasure.

"None needed, Mr. Rochefort," Lord Pembroke says slowly, giving him a polite but oily smile as he looks the omega up and down in a way that makes Lambert want to crawl out of his skin. "But you should watch where you're going. Next time I might not be there to catch you..."

The smooth way in which he talks makes Lambert shiver with discomfort. It was always one of the reasons why he never trusted that man. A man like Pembroke gets what he wants, and Lambert is sure he never quite got over his offense when the omega rejected his advances. That teacup thrown at his head was rightly earned.

"Thank you," Lambert replies, tightly, "but I'll take my chances. Now, if you'll excuse me, my lord--" he scans the room in desperation and mercifully locates his father standing near one of the ice sculptures-- "my father, he summons me." And with that the omega quickly ducks away from him and makes a beeline towards his father.

The Duke almost does a double take as Lambert approaches him, eyes looking him up and down, the shock apparent on his face. "Lambert. I almost didn't recognize you."

Heat rises in Lambert's cheeks as he remembers what he's wearing and how different he must look. "It was Jaskier's idea," he says defensively, feeling as though he must somehow justify his appearance. "It's strange, right? But it made him happy and you know how difficult it is to say 'no' to that man."

Vesemir shakes his head. "When the boy asked for the money to have something tailored for you, I have to admit I was not expecting you to actually wear it."

"So this wasn't another one of your schemes?" Lambert asks, an eyebrow raised. "I figured the two of you might be involved."

"Far from it. This one was all Jaskier. And from the looks of it I'd say the boy has really outdone himself." The old man's face softens as he offers Lambert a comforting smile. "You look lovely, son."

In truth, Lambert feels lovely, though a part of him is terrified to admit it. It doesn't seem like something he should be allowed to feel. And while he may not feel awkward and foolish in these clothes, he's concerned about how people will react to seeing him looking so different from the reputation he has so carefully crafted over these years.

"You don't think it's..." he struggles to find the words, "too different?"

"It is different," Vesemir admits. "But a good different. One where you don't look like you wish to disappear into the wallpaper."

"I...yes, I suppose it is."

"Now, are you in need of an escort this evening?" The Duke cranes his head looking over the crowd. "I don't see your brothers anywhere, but perhaps this old man might be of service?"

He offers Lambert his arm and the omega rolls his eyes, accepting it. "Of course, Da."

The crowd only grows denser as the two make their way into the ballroom, and as usual, the effect of having so many people in one place hits Lambert full force, assaulting his senses with smells and sounds. In the center of the ballroom, many couples have already begun dancing and he spots Geralt and Jaskier among them, doing one of their three mandatory dances of the evening that the musician insists upon. As they walk further through the room, Lambert can't help but feel as though everyone's eyes are on him (which is ridiculous because he knows they're not). Even still, he's hyper aware of every alpha's whose gaze sweeps over his form, every whispering omega, and every judgmental Mama glaring at him from afar. This is one of the reasons why Lambert hates events like these; he always feels exposed, gawked at.

And then, surrounded by a group of insistent mothers and doe-eyed omegas, he spots Aiden, smiling politely as they swarm him near the drinks table. Lambert can’t help the annoyance that creeps up as a pretty omega lady glances up at Aiden through batted eyelashes and steps closer to him, laughing at something the alpha said.

To anyone else, he would look like the picture of a gentleman; polite and charming, eager yet refined, but Lambert can see that it's all a façade. He knows Aiden well enough by now to recognize a genuine smile when he sees one, and the alpha is doing his best to remain polite while incredibly uncomfortable with the attention.

(And fuck, does Aiden look good tonight; dressed in a deep cobalt blue jacket, the color makes all of his best features pop.)

Aiden is a catch, Lambert knows, and as the alpha son of a Duke it's likely that many ambitious omegas have attempted to catch his attention. He’s seen the way that marriage-minded Mamas look at Aiden during events-- like a predator sizing up its kill. If not for his being there Lambert is sure that they would be circling the alpha like vultures every night.

Anger brewing inside him, he begins stalking towards his alph-- friend, practically dragging his father by the arm. One of the other omegas takes notice of his approach and glances towards her mother worryingly. But then Aiden looks up and their eyes meet and Lambert's fury disappears just as quickly as it started when he sees absolute relief on the other man's face.

With hardly even a glance at the group of omegas, Aiden excuses himself and heads towards Lambert, a genuine smile on his face.

"I'll be over by the drink table should you need me," Vesemir whispers, before disappearing just as the alpha reaches Lambert.

"Uh, hi," Lambert greets, that fluttery feeling once again making itself present in his stomach.

But Aiden hardly seems to notice the greeting. He's too busy staring at Lambert, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide. "Lambert. You-you look-- wow-- I mean--"

A light chuckle escapes the omega lips as he watches Aiden, a man who is usually so well spoken, stumble upon his words. It's nice not to be the flustered one for a change. "You were saying?" he asks, tilting his head to the side.

"You look beautiful."

Even though he anticipated the compliment, Lambert still blushes at the remark. "Thanks. You look... really good too."

The alphas eyebrows raise all the way to his hairline. "Was that... a genuine compliment?"

"Maybe. Don't get used to it."

"Too late. I am already waiting for your next compliment with baited breath."

"Then prepare yourself to be waiting a long time."

Aiden flashes him a gorgeous smile. "For you, sweetheart, I would wait a lifetime."

Lambert feels his cheeks heat up further. There's that name again. Sweetheart. It feels like the wrong word to describe someone like him, but despite that Lambert wants to hear Aiden say it again.

"Has anyone ever told you that you were far too silver-tongued for your own good?" He asks, trying to hide the fact that he was flustered from only a nickname.

The alpha's smile sharpens. "No one. But that's because I'm only like that for you, my dear Lambert."

"Oh Really? Not for all those omegas that were swarming you a second ago?"

Aiden visibly grimaces at the reminder. "Definitely not. They're all too desperate to please me; it's nothing but fake smiles and boasting over accomplishments. They don't care about me. All they're interested in is my father's title. I'm sure you know the feeling."

Lambert nods. "Unfortunately I do." His experience with alphas has been much the same-- except they don't really care about pleasing him as much as they care about having him stay a pretty thing on their arm to show off. Not that Lambert was ever very pretty to begin with. "Though it doesn't happen so much anymore."

"That's because you've mastered the one skill I shall never have," Aiden replies. "That venomous glare of yours. It is truly breathtaking, the way you manage to deliver such malice with a single glance. You shall have to stick close to me this evening so that you may ward off any unwanted company."

Lambert smirks. "I'll do my best."

"Excellent." Aiden replies, offering him a hand. "In that case, might I have your next dance?"

"I suppose you may."

As Aiden leads him towards the dance floor Lambert can't help but think about the dance they shared on the night they met. It seems like a lifetime ago that he first took Aiden's hand in his, wanting nothing more than to blend into the background until the evening was over. If only his past self could see him now; the way he leans into the alpha's touch, the soft smile on his face as his eyes meet Aiden's, the steady pull of longing he feels inside his chest every time he's in the other man's presence-- surely the Lambert of the past would have thought him mad.

Somehow this man has made him abandon all his inhibitions, all his doubts. He should be terrified, yet he feels better than he has in years.

Lambert can feel eyes on him as they begin to move to the rhythm of music. He knows what the people of the ton think. They call him broken when they think he can't hear. Uncivilized, unwanted, unlovable. An omega with far too many dangerous thoughts for his own good. He shouldn't have anything to do with an alpha like Aiden.

But Aiden is his closest friend, someone who seems to understand him on a spiritual level and accepts Lambert for who he is, thorns and all. It's only been a few months, but when he thinks of the future, he's not sure he can imagine life without the alpha in it.

Amid the dancing couples, Aiden is the shore and Lambert is the ocean: two entities impossibly different, one calm, one raging, yet forever attracted to each other through the push and pull of the tide.

When Aiden looks at him the world disappears. Nothing else matters except this moment, this feeling.

"I'm really glad you came this evening," Aiden tells him as they dance. "I know that you don't care for these events, but I'm happy that we might spend this time together. It means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me."

Something flickers in Lambert's chest at the other man's words. "You mean a lot to me too," he admits. "I've really enjoyed getting to spend time with you these past few days." And then with a smirk he adds, "as well as other things."

It gives him a great deal of satisfaction to see the light dusting of pink that spreads across Aiden's cheeks. "And you don't regret partaking in... other things with me?"

Lambert shakes his head. "Not for a moment." Though at the time part of him was worried that he would. But whenever his thoughts drift back to their kiss in the rain, he feels nothing but excitement. He wants to do it again. In fact, he wants to pull the alpha to him right here and damn the consequences.

"I'm glad," Aiden replies, smiling warmly. Lambert feels the grip on his hand tighten. He twirls Lambert around as the dance ends with a flourish and a bow, holding the omega's gaze the entire time.

After their dance, Lambert accompanies Aiden in enjoying all that the evening has to offer. They drink, they talk, they dance some more. They make fun of each foppish lord and swooning lady, laughing all the while.

Lambert can't remember the last time he had this much fun at a ball, if he ever had this much fun at a ball. Though most of the time he manages to forget that he's even at a social event because when he meets Aiden's eyes everyone else in the room seems to disappear.

------------------------

Unbeknownst to the couple, two old men stand at the edge of the room, watching.

"They make a good pair," Guxart Blackmore, the Duke of Ebbing says to his friend, nodding as their two sons share a laugh on the other side of the room. He doesn't know what they're talking about-- something inappropriate for a social event, probably-- but it hardly matters because he can't remember the last time he's seen Aiden smile this much in someone else's presence. The Rochefort boy clearly makes him happier than he's been in years.

Beside him, Vesemir Rochefort nods his head in agreement, taking a sip from the brandy in his glass but not taking his eyes off the pair. "That they do. Aiden has really helped Lambert come out of his shell. In all honesty, I was beginning to fear that he never would."

"As was I. My son has never shown interest in courting before. I suppose all he needed was the right person to come around."

Vesemir smirks. "Or the right person to be introduced to him. Coincidentally, that is."

"Of course. After all, our correspondence over the years merely informed me of your son's-- hmmm-- unusual personality."

"And I Aiden's."

"He only needed to be in the right place at the right time. They did the rest of the work themselves."

"Exactly. It can hardly be considered matchmaking when they are the ones that sought each other out. The two of us simply gave them a... push in the right direction."

The right direction indeed. What else was a father supposed to do when it turned out the perfect match for his son was only a carriage ride away? It was worth a try, wasn't it? And if the two hit it off and Guxart was given an excuse to spend more time with his best friend, well, that was nobody's business but theirs.

"Speaking of the right direction," Vesemir says quietly, leaning towards the other man so as not to be overheard, "Aiden spoke to me last night."

Guxart's eyebrows raise. "Oh? And I trust you gave him what he asked for?"

"Without hesitation. But I also warned him that it's not my blessing that he'll need. It’s Lambert’s. And I fear that one will be much more difficult to win than mine.”

Guxart lets out a long exhale. "Well. It looks like the evening is a success so far." He watches as his son asks Lambert for a third dance that evening to which the omega accepts. "Let us only hope it remains that way."

-----------------------------

By the time they finish their third dance that evening, Lambert's head is spinning from the overwhelm of it all-- the sights, the smells, the noise. Luckily, Aiden seems to notice the way that he wavers slightly as they leave the dance floor and takes Lambert's hand in his. 

"Come with me," he whispers, leading him towards the stained glass doors that open onto the garden terrace. "I think we could both use some air. Besides, there's something I want to show you." The alpha spares a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure that no one is paying attention to them, then slips through the doors.

Lambert lets out a sigh of relief the moment the night air hits him. It smells fresh and earthy and feels cool against his skin-- a welcome contrast from the heat of so many bodies packed into the ballroom. The sky above them is cloudless and dark, with twinkling stars and a waxing moon. It's eerily quiet in the garden, save for the chirping of crickets, though the muffled sound of voices can be heard through the glass doors. It’s  a perfect night that is a soothing balm for the senses.

"This way," Aiden whispers, darting around the corner of the building and gesturing for him to follow.

When Lambert does, his breath catches in his throat.

Aiden has brought them to a section of the garden with a circular mosaic patio surrounding a white marble fountain. Through the trees, hundreds of tiny lanterns have been strung above the patio in rows like shining pearls, illuminating the space around them with a soft, warm glow. 

"Holy shit," Lambert breathes, gaping at the space in awe. It's like the stars themselves have been brought down from the heavens for this moment alone.

"I know," Aiden replies. "It was my father's idea. Something to make tonight worth remembering. When the clock strikes midnight, everyone will be brought out here to watch the fireworks. But I thought you deserved a more...private viewing first."

"It's..." Lambert shakes his head as he grips the terrace railing, leaning in to get a closer look. He's never seen anything like this before. "It's beautiful."

"It is," Aiden says, placing a hand over his. But he's not looking at the lights. And when Lambert turns, Aiden's eyes are on him.

"And the fireworks are at midnight, you say?"

"Yes."

"What time is it now?"

The alpha glances towards his pocket watch, but Lambert has a sneaking suspicion he already knew the answer. "A quarter past eleven."

"So we're entirely alone," he concludes.

"Yes," Aiden breathes, stepping closer.

"Then perhaps," Lambert murmurs, tilting his head up towards the alpha, "you should kiss me again."

The other man leans in, so that their lips are a hair's breadth away from one another. "Perhaps I shall." Then he closes the distance between them.

Their lips meet in a slow collision, as if Aiden is afraid that Lambert will change his mind at the last second, but he relaxes into it as soon as the omega reaches up to cup his face in his hands, pulling him the rest of the way in.

It's just as achingly good as it felt the first time. Aiden's mouth is soft and tastes of the plum cordial he'd been drinking earlier. His hands are warm where they settle on Lambert's waist. There's something about the way that Aiden kisses him; how gentle the alpha manages to be, yet devouring him as if he's water in the desert. A warm, giddy feeling spreads throughout Lambert’s body, from his chest to his stomach, all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes. He wants to get lost in it, to have Aiden all to himself and never let him go.

Eventually the alpha breaks the kiss in favor of trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses down Lambert's cheek and jaw, to the spot just above his pulse point, until finally he presses a lingering kiss against the omega's scent gland, then buries his face in the crook of Lambert's neck and makes an overwhelmed, broken sort of sound.

"Lambert," he groans, taking in deep, slow breaths of the omega's scent from the place where it's strongest. "Gods, Lambert, do you have any idea what you do to me? It's so hard to keep control of myself, merely being in your presence threatens to drive me mad with how much I want you to be mine."

The words send a shiver down Lambert's spine and instinctually, he tilts his head back to give Aiden better access as he begins mouthing over the sensitive skin. If anyone had said that to him a few months ago it would have brought nothing but dread and disgust. Now, however, it makes something ache deep in his bones, something that's been steadily bubbling to the surface in the time that he's gotten to know the other man.

"Aiden," Lambert breathes, hands grasping for purchase on the alpha's back and shoulders, trying to pull the other man closer despite the fact that it's already impossible. He understands how the alpha feels. Lambert wants Aiden to be his too.

"Every time I close my eyes, you're all I see. Every hour of every day, my mind is occupied with thoughts of you. Your smile--" Aiden presses a kiss to Lambert's scent gland, then another to the spot directly above it-- "your laugh, your voice--"  his lips move higher, emphasizing every few words with another kiss against Lambert's neck, setting a course back to his mouth. "Fuck, even that scowl of yours. I love all your fire and insults. I love how everything you do, you seem to do with a raging intensity, as if you plan to spite the world through everyday tasks alone."

Finally he captures Lambert's lips in a desperately soft kiss, lingering against them as if he can't bring himself to pull away.

"I love your wit and your mind-- how you always have something interesting to say or some banter to throw at me."

Aiden kisses him again, for longer this time, teasing at Lambert's mouth with teeth and tongue.

"But most of all I love that I get to see the parts of you that you hide from everyone else. I know you put up walls and lash out because the world has treated you cruelly, but in spite of that I know how kind you are, how deeply you care for those around you."

Aiden lingers inches away, caressing a hand down the side of Lambert's face and gently tilting his chin up so that their eyes meet.

"Tell me that you feel it too," he whispers, "the way I'm drawn to you. It's as if you are gravity itself."

Lambert swallows as the full intensity of Aiden's gaze falls upon him. He doesn't think that he can ever put the way he feels into words, but he understands what Aiden is talking about. He has for a while now.

"I feel it too," Lambert tells him, voice barely a whisper, then leans in and kisses Aiden again.

If he were a wiser omega perhaps he would think twice about allowing himself to be in such a compromising position. Getting caught alone with an alpha is a recipe for scandal enough, but getting caught kissing? Well, he would be considered compromised right then and there. The two of them are playing with fire, that's for sure, to be so bold when the only thing that separates them from the leering eyes of the ton is a single pane of coloured glass. If he were wiser, Lambert wouldn't have even stepped onto the terrace in the presence of an alpha, knowing that the moment someone saw him, his reputation would be ruined.

Except in the moment, wrapped up in Aiden's arms and letting himself get kissed until he's weak in the knees, Lambert can't even bring himself to care. Then again, he's never had much of a reputation to preserve anyway, so perhaps resisting the desire that burns within him would not be a decision for a wiser omega, but rather a foolish one for Lambert. Because how can anything that feels this good possibly be the wrong decision?

So instead of resisting, Lambert gives himself over to the feeling, until every touch, every sensation, every thought is Aiden, Aiden, Aiden, Aiden.

That is, until a loud gurgling noise completely ruins the moment.

Lambert steps back suddenly, cheeks hot with embarrassment as he stares down at his stomach in absolute mortification and betrayal. But Aiden just chuckles and presses a swift kiss to his cheek, smiling.

"Hungry?" the alpha teases.

"Shut up. I've hardly eaten a few bites this evening. Omegas aren't supposed to be seen indulging, you know. Especially in public."

Aiden shakes his head, something akin to righteous anger clear on his face. "That's ridiculous. This is my ball. I'll not have you starve for the sake of maintaining good manners."

"Yes, well, whether it's your ball or not, I'll still have to face dozens of glares if I even think about stepping towards the food table."

"Then I shall have to fetch something for the both of us," Aiden declares. "And we can eat out here."

"It's fine, Aiden. Really, I can wait--"

The alpha silences him with a chaste kiss, one that Lambert can't help but smile at. "Nonsense. I'll be gone only a moment." He kisses Lambert again. "Wait for me?"

"Of course."

And with that Aiden slips back into the ballroom, leaving Lambert alone with the stillness of the night.

In a lust-induced, giddy sort of daze, he stares out at the flickering lanterns as a dopey smile spreads across his face. Lambert hasn't had a drop of alcohol this evening, save for the taste he received on Aiden's tongue, yet he feels completely drunk on the feeling that kissing the alpha had brought. He wants to do it again. He wants to do it forever if Aiden would let him.

After a couple minutes of waiting, he hears the sound of the ballroom door open, followed by footsteps on the stone floor of the terrace.

"That was fast," he says, turning towards the sound, "what, did you run all the way there and back?"

"I think you might have me confused with someone else, Mr. Rochefort." Lambert's next words are caught dead in his throat as he sees that the figure rounding the corner is most definitely not Aiden and he stiffens immediately at the sight of the alpha in front of him.

"Lord Pembroke, I-- what are you doing out here?"

Lord Pembroke smiles, but instead of putting Lambert at ease as one of Aiden's smiles would, the sight fills him with a creeping dread. "I could ask you the same question. Are you sure it's wise for an omega to be out in the gardens alone at night?"

Lambert swallows, mouth suddenly feeling dry. "I... was just getting some air," he says. "I find events such as these overwhelming on my senses. I am fine now, perhaps I shall head back inside." He makes an attempt to walk around the other man, but Lord Pembroke swiftly steps to the side, cutting him off.

"I've been watching you, Mr. Rochefort."

"Excuse me?"

"You've come a long way from your first season, indeed. It appears I was right. In the end, all you needed was the right alpha to put you in your place."

That's not...that's not what this is. That's not what happened. Lambert shakes his head. "It's not like that."

"Come now, there's no shame in it. I think it's excellent that you’ve finally embraced your role in society."

He swallows thickly, and tries to speak with much more confidence than he currently feels. "What do you want, Pembroke?"

But instead of answering his question, Lord Pembroke steps closer and all the alarm bells immediately go off in Lambert's head. He glances nervously towards the door, but the stupid fucker is still blocking it.

"I admit," the alpha continues, "I was rather surprised when I saw you sneak out here, though I can't say I'm upset. It is rare to find an omega in our society willing to lift their skirts for favors."

What the fuck? "That's not--"

"It's alright, Mr. Rochefort, I understand--” another step-- “You were unable to find a match and so you found another way to get what you want. But I can give you more than he can. Lord Blackmore may be the son of a Duke, but unlike him, I am a firstborn alpha. And I have already inherited my lordship and my holdings. Be mine, and I could make you very comfortable, indeed."

Lambert can smell waves of lust rolling off the other man in droves and his face curls in disgust. "I want nothing from you," he snaps, pushing past Pembroke and making a reach for the door, but the alpha catches his wrist in an iron-like grip.

"Do not be foolish."

"Let go of me," Lambert growls, trying to pull out of his grasp, but the man's grip only tightens, fingernails digging into his skin and leaving purple marks in their wake.

"Your omega hysterics are clouding your judgement yet again, Mr. Rochefort. Think for a moment about what I could offer you."

"I said let go.” A loud smack echoes across the patio as Lambert’s other hand connects with Pembroke’s face hard enough to turn the man’s head all the way to the side. For a moment he stands frozen in shock at his own actions. Then he sees the look of utter rage on the alpha’s face.

"You are going to regret that," Lord Pembroke says slowly.

"Like hell I am." Lambert scrambles for the door, but Pembroke grabs him by the shoulders. “Get off me!” He struggles in the alpha’s grip, but Pembroke holds fast, maneuvering him around and smashing their lips together.

White hot panic courses through him.

For a moment Lambert remains paralyzed, fear racing through his body as this shit-stain of a man forcibly takes what he wants. It's horrible in every way. The way the man's hands trail over his body, the stench of his lust. Pembroke is not gentle like Aiden, but demanding and violent, gripping him so tightly it hurts.

When he finally regains control of himself, Lambert bites him. Hard.

Blood rushes into his mouth. He hears Pembroke scream.

The alpha pulls away, crying out in pain, but doesn't release his hold on Lambert. "You useless little whore!" Blood is trickling down his chin as the omega struggles in his grasp. "Do you think yourself too good for me? You are nothing. The only thing you’re good for is spreading your legs to any alpha who--"

But Lambert kicks him in the shin before he can finish that sentence.

The alpha gasps, and this time lets go of him long enough for Lambert to shove his hands into the man's chest with all his might, sending him flying backwards and smashing right through the stained glass doors.

------------------------

Everything seems to happen in slow motion.

Lord Pembroke tumbles backwards through the window, the crash of the glass splitting loud enough to silence the room. It feels like he's falling forever and Lambert is completely still, unable to do anything but watch the man's eyes bulge wide in his skull as he reaches forward, grasping at the air. Flecks of colored glass shine like jewels in the space around him. Some have already sliced into his skin. And then all at once time seems to catch up, and he hits the polished tile of the ballroom floor with a horrible crunch.

A collective gasp goes around the room. A few women shriek. Pembroke starts screaming and writhing on the floor, clutching his arm to his chest. It's bent at a strange angle.

"Lambert?" The two plates in Aiden's hands clatter to the ground as the alpha gapes at him in shock.

Vesemir and Guxart push their way through the crowd and the Duke of Ebbing scrambles towards his injured guest immediately. He looks to Lambert. "What happened?"

"I..." Lambert shakes his head. He can't seem to find words. He can't seem to focus on anything, not with the way Pembroke is screaming, not with the whispers and stares attacking him from all angles.

The Duke doesn't wait for his response and instead turns his attention back to Pembroke. "It's alright, Lord Pembroke, it's--  stop screaming, it's just a fracture." He nods his head to a nearby servant. "Send for a doctor. And bring this man somewhere more comfortable."

"Lambert." Vesemir is suddenly at his side, though Lambert didn't see him approach. "Are you hurt, son?"

He's breathing too fast; each breath feels like it's being forced out of his lungs. He nods his head shakily when he can't bring himself to form words.

"What happened?"

"I'll tell you what happened," Lord Pembroke shrieks, pointing the finger of his good arm towards the omega as a gaggle of servants help him to his feet. "This omega attempted to seduce me and when I refused, attacked me. He's completely mad!”

Lambert shakes his head once more. "That's...that's not true... I-I didn't--" He can't breathe. The room is spinning. Pembroke is still screaming accusations at him, but it just comes out murky. Like his head is underwater.

Suddenly a firm hand is on his shoulder. "It's alright, Lambert," Aiden's voice says. "Just breathe. Can you do that for me?"

“--I want this omega arrested at once! He belongs in an asylum!"

He can't take it. Everything is too much.

“Breathe, Lambert.”

He needs to get out of here. He needs…

Taking one last look at Aiden, Lambert turns on his heel and runs.

------------------------

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Lambert's heart is pounding in his chest as he races through the grounds of Blackmore Estate.

Each breath of air into his lungs burns. He knows it only makes him look that much more guilty when he runs, but even still, he doesn't stop. Not when he hears the lingering sounds of his father calling after him, of Lord Pembroke still screaming profanities. Not when the delicate satin slippers he'd been wearing are lost somewhere behind him, leaving his bare feet vulnerable to the rocks and mud and cold dew in the grass. Or when his hair is pulled and the sleeve of his gown torn by the thorns of a rose bush he brushes too close to.

How is it that everything has gone so wrong? Is this what Lambert gets for trying to be something he's not?

"Lambert!" A voice calls in the distance, the sound nearly lost on the wind.

Something aches in Lambert's chest when he recognizes the voice as Aiden's. It's almost enough to make him stop. Almost.

He can hear the sound of approaching hoofbeats and Lambert knows it's only a matter of time before he has to confront what just happened. Even he can't outrun a horse.

"Lambert please!"

Clenching his fists tightly, he stops running just in time for Aiden to cut him off on horseback, dismounting in one fluid motion from the steed that he didn't even bother to fit with a saddle. He looks wild and beautiful. This could almost be like a scene out of a fairy tale if not for the circumstances.

The alpha approaches him slowly, the way one might approach a scared animal, reaching a tentative hand out in Lambert's direction. "Please," he whispers, "just talk to me."

Lambert can't even meet Aiden's eyes. "I don't see what there is to talk about."

"What happened with Pembroke wasn't your fault."

The omega laughs; a cruel, humorless sound. "Isn't it though? I pushed him through a window, Aiden. I broke his arm."

Aiden shakes his head. "Did he hurt you?"

"I..." Lambert's hand instinctively goes to the nail marks on his arm before attempting to hide it in the draping panels of his clothing. "I'm fine."

"That's not what I asked." Aiden steps closer, reaching for Lambert's arm and gently takes it in his hands, turning it over to reveal the marks that Pembroke had left. The alpha goes very still. "What did he do?" The anger in his voice is terrifying, as is the scent of white hot rage rolling off of him. If it was coming from anyone but Aiden, Lambert would probably be terrified as well. 

Lambert takes a deep, shaking breath and the alpha's gaze softens. "It doesn't matter," he says quietly. "It's over, I'm fine. And I think I hurt him well enough that he won't try anything like that again."

"Are you fine?" Aiden asks.

Yes. No. He doesn't know. Lambert threads his hands into his hair, tugging at the base of his scalp. "I ruined everything."

"No, you didn't. He did, the moment he chose to lay a hand on you."

"The ton won't see it that way. He's an alpha. I'm..." Nothing, Pembroke's voice hisses. "I'm an omega," Lambert says, "which is as good as nothing. Who do you think they'll believe?"

"I believe you. So does your family-- and mine. Together we can figure this out. We'll fix everything."

Lambert shakes his head. His voice wavers as he speaks. "I don't think my reputation can ever come back from this, Aiden. I'm ruined. And it's best that you stop being seen with me before you're ruined too."

Aiden scoffs. "You think any of that matters to me? I told you that I'd gladly be seen with you, even in scandal, and I meant that." He takes the omega's hands in his, clutching them tightly. "You mean more than any reputation. Look at me, please."

Lambert lets the alpha's hand gently lift his chin so that their eyes meet. Aiden gives him a soft smile, then carefully wipes away the tears on his cheek-- he didn't even realize he'd been crying.

"I...I love you, Lambert. And--" he reaches into his coat, pulling out a small wooden box that he flicks open to reveal a ring-- "I want you to marry me."

Lambert stops breathing.

Marry me. Marry me. Marry me.

You are nothing.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I can't."

Chapter Text

It's raining again.

It's been raining a lot lately, which, in a way, Lambert is grateful for, because if he is going to be miserable at least it feels like a little piece of the world is miserable along with him. He slumps over the sofa in the morning room, an untouched cup of tea beside him, and watches as fat raindrops slowly trickle down the glass of the window and on to the delicate petals of the rosebush below.

He's lost track of how many days it's been. They all seem to blur together without any visitors or outings to set them apart, each one feeling more boring than the last. The only indication he has that any time has passed is the rising and setting of the sun as it reminds his sleep deprived body that the world keeps moving on without him, even if it feels like Lambert's world has come to a screeching halt. That, and the repeated comments of his brothers that he should stop sulking and and move on with his life.

But Lambert can't move on, because everything is different now. Don't they know that he has tried already?

Once, solitude was his sanctuary. He didn't need anyone or anything. It wasn't until his friendship with Aiden that he realized how rich life could be when filled with the companionship of another. And knowing what that feels like, he can't ever go back to the way things were. The alpha filled a hole in his life that he never knew was there, and without him, a piece of Lambert is missing.

He knows what his family whispers amongst each other when they think he can't hear; they all see the signs. Not sleeping, not eating, no longer having the motivation to engage in the activities that once brought him joy. Heartbreak. Well, Lambert doesn't know what heartbreak feels like, but he's sure that it can't possibly be worse than this.

Every time he closes his eyes, the final events of the Blackmore Ball are playing on a loop inside his head: what happened with Pembroke, running away, Aiden's proposal. But the worst of it is still the look on the alpha's face that's been burned into his memory. Every time he relives it, the weight of Lambert's misery returns in full force. Which is fine because he deserves to be miserable, since he's pretty sure a piece of Aiden died that night. And anyone who could do that to such a sweet and caring man is a monster. A monster who deserves every bit of pain he has coming to him.

Marry me, Aiden had asked him and in response Lambert tore his heart out.

But you don’t understand. You don’t understand what I’d be giving up. With you, I’m nothing, even if you make me feel like I’m everything.

When he lies awake in the wee hours of the night, Lambert silently wonders how Aiden is faring. From the looks of the frequent correspondence between his father and the Duke of Ebbing, he could hazard a guess that it's not good. But Aiden will recover, given time. And he'll find someone who deserves his love much more than Lambert. 

Then he'll be happy.

Then he'll move on, and Lambert will remain here, reaping the consequences of his actions.

He always wanted to be a spinster anyway.

 -----------------------------

"Jaskier and I are going to the park," Geralt says, somewhere around two weeks after Lambert rejected Aiden's proposal, "I think you should join us."

The omega glances up from the book he's been pretending to read to find his eldest brother giving him a stern look, arms crossed in front of his chest. "I think I should like to stay here," he replies flatly.

"You can't stay inside forever, Lambert."

"Watch me."

Geralt rolls his eyes and pulls the book from his brother's hands.

"--Hey! I was reading that!"

"No, you weren't. Your eyes weren't even moving across the page."

Fucking Geralt. It looks like Jaskier's knack for observation is rubbing off on him. Lambert groans loudly and swipes the book back, snapping it shut and throwing it across the sofa. "Fuck off."

"Lambert--" the alpha takes a long, slow breath, as if trying to calm himself. He must really think the situation is serious if Geralt of all people is trying to be patient. "Think reasonably. Fresh air and a change of scenery might help you to feel better."

"Yes," the omega agrees, "and it will also give every member of the ton opportunity to leer at me; the insane omega who assaulted a Viscount and rejected the proposal of a Duke's son. You think I don't know what they're saying about me, Geralt? It's been written on every gossip sheet for the past two weeks."

"You've never cared about what the ton thinks before."

"Yeah, well, you try living in my shoes for a day. Whether you care about the people or not, getting gawked at by every member of the nobility in a hundred mile radius is still unpleasant."

"I have," Geralt replies. "Remember what happened when I was courting Jaskier? The incident with Valdo Marx? I've experienced my fair share of scandal, little brother. Trust me when I say, it won't last forever. Once the ton has something new to gossip over, attention on you will fade."

At that, Lambert raises an eyebrow. "You think so, do you? Tell me, brother, just where do you think our father has gone on his business trip to the country?"

"Father said he was meeting with a potential investor--"

"He lied, Geralt," the omega says bitterly. "He's meeting with Lord Pembroke in a final effort to get him to drop the charges against me. I...went through his mail. If he has his way, I'll be locked up-- or worse."

Who knows what sort of punishments lie in store for an omega like him? If the people take Pembroke's side, if they actually take his accusations seriously, Lambert could be sent to an asylum. He wouldn't just lose his reputation, he'd lose everything.

Something in Geralt's face softens and he sighs, sitting down on the sofa next to his brother and opening his arms in invitation for a hug. Lambert lets out a slow exhale and leans into his brother's arms. He spent so much of his life trying to be strong, he forgot what it feels like to rely on others.

"We'll figure this out,” Geralt murmurs, “Da, Eskel and I, we're not going to let anything bad happen to you. Okay?"

 "Okay."

Geralt hugs him for a moment longer, then pulls back far enough to look Lambert in the eye. "Good. Now go get dressed. With Da out of town I'm in charge, and I say you're going to the park with us."

His voice indicates no room for argument, and so, Lambert is forced to dress for the occasion before being promptly ushered out of the house, into the carriage, and then back out of the carriage when he makes one final attempt to resist his brother’s demands. 

At least it's not a bad day for a walk. The recent rain squalls have given way to a beautiful blue sky with sunshine peeking through the clouds and a soft summer breeze on his skin. It is, as much as he hates to admit it, much nicer than wasting away in the morning room. And so long as they keep to the far, less frequented trails, Lambert may very well survive this mandatory outing after all.

Beside him, Jaskier is recounting a very detailed story about an incident with his ex-fiancé and long-time rival, Valdo Marx, that Lambert is only half-listening to. He once found the other omega's constant chattering to be an annoyance, but today Lambert is grateful for it because it provides distraction from his melancholy.

"And so I said, if he's such an adept musician, why is it that I, an omega unable to even attend Oxenfurt, am able to compose a sonnet leagues better than his best work in half the time." Jaskier chuckles a bit at that. "You should have seen how red his face got. He looked like he was about to start breathing fire."

Geralt hums in agreement and tugs his husband close to press a quick kiss to his cheek as the walk. The way Lambert's brother is so openly affectionate with the man is adorable and it only makes him throw up in his mouth a little bit. "Of course you're better than that whiny little pissant," the alpha grunts. "He wouldn't know talent if it bit him in the rear."

His brother-in-law laughs, full and bright. "It's true, isn't it? I'm so glad my parents didn't end up saddling me with that sorry excuse for a man. I don't know what I would have done if Geralt didn't show up and sweep me off my feet."

Lambert's always had a great deal of empathy for Jaskier's struggles as an omega. He can't even imagine what it would have been like to grow up the way that the other man did-- living with a family that didn't care about his feelings in a match and turned a blind eye towards his intelligence. Finding an alpha like one of Lambert's brothers was essentially like finding a gold mine. Under Vesemir's parenting, they became the only non-prejudiced alphas he knew. Well, them and Ai-- no. No, he's not thinking about that right now.

"You probably would have ended up in the same stale marriage as every other member of the ton," Lambert says. "Strained, loveless, a horrible imbalance of power."

Jaskier visibly shudders at the thought. "Ugh, indeed."

"Well I for one I'm glad that we found each other," Geralt adds.

"As am I, darling! I thank the gods everyday that I managed to stumble across an alpha so lovely."

"I suppose I'm glad too," Lambert agrees, picking a leaf off a nearby tree and twirling it in his fingers. "Even if it does mean I have to play a third wheel to your disgusting displays of affection. Jaskier would have been wasted on-- Aiden."

Lambert freezes up completely as a man astride a grey gelding comes around the bend. He's still a distance away but he would recognize that hair, the curve of his face, the shape of his silhouette, even the way in which he holds himself, anywhere. Lambert would know him in a crowd of thousands by his scent and the sound of his breathing alone.

“Aiden? What does he have to do with-- oh. Oh, I see.”

Seeing the alpha after the weeks spent apart is the most beautiful kind of torture. Lambert might have been prepared to deal with his own sadness, but encountering Aiden suddenly makes the wound fresh all over again. He wants to reach out and pull the alpha into his arms. He wants to run away and never look back. Caught between two extremes, he can do nothing except stand there, paralyzed. 

Aiden's horse slows to the stop as it reaches the group. He looks paler than usual, with dark circles under his eyes indicating that he's probably been sleeping as well as Lambert has. His jaw flexes as he addresses the three.

"I-- I'm sorry," he stammers, deliberately looking anywhere but at Lambert. "I thought this trail would be empty."

"Aiden--"

"Excuse me, I shall find my leisure elsewhere. Good day, Mr. Rochefort." He turns his horse around, digging his heels into the creature’s side and urging it into a canter.

"Wait!" Lambert calls after him, desperation clawing at him from the inside. "Aiden, please."

But the alpha doesn't stop and quickly disappears through the trees, making Lambert's heart sink as he stares down the empty trail.

"I think I would like to go home now," he says quietly.

Neither Geralt nor Jaskier argue with that.

---------------------------------

Vesemir returns from his trip to the country the next morning, striding into the dining room halfway through breakfast and declaring, "everyone out. I wish to speak with Lambert alone." Once the room is empty, save for the two of them, the Duke pulls up a chair next to the omega and folds his hands in his lap.

Lambert slowly puts down the scone he'd been eating.

"I spoke with Lord Pembroke."

"And?"

"I was unable to convince him to drop the charges against you."

The words land like a blow. Lambert swallows thickly as the news of his fate sinks in. "What's to happen then?" He's dreading the answer but it's best that he knows now so that he can at least attempt to make his peace with it.

"Nothing," his father says simply. "You didn't let me finish. I was unable to convince him. But my deep pockets proved to be quite persuasive."

Lambert's jaw drops all the way to the floor. "You paid him off?" Vesemir Rochefort, Duke of Kaedwen, esteemed general of the Emperor's Army, quite literally known for being the most honest man in the country bribed his way out of it?

"I did."

"And what about all those speeches you gave us about honor? How a man's value is only good as his word and his integrity. What would the ton say?"

"To hell with honor," Vesemir says with a ferocity in his voice that almost makes Lambert shake. "You think I care what anyone else thinks? What matters most is taking care of my son.” He takes Lambert's hands in his, squeezing them tightly. “I would never stand by and watch that horrid man punish you for his own actions. You are a Rochefort, Lambert, and I will fight tooth and nail until I'm broken and bloody to keep you and the rest of our family safe. Nothing else matters beyond that."

After two weeks spent wallowing in emptiness, everything seems to hit him at once. A sob rips its way through Lambert's throat and he surges forward, wrapping his arms around his father and hugging him tight. 

"I love you, Da."

"I love you too, my boy."

And for a long while Lambert just cries as his father hugs him. He doesn’t care that he probably looks pathetic. He’s hurting, he’s been hurting for a while now and he can no longer keep these feelings bottled up inside him. So he cries, and cries, until he has nothing left to give.

When he finally pulls away his eyes are wet with tears and the Duke hands him a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket. "Thanks," he sniffs, drying his eyes.

"Oh Lambert,” Vesemir says, lifting his chin. “I hate seeing you like this. I'm so sorry that things turned out the way they did with Aiden. I wish there was something I could do to help."

Another sob wracks the omega’s body. “I don’t think anything can be done. He hates me, Da. He gave me everything and I basically spat in his face. How could he not hate me?”

“My boy,” Vesemir says softly, “If there’s one thing I know, it’s that that man does not hate you.”

“But he does! You didn’t see him yesterday, he wouldn’t even look at me-- I…I think I loved him,” Lambert says, the realization dawning on him, spoken clear as a chorus of trumpets. “And now I’ve lost him forever.”

His father nods slowly, taking Lambert's hands in his once more. "Listen to me very closely, son. If this is how you truly feel about Aiden, then you must tell him. Seek him out, make things right, because if you hold on to your feelings and never make them known then the two of you will only be miserable for it."

Lambert nods, wiping away his tears and standing from his chair. "I know what I need to do," he says.

"And what's that?"

"I need to have a talk with Jaskier."

---------------------------

"How did you do it?” he says, storming into the morning room. “How did you marry Geralt? You value your independence as much as I do. You're ambitious, driven, talented. I know that you had dreams about becoming a famous musician. How could you give that all up for an alpha? How is it that you ended up here, tending a family and doing--" he shudders-- "embroidery."

The other omega looks up from his needlework, an eyebrow raised. "Because I love him," he replies simply.

"But your dreams! Your independence! Every action you take is now subject to the approval of your husband. You're not just his mate, Jaskier, you're literally his."

Jaskier looks at Lambert for a long moment, then places his needlework off to the side. "Let me make one thing perfectly clear," he says, "I haven't given up anything. I am my own person and I make my own choices. I decided to wait on my career as a musician-- not because Geralt chose that for me, but because I wanted to be there for our daughter as she grows up. And I am not unhappy with my life, Lambert. I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk about it like it's something you found smeared across the bottom of your shoe."

"I-- you're right," Lambert says, feeling rather guilty. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way. I just..."

"You're at war between what you want and what you feel you're allowed to want." His brother-in-law shakes his head, and pats the spot on the chaise next to him. "Have a seat, Lambert. I had a feeling the two of us would have this conversation eventually."

Lambert joins him on the chaise and Jaskier turns in his seat so that they're facing each other. "You hate being an omega, don't you?"

"Of course I do.” Although he's sure Jaskier doesn't actually need the answer.

His brother-in-law hums in agreement. "It's shit sometimes," he admits. "I used to hate it too, you know. Still do on occasion."

"But you're so good at being one."

Jaskier is everything that Lambert is not; pretty, elegant, well spoken. He's proficient in all the accomplishments expected of their subsex and when Jaskier dresses in all the frills and finery that's popular, he actually looks good. Furthermore, he has a husband of high rank and a beautiful baby girl. He's a doting husband and loving parent. Jaskier is everything that Mamas tell their omega children to strive for.

"Just because I'm good at playing the part doesn't mean that I don't experience all that comes with it," the other man reminds him. "Have I ever told you the story of my engagement before I met Geralt?"

Lambert shrugs. "Bits and pieces over the years. Never the full thing though."

The musician hums, drumming his fingers over his knee. "Like you, I never had much interest in finding a match during my first season. I didn't want an alpha. I wanted to focus on my music. My parents, of course, couldn't have that, and so when the season ended and I had nary a suitor, my father drew up in agreement with an old friend.

“They thought that since we shared common interests it would be a good match. And Valdo was nice enough at the beginning, though I never liked him the way he liked me. But after we were engaged he became... demeaning."

Jaskier shakes his head. "The things he said to me sometimes made my skin crawl. He didn't see me as a person-- to him I was just a hole to fuck and a womb to bear his children. Valdo's mother apparently died from an illness when he was young, but there are rumors that the Viscount beat her to death. His three older brothers turned out just like their father, and I'm sure Valdo would have too, given time. You know they all had a bet on who could sire the most heirs?” The omega laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “All of their mates died in childbirth after having six or seven or eight children. That likely would have been my fate too had I not found Geralt; locked away from the world, beaten and bruised and kept pregnant until I died."

Lambert feels sick to his stomach. He'd always known that Jaskier's former fiancé was a prick, but he never knew it was that bad. It's because of stories like these that he's never trusted alphas. He can't imagine what it must have been like for Jaskier to be engaged to such a man, for him to believe that would be his fate.

"I tried to plead with my parents to cancel the engagement," Jaskier continues, "but my father wouldn't have it. He said that Valdo was a fine young man from a respectable family and I should be grateful that he found me such a good match. My mother told me that I needed to be strong and that this was just something that was an omega's burden to bear. The only reason I was able to get out of it was because I caught the attention of a Duke's son. Geralt didn't just save me from a loveless marriage. He saved my life.

Jaskier is silent for a moment, smiling fondly as if remembering.

"Your brother, he was so different from the other alphas I had met, so kind at first I thought it was some sort of trick. But it wasn't. Geralt was just a good person because that's how your father raised him to be. After Valdo, I was so scared to show an interest in anything meant for an omega, because I worried that the moment I did, Geralt would remember what I was and treat me accordingly. But that moment never came, and in time, I learned to embrace being an omega again, because it wasn't my subsex that made me weak, it was how I saw myself."

Jaskier takes Lambert's hand in his, lacing their fingers together and offering the other man a soft smile. "I know that you're scared, Lambert. I know you're worried that if you marry Aiden, you'll lose the respect you fought so hard to earn in the first place. But loving someone does not make you weak, it is the greatest gift life has to offer, only in order to receive it you need to be willing to let yourself live."

Is that what it would feel like? Lambert wouldn't call these past few weeks living. But for a while there, with Aiden, he is certain that he had a taste of it.

And despite everything, Lambert still wants Aiden. He wants to talk with him, laugh with him, share every thought in his head and every feeling in his heart. He aches for it. He wants to feel the alpha's body beneath his hands and know the warmth of his touch in return. He wants to hear what other sounds the man can make, see the way he looks lost in the throes of pleasure. He wants Aiden's face to be the last thing he sees each night and the first thing he sees when he wakes up in the morning.

They could have a life together, a real life.

"I love him," Lambert says. "I think I have for a while now, but it took me until he was gone to realize it."

"Do you want to spend your life with him?"

"Yes."

"Do you want him to be yours?"

"Yes."

 "Then why are you still talking to me?"

"I--" He's right. Lambert rises from his seat, heading for the door. He needs to find Aiden. Before he leaves, he spares one last look to his brother-in-law. "Thank you, Jaskier."

The musician gives him a coy smile. "You can thank me by making me your man of honor at the wedding. Now go!"

-----------------------------

The door to Aiden's townhouse opens almost as soon as Lambert's fist connects with it, revealing the alpha's butler, Mr. Strickland, a stout beta with salt and pepper hair and a resting frown that reminds Lambert all too much of the stuffy governess he had growing up.

"Mr. Rocherfort," Strickland greets. "I'm afraid that Lord Blackmore isn't seeing any visitors today."

Lambert doesn't wait for the man to try and usher him out, instead pushing past him and heading towards Aiden's study himself. "He'll see me."

"I really must insist that you heed my warning, Mr. Rochefort," Strickland says, trotting after him. "His lordship is in low spirits today and has requested that he not be disturbed by anyone. He will surely be upset if I allow you to--"

"It's fine," Lambert says curtly. "If Lord Blackmore has any complaints I'll be sure that they're directed towards me rather than yourself and the rest of the staff. I'm ordering you to take me to him. It's not your fault for listening to the demands of a Duke's son."

"If you say so, Mr. Rochefort, but you should know, Lord Blackmore is not in his study. He has yet to leave his bedchamber."

That almost makes Lambert pause. That's...that's not like Aiden. "Then direct me there."

"It would be highly inappropriate for me to--"

"Now, Strickland."

The man shakes his head but offers no further complaint, leading Lambert up the stairs and to a grand set of double doors at the end of the hall. The omega marches right up to them and knocks, anticipation swirling in his gut. There's the sound of a groan on the other side of the doors, then footsteps, before they swing open to reveal a very tired looking, very shirtless Aiden, dressed in nothing but pants and a navy blue robe to cover the copper skin of his chest.

"Mr. Strickland, I told you no one was to disturb me until-- Lambert."

The alpha's eyes widen and Lambert watches as his face goes through a myriad of emotions: shock, hurt, worry, relief.

"Erm-- Mr. Rochefort, I mean--" he quickly fixes his robe, pulling it closed as a pink tinge spreads across his cheeks. "What are you- what are you doing here?"

Lambert answers by leaning forward on the tips of his toes, grabbing Aiden's face in both of his hands, and kissing him deeply.

The alpha makes a sound of surprise but eventually melts into it, kissing back as his hands come to rest on the shorter man's waist.

"I came to do that," Lambert says as he pulls away, "And to tell you that I love you-- I'm sorry I was too much of a fool to realize it until now. I would be honored to marry you. That is, if you'll still have me."

He's struck breathless by the look that Aiden gives him in response. "You love me?" the alpha asks quietly, as if he can't possibly believe that it could be real.

"I love you," Lambert confirms. "I want you to be my mate."

"Yes," Aiden says immediately. "Yes, yes, yes. I love you so much, Lambert. Being your mate would mean the world to me."

"Well, good. Because now you're stuck with me-- and there's no getting out of it."

Aiden scoffs, rolling his eyes. "You say that as if I'd ever want to."

“Shut up and kiss me, you beautiful, beautiful idiot.”

Aiden does, and Lambert doesn't even care that Strickland and the other house staff are right there watching. He doesn't have a reputation to worry about anymore anyway.

When Aiden breaks the kiss, he curls an arm around Lambert's waist, pulling him close so that they're hip to hip and kisses his cheek. "Strickland," he says, nodding to the older man, "no more visitors today. Mr. Rochefort and I are going to be spending some much needed time...catching up."

"As you wish, Lord Blackmore."

The alpha swings the double doors closed, but pauses with just an inch of space between them. "Oh. And I believe I just got engaged. Spread the news, won't you?" Then the doors to his bedchamber snap shut, leaving him and Lambert alone at last.

The omega tilts his head up, giving Aiden a soft smile. "Engaged, are we? Funny. I don't recall seeing the ring." He wiggles his fingers expectantly and the alpha breathes a laugh, going over to the vanity and pulling a small box from the drawer, which he presents to Lambert.

Inside is a slender silver ring set with an opal and two pearls. "It isn't much," Aiden explains, "But it was my mother's. It was one of the few things we were able to salvage from the shipwreck. I've always wanted to give it to my mate, but I never thought I'd be able to since most omegas would expect something more elaborate coming from the son of a Duke. But I thought you would appreciate its true value."

"It's perfect," he tells Aiden. "Put it on me?"

The alpha slides the ring onto his finger. It surprisingly fits quite well. He kisses the back of Lambert's third knuckle, just above the ring and the omega feels his cheeks heat up. Another kiss is pressed to the inside of his wrist, then one further up his arm, on his shoulder, his collarbone, until Lambert loses patience and just pulls Aiden in for a proper kiss.

Lambert kisses him thoroughly, wrapping his arms around the other man's neck in an endless attempt to get him closer, closer, closer. He is no longer unsure of his desires. No longer ashamed of them. Lambert wants Aiden in his entirety and he doesn't care what anyone else thinks.

The alpha makes a pleased sound into the kiss, surrendering himself completely to Lambert's conquering of his mouth. In fact, if the rumbling purr that starts up in his chest is any indicator, Aiden likes him taking control quite a bit. He makes a squeak of surprise as the alpha's hands slip behind his thighs and in one smooth motion, lifts him off the ground as if he weighs nothing. Lambert curls legs around Aiden's waist as the other man carries him towards the bed, then sits back against the mattress with the omega positioned in his lap.

Aiden pulls back, green eyes fixated on Lambert's as he gently smooths his hands back and forth across his partner's thighs. "Alright?"

It takes Lambert's kiss-drunk brain a second to process the question. "Y-yeah. S'good."

"I feel as though I should clarify, I don't intend to do anything you're not comfortable with, but I would like to kiss you for a while if you're amenable to that. I..." A pink flush deepens across his neck and ears, "I missed having you in my arms."

“I missed it too,” Lambert admits. In fact, it’s been on his mind way more than he’s willing to admit. “And I don’t think I’m ready for…anything else yet.” He only just became comfortable with admitting that he loves Aiden this morning. Anything more than that might be a bit much for his brain to process. “But I’d like to keep kissing you.”

Their lips collide once more and feeling rather bold, Lambert puts everything he has into it. His hands cradle the back of Aiden's head as he licks past the alpha's parted lips, enjoying the soft, breathy sound that the action causes. The alpha's thumbs draw gentle circles where they're rested on Lambert's hips, still purring like thunder while the omega shifts his weight onto his knees to give himself the advantage of height as he practically devours the man in front of him.

Gods above, it feels so good.

It always has with Aiden, but after weeks spent apart, weeks spent yearning for the other man, the sensations that come with being together once more are nearly overwhelming, but in the best sort of way. The alpha's scent filling his lungs, the lingering taste of coffee and orange marmalade on Aiden's lips, the way his hands seem to fit perfectly around Lambert's hips, as if they're meant to be there.

Without meaning to, Lambert continues pressing forward, chasing the alpha's mouth like he can't get enough of it until he has Aiden pressed against the soft quilt that adorns the bed, strong arms curled around him and oh-- yes. This is nice. Chest to chest, Lambert can feel the rhythmic moving of Aiden's breathing, the dull thump of his heart in his chest, the solid heat of firm muscle pressed against him. Aiden's scent is everywhere; in the air, in the sheets, the fragrant smell of cloves and lavender has even managed to seep into Lambert's clothes. Some dark, primal part of his brain wants to roll around until he's covered in it.

Mine, his inner omega whispers, immensely smug and satisfied. Alpha, mate, mate, mine.

Aiden's lips slow against his as they continue to kiss, somewhat quelling that fire that has been steadily growing hotter within him. It shifts into something more relaxed, but no less pleasant, filling Lambert with a giddy sort of calm, as if they have all the time in the world and he could kiss Aiden forever. His hands caress the alpha's jaw and side, feeling over smooth skin. Aiden is melting beneath his touch and it makes Lambert feel incredibly pleased.

But then Aiden stops kissing him all together and...starts snoring?

Lambert pulls back to see the other man's eyes still closed, unsure whether to be annoyed or amused. "Are you seriously falling asleep right now?" he asks incredulously, and the alpha's eyes blink open, a deep blush spreading across his face.

"No!" he insists, but then after a pause, sheepishly admits, "perhaps."

"Perhaps, he says."

"I'm sorry. I'm afraid I haven't had a decent night's sleep since the Blackmore Ball. I was just so relieved to have you again and you were kissing and petting me so lovely I-- might have drifted off?"

The omega breathes a laugh, unable to find it in him to be upset. "And here I thought I was boring you to death."

"On the contrary," Aiden says, cupping Lambert's jaw with one hand and giving him one of those painfully soft smiles. "Your presence makes me so at ease that I finally felt relaxed enough to doze."

Lambert smirks. "Well. I suppose I can't be upset with you over that. I am, after all, fantastic. Though I understand your exhaustion quite well. I haven't slept much either."  Since I broke your heart goes unsaid, but Lambert is sure that it's been eating away at Aiden the same way it has been tormenting him.

"In that case, I have an alternative proposal. We take a nap."

Lambert feels himself flush. "Right now?" In your bed? Together?

"Right now," Aiden confirms. "Just like that night in my study, yeah? Unless you don't want to..."

"No, I- I'd like that."

They rearrange themselves; Lambert kicking off his shoes and removing his coat, then settling against the pillows on his back. Aiden curls into his side immediately, tucking his face into the crook of the omega's neck and wrapping his arm around Lambert's middle, sighing deeply. "Alright?" He asks quietly, and Lambert hums, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

"Alright."

And as he feels himself drift off into the sweet embrace of sleep, he hears Aiden's sleepily murmur, "love you, Lambs. Gonna fuckin' love you forever. My Lambert."

I love you too, is the last thought Lambert has before sleep takes him, My Aiden.

Chapter Text

It's a quiet wedding, with only family and close friends in attendance-- nothing flashy or garish like Lambert has seen many other couples of the ton have-- he never liked that sort of thing anyway. Even still, the church and hall for the reception are decorated tastefully; with garlands and arranged bouquets of hemlock, lily of the valley, and nightshade (Only the most poisonous, Aiden declares endearingly, for my most poisonous of husbands).

Lambert wears something much like the outfit he wore at the Blackmore Ball; a frock of white silk adorned with little pearl beads that acts as an outer layer to a shirt and pants, this time complete with a long train and veil that swishes behind him as he walks. Jaskier helps him dress for the occasion, all too pleased that his initial selection for Lambert's wardrobe was enough of a success for him to wear a second time, though he does not make any comment beyond the smug expression on his face.

When he looks in the mirror, he’s worried that he'll have regrets. Lambert never wanted to be a bride, but that was when all his imaginings of the situation involved some faceless alpha laying claim to him through a marriage he doesn't want.

But when he beholds his reflection, no feelings of great apprehension and regret overwhelm him. It's just Lambert; staring back at himself. He may look a little different than he normally does, but despite everything it's still him.

Vesemir meets them outside the chapel when it's time. Everyone else is already inside and Lambert knows that as soon as they open the doors Aiden will be waiting for him at the altar, but it's his father that will lead him there.

"Lambert." The old Duke takes his son's hands in his, the smile on his face overjoyed and perhaps a bit teary. "You look beautiful."

The omega can't help but smile. "Thanks, Da. I hope I make you proud."

"Oh son, you already have. And you never needed to marry to earn that. All you needed to do was be yourself. You have grown into a fine young man indeed."

As Lambert walks down the aisle, he expects to feel nervous, but he doesn't, because as soon as he's through those doors Aiden is waiting for him and the mixture of sheer joy and awe on the alpha's face makes all those feelings melt away. The walk to the altar feels like an eternity in the same impossible way that it feels faster than the blink of an eye. But then finally he's there, and Aiden is smiling and Lambert can't help but do the same.

They say their vows. Exchange rings. The priest fastens their hands together with a ribbon, and that's that. They're married.

Aiden's touch is light against Lambert's skin as he slowly lifts the omega’s face to eye level. The kiss they share takes his breath away. Aiden kisses Lambert like he's the only thing that matters in the world.

Once the wedding is over, they head back to Rochefort House for the reception, where there’s food, dancing, and celebration all around.

Lambert's brothers are annoying, but supportive in their own way. They both give him and Aiden their congratulations, but return a ways into the reception and about four glasses into the champagne, to drunkenly do it over again.

Geralt claps Lambert on the back and declares, rather teary, "M' happy for you, baby brother. You finally found someone who will put up with all of your shit forever."

Eskel, slightly less drunk but equally inappropriate, grabs him by both of the shoulders and firmly says, "Aiden is handsome. Enjoy your wedding night," and then proceeds to waggle his eyebrows at Lambert until both are dragged off by a very apologetic Jaskier to have some water.

Lambert talks with his new in-laws and dances with his new husband, though it feels strange to think of Aidan as such.

At some point Jaskier takes him aside and presses a folded scrap of paper into Lambert's palm, whispering, "I have something for you."

The omega eyes his brother-in-law, an eyebrow raised. "What is it?"

"A name," Jaskier replies. "Of a scullery maid that used to work in Lord Pembroke's household. I prefer for her sake that she remain anonymous for now, but should that man ever give you trouble again... It may be worth tracking her down. She has some stories that would make his lordship tremble in his boots should the rest of the ton find out." He smiles wickedly. "It could cause quite the scandal, indeed."

Lambert stares at the other man, slightly baffled at how he managed to find such information. "I'll... keep that in mind," he says, tucking the scrap into his pocket. "Thank you."

Jaskier only hums. "Us omegas have got to look out for each other, don't you think?" And with that he slips away to join the others.

By the time the party comes to a close, Lambert is thoroughly done talking with people for the day. He loves his family, of course, and his in-laws aren't too bad either, but the excess socializing was still enough to make him let out a long sigh of relief once the door to his and Aiden's carriage finally closes.

His new husband-- husband. Yep, still strange-- watches with amusement from the seat directly across from him "I have to agree with that dramatic sigh of yours," he says, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I love our family dearly, but I think I shall need a few days of total isolation after all this revelry."

Since it's only him and Aiden, Lambert allows himself to yawn and slouch generously in his seat with a nod. "I most definitely agree."

"And I'd be lying if I didn't admit to the ulterior motive of having you all to myself for a few days, oh husband mine."

Lambert stomach flip-flops at the implication in his words. Finally it will be just the two of them. Lambert will get to kiss Aiden and hold him and touch him as much as he wants. No more worries about reputation, no more proper behavior. Just him and Aiden. Him and Aiden alone... His eyes glaze over with a pleasant fog as Lambert imagines what other things they might get up to.

Desire swelling inside him, he gives the alpha a feline smile in response. Well. The ride to Aiden's townhouse is not very far. He shall get to experience such other things soon enough.

When they arrive, Aiden is insistent that he carry his new bride over the threshold as per tradition, scooping Lambert into his arms with surprising strength and spinning him around a bit, making him laugh as a kiss is pressed to his cheek and he's carried all the way up to the alpha's bedchambers. Once inside, Aiden helps him remove his veil and the outer layer of his clothes that includes the train so that he's more comfortable. Then, he pulls Lambert in for an impossibly soft kiss.

When they break for air, Aiden presses their foreheads together, nudging Lambert's nose with his own. "I can't believe I finally get to call you my husband," he murmurs against the omega's lips. "I feel like I've waited an eternity to have you like this."

"Aiden..." The name comes out as more of a breathy sort of whine when the alpha ducks down and kisses the spot on Lambert's neck, where his mating bite will soon be.

"I love you so much. I'm honored that you'd want me as your mate."

"Love you too," Lambert manages to gasp as Aiden begins mouthing along the sensitive skin. Fire burns within him and he clutches at the other man's shoulders, pulling him closer. "Gods, I-- I want you so badly, Aiden."

“Then you shall have me,” Aiden says, pulling back to meet his eyes. “For I am yours, Lambert. I have always been yours.”

The kiss Aiden presses to his lips is desperate. Lambert can feel his desire through the action alone and it only stirs him up further as they maneuver themselves onto the bed, Aiden lying on his back and Lambert's legs on either side of his hips, holding the alpha's face in his hands as he kisses him like water in the desert.

At first, everything's fine-- kissing Aiden is always incredible-- it's not until Lambert feels his cock stirring between his legs that it begins to fully sink in what the end goal is. Then, all of a sudden, Aiden moans into their kiss and his hips jolt up of their own accord, brushing a very hot, very hard, erection against the omega's hip.

Lambert wants to say that the way he reacted was dignified, but the yelp that leaves his mouth is anything but. The action surprises him so much that he almost falls off the bed in his effort to scramble out of Aiden's lap and to the relative safety of the carpet.

And now he's pacing a hole through the floor of Aiden's bedroom like a damn coward.

"Lambert," the alpha calls softly from the bed.

This is... This is stupid. He's overreacting. It's just sex. Lambert knows how sex works, in theory, anyway. And he loves Aiden. He wants Aiden. He should be fine--

"Lambert."

But what if he ruins it? He may know the intricacies of the process itself, but that's far from hands-on experience. What if...what if it hurts? He knows that Aiden will have to knot him in order for them to mate, but he’s seen anatomical drawings of an alpha's knot and it looks big. Will it even fit? The book say that an omega's first time is not usually enjoyable and Lambert's never had anything inside him before so--

"Lambert." There's a gentle hand on his shoulder and he looks up to find Aiden standing next to him, giving a comforting smile. "We don't have to do anything. It's okay if you're not ready."

But that's the thing-- "No, I-- I do want to. I'm just..."

"Nervous?"

Lambert takes a deep, slow breath. "Yeah."

"It's alright," Aiden says, his voice soothing and impossibly soft. "I'm nervous too." His hands trail down Lambert’s shoulders, over his biceps, his wrists, until they gently clasp his hands.

"Oh yeah? What could you possibly have to be nervous about? You've done this before."

"I have. But not with my husband. Not with someone I love. I'm worried that I'll mess up, that I'll hurt you or leave you unsatisfied. That you'll decide marrying me was a mistake."

"It wasn't," Lambert says quickly. "A mistake, that is. I love you." Of that he's certain. He wants to be Aiden's mate even if it does hurt. Lambert could tolerate it if it meant that they could be together forever.

"I love you too," Aiden tells him. "And we'll take things slow, alright?"

Lambert lets out a shaking breath. "Alright."

"Now, come back to bed?"

Lambert expects him to continue where they left off, but instead Aiden has them sit just on the edge of the mattress, a foot apart, but still holding hands.

"I know that it's unheard of to talk of such things," the alpha begins, "but can we? If you are to be my mate, I don't want any secrets between us. I want you to feel comfortable enough to be vocal about your desires and honest about your fears. It's the same where our marriage bed is concerned. So just... talk to me? What's going through your head right now?"

"I..." despite his less sheltered upbringing, embarrassment still runs hot in Lambert's cheeks as he admits, "I don't know what to do. I mean, I understand how...intimate relations work on a functional level, but I don't know what to do. What if I'm bad at it? Or hate the way it feels? It's our wedding night, I don't want to ruin anything."

"The only thing that would ruin our wedding night," Aiden assures him, giving Lambert's hand a squeeze, "is if you ended up doing something that you did not want to do. I won't pressure you, Lambert. If you want to wait, then we'll wait. Hell, if you never want to be intimate with me, that's okay too. But if you want to, then we’ll go slow, and I promise I’ll make it good for you.”

“I do want to,” Lambert says carefully. “And…slow sounds good.”

“Alright. Slow it is then. Before we get started though, I have some things for you.” He hands Lambert two small bottles that he retrieves from the nightstand. “The first one is a heat suppressant,” Aiden explains, as Lambert turns over the bottle in his hands. “I know that it’s expected for omegas to stop taking their suppressants once they marry, but I wanted you to have the option since it’s likely that our mating will trigger your cycle in the next day or two.”

That's... Lambert hasn't even thought about his cycle yet. He's never even had a real heat for Melitele's sake since he's been on suppressants since he was twelve. He might be alright having sex with Aiden right now, but a heat is a whole different battle that he's not sure he's ready for.

"And the other?" Lambert asks.

"The other is a contraceptive potion, so that if you do wish to spend your heat with me there won't be any unwanted results."

He’s silent for a moment as he considers his options. He would be open to spending his heat with Aiden, one day. But for now… "I think I'll take the suppressant," he says eventually.

"Of course."

"Though I'll take it after, since that shit tastes horrible and you won't want to taste it on me."

The alpha grins, putting the bottles back to the side and leaning closer. "Does that mean I get to kiss you some more?"

The omega rolls his eyes. “You can always kiss me.”

And Aiden does, he kisses Lambert's lips sweetly, followed by his cheek, his jaw, his neck. He mouths over Lambert's pulse point, suckles gently, then moves lower, pressing open mouth kisses all over the exposed skin of his neck and collarbone.

Lambert's hand tangles in Aiden's beautiful and soft hair, the other clutches his shoulder for dear life as the alpha's attention on his neck makes him gasp and sigh (and occasionally, squeak-- but he'll never admit to that).

When Aiden's lips reach the edge of Lambert's collar, green eyes flick up to meet him. "May I?" he asks softly, hands dancing along the hem of the fabric.

May I undress you? Is the question, Lambert realizes, and though he's still nervous and perhaps a bit embarrassed, he nods his head, fighting the urge to hide his face in the crook of the alpha's neck. "Yes."

(What a sight he must make, dressed in all white and blushing as red as his hair.)

Aiden's hands are gentle as he carefully undoes the buttons of Lambert's shirt, until the fabric hangs loose around his chest and the other man slowly pushes it off his shoulders.

Now bare to his waist, the omega holds his breath as his new husband takes in the sight of him; exposed and awkward. He knows he's not unattractive, but Lambert has never looked the way those of his presentation were supposed to look. He's far too tall, for one, and where his body is supposed to be lithe and thin, he has a healthy coating of lean muscle from all the time spent riding and fencing. Not to mention that his build is broad enough that he could be mistaken for a beta easily. Even an alpha if you saw him from enough of a distance.

"You're exquisite," Aiden says softly, tilting Lambert's chin to finally meet his eyes and-- oh. Aiden's expression is dreamy; his eyes are dark with lust. It makes something curl inside Lambert's chest to know that he's the reason for it all.

"You next," he says, and the alpha obeys swiftly, removing his own shirt and linens to reveal tanned skin and defined muscle. Lambert's mouth waters a bit as he drinks in the absolute vision of a man in front of him.

"There. Now we're even."

The words bring him out of his lust-induced haze and he blinks a couple of times, clearing his throat and replying, "Uh. You. I-- you look. Good. You look good."

Aiden chuckles. "Your compliments are very eloquent, my dear."

"Shut up," Lambert says softly, leaning in to kiss him again.

His bare chest brushes Aidan's as their mouths meet, and it's sort of an odd feeling, but not an unpleasant one. After working up the courage for a moment or two, he slides a hand across it, feeling smooth skin and soft hair beneath his fingers. Aiden makes a pleased sound into their kiss, encouraging him further as his own hands settle on Lambert's waist.

The alpha’s hands are warm against him. He can feel each callus and ridge of his fingers as they settle into the curve of the omega's hip, growing bolder as the kiss continues to gently caress up and down his sides.

It isn't long before the steady flame of desire within Lambert ignites once more. It wavered during his minor panic, but once again caught up in the sensations of kissing Aiden, and with the added intensity of skin-on-skin contact, the aching need between his legs grows stronger. He can feel the beginnings of slick begin to form as his cock comes to attention. Lambert can smell it in the air, along with the spicy-sweet scent of Aiden's arousal. He's sure the alpha can smell it too from the way his kisses grow more fervent.

There's a soft whining sound each time their mouths meet, and it takes Lambert a moment to realize that it's him. It's an incredibly embarrassing realization, but between the smell of their combined desire, Aiden's claiming kisses, the heat of their bodies pressed together, he's so worked up he can't even stop himself.

Finally, Aiden pulls away and Lambert lets out a whimper at the loss, so overcome with desire that he can hardly do anything but fidget and blindly list towards the body in front of him.

No! Why is Aiden stopping? He needs him, Lambert needs--

"Shhh," Aiden's knuckles caress the back of his cheek and Lambert leans into the touch greedily. "It's alright, sweetheart, I know, but I won't leave you for long. We just need to get these pants off, otherwise you'll soak through."

His hands come to rest at the buttons of Lambert's pants and the omega shifts uncomfortably. Shit, he really is wet. He's never made this much slick before, but then again, he's never been this aroused in the presence of an alpha either. Lambert always assumed that all the talk about alpha pheromones was utter bullshit, but perhaps he just needed the right person.

"Are you still doing alright?" Aiden asks him. "Am I moving too fast for you?" 

Lambert shakes his head. "No, it's good. Everything is just...a lot."

"Alright. Tell me if that changes, yeah?"

The alpha makes quick work of his pants, then his undergarments, before standing briefly to attend his own. Lambert has never seen anyone naked before, save for his own reflection and the subjects in paintings, and even then, the subjects were usually omegas. But Aiden could be one of those subjects, if he were so inclined-- a marble sculpture perhaps-- he's certainly beautiful enough.

And...not as intimidating as Lambert worried he'd be. He may be an alpha, but he's still a man. The only major difference is what's between his legs, and though it makes Lambert a little nervous, it's not bad. Aiden's cock is...substantial, but not terrifyingly so, and looks pretty well the same as his own, just larger, with a piece of loose skin near the base where his knot will swell.

Lambert feels shy as Aiden returns to the bed, pressing in close and kissing him soundly before coaxing him to lie back against the blankets.

Above him, an impossibly soft smile spreads across the alpha's face as he laces his hand with Lambert's where it lies on the bed, using the other to gently caress his cheek. "Lambert," he whispers, soft and adoring. "Gods, you're so beautiful." A kiss is pressed to his shoulder, another to his chest, before the alpha's lips trail downwards. He stops just above Lambert's stomach, the beautiful dark waves his hair tickling across the omega's abdomen as he pauses to meet Lambert's eyes. "Do you ever touch yourself?"

"Yes," Lambert breathes.

"Show me."

He's hesitant at first. Why would Aiden want to see that of all things? Wouldn't he just rather fuck Lambert and be done with it? But the alpha is staring at him with eyes blown wide, their usual green almost entirely eclipsed by his pupils. Aiden clearly wants this, and Lambert... as nervous as he is, he wants to please his husband, so he lets his hand fall between his legs.

At the first touch of his hand around his dick, Aiden makes a low sound, as if Lambert's touching him instead of himself.

The feeling is intense-- Lambert doesn't normally allow himself to get this worked up before providing release-- and pretty soon his breath is coming out in short little pants as the feeling builds.

Aiden watches him with sharp interest, licking his lips and even growling once when a quiet moan escapes Lambert's throat.

"That's gorgeous, sweetheart," the alpha purrs, "Fuck, you look so nice, making yourself feel good like that." A strong, calloused hand wraps around Lambert's fingers. "Mind if I cut in?"

Lambert nods breathlessly, and Aiden gently nudges his hand away, replacing it with his own.

And holy fuck it feels so much better when someone else's hand.

“Aiden,” he can’t help but moan, throwing his head back as his husband does something that feels fucking incredible. The alpha kisses the sound from his lips, letting out a pleased sound of his own.

It goes on like that for a while longer before Aiden dips his hands further between Lambert's legs, fingers brushing over his entrance, making him gasp. "Do you ever touch yourself here?"

“Not really. Once or twice maybe?” It has been strange; and Lambert had never bothered to explore his cunt further.

The alpha hums knowingly. “I'd like to give you my fingers if you’re alright with that. It’ll help relax you; make things easier for later.”

Lambert eyes him for a moment. “How many fingers?”

“Just one to start. Two, if you enjoy it. And I wouldn’t mind getting my mouth on you as well. Bet you look so pretty when you cum.”

Lambert is sure his ears are red as cherries. “Okay.”

“Just relax,” Aiden purrs, coaxing him to spread his legs further, before finishing his descent down the length of Lambert’s body, until Lambert can feel the hot puffs of the alpha’s breath over his cock. “Let me know if I do something you don’t like, though I think you will like it quite a bit.” 

Aiden starts by giving a few experimental licks, just over the head, the surprising heat of which makes Lambert groan and shiver. Then he grows bolder, swirling his tongue licking a stripe up the underside from base to tip. 

On instinct, Lambert presses a hand over his mouth to stifle the quiet sounds of pleasure rising in his throat. Aiden is staring at him intently as he works, green eyes filled with lust, and though he can feel his own embarrassment hot on his face, Lambert can't bring himself to look away.

He chokes on his breath as the alpha's finger-- which hasn't exactly moved from its position near his entrance-- begins to slowly stroke over his wet folds, trailing slick as it goes. He hides further within his hands at the thought of Aiden touching him there, though he's unable to resist peeking through his fingers anyway to catch a glimpse of the downright intoxicated look on his husband's face, as if he's getting as much pleasure out of this as Lambert.

"Beautiful," the alpha murmurs, pressing a kiss to the tip of him and giving the omega a feral grin. With his free hand, he gently takes Lambert's hands away from his face, lacing their fingers together on the bed. "Don't hide from me, sweetheart, let me see all of you."

"Aiden, please, just--" He trails off with a whimper. Lambert isn't even quite sure what he's asking for. He just wants something to cool the endless fire burning inside him.

In response, Aiden takes the head of Lambert's cock into his mouth, suckling gently as his finger strokes deeper, this time pressing into his folds and sinking shallowly inside his entrance. Aiden repeats the actions a few more times, then-- with a quick glance to Lambert for affirmation-- slides it all the way in.

The feeling is just as strange as the last time he tried this; although instead of fumbling around awkwardly, Aiden's careful thrusts in and out are calculated, the angle changing every couple of times as if he's searching for something.

And apparently that something is a sensitive, spongy area, just a few inches inside of him that Aiden curls his finger against in a beckoning motion.

"Aiden- wha-- ah--" It's sensitive; but the action also feels sort of good, though not in the same way that touching his cock does. Like sparks or static shooting across his nerves that quells the burning ache inside him, but at the same time makes it worse.

The alpha pulls off his cock long enough to shoot Lambert a cat-like smile. "You like that?" he asks, with a smugness in his voice that tells Lambert the bastard already knows the answer. He rubs slow circles against the swollen area, making Lambert arch his back and squeeze the alpha's hand for dear life.

"Don't you dare fucking stop."

"Wouldn't dream of it.” Aiden chuckles and kisses the omega's hip. “I love how feisty you are, Lamb. Do you want another finger?"

“...yes.”

The alpha obliges, carefully sliding a second finger in along the first. There’s a stretch this time, but Lambert is producing enough slick at this point that it’s only felt for a moment. And then Aiden’s lips wrap around his cock, taking him deep, the same time his fingers crook to find that sensitive spot and Lambert loses his gods’ damn mind.

A cry punches its way out of his throat before he can even register what’s happening.

Overwhelmed by pleasure, he writhes against the mattress, fists clenched and knuckles white. Aiden’s spare hand releases his and instead finds his hip, caressing it before gently pressing down in a silent message to keep still. Then he pushes forward, taking Lambert all the way to the base and the omega peaks suddenly with a gasp.

Aiden keeps him in his mouth as Lambert shakes his way through it, his fingers remain where they are, but mercifully slow and then stop their motion so as not to overwhelm him as he experiences the best damn climax of his life.

Lambert’s still trembling once he comes out of it. “Holy fuck,” he breathes.

Aiden lets his dick fall from his mouth, and slides his fingers out of Lambert, looking incredibly pleased with himself. “I take it you enjoyed that?”

“Yes, what the fuck? How did you learn to do that?”

The alpha shrugs. “I like to please my partners.”

Lambert blinks. Huh. His new husband is just full of surprises.

"Now, do you need a minute? Or are you ready for more?"

"Perhaps ease up a bit?” he asks, after considering a moment. “It shouldn't be long until I can go again." Being an omega has one benefit, after all.

The alpha grins and slides up Lambert's body, kissing as he goes, until they're chest to chest with Aiden nearly lying on top of him. "Shall I kiss you until then?" he asks with a feline smile.

Lambert smirks. “I think you should.”

The other man presses a sweet kiss to his lips that Lambert melts into easily. His clean hand tangles itself in the omega’s hair and they stay like that, trading kisses back and forth until the burning ache between Lambert's legs begins anew. Once he’s squirming under the alpha, Aiden’s fingers return to his cunt, lazily thrusting in and out of him until Lambert is whining with need once again.

“Aiden. Aiden, please, I’m ready, I want you, just--” he breaks off with a moan as the alpha locates that spot inside him and rubs it in a maddeningly slow circle.

The alpha chuckles and kisses him once more. “As you wish.”

He sits back on his haunches, at the same time sliding his fingers out of the omega-- leaving him feeling terribly empty-- before pausing with his eyes fixed on Lambert. "Do you have a preference for which side you'd like your mating bite on?" Aiden asks him, idly stroking a thumb over his hip.

Yet another thing he hasn't thought about. "Whichever. Right side is good."

"Alright, then you'll give mine on the left."

"You--" Lambert's eyes widen. "You'd let me bite you?" He knows that Aiden may have alluded to it before, but it's still highly unusual for an alpha to wear their mate's mark these days. The practice was once more common, but it largely fell out of fashion some decades ago.

His husband gives him the softest smile. "Of course I would. I want to be yours every bit as much as you are mine. We are in this together, Lambert."

That... sounds nice. Being Aiden's is expected. But for Aiden to be his-- it makes Lambert's inner omega practically shake with excitement. "Alright. Left side it is then."

"This next part may be a bit uncomfortable at first," Aiden warns, spreading Lambert's legs a little wider and shuffling so he's nestled between them, "though hopefully it won't cause any pain. If you feel any, let me know and we'll slow down."

Lambert fights the urge to roll his eyes at his husband’s worrying. It’s cute; and appreciated, but at this point, no longer necessary. “I’ll be fine,” he says. “I’m ready.” And with that, the alpha aligns himself with Lambert’s entrance and slowly begins to sink in.

Lambert isn’t sure what he expected it to feel like. What can you expect when so much of your life is supposed to hinge on this moment?

Aiden's cock feels much bigger than his fingers, stretching Lambert wider than ever before. It's uncomfortable at first, but not painful, just intense. He also feels incredibly hot inside Lambert, and the sensation of being filled makes him part his lips in a choked off gasp. He keeps waiting for the moment when Aiden will be fully sheathed inside him, yet every time Lambert thinks that surely there isn't any more to go, the alpha sinks further still.

But then finally, finally, it's all the way in, and Aiden stills for a moment, leaning over Lambert and pressing their foreheads together. His eyes are closed in concentration as he resist the urge to thrust into the slick heat of the omega's body, remaining still as a statue as he gives his partner time to adjust. Then after a minute, he starts to move.

The first few rolls of his hips are slow and deep, just complete indulgence of their connected bodies. Like with his fingers, he keeps changing the angle, searching, until he finds that spot inside Lambert that steals his breath away. Once it's clear that he's found it, Aiden continues rolling his hips into that spot in short, quick snaps that soon have Lambert practically drooling with how good it is.

A litany of sounds tumble from his mouth and a soft moan escapes the Aiden’s lips in response; low and overwhelmed. It's the most beautiful sound Lambert has ever heard.

He isn't prepared for the way that reality hits him; full force like a ton of bricks, as it sinks in that Aiden is inside him, and it feels good. And it's making Aiden feel good. And the two of them are now connected in a way that Lambert has never been with anyone in his life, and everything aches with want, with need, but everything is so damn good.

A hand cups Lambert’s cheek, then caresses the side of his face, down his neck and shoulder, all the way to his hip where it rests, drawing gently circles into his skin. 

“Look at you,” Aiden murmurs. “Absolutely breathtaking. Thank you for letting me have you like this. I’m going to be the perfect mate for you, my dear Lambert. I’ll bring you the sun and the moon if you wish it.”

“Aiden.” Lambert can’t seem to form any words except the alpha’s name. Just “Aiden, Aiden, Aiden.” They might be connected, yet somehow the alpha is still too far away. Lambert wants all of him. He wants to carve a spot in Aiden’s chest cavity and climb inside so that he can hear the other man’s heartbeat.

Luckily, the alpha seems to understand his need, at least somewhat, and bends down to kiss him messily. “Touch yourself, sweetheart,” he whispers against the omega’s lips and Lambert’s hand falls to his cock, stroking himself furiously with each snap of the alpha’s hips. Then his thigh is being lifted so that Lambert's hips tilt upwards and all sound is lost in his throat as the change in angle makes it so that Aiden is nailing that glorious spot within him on each thrust.

It's terribly, achingly good, yet somehow not enough. But then Aiden grinds his hips in deep, and Lambert feels something much bigger than his cock nudge up against his entrance--

Oh. Aiden's knot. That would do it.

"Aiden," he whines, unable to look away from the set of green eyes, boring into him. "Please, I need-- I need--"

"What is it that you need, sweetheart?"

"M' close. Need you. Want to be yours so bad, please--"

The alpha shushes him with a soft coo, then takes Lambert's cock in his hand and begins working it over in his fingers. "It's alright," he says, "I'll give you what you want. Just let go for me, Lambert."

The alpha squeezes the head of his cock just-so while at the same time, hammering that spot, and Lambert cums with a gush of slick just as he feels Aiden's knot pop inside him.

For a moment, there's only euphoria. Nothing but the seemingly endless waves of his orgasm and the feeling of Aiden's knot pulsing in time with the alpha's release. Then there's a sharp pain at his neck as Aiden's teeth sink into his scent gland, sealing their bond and marking Lambert as his forever. Lambert almost white-outs at the intensity of it all, but he can't drift and enjoy it because suddenly Aiden is nudging him forward and saying something that he can't quite make out, and Lambert remembers oh right, he's supposed to bite Aiden too.

So he does, and then nearly passes out because it's like a second climax that's even more powerful than the first. Pleasure rushes through him, followed by a tug that Lambert quite literally feels in his soul, and for a split second there's something else. A…presence? Content, sated, happy-- Aiden. He can feel Aiden.

…and then he really does pass out.

When he comes to, he's lying on his stomach overtop of Aiden, his head tucked into the crook of the alpha’s neck. Lambert’s mouth tastes like blood, and Aiden is currently licking the aching mark on his neck.

He groans, attempting to move before he's met with a sharp tug at his cunt as the knot inside refuses to budge. 

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Aiden's voice says beside his ear. “It’ll still be some time before my knot goes down and I’d like to avoid any unnecessary injuries if we can help it. How are you feeling?”

Well, he’s sweaty and his whole body aches-- though not in a particularly bad way-- but beneath all that he feels sated, calm.

“Well fucked,” Lambert decided after a moment of consideration, and Aiden chuckles warmly.

“Glad to hear it. I’ll try not to let your rave review go to my head.”

Lambert huffs. “Better not. If you turn into some alpha knothead I might not allow you into my bed again.”

“Oh Lamb, we both know that would be just as much a hardship for you as it’d be for me.”

“I’d survive,” he lies.

“Uh- huh. ”

“Fuck you, Aiden.”

“Well I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to the idea. Perhaps we could try that next time?”

Lambert feels his ears go red. “I…”

The alpha laughs again. “You look so pretty when you’re rendered speechless, sweetheart.” He bumps the omega’s nose with his own and despite the fact that Lambert tries to stop it, a dopey smile spreads across his face anyway. “My mate,” Aiden coos, nosing down Lambert’s cheek with a pleased hum.

Mate, Lambert’s inner omega repeats, sounding immensely satisfied with itself.

“Yeah,” Lambert agrees, “I’m yours. And you’re mine.”

A kiss is pressed to the mating bite on his neck. “That I am.”

Huh. What a thought that is.

Lambert never thought he'd get to have something like this. He never even thought he wanted it. And yet here he is, mated to the most perfect alpha he could ever ask for.

Mates, he thinks, that feels right.

He leans in and kisses Aiden. "I'm so happy I found you."