33 - Rain, Ruin & Reverence

By the time the rain eased into a soft drizzle, the sky bruised with that post-storm gold, Sebastian was bent over the dining table—palms flat on the wood, thighs shaking, lavender slick in the air like crushed petals.

Ezra stood behind him, one hand locked possessively around his hip, the other splayed between Sebastian’s shoulder blades. His grip was firm, reverent. Like he was bracing something fragile he didn’t know how to hold without breaking. Something he wanted to own.

Sebastian kept glancing toward the stairs, his eyes half-lidded, unfocused, pupils blown wide. “Ezra—fuck—they’re gonna wake up—”

Ezra didn’t stop. His mouth was hot against the curve of Sebastian’s neck, teeth grazing over skin that tasted like salt and lavender. “I know,” he breathed, voice rough, reverent.

His hand tightened at Sebastian’s waist, guiding him back into place. “Be quick for me. Just one more, baby. Just one more.”

Sebastian’s head lolled, curls sticking to his damp forehead. His Omega scent had bloomed hours ago—ripe, sweet, trembling under Ezra’s tongue. And now it clung to the air, curling into every corner of the house, whispering want.

He could still feel Ezra’s teeth.

The dull ache at his nape throbbed in rhythm with his pulse. Not a mark. Not quite. But close enough that his body had gone still when it happened, had arched helplessly with the shock of it, the threat of it.

Sebastian turned his head, panting, eyes hazy and dark. “You almost marked me.”

Ezra didn’t deny it. He just grinned—slow and wicked, like Priya did when she knew a secret. “You looked so pretty like that, Omega.”

Sebastian flushed. “You’re an animal.”

“Maybe,” Ezra murmured, voice molten against the back of his neck. “Next time, I’ll get you a collar. Something soft. With a tag.”

Sebastian muttered something filthy—and Ezra shoved deeper, sharp enough to cut the words out of his mouth.

His breath hitched, his fingers curling tight around the dining table. “Ezra—don’t—don't you dare knot me,” he said, strained but firm. “If they come down and we’re stuck—God, Ez—we won’t even be able to move—”

Ezra whined, the sound low and desperate, burying his face in the crook of Sebastian’s neck like a petulant wolf denied its claim.

He nuzzled deep into the sweat-slick skin, inhaling that lavender scent with a growl. “But baby,” he murmured, breath hot and trembling, “you know how good it feels. Just wanna stay—want to keep you—please…”

Sebastian turned his head sharply, panting, flushed, but unmoved. “Ezraiah,” he said sternly, tone full of warning.

That did it.

Ezra let out a choked laugh, the sound half-whine, half-amused surrender. “Fine,” he muttered, licking lazily at the shell of Sebastian’s ear. “I won’t.”

But then his hand slid up and clamped over Sebastian’s mouth again, hot and commanding. “Now shut up and take this dick like the slut you are.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes hard enough to see stars. He bit Ezra’s hand—not hard, but pointed and Ezra yanked it back with a hiss.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” Sebastian snapped, voice sharp, eyes glittering darkly over his shoulder.

Ezra’s grin was wicked, teeth flashing as his lips brushed the hinge of Sebastian’s jaw. “Yeah? You don’t like it?” he asked, voice a velvet taunt, grinding deeper now, rough and slow.

“Could’ve fooled me, omega. You’re dripping for it.”

Sebastian swallowed hard, cheeks flaming hotter now. The idea terrified him—being caught like this, exposed to his children, utterly vulnerable but a part of him throbbed at the risk, at Ezra’s brutal possession.

“Stop,” Sebastian breathed, but his voice cracked, betraying the tight coil of desire wound beneath the fear.

Ezra’s hand slid low, fingers teasing the sensitive skin along Sebastian’s hip. “No,” he said firmly.

“You’ll stay quiet and take it. Show me you can handle being my filthy, reckless omega—even if it means getting caught.”

Sebastian bit his lip, a shiver rolling down his spine as Ezra’s cock pressed deeper, each movement cruel and demanding. The risk, the shame—it was electric, unbearable, and undeniably thrilling.

“Ez…” Sebastian whispered, eyes flicking toward the stairs again, heart pounding in wild, uneven beats.

Ezra caught the glance and chuckled darkly. “If they come down now… if they catch us—”

Sebastian cut in, “Please don’t.”

A sudden rustle—the soft, unmistakable sound of sheets shifting upstairs—made both their breaths hitch. The faint creak of footsteps echoed, slow and deliberate, coming down.

Ezra’s grin twisted wickedly against Sebastian’s skin. “Oh? Sounds like they’re coming. Mia? The twins? Maybe all of them.”

Sebastian’s body tensed, a flush burning hotter, shame crashing into raw need.

Ezra’s voice dropped to a low growl, pressing even deeper inside him. “They’ll see exactly how fucked you are for me. Hear how much you beg. How much you take. And you’ll stay silent—won’t you, omega?”

Sebastian could only tremble, caught between fear and submission, the sheets rustling louder with the approaching footsteps, and Ezra’s cruel words sinking in like a promise.

The twins barreled into the kitchen, bare feet slapping against the tile, their sleepy voices already at full volume.

“Daddy, I smelled toast!” Camden announced as he climbed up onto a stool, shirt backwards and bedhead wild.

Sebastian turned from the sink, blinking as he dried his hands on a dish towel. His curls were still slightly damp from sweat, his mouth kiss-swollen, and his shirt—Ezra’s old shirt—hung off one shoulder like it had been tugged too hard.

Ezra sipped his coffee and didn’t say a word.

“Morning,” Sebastian said, voice calm—maybe too calm. He cleared his throat. “You want toast or eggs?”

“Both!” Caleb chirped, dragging his chair closer to the counter. He paused, squinting at Sebastian. “Why’s your face red?”

Sebastian froze.

Ezra lowered his mug just enough to smirk into the rim.

“It’s not,” Sebastian said quickly, turning to open the fridge. “It’s just warm in here.”

“Dad, you left the oven on?” Mia’s voice floated in as she entered, eyes narrowing like a hawk. She always noticed everything. “It smells like something burned.”

“Nope,” Ezra said easily, leaning against the counter. “Your daddy just got a little… overheated.”

Sebastian shot him a sharp look over his shoulder, and Ezra had the audacity to wink.

“Gross,” Mia muttered, heading for the kettle.

Sebastian dropped his gaze, trying to breathe normally. His scent still clung to the air, diluted now by coffee and toast—but if anyone in this kitchen had a trained nose, it’d be obvious. He just prayed the kids were still scent-blind enough not to know what slick heat smelled like.

Ezra took another sip of his coffee, the picture of smug satisfaction.

Hours later, the thunder had gone. The rain clung only in drips now, the windows fogged with condensation and scent.

Inside the living room, though, the mood had shifted entirely.

The twins were on a sugar high, the couch reduced to a battlefield. Mia sat curled in the armchair, unbothered and unimpressed, scrolling on her phone.

“Daddy,” Caleb chirped, clambering across Sebastian’s lap with sticky fingers, “I want more marshmallows!”

Sebastian blinked at him, still in Ezra’s hoodie, curls damp from a too-quick shower, scent glands flushed. “You’ve had eight.”

“Yeah, but Camden got nine.”

“I did not!” Camden screamed from the depths of a pillow fort. “I got five!”

“I counted!”

Sebastian groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I have no bones left. My spine is a suggestion.”

Ezra stepped in with a mug of coffee, scent still tinged with Omega and rain. “They wear you out that fast?”

Sebastian lifted his gaze slowly, like even that movement hurt. “You blew my back out thirty minutes ago, Ez.”

Ezra’s grin was smug. “Didn’t hear you complain.”

“Daddy, what does that mean?” Camden piped, face emerging from a blanket.

Sebastian clapped a hand over his mouth. Ezra choked on his coffee and turned away, shoulders shaking. “That’s all you, Daddy.”

Sebastian tried to recover. “It’s when a balloon gets too full and, um, pops. But like… in a good way.”

Mia didn’t even look up. “Worst. Liar.”

Seb turned to her desperately. “Please help me.”

“I’m fourteen. Not a miracle worker.”

Eventually, the marshmallows were distributed, and Sebastian dabbed cocoa from Caleb’s mouth with his sleeve, muttering, “You two are disasters.”

“Daddy, look!” Caleb pointed to the screen. “He turned into a sea monster!”

Sebastian barely registered the cartoon. His body still throbbed, slick glands still prickling from Ezra’s bite.

His scent had settled—barely. But Ezra’s fingers still drifted to the back of his hoodie, thumb dragging lightly over the spot he hadn’t marked.

It made Sebastian shiver.

Then—ding-dong.

The doorbell cut through everything.

The tension in the room snapped taut. Ezra’s shoulders straightened. Mia’s fingers stilled.

“I’ll get it,” Sebastian said, quietly.

Ezra caught his wrist. “You sure?”

Sebastian smiled tightly. “I’m already sore. Might as well die a hero.”

He padded to the door, barefoot. The cool floor kissed his skin. His body still ached, the Alpha’s presence still soaked into his skin, inside him, around him.

Then he opened the door—

—and smelled her.

A Beta. Female. Sharp, bright. Her scent crashed into his senses like a slap of something tangy and avocado.

She was soaked from the rain, hair dripping, belly round under a clinging blouse.

“Hi!” she chirped, voice bubbly. “Sorry for the surprise. I’m Clara.”

Sebastian didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just… stood there, scent flatlining.

“Ezra’s girlfriend,” she added, like that made anything okay.

Sebastian felt it first in his stomach—the sudden drop. Then in his throat, the tightness. Then in the back of his eyes, hot and dry and aching.

But outwardly? He smiled. A polite, pretty Omega smile. A mask.

Inside, his body reeled. His slick hadn’t even fully faded. Ezra’s bite still burned. His scent—Ezra’s scent—was still inside him.

And this woman. This Beta. Pregnant. Confident. Casual. Like she belonged here.

Like Sebastian didn’t.

“I’m Clara,” she said again. “Is Ezra home?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Swallowed. “Yeah,” he said softly. “He’s home.”

And he stepped aside.

Because what else could he do?

He let go of the doorknob and felt the tremble in his fingers only after they dropped. His scent must’ve told the whole story—Omega heartache blooming cold and bitter.

Inside, the house felt too warm. Too alive. The twins laughed, the TV flickered, Ezra’s scent still painted the walls. And Sebastian stood at the door like a man who didn’t live here at all.

From behind him, Ezra’s voice came. Low. Sharp with something unreadable. “Seb?”

Sebastian didn’t turn. Didn’t trust his face. Or his body. Or his scent.

“Someone’s here to see you,” he said.

And the world shattered, scent by scent.