Through Hell [AOB/LGBT+/mpreg]

14

Oliver wants to sob in relief when he gets home.  His head is pounding with a migraine and his limbs feel all funny and weird.  He's managed to staunch the blood from his nose, but he still feels woozy.  The lights only make everything hurt worse and the nausea is barely at bay.

He reaches home a little numb, a little unsure of himself.  Once inside the safety of his apartment, he locks the door and simply... exists. Just for a moment.

He stands for a little too long in the foyer before beginning to strip until he's completely naked.  He pads barefoot toward the bathroom, the blood on his soles dry and crusted.  He doesn't care about the sting, instead he leaves his clothes strewn about, and starts the shower.  He steps into the waterfall before it's warm and lets the water run over his head and down his freckled body.  The water turns pink before it swirl down the drain.  He stares at it entranced before his scrubbing his skin raw.

He doesn't even know he's crying until droplets of what he thinks is water drip over his lips and he tastes salt.

He doesn't sob, doesn't scream.  He doesn't really make a sound aside from his labored breathing, just trying to catch a break.

He steps out only after all the warmth is gone and he's left shivering and sniffling.

He's dripping wet when he goes back into the living room, hair clinging to his forehead and beads of water trickling down his skin.  He stands naked and unabashed when red eyes snap to his at the sound of his entry.

"Omega."

Oliver blinks slowly, teeth chattering from the cold seeping into his bones, not entirely registering who's standing before him.  Soon, though, he finds himself enveloped in warmth as a jacket is draped over his trembling shoulders.

He looks up finally recognizing who he's looking at.

"Oro," he croaks weakly.

The omega slumps forward into the alpha's arms eyes slipping closed as his breathing evens, a sense of safety washing over him.

The alpha frowns at the omega in his arms before picking him up and carefully placing him on the couch.  His steps sound entirely too loud in the small space of the apartment.  He reaches what he knows is the bedroom door and pushes it open.

The smell of blood assaults his senses and he stares at the disgusting scene before him, a growl threatening to rip from deep within his chest.

He grabs his phone without hesitation.

> Sir?

"I need someone to clean up this shit.  Then I need an update on that stupid brat."

> Yes, sir.

He hangs up, but the irritation is still rolling off of him in waves.

Men come and go, carrying a bloodied mattress away and bags filled with red stained bedsheets and blankets.  He'll make everything gets disposed of accordingly.  It's his job as alpha and in his best interest to protect his stupid omega.

"Replace everything," Oro orders his closest subordinate.

An hour later and the efficiency of his men is almost enough to quell the anger inside.

There's a new bedframe and mattress in his omega's room in record time.  His men know better than to touch the new nesting material in case they leave behind their unwanted scents.  He dismisses them with a wave of a hand and contemplates the mess of pillows and blankets now on the bed.

He's never had an omega, never cared for one and doesn't want to start now.  But his alpha has other ideas.  With some exasperation he begins fixing and rearranging until there's a semblance of a nest starting to take form from what was once a mess.