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The cramps start less than forty minutes after Doc's knot slips out of him.
Doc — perhaps from guilt — spends most of that time carefully cleaning Grian with a warm, wet cloth, letting Grian doze in the quiet, and for all that Grian’s hated every second of the past few weeks, he begins to think he might one day be able to forgive Doc for it.
Until the first twinge deep in his body.
“Eugh,” Grian says, hand slipping down to his stomach, gaze snapping to Doc, the man to blame for everything.
Doc pauses where he's sorting through the chaos of their clothes and looks over with a frown.
“What?” he asks blandly, but drops his coat back down and moves toward the bed.
He can probably smell the discomfort in Grian’s scent, but to make sure he's aware, Grian says, “Ouch.”
Doc sits on the edge of the mattress and touches Grian's knee through the sheets, light, borderline tentative, like he hasn't yet figured out what he's allowed.
“Did we do too much?”
Grian shakes his head and doesn't know how to explain that something feels different without sounding completely unreasonable.
But he thinks he might be right, because a few minutes later, when Doc seems to be contemplating going back to dressing and leaving Grian to his thoughts, there's another low squeeze that ripples across his lower abdomen and around to his back.
“Ooh,” Grian wheezes quietly and Doc's expression shifts.
He presses his palm to Grian's stomach and when the next cramp hits, Doc's fingers press firmer against his skin and he meets Grian's stare, knowing.
“Always so dramatic,” he sighs, but his eyes are soft. “You're always looking for my attention, aren't you?”
Grian blows out a slow breath, feeling strangely calmed by Doc's lack of panic. “That's why we're here, isn't it?”
Doc smiles, a little crooked, and nods. “I suppose that's true. Well, you have it now.”
Grian presses his hand over the top of Doc's and grimaces against his will. “I better.”
Doc huffs out a laugh. “C’mon, my little bird,” he says gently, “let's get you ready.”
*
Past a certain point, when the cramps grow stronger and Grian's body starts to tremble, his egg shifting, ready to come out, Grian's thoughts turn foggy and he begins to lose time.
One minute he's flat on his back, Doc's hand brushing the hair away from his sweaty forehead, and the next he's on his hands and knees with Doc murmuring quiet encouragement next to him.
He knows to expect it, he knows basic biology, but it doesn't make it any less off-putting.
There's a reason Omegas continue to pass eggs and it's not because it's a fun process. They've evolved to physically forget the entire event — conscious in the moment, but later can't recall a single thing.
Which means Grian's disoriented when he finally comes to, his base much darker than before, the sun clearly having long since set.
He's been tucked into his bed and his body feels oddly numb as though he's been given a healing potion that's still trying to knit him back together again.
“Doc?” he asks the silence, his voice sounding hoarse, and there's a thud from the floor above.
“Grian,” Doc answers, the air shifting as he glides down to him, and he's holding an assortment of food that Grian suddenly realizes he's ravenous for.
Doc sits on the edge of the bed and watches him carefully before his expression loosens.
“You're back,” he says, and Grian doesn't really want to think about how he might know, how he can already tell the difference between a Grian who's destined to forget and the Grian he's familiar with. “Eat.”
Grian doesn’t try to argue when Doc sets a plate in his lap, in fact, he's already reaching for some of the small squares of steak that he knows Doc must've spent time cutting up to make it easier.
“Where is it?” Grian asks around his mouthful, because even with the healing potion, there's an emptiness inside him that can't be masked.
“Right here,” Doc points out, gesturing beside Grian, where there's a speckled egg, nestled in the bedcovers.
“Oh,” Grian exhales, surprised that he hadn't noticed it immediately, realizing then how out of it he must still be.
It's smaller than he expects with how round it had made him, but as he reaches out and rests his palm against the side of it, the world feels right.
“Did it go okay?” Grian asks, looking over at Doc, who's staring at Grian's hand on their egg.
He blinks and meets Grian's gaze again.
“Of course.”
Grian knows Doc wouldn’t lie about it, but it’s difficult to know he has to trust someone else’s account of his life.
“You should rest,” Doc continues. “You worked hard today.”
“I work hard every day,” Grian tries, but Doc doesn't rise to the bait.
Instead, Doc leans across the bed and kisses him, soft and sweet and full of thanks, all of which Grian will gladly take. He’s done more than he ever thought he could and he thinks he deserves a little acknowledgement for it.
He’s glad Doc finally knows.
Grian cups Doc’s jaw, keeping him where he is just a little longer before finally breaking away.
“I’m gonna sleep for a week,” Grian tells him and Doc nods like he understands.
“I’ll be right here,” Doc confirms, as though he knows Grian’s thinking about it, already worrying.
“Even if I do sleep for a week?”
Doc makes a noise like he’s put out, but eventually nods and Grian can tell by now that he’s teasing. “Even if it’s a week, I suppose.”
Sufficiently placated, Grian passes Doc his empty plate and rolls onto his side, pulling their egg closer to his chest. It doesn’t need warmth, it’ll hatch regardless in a week or so, but it feels right, like he needs to make sure that whatever is inside knows how much it’s wanted and loved.
A hand carefully tugs the blankets up higher around his shoulders, and fingers card through Grian’s hair.
“Sleep well,” Doc tells him, and Grian knows he will.
*
Grian wakes to the sensation of the bed shifting beside him.
“Ugh,” he groans and a warm hand slides up over his ribs before lips find the edge of his jaw.
“I’ll be right back,” Doc murmurs and Grian hums in response, nestling deeper into his pillow as cool air sneaks under the sheets as Doc slips out.
He’s still not accustomed to Doc staying and the thought that Doc plans to return to him is enough to make his chest tight.
He carefully reaches out, finding their egg beside him and pulling it against himself as he listens to the quiet noise of footsteps on the floor above.
Balanced on the edge of sleep, Grian finds himself cracking open one eye at the sound of voices. It’s too faint for him to hear what’s being said or who Doc’s talking to, even when he leans up on one elbow.
It doesn’t last long, but eventually he spots movement and Doc glides back down to their platform, something in his hands.
“Who was that?” Grian asks, and Doc lets out a breath as though he should’ve known Grian was listening.
“Mumbo,” he answers without hesitation and Grian frowns.
“Mumbo? Did he need something?” He reaches across the bed, looking for his communicator, but Doc shakes his head and gently presses Grian back down with one palm.
“He wanted to check on you. I told him you were fine and resting.”
It feels like a thinly veiled hint that Grian ignores.
“He wanted to check on me?” Grian laughs. “Was he worried you’d done something after finding the Perimeter?”
Doc nudges at Grian enough to make space to climb into bed beside him before giving Grian the item in his hands — which turns out to be a bowl of soup.
“Eat,” Doc tells him. “You’re still healing.”
Grian feels surprisingly okay, but he doesn’t fight it.
“Is this from Mumbo?” he asks after the first mouthful, the taste of it familiar, and Doc nods.
“He said he heard us.”
Grian almost chokes. “What? When?”
“With the egg,” Doc explains and Grian finds himself exhaling with relief.
Mumbo may know what’s happening between them, but he doesn’t need to be privy to that. He must’ve heard Grian yelling while passing the egg.
“Oh,” he says, and takes another sip of his soup as Doc shifts beside him, getting comfortable.
“He said he’d see you around.”
Grian nods and arranges himself to lean against Doc, who settles an arm around him like it’s no big deal, even as Grian’s heart jumps.
“Thanks for not fighting him,” Grian says before finishing the soup with a couple more greedy mouthfuls.
“Who says I didn’t?”
Grian huffs a laugh, and after a moment finds that with a belly full of warmth, all he actually wants to do is go back to sleep.
He hands the bowl to Doc, who doesn’t question it, just leans over and sets it on the floor to get it out of the way.
“Just make sure you hide his body before I get up,” Grian tells him, gently adjusting the egg to settle it between them, enjoying the way Doc rests his palm against it, like he needs to be sure it's there, as though he'd pull the world apart if it wasn't.
“If you insist,” Doc replies, and Grian lets his eyes slip shut, already halfway to sleep.
*
Grian doesn’t know what time it is when he wakes again, but Doc is still beside him, his knees bent, their egg in his lap, propped against his thighs.
Grian grunts and rolls toward him, feeling more rested than he thinks he should, with no lingering aches. The healing potions have clearly done their job.
Doc’s tapping at his communicator and Grian unsubtly peers over his shoulder.
“Who are you talking to?”
“Ren,” Doc replies without flinching, though Grian should’ve known.
He shifts onto his back again, immediately disinterested, but a few moments later, Doc sets the communicator down and glances over.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better,” Grian answers honestly and Doc nods.
“Good. That means you can help dig up the mess you made of my base.”
“That’s not — ” Grian stammers with half a laugh. “It’s not a mess.”
“Agree to disagree,” Doc grunts and Grian folds his arms.
“Ask Ren to help,” he suggests, though from Doc’s expression, he doesn’t appreciate it.
“Why should Ren be forced to clean up something he didn’t create?”
Grian raises his brows at him. “Are you sure he didn’t?”
Doc shakes his head. “He would never.”
Except that the longer Grian holds his gaze, the more uncertain he appears. It’s too easy.
Grian laughs the second Doc reaches for his communicator again, as though about to grill Ren on his whereabouts on the days before Doc’s return.
“I tried to get him to help,” Grian admits, “but that’s one loyal dog.”
“I’ve trained him well,” Doc agrees with a rumbling kind of laugh.
“Leave it for now,” Grian tries. “Stay here with us.”
Doc glances down at him, expression loosening almost instantly. “Us,” he echoes and Grian nods.
“You’re outnumbered. You thought one of me was bad? Just wait.”
Doc grunts, cupping the egg in his lap and staring down at it, like he’s picturing what’s inside.
“Glutton for punishment,” he says dryly and Grian thinks it might be the truth for both of them.
But when Doc looks back over at him, he doesn’t look like a man with regrets.
“You must be hungry,” Doc says, cleanly shifting the conversation, and he's not wrong.
“What were you thinking?” Grian asks and Doc shrugs, mouth curling up a fraction.
“I thought maybe you’d have some chicken around here.”
Grian splutters in outrage, but there’s not much he can do as Doc passes over their egg and slips out of bed with a laugh that warms Grian through, despite everything.
*
Grian fashions himself a sling for the egg, keeping it tucked tightly against his chest and leaving his hands free.
It’s a quiet morning. It takes him longer than usual to drag himself out of bed, but Doc makes them breakfast and they eat it sitting on the soft moss outside Grian’s base.
Grian doesn’t have plans for his day, but he’s not surprised when Doc admits he has work he wants to get done at home.
There’s no fanfare when Doc leaves, he just pats the egg and leans down to kiss the top of Grian’s head.
Grian knows he should get a few of his own chores done, but he lasts less than twenty minutes before he starts wandering in the direction of the Perimeter — or at least the new forest of the Perimeter — where he eventually finds Doc putting together something that’s presumably a flying machine.
“Don’t worry,” Doc tells him, “I didn’t leave.”
Grian scoffs. “That’s not why I’m here.”
But Grian doesn’t really have a reason for being there, other than just wanting to be close to Doc, the feeling like an itch under his skin.
Doc smiles as though he knows, has maybe been feeling it himself, and wipes his palm on his pants before reaching out and briefly patting at the egg.
“Here,” he says, passing Grian a handful of blocks, “you two can help.”
It feels strange to work alongside Doc after so many weeks of working against each other, but it seems to be exactly what Grian needs, and it’s a quiet affair as the flying machine slowly comes together.
“Want to push the button to start it?” Doc asks as he does the final walk-around, fingers brushing over blocks, checking for alignment.
“Absolutely not,” Grian laughs. “Do you know how long this took to build?”
Doc shrugs, unconcerned, and presses the button himself, sending the machine off, TNT dropping almost immediately and startling Grian backward with a laugh.
“You did that on purpose,” he complains, but Doc just smiles at him before turning back to watch his machine work.
It effortlessly starts to clear out the Perimeter, destroying everything Grian — and the rest of them — did to cover it.
Doc sets his hands on his hips, clearly pleased with himself.
“That’s anticlimactic,” Grian complains, and Doc smiles at him again.
“I know.”
“What happened to loving the grind? Wouldn’t digging that up by hand give you purpose?”
Doc blows out a breath and shakes his head. “Not today.”
Grian squints and forces back a grin. “So that means we won?”
“Definitely not.”
“Well it sounds to me like the king of grind no longer wants his title.”
Doc focuses on him in a way that makes Grian’s stomach flip and probably makes his scent spike too. He feels a little like prey being spotted by a predator.
“Is that what you think?” he asks and despite his better judgment, Grian nods.
“I think we beat you at your own game.”
Doc tips his head in acknowledgement. “You don’t think you played into my hand?”
Grian scoffs. “Why?”
“All I’ve ever wanted is for you to experience the grind on my level. And I think you did that without realizing.”
Grian sighs. “You can’t take credit for something you didn’t plan.”
“I provided the setup.”
“By digging a hole?”
Grian can feel his blood pressure rising, somehow immediately aggravated by Doc, who seems to know in the way the corner of his mouth curls up.
“You’re so — ” Grian continues, even as Doc laughs.
“Smart?” he supplies unhelpfully. “Handsome?”
Grian makes a dismissive sound and starts to walk away, following the quickly receding flying machine.
“Shouldn’t you be paying attention to this?” he tries, and he can hear Doc’s footsteps trailing behind, but doesn’t look back.
“Why, are you worried?”
Grian doesn’t dignify it with an answer and ignores how easily Doc catches up to him with his longer stride.
Fingers rake the wrong way through his hair and Grian slaps Doc’s hand away.
“Don't,” he warns, even as Doc laughs. “You know, I can call off the ceasefire any time I want.”
“Yeah?” Doc agrees, though he doesn’t seem to find it threatening the way Grian wants it to. “Would that set a good example for our little one?”
Grian stops abruptly, shooting Doc a look. “They’d take my side.”
Doc laughs again. “You know, I wouldn’t be surprised. Maybe then it would finally be a fair fight with all of you against me.”
Grian splutters, off guard when Doc leans down and kisses him. Doc gives just a hint of tongue that makes Grian realize their arguments do tend to be a form of foreplay, but pulls away almost as quickly as it started, leaving Grian with a wet mouth and an elevated heart rate.
“You can’t do that every time,” Grian complains and Doc’s head tilts.
“I can’t?”
He kisses Grian again, and Grian pushes a muffled grievance into his mouth, but still gets his hands on Doc’s neck and kisses him back, because — well, it’s not like he doesn’t want to kiss Doc every opportunity he gets.
“It seems to work,” Doc points out when he draws back, letting Grian catch his breath.
“Yeah, but it’s not fair.”
Doc laughs, briefly touching their egg in a way that's becoming a habit before straightening again. “I didn’t realize we were playing fair.”
“I’m not,” Grian agrees, “but you should.”
Doc nods solemnly, like he understands. “Of course. We must play by the brat’s rules.”
Grian lets out a noise of indignation, even though he knows he fully deserves it, but Doc doesn’t let the argument continue. He curls his arm around Grian’s shoulder and turns him.
“C’mon,” Doc tells him, “there’s no point standing out here. We’ll have a better view of the progress from my base.”
His hand slides down to the small of Grian’s back and as much as Grian wants to try to argue another kiss out of Doc, he goes willingly.
*
The sun sets before the flying machine can even clear out a quarter of the Perimeter, and it’s just after Doc leaves to go switch it off that the egg shifts against Grian’s chest.
And Grian lets out an undignified sound that’s not quite a scream, but enough like it that Doc returns looking flustered.
“Grian?” he asks, and Grian would almost laugh at how sincere he looks, except that Grian’s still not entirely sure what's happening.
Carefully, Grian unfastens the sling, holding the egg in his hands instead, staring down and wondering if it was his imagination.
“It moved,” Grian says. “I swear it moved.”
Doc exhales loudly and steps closer, palms settling close to Grian's own.
“They must be getting ready. Probably fed up with being inside there for so long.”
Grian meets his gaze, feeling wild and wide-eyed, and he knows he's panicking. His heart is beginning to race, his palms beginning to sweat.
“Oh god,” Grian starts, mind spiraling. “I have so much to do.”
“Right now?” Doc asks, glancing backward to where the night is folding around the base.
“No, I mean, I need to talk to Xisuma. I have to — ”
“Grian,” Doc says gently, but it’s firm enough to make Grian focus on him. Doc takes one hand off the egg and touches Grian’s shoulder. “There is a lot to do, but not tonight.”
Grian stares and he understands what Doc means, but it doesn’t stop the tidal wave of emotion.
“We need to — ”
“We will,” Doc tells him, hand moving from Grian’s shoulder to his jaw, cupping it with a kindness that Grian’s never experienced from him before. “When has there ever been something we couldn't do?”
“I — ”
“I just turned off the machine that’s undoing the biggest grind of your life to recover the biggest grind of my life. We will get everything done, but we cannot start until morning, right?”
Grian blinks at him, but there’s truth to what Doc’s saying.
“It will be a few more days before hatching starts,” Doc continues. “Look, there are no cracks yet.”
He moves Grian's hand across the surface of the egg, and he's right because there's not a single imperfection. It's still whole.
“Yeah,” Grian agrees quietly and Doc’s thumb grazes across his knuckles comfortingly.
“You will stay here tonight and talk to Xisuma tomorrow. Anything else, we’ll worry about later, yes?”
It helps to have Doc's voice of reason on his side for once, and eventually he finds himself nodding.
“Okay,” he relents, and Doc nods back at him.
“We have time,” Doc promises, “despite this baby having inherited your patience.”
Grian scoffs and frowns up at him. “They’ve inherited yours.”
Doc lets out a low laugh and Grian belatedly realizes what he’s done because he’s smiling despite himself and his chest doesn’t feel as tight.
Before Grian can pull away, Doc dips down and kisses him, quick and chaste, and then eases the egg out of Grian’s grip and into his own.
“No more panicking tonight,” Doc tells him. “Okay?”
Grian watches him, softening at the sight of Doc holding their egg, and finds himself nodding again.
“Okay,” he agrees, and hopes Doc is right about everything.
*
Surprisingly, Doc is still asleep when Grian wakes beside him the next morning. His breathing is slow and steady, and he's snoring quietly enough that Grian finds it more endearing than annoying.
He doesn't even stir when Grian gets up and gets ready to visit Xisuma, quietly creating another sling for the egg against his chest, looking back only briefly before slipping out of the base.
Grian’s never been more thankful for the road network than when he has to make his way on foot across the district. The pockmarked pathway leading to Xisuma’s base almost kills him, but Xisuma answers the door, his body language making him appear happy to see him and Grian can’t help but smile.
“You've been busy,” Xisuma says, an understatement.
“I probably should have come here sooner,” Grian admits and Xisuma steps closer, reaching out and rubbing at the egg with one finger, like a tickle under the chin. It's oddly charming in the way that Xisuma often is.
“Better late than never,” X says, and sounds like he means it. “C’mon, I’ll make some tea.”
Grian makes himself comfortable at a small table not too far into X’s home and after a minute or two, X sits across from him, setting a cup in front of Grian.
“Made with glow berries picked fresh this morning,” X tells him and Grian doesn’t wait for it to cool before slurping at it.
It’s surprisingly tasty, but it’s muted by Grian’s sense of guilt.
“I’m sorry,” Grian starts abruptly, “I should have asked permission before all of this happened.”
He keeps one arm curled around his egg and across from him, Xisuma leans back in his chair.
“Doc already did.”
Grian frowns, world tilting. “What? When?”
Xisuma waves a hand. “Years ago. Around the time you found our world, actually.”
Grian swallows thickly. It's nothing more than a coincidence.
“What did he say?”
“That’s between us,” Xisuma says gently, but it's firm enough that Grian knows he won't budge. “We had many meetings discussing options should anyone wish to produce eggs. Doc was just the first to bring it up.”
There's no way to know if Doc ever actually tried to have an egg with anyone else but failed. He can't ask Xisuma that, and he'd rather take a stroll through a bastion than ask Doc himself.
But Grian thinks back to when he Awoke, back to their civil war, when Grian was still wet behind the ears but quickly learning.
He remembers Doc's quick wit, remembers the firmness of his handshake when they'd finally won fair and square, how he'd laughed with Grian at the fun of it all.
And Grian thinks about Doc finding a quiet moment to ask Xisuma about the possibility of finding his mate and settling down.
The last time you went into heat, I spent the week knotting my hand, Doc had told him what now feels like a lifetime ago, and Grian wonders if there’d been more truth to it than Grian ever realized. Maybe Grian’s scent affects Doc more than Doc wants to admit. Maybe it always has for years.
“Is it Mumbo's?” Xisuma asks, drawing Grian out of his thoughts, and Grian pauses.
“What?”
“Your egg. Is it from Mumbo?”
Grian frowns and realizes that Xisuma doesn't know. “It's Doc's.”
There's a long silence that borders on being uncomfortable until Xisuma finally lets out a laugh.
“Oh, that's a coincidence, eh?”
Grian offers a hiccupped laugh in return that sounds a little manic even to his own ears.
“Yeah, look,” Grian says quickly. “Sorry, I forgot I'm meant to meet someone soon. I should go.”
“Sure, no problem,” Xisuma says easily, and it's clear he can't sense the panic bleeding out of Grian, and Grian’s almost certain now that Xisuma is scent blind. “Thanks for popping by. Good luck with the hatching.”
Grian drains the last of his tea and pushes himself up. “Thanks, X, I'll see you around.”
“Always,” Xisuma promises, and waves him off.
Grian doesn’t run when he gets back outside, but it’s a steady pace, feet carrying him in the direction of somewhere he hopes to find answers.
*
Doc’s still in bed when Grian returns, but he’s clearly awake because he rolls over and grunts as Grian steps into the room.
The fight that’s ready to roll off Grian’s tongue disappears when Grian swallows.
“Doc?” he asks, and Doc grunts again and shifts onto his back when Grian moves closer.
He looks flushed, his brow damp with sweat, and it’s not at all how Grian left him that morning. Not to mention that the air is thick with Doc’s scent, enough so that it makes Grian want to shove his clothes off and climb back into bed with him.
“Are you — ?” Grian starts, placing his palm on Doc’s forehead. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going into rut?”
Doc groans at Grian’s touch and stares up at him.
“Didn’t know it was coming,” Doc tells him. “I use potions to stop it.”
Grian touches his cheek and then his chin. He didn’t know that was an option, but of course Doc would find a way around nature.
“I think it was the egg,” Doc says, like the words are slipping out of him whether he wants them to or not. “Seeing you with the egg.”
Grian blinks down at him in surprise. Though maybe it’s not actually that surprising after his conversation with Xisuma. If his assumptions are right, they might be lucky that Grian hasn’t sent him into rut before.
Or maybe he has. Grian would never know unless Doc admitted it.
It’s rare for anyone outside of a mated pair to affect another’s cycle. As bad as Grian’s got it, he thinks Doc’s got it worse.
“Were you ever going to tell me?” Grian asks, carefully adjusting the sheets around Doc. “How long have you wanted me to be your mate?”
Doc groans and rolls away from him, and Grian reaches out and rubs at his back in comfort.
“It must’ve felt like a neatly wrapped present when you found me in heat.”
“I wasn’t going to touch you,” Doc grits out, casting a look over his shoulder.
“You just brought me back to your base because you didn’t want anyone else to get there first?”
Doc pulls his pillow over his head and Grian takes pity.
He leans down, pressing a kiss to Doc’s shoulder and letting out a quiet laugh.
“C’mon, let me take care of you.”
Doc doesn't move for a long minute, but then eventually the pillow shifts, as though Doc’s nodding beneath it, and Grian laughs again.
Carefully, he steps back, untying the sling from around his chest to set their egg in a makeshift nest of Doc’s discarded clothes. It’ll be safe there for however long it takes for Doc’s rut to end.
He strips quickly, already half-hard from alpha scent and the knowledge that Doc might actually want him as a mate.
Doc groans when Grian slips into bed beside him, but he finally emerges from under his pillow and rolls toward him, his body feverish.
He kisses Grian as though he’s been aching for it. Grian wasn’t gone long, but it’s clear a lot happened in that time if Doc’s already this far into his rut.
He’s pressed thick and hard against Grian’s hip, leaking as though he plans to try to give Grian another egg. It’s probably for the best that Grian won’t go into heat for a few seasons, won't be physically able to have another egg until he does; to avoid the temptation to tell him to do it.
Doc’s hands clutch at Grian’s waist, eager and greedy, trying to pull Grian impossibly closer, and Grian lets him follow his instincts.
He can already feel himself start to leak in response, his body wanting to help, and Doc’s hand slips down, fingers inquisitive as though he knows.
Grian moans into Doc's mouth as Doc pushes his middle finger inside him. He doesn't fuck Grian with it, just rests it there like a placeholder as he continues kissing him, slow and deep.
Grian’s been with alphas in rut before, but none have been so carefully in control as Doc, and Grian knows it’s only because of Doc being Doc.
“Don’t hold back,” Grian tells him. “I can take it.”
Doc nips at Grian’s bottom lip. “I know,” Doc murmurs. “I can’t.”
“What are you worried about?”
Doc pulls back enough to hold his gaze, LED humming quietly. “You agreed to have my egg. I worry what else you might agree to.”
Grian laughs and nods. “Fair. Only for you though.”
Doc groans and kisses him again, finger finally moving inside of Grian, though unfortunately only to pull out.
The room spins as Doc manhandles him onto his side, his back to Doc's chest, and Doc tucks his nose behind Grian's ear and breathes deeply.
“I think you're worse.”
It's a nonsequitur that Grian doesn't expect.
“Worse than what?”
“The whole point of breeding you was to see if you'd settle down. But I think you're worse.”
Grian shuts his eyes and smiles, knowing Doc can't see it.
“Only for you,” he repeats. “Maybe we need to try again. Second time's the charm.”
Doc presses his bionic hand over Grian's mouth and it muffles Grian’s laugh.
“Hush,” he warns, but his other hand gropes across Grian's belly, the softness left behind after growing an egg, clearly wanting to put another in there.
Doc makes the mistake of uncovering Grian's mouth.
“I already told you I'll take as many as you'll give me.”
Doc groans loudly, his whole body shifting as he ruts against the curve of Grian's ass, shoving at Grian's thigh to get him to slide it up.
Grian lets out a breath, rolling partway onto his stomach, which is apparently what Doc wants, because he fits himself against him, hand sneaking down to play at Grian's entrance.
It’s a relief when he finally gives Grian two fingers, stretching him out quick and dirty, like he can’t wait any longer, which Grian more than understands.
He focuses on relaxing, giving himself up to Doc, but by the time Doc pulls his fingers free and starts to line himself up, Grian feels like a mess.
The insides of his thighs are slicked up and he’s dripping milk again, his chest and the sheets wet with it.
Doc’s breathing hard like the scent of it all is driving him crazy, and Grian enjoys the noise of satisfaction he makes when he finally starts to press inside.
He drags his leg up just a little higher, trying to let Doc get deeper, but as he starts to bottom out, Grian realizes Doc’s knot is already fattening up, the stretch of it taking his breath away. He groans and Doc kisses the spot behind his ear.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, but there’s nothing for him to be sorry about.
Grian likes seeing this desperate side to Doc, the part he can’t hide behind a passive expression and steady voice. He’s at the mercy of his hormones and designation, and Grian wants him to feel so good that he doesn’t even care.
“I’ll take it,” Grian promises. “Just put it in.”
Doc makes a weak sound and his arm sneaks beneath Grian to fumble at his swollen chest. Grian knows it’ll only make more of a mess, but it feels good and that’s more important. Doc teases his nipple between his thumb and forefinger and Grian’s whole body feels hot.
Doc’s metal hand slides over his hip, taking Grian’s cock in a loose grip, and it doesn’t matter if Doc’s knot is swelling already, because Grian’s right there too.
“Doc,” he pleads, and it’s Doc who’s in rut, but Grian feels like he’s the one who’s untethered.
Doc fucks him with short, sharp thrusts, their bodies so close, feeling too intimate, but Doc keeps at it, panting quietly into Grian’s ear, every noise he makes driving Grian closer to the edge.
He grapples at the forearm of Doc’s bionic arm, clinging the best he can as Doc’s knot thickens even more before it eases into him. It feels like too much, even though Grian wants it, even though he knows he can take it.
“Yes,” Doc encourages. “Yes, Grian.”
Doc jerks him off just a little faster, with a little less coordination, and Grian falls before he even realizes what’s happening.
He comes across Doc’s knuckles, clenching around Doc’s knot until Doc groans and shakes against him, following him over like he can’t help it.
Doc noses at the back of his neck as Grian tries to catch his breath, his whole body trembling.
“Better?” Grian asks after a long moment and slowly Doc curls both arms around him, holding him tightly.
“For now,” he agrees, but Grian’s all too aware of what that means. It’ll be a while before Doc’s rut breaks. These things are never easy.
He settles against Doc, knowing that whatever Doc needs, he’ll give him.
After a moment, he yawns loudly, earning a huff of laughter from Doc.
“Worn out already?” he asks and Grian pinches at the skin on the back of Doc’s hand.
“You wish.”
But the truth of it is that his eyes are heavy and Doc is warm and comfortable at his back.
“Rest,” Doc tells him, “while you can.”
Part of Grian wants to laugh, maybe come up with a witty retort about Doc putting his diamonds where his mouth is. But he’s seen enough of Doc’s stamina to know better.
For just a moment, he lifts his head, checking on their egg — still tucked amongst their clothes — but then he eases back down, going boneless against Doc as he yawns again.
“Okay,” he agrees, and if Doc’s surprised about Grian’s lack of resistance, he doesn’t say anything.
*
Grian sleeps deeper than he expects, but he wakes to the feeling of Doc pushing into him again, then the gentle rocking as he fucks him like he’s trying not to disturb his rest. It’s clear Doc’s holding back, his noises breathy and bitten off, and Grian shuts his eyes, dozing and letting time pass in slow waves.
He wakes again when Doc’s knot starts to swell, tugging at his sore rim, and Grian moans softly, shifting just enough to make it easier for Doc to tie with him again.
Doc noses at the back of his head, every exhale blowing hot through Grian’s hair.
“You feel so perfect,” Doc mumbles, his accent sounding thicker, like it’s harder to get the words out when he’s caught up in his rut and so close to coming. “Never want anything else.”
Grian’s chest tightens at the confession.
He’s not interested in coming himself this round — feeling Doc get his release is enough — but he turns his head, a silent request for Doc to kiss him, which Doc fulfills, their moans muffled as Doc’s knot finally locks into place and he spills inside.
Doc continues to kiss him, soft but eager, and Grian goes boneless again, exhaustion seeping back in.
“Okay?” Doc asks when he eventually pulls back, nose brushing against Grian’s jawline.
“Yeah, you?”
“Yeah,” Doc agrees. “You’re a good rut partner.”
Grian doesn’t point out that he’d mostly been asleep. “Returning the favor finally.”
Doc hums quietly in acknowledgement and his arm tightens around Grian’s waist.
“We make a good team,” Doc tells him and Grian finds himself smiling at the truth of it.
“Imagine what else we could’ve done if we’d worked together instead of fighting.”
Doc grunts as though thinking and then grunt again, louder, as though imagining the worst.
“We would probably have fewer neighbors,” Doc tells him. “No one would trust us.”
Grian laughs, because a prank planned by the two of them together would probably destroy half of the world.
“Okay,” he agrees. “Maybe this was for the best.”
He can feel Doc nodding behind.
“For the best,” Doc agrees, and Grian finds himself melting against him.
*
It takes three more rounds for Doc’s rut to break. Grian comes twice and never wants to move again, which means it’s convenient that he’s locked up on Doc’s knot and can’t move.
Doc smooths his palm down his thigh and kisses along the curve of Grian’s shoulder.
Grian’s fucked out — tired and messy and sore — his inhibitions lowered.
“Bite me,” he says, the words slipping out before he can stop them. And there’s no way to shove them back into his mouth. They’re out there now for Doc to hear.
Doc pauses, lifting his head and looking down at Grian, who closes his eyes and refuses to respond. His face burns hot, something he knows won’t be lost on Doc.
Doc rubs his thumb over Grian’s hip and Grian can hear the noise of him swallowing.
“Don’t tempt me,” he warns, which — it isn’t a no.
Grian opens his eyes and tries his best to gauge Doc’s expression from his peripheral vision. He doesn’t seem upset.
“You've seen how unbearable you make me,” Grian tells him. “You're already mine — clearly have been for years — and everyone knows I’m yours now. I'm not opposed to making it official.”
It might be a little unfair when Doc’s trapped inside him, but Doc lets out a low, rumbling laugh.
“You’re always like this, aren’t you?”
Grian pauses and frowns. “Like what?”
“So sure of yourself.”
This is the least sure Grian has been in a long while. He feels exposed and vulnerable, asking for something he doesn’t think he should be allowed.
But then Doc’s hand lifts from his hip and traces along the side of his throat instead, fingers brushing the exact spot where he’d need to bite to mate with him.
“What if it’s a mistake?” Doc asks and Grian shrugs.
“Then we break the bond.”
It wouldn’t be pretty, but it would be possible, and Grian would do it if it was what Doc wanted.
“Okay,” Doc tells him and Grian freezes.
“Okay?” he repeats, trying to glance back at Doc, who’s smiling now, body shifting as though suppressing a laugh.
“Okay I’ll do it. Unless now you've changed your mind?”
Grian’s heart races, and he really regrets doing this while tied together because all he wants is to roll over and look at Doc.
“No, I — ” Grian starts, trying to collect himself. “I didn't think you'd agree to it.”
“You gave the right answer,” Doc explains. “If you had said we never make mistakes, I would have realized you were insane.”
“Not completely,” Grian gets out, voice weak. “Not yet, anyway.”
Doc laughs outright, face tucked in close to Grian’s shoulder, and slowly Grian finds himself smiling in return.
It shifts as Doc kisses at his skin, mouth slowly edging toward where he wants it, and Grian finds himself holding his breath.
“Want me to?” Doc asks, licking at his throat like he can’t help it, and it feels like maybe they’re jumping into it without enough thought.
But Grian’s never been accused of thinking before making any of his decisions. Especially not when they involve Doc.
“Do it,” Grian tells him and Doc doesn’t hesitate, just sinks his teeth in, worrying a mark onto Grian’s skin that will stay with him for the rest of his life. Even if they break their bond later, he’ll still carry Doc’s scar.
Doc’s breathing heavily, something in his chest vibrating like a growl, and Grian’s cock hardens even though he knows he won’t do anything about it. It’s just an automatic response to Doc claiming him.
Grian moans quietly, the ache of it worse than expected, but just when it starts to become unbearable, Doc relents, pulling away and lapping at the mark to stem the bleeding.
It won’t take long to heal — will probably be scabbed over by the time Doc’s knot has deflated — but it stings something fierce.
“You will give me your mark later,” Doc tells him, pulling Grian’s hand away when he tries to reach up and touch the wound.
“Yeah?” Grian asks, unable to keep the smile off his face.
Bonds don’t require reciprocating bites to take, but it feels fitting that Doc still wants one from Grian.
Grian would probably be insufferable until he let him anyway.
“It's only fair,” Doc murmurs, leaning back in to briefly press his lips against the bite, like he's drawn to it, and Grian sighs, shutting his eyes.
“Y’know,” he starts after a moment, “I think we did some of this stuff backwards.”
Doc grunts. “Does it matter?”
Grian lets the question settle in his chest.
“I suppose not,” he relents. Doc is almost always right.
“It worked for us and the destination is the same,” Doc points out. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”
It might be the sweetest thing Doc has said, and so casual that Grian finds himself a little lost for words. He leans a little harder against Doc, who winds an arm around Grian’s waist, gripping tightly.
“I wouldn’t change a thing either,” Grian tells him quietly and Doc kisses his mark again, like he knows.
*
Grian bites Doc the second they're untied, not that Doc seems surprised. He lets Grian climb into his lap, lets him lick at the spot where his neck meets his shoulder, and barely makes a sound when Grian finally digs his teeth in.
Grian whines, the noise slipping out of him unexpectedly, and Doc rubs at his back. Grian’s spent a lot of time thinking about being bitten, but apparently not enough time thinking about biting someone else. The sensation makes his whole body tremble and it feels like his jaw locks because he doesn’t want to let go.
But Doc doesn’t rush him, even though Grian knows from experience how much it hurts.
By the time he does finally let go, there’s blood running down Doc’s chest and Grian can feel the heat of it across his chin.
Doc grins at him and Grian can’t help but bring his hand up to touch the mark, wondering how many people will see it and know it’s the exact size of Grian’s mouth.
“Guess we really are even now,” Grian tells him and Doc’s smile widens.
*
“Grian.”
Grian doesn’t want to open his eyes, too warm and comfortable, still not feeling rested enough after Doc’s rut.
He grunts and presses his face further into Doc’s pillow.
“Grian, it’s time.”
Grian makes another noise. “Time for what?”
The bed shifts beside him and Grian finally lifts his head to look.
Doc stretches out next to him, their egg cradled in one arm, and Grian’s suddenly a lot more awake.
He scrambles to sit up, peering down at where cracks are starting to form along the center of the egg.
“It’s hatching?” he asks, and he knows it’s a stupid question because there’s not much else it could be doing, but he needs the confirmation.
“I think it must have started while we were sleeping,” Doc tells him. “It’s quite advanced already.”
Grian glances up at him, panic bubbling through his stomach.
“Today?” he asks and Doc nods.
“I suspect so. Tonight perhaps.”
Grian drops his gaze again, unable to look away from the egg, trying to control his breathing.
“A watched egg never hatches,” Doc jokes, but Grian’s not sure what else he can do while something like this is happening, and eventually Doc sighs. “It'll be hours yet. We will wash and eat and go and sit in the garden, yes?”
It's more reason than Grian can muster. He just nods in agreement.
“I will keep watch for now,” Doc continues and Grian knows it's only for his benefit, but he appreciates it.
“Okay,” he agrees, but lightly traces his fingertips along the surface of the egg. “If anything happens — ”
“I will tell you,” Doc confirms and something in Grian's chest loosens.
He's not alone in this. He will have his mate by his side.
Carefully, he leans over, kissing Doc in a way that's easy and familiar now.
“Okay,” Grian repeats as he pulls back. “But I'll be quick.”
Doc lets out a laugh, half rolling his eyes. “Wouldn't expect anything less.”
*
Doc's right — again.
The sun has disappeared below the horizon by the time the hatching starts in earnest, and Grian sits on their bed, framing the egg with his hands as it shifts and rocks, shell chipping away bit by bit.
He thinks the only reason he's not pacing a trench into the floor is because Doc is next to him, a hand on his knee keeping him grounded.
By the time one tiny fist breaks through, Grian's almost sweating from the anticipation, his body running hot and then cold, unable to regulate.
Doc laughs immediately, reaching out to touch as the rest of the egg falls away, leaving Grian with a tiny baby bracketed between his hands on the sheets.
She's —
“Are you going to call her hideous?” Doc asks, trailing a finger across the green skin of her belly, which heaves as she begins to cry, her introduction to the world clearly a shock.
But despite all the jokes Grian made before, all he can think about is how beautiful she is. Her tiny body, almost the same shade as Doc’s, but with hair that looks like it might eventually lighten into something like Grian's.
Just above her hairline on the left, there's one small horn-like bump, and Grian scoops her up, clutching her against his chest as he stares at Doc in surprise.
Doc smiles at him, his expression disarmingly soft. “A little bit of both, huh?”
But Grian doesn’t have the words to explain how perfect she is, he just rubs at her back, trying to quell her wails.
“One moment,” Doc tells him, as though Grian plans on going anywhere, but Doc gets up and leaves the room, Grian blinking in confusion for a long minute before Doc eventually returns with something in his hands.
“What’s that?” Grian asks and Doc steps closer, unfolding what appears to be a soft woolen blanket covered in flower patterns.
“A gift from Scar.”
Grian’s eyes widen, because he didn’t even know Scar knew Doc was involved. But he’s always been smarter than he lets on. “When did he make that?”
“It was waiting for me here after you passed the egg.”
The blanket is beautiful, and Grian knows Scar probably stitched a little of his soul into it.
Doc spreads it out on the bed and gestures to it. “Let us wrap her and keep her warm.”
Grian feels out of his depth watching as Doc carefully swaddles the baby, but her whole body goes still, her cries quieting as though it’s precisely what she’d been asking for.
“How’d you know to do that?” Grian asks, feeling a certain kind of way as Doc picks her up and tucks her into his elbow.
She’s so tiny in comparison, so delicate.
“Did some reading,” Doc admits, which probably means he read an entire world’s worth of books — anything and everything he could find. “You should try feeding her soon.”
Grian nods, not able to glance away from her. “We still need a name.”
Doc moves to sit on the edge of the bed beside him, and Grian reaches out to trail a finger down the bridge of her nose, wondering if the feeling of awe will ever lessen.
“Well,” Doc says, “she doesn’t look like a Buttercup.”
Grian lets out a laugh that’s loud enough to earn a startled noise from her, but when she begins to fuss like she might cry again, Doc gently rocks her, the motion enough to settle her down.
“Maybe she could be a Daisy,” Grian suggests and Doc glances over at him.
His expression doesn’t give much away, but he stares down at her again as though assessing, and then nods.
“She could be a Daisy. They’re not dangerous at all.”
Grian laughs again, quieter this time, and he leans into Doc’s side. “Our little white flag.”
“Our Daisy,” Doc agrees, and Grian wouldn’t have it any other way.