Vengeful Bonds S3- Episode 5 - Binnie (Patreon)

Unbeta'd/Unedited...slight cliffhanger but a potentially smutty one.

Binnie was drifting, not really awake or asleep, just enjoying the calm of their room, the comfort of their bed…the way his scent and San’s combined on their pillows. It wasn’t super late. Maybe a little before nine. Their bedside lights were still on, filling the room with a soft amber glow. Beside him, San was reading his book, totally immersed, heart hammering under Binnie’s palm where it lay on his chest. Binnie could always tell when San was reading a pivotal scene. His breaths would come faster, his heart would thud a little heavier. It was cute. 

Last week, it was a reread of Wuthering Heights, the week before, a book about dragon riders. San’s tastes ran the gambit, from classics to webcomics. San was like that with everything. Books, music, art. He wanted to read it all, see it all, experience it all. It was like he was determined to soak up every ounce of artistic expression the world offered so someone’s expression didn’t go to waste. He said it made him a better artist. A better conversationalist. Just…better. 

Binnie didn’t know about better. In his eyes, San was perfect just as he was. San had countered that Binnie only thought that because he’d been absorbing the creative world since he was a child. Binnie wouldn’t argue. He couldn’t. San was interesting…and funny and smart and sexy…unpredictable in some ways and overly predictable in others. He was everything. He was Binnie’s everything. He was sure San would forever keep him guessing. 

He tightened the arm slung across San’s narrow waist, dropping a lazy kiss to his mating mark. It was rare that Binnie got to play big spoon. Usually only when San was reading in bed, as the position left him free to hold his book out before him. Binnie didn’t mind having San wrapped around him–who would?–but he fit so perfectly in Binnie’s arms, it sometimes seemed a shame to waste such a gift. It was like San had been made just to be there. 

The warmth of San’s skin and the way his scent bloomed in the room told Binnie he was getting to a racy part of his book. He could always tell. He would start to squirm a bit, his heart thudding heavy, his chest rising and falling a little quicker. Sometimes his nipples would harden beneath Binnie’s fingers, his cock thickening in his loose pants. 

Binnie needed to stop. He was turning himself on. Even as he thought the words, he couldn’t stop himself from scraping his teeth along San’s scent gland, drawing a low moan from his mate, his ass grinding back against Binnie’s cock. Huh. Interesting. Binnie dragged his tongue over the tang of his skin, feeling the slightly swollen gland beneath. When he pulled the skin into his mouth, San rewarded him with a breathy sound and another slow grind of his ass. Binnie’s hips bucked forward, returning the motion until San’s breath hitched. 

“If you do that again, I’m gonna start getting the wrong idea,” Binnie teased. He expected San to quip back, but instead, he tensed in Binnie’s arms. What was that about? He frowned, arm tightening, half-worried San would try to flee if he asked the question fluttering around in his brain. “Uh, something you want to tell me?” 

San sighed, closing his book and setting it on the mattress. Binnie waited him out. After a minute, he turned in his arms, expression tight, mouth drawn. Binnie instantly drew him in, inhaling his scent. As always, San’s thigh found a home between Binnie’s, his arm sliding around him to rest on his back. Before he answered Binnie’s question, he pressed his face to his chest, his breaths tickling the hair there in a way Binnie could only describe as…distracting. 

“And if there was?” San asked, voice muffled. 

Binnie’s frown deepened. Was what? What did that mean? Was San not telling him something? Did San think he couldn’t tell him something?The thought brought him up short. He never wanted San to think he had to keep things to himself. No matter what it was. Had he done something—said something?—to make San feel like he wasn’t free to speak his mind?

“That’s a bit of a vague answer, love. Are you afraid to tell me something?” Binnie asked, heart aching at the thought. 

“It’s not that,” San said, adjusting to press his face into Binnie’s scent gland, like he was trying to soothe himself with his scent. “It’s not that I’m…afraid to tell you. I’m just not sure what it is I am  thinking.” 

Binnie slid his hand under San’s thin shirt–Binnie’s shirt technically, one he’d had since college–letting his fingers trace the knobs of his spine. “You don’t know or you’re afraid to say?”  

San gave a disgruntled little huff. Binnie adored that silly little huff. It was the sound San made whenever he was frustrated or put out. The sound he saved just for Binnie, used only when San seemed to feel a little bratty or out of sorts. San didn’t like showing that side of himself to anyone. Anyone but Binnie. He’d be lying if he said that didn’t warm him all over just thinking about it. San trusted him with that side of himself over anyone else. 

He tried not to gloat about it too much. Deep down, he knew it came from a place of unprocessed trauma. There was a whole laundry list of reactions, sounds, expressions, and behaviors that San had internalized as being too omega, vowing to never give people a reason to make assumptions about his secondary gender. 

Not that people wouldn’t do that anyway. Even when they went out now, from a distance, people clearly thought they were a typical alpha/omega pairing. Whenever they grew close enough to smell that San was an alpha, there was always an awkwardness that followed.

“You don’t have to tell me…” Binnie said, hoping the ‘but I hope you will’ was implied by the silence that followed. 

“It’s just…” San started. 

“Just…” Binnie prodded, letting his free hand card through San’s blonde hair. 

“I think about it sometimes,” he mumbled. 

Binnie frowned, truly lost. “It?” 

Once more San stiffened, the silence growing, leaving Binnie dancing on a knife’s edge. 

“Bottoming.” San finally said, the word ragged, like it was ripped from him against his will. 

“Oh,” Binnie said, wincing when he couldn’t keep the surprise from entering his voice. 

San pulled his head back to glower up at him, his beautiful face adorably put out. “That. That reaction right there is why I haven’t said anything.” He punctuated his sentence with a poke to Binnie’s ribs, making him grunt. 

“I’m just surprised, baby. I’m not…opposed. I just didn’t know that was something you wanted. You seemed pretty opposed to it when we met.” 

“When we met, I was…now I don’t know.” 

Binnie nodded, studying San. His brows were pinched, his mouth a flat line. It was clear he was waiting for Binnie to say something that would make him change his mind. “You can dominate me from the bottom just as easily as the top. You know that.” He chucked him softly under the chin. “I just like it when you’re mean to me. It turns me on.” 

San’s face softened, but he stayed silent, maintaining eye contact until it seemed to be too much, then burying his face into Binnie’s bare chest once more. 

Was there something more? Something he didn’t want to say? “Unless you want someone else to top you? You know that’s fine, too. Right? Is it the position you’re interested in or the…” Binnie floundered, uncertain what word to use. “Vulnerability?”

Binnie feared that–like so many things San denied himself–this all tied back to secondary gender expectations. Bottoming was expected of omegas. Even though there were plenty of omegas who were perfectly happy topping. The world already perceived San as an omega. In his head, bottoming just solidified people’s preconceived notions. 

San snuggled closer. “It’s the position, or…more like the…experience. I want to know what it's like. Maybe just once, though. Like, I don’t want you to think that I’ll suddenly not like topping anymore. I might hate it. And, of course, I’d want it to be you, if you wanted it to be you. I know you’re fine topping the others, but I also know you prefer giving to receiving.” 

Binnie frowned. “Says who?” 

Once more San’s head popped into his view like a gopher, making him bite back a smile. “Uh, you?” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever said I prefer bottoming. I said I prefer being dominated, humiliated, yada, yada, yada. Who puts their dick in who is irrelevant.” He dropped a kiss on the frown lines forming between San’s brows. “You’re the one who seemed pretty adamant on not wanting to bottom.”

San’s face fell. “Have I been…like, forcing you into a position you weren’t comfortable with? Have you wanted to top this whole time?” 

Binnie snorted at the absurdity of the question. His face cupping San’s face. “Have I ever looked remotely unhappy with our relationship as it is?” 

San huffed once more, his face a storm cloud. “How should I know? You’re always happy,” he said, sullenly. 

Binnie couldn’t hold back his smile. “Well someone has to be the sunshine to your grumpy, pumpkin,” he teased, kissing his nose. 

“I’m not grumpy,” he said, grumpily. 

Binnie sighed, holding San tighter. “I like our sex life just as it is. But I’d also be okay with mixing things up. I just want to make you happy. That’s all I ever want.”  

San nodded, then hid his face again, then mumbled, “I can’t believe you said I’m grumpy.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Binnie crooned teasingly, dropping a kiss to the top of his head. “Not grumpy…direct. You’re direct.” 

“Do you know how often I bite my tongue instead of telling people what I really want to say?” San asked. 

“You don’t have to speak, love. Your face cannot tell a lie. Your resting judgy face scares off anyone who doesn't know you.” 

“Wow…” San said, drawing out the word. “Tell me how you really feel.” 

Binnie smirked, rolling his eyes. “I’m just saying that one of us has to remain…diplomatic. It's my job to be the face of the pack. I’m like our…PR team.” 

“Then what’s my job?” San mumbled. 

Binnie grinned. “To be the blunt, honest one that says the stuff nobody wants to hear but needs to consider.” 

“So I’m the group buzzkill?” San muttered. “Great.” 

Binnie laughed softly. “No, you’re the voice of reason. We all have a role to play. Loch’s the leader. Fen’s the group mom and badass hacker. Seth’s the dramatic one…and our linguistics expert. Ollie’s the medic. Saint’s our security…” At least he used to be. “And Deke…well, Deke’s the baby.” 

“Yeah, well that baby is having a baby.” Binnie couldn’t stop the dopey smile that spread across his face. San snorted out a laugh. “You’re ridiculous. I can feel you smiling and I’m not even looking at you. If I could get you pregnant, we’d have our own soccer team before you turned forty. Nobody gets more excited over babies than you…except maybe Seth.” 

Binnie’s smile disappeared, both of their scents turning sharp at the thought of their littlest omega. They fell into silence, both lost in their thoughts. Three weeks had passed since Saint’s rut had gone so sideways. And things were…not good. 

The first few days after they’d emerged from their bedroom Saint had stayed in this kind of near feral haze, almost more animal than human. But the more he came back to himself, the further he withdrew from the rest of them. Ten days ago, he’d shut himself in one of the guest rooms and just…hadn’t come out since. He was eating and drinking, but that was about all anyone could say. He wouldn’t even let Seth near him, which was tearing their omega to shreds. 

“He still won’t take the tests?” Binnie asked. San shook his head against his chest, but didn’t answer verbally. Binnie sighed. “He wouldn’t have to take the test if he would just call Win back. She must have the results by now. She won’t stop blowing up everyone’s phone.” 

Binnie had thought they’d scored a win when they’d convinced Seth to take the blood test she’d offered. But once the test was complete, Seth refused to hear the results. He’d also forbidden anyone else from finding out. Deke and Ollie likely knew the results–they were at the institute almost daily–but they would respect Seth’s wishes, at least for now. 

“We all know he’s pregnant,” San finally said. “He’s weepy, moody, hungry, nauseated. He has all the symptoms. His hormones are all over the place. I think he just doesn’t want to have to tell Saint when he’s already in such a bad place mentally.” 

“Maybe it might pull him out of his self-loathing?” Binnie mused, annoyed by Saint’s spiral but also empathetic to his plight. 

San sighed. “Or maybe it will make him feel even more like a monster? Evidence of his guilt.” 

Before Binnie could respond, their bedroom door swung open. Seth stood in the doorway holding a pillow and blanket like a toddler who’d had a nightmare. “Can I sleep with you guys? Please?” 

Were his ears burning? Had he known they were talking about him. He looked so…small. Part of that was due to the oversized t-shirt he wore, but mostly it was the weight he’d lost.

“Sure, baby,” San said. 

Seth didn’t wait for them to make room, just forcibly squeezed himself into the space between, dropping his pillow over theirs. He looked miserable. The physical wounds from his week with Saint had healed weeks ago, but his eyes were sunken, there were blue half moons beneath his eyes, his skin ashen beneath his tan. More than anything, he appeared exhausted. 

Binnie propped his head up, cheek to palm, letting his other hand fall to Seth’s belly, feeling the soft curve there. It wasn’t a baby bump, just the natural curvature of his soft belly, but Seth’s body quivered beneath Binnie’s touch. All the omegas were so…tactile. They would curl in his lap like kittens and let him pet them for hours. Any of them. Except maybe Ollie. He had to be in the mood. If he wasn’t, he’d bite. Tonight, even touch didn’t seem to be enough. Seth stared straight up at the ceiling, expression forlorn. 

“Is Saint still—” Binnie started. 

Seth cut him off with a single nod. “Nothing’s working.” Fat tears welled in his eyes but he swiped them away angrily. “This is all my fault.” 

San’s gaze jerked to Binnie’s, eyes a little wild with panic. He never wanted to see San upset, but it warmed him that he looked to Binnie to make it better. San trusted him. And San rarely trusted anyone. 

Binnie shook his head, using his thumb to brush away the tears that still dripped down Seth’s temples to the pillow. “It’s nobody’s fault but Evil, Inc. They shouldn’t be prescribing those drugs without reporting all the potential side effects.” 

Binnie still didn’t know how to feel about getting into bed with Win and Bas and–by extension–Veritas corp. There was something shady about them. Everything they said seemed above board, but Binnie couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just fresh paint over moldy plaster. The outside seemed pristine, but the core could still be rotten. 

Seth shook his head, eyes red and swollen, tears staining his pillow that still smelled faintly of both him and Saint. “Fen warned me. Or he tried to anyway. I was just being selfish. Only worried about what I wanted. I didn’t even consider Saint’s PTSD. What kind of mate am I? A bad one. I just made my own choice, consequences be damned.”

At that, Seth cracked like a dam giving way. The flood of tears became hiccuping sobs that turned his round face a little puffy and had his nose dripping like a faucet. San blinked back his own tears as they tried to comfort him. 

“You know he doesn’t blame you, baby,” San said, his voice strained with desperation. “You couldn’t possibly have known that this was a thing that could happen.” 

Seth flailed, his sobs growing harsher. “That’s worse. He blames himself. He’s convinced himself he’s the monster in some fairy tale. Like he’s the big, bad wolf who mauled me and... He thinks–he…” He dropped his voice to a whisper, each word dripping with misery and embarrassment. “He thinks he raped me.”

“Oh, baby,” San cooed. “We all know that’s not true. We’ll find a way to make him understand that. We will. But you can’t keep neglecting your own health. You look so thin,” San said, eyes tracking Seth’s face, clucking like a nervous mother. “Are you even eating?” 

Seth tears ebbed, temporarily distracted by San’s questioning. He sniffled, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand until Binnie grabbed the tissues and did it for him. Seth gave him a grateful smile, before looking back at San. “I just can’t keep anything down. The smell of almost everything makes me want to hurl. Eggs, meat, cheese…everything. And I’m so tired, like, all the time. I fell asleep at my desk yesterday. Mid-meeting. Do you know how humiliating that is? One minute I’m translating OSINT, the next I’m lying in a puddle of drool on my desk.”

San’s brow went up. “OSINT?” 

Binnie grimaced. “Open-Source Intelligence. Social media posts, blogs, news articles. They’re all part of routine intelligence monitoring. It’s important, especially for tracking sentiment, troop movements, or propaganda trends. But it’s not mission-critical. They couldn’t have been too upset. Right?” 

Seth sniffled once more, miserable. “I told them I was sick and they told me to take the next couple of days off. But what if I’m pregnant? How am I supposed to work when all I want to do is sleep? I slept for nine hours today and I could easily fall asleep right now. Or worse, what if I’m not and this is all in my head?” 

San and Binnie looked at each other. There was no way Seth wasn’t pregnant. Right? Sure, some people had manifested pregnancy symptoms. Phantom pregnancies or something like that. But that usually came from an obsessive desire for a baby. A month ago, Binnie would have said that applied to Seth. But these last three weeks, the only thing the omega cared about was getting his alpha back.  

“Regardless of a positive or negative test, you still have to eat,” San said.

“Food makes me so sick,” Seth reiterated.  

“Is there anything you can tolerate?”

Seth flushed, tone childish as he muttered, “Yeah, but I don’t want to tell you what it is.”

Binnie snickered. “Why? Is it San’s secret chocolate stash?” His mate gasped like he’d just shared some dark family scandal. “Everyone knows about your sugar stash hidden in the studio, pumpkin. Who do you think buys all that stuff on our Costco runs?”

“Whatever,” San said, huffy once more, he snuggled his head onto Seth’s pillow beside him. “I’d share my stash with you, baby.”

“I know. But that’s not it. The food I like is… gross.”

“Gross?” Binnie pressed. “Gross how? You’re not eating like dirt or the couch cushions or something, right?” They both looked at him like he was insane. “What? I saw it on a television show. It’s called PICA. Like sometimes pregnant people’s brains make them crave weird stuff.” 

San looked at Seth with horror. “It's not that, is it?” 

Seth huffed out a humorless laugh. “I’m not eating the couch, no. I couldn’t afford to replace it.” 

“So if it’s not that. How much worse can it be?” Binnie asked. 

Seth seemed to shrink in on himself, voice small as he admitted, “I can only eat white rice with ketchup or spaghetti-Os with doritos crushed up in them.”

Binnie blinked rapidly as he processed this information. “Oh. That’s…” 

“Disgusting?” Seth mumbled. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I haven’t been eating with the rest of you. I don’t want to gross anyone out.” 

“It’s not gross, exactly,” San said. “Just…odd. And stop avoiding us. You can eat anything you want. Except maybe around Ollie. Though he seems to be past that pukey stage. But I think you need to take the test. Or at least call Win back. ” 

Seth was shaking his head before San even finished speaking. “No. Not yet.” 

San frowned at Binnie, before addressing Seth. “Baby, what are you waiting for?” 

The tears returned. “What if it’s negative? What if this is all in my head?” he asked again.

“It’s not,” Binnie assured him. “Your scent is changing. You’re sick to your stomach. You have weird cravings. The statistics were on your side even if you hadn’t spent the week being bred by a feral alpha who knotted you about a thousand times. Between Saint and Deke, I’m honestly surprised Fenny didn’t end up spontaneously knocked up with the amount of pheromones in this house.” 

Seth sniffled. “I just…want to wait until Saint will think this is good news and not confirmation that he’s a monster.” 

“Maybe this will be what he needs to pull his head out of his own ass,” Binnie said. 

“Or maybe it will drive him closer to the edge,” Seth countered, face crumpling once more. 

San brushed the tears from Seth’s cheeks. “Baby, we can’t ignore this. If you’re pregnant—which we all suspect you are—you’re going to have to taper off your ADHD medication. That takes time. And a doctor. You don’t have to choose Win as your doctor, obviously. You and Saint are the picture perfect alpha/omega couple. But we shouldn’t wait much longer.” 

Seth paled, eyes going wide. “Oh, god. Am I hurting the baby?” 

San shook his head. “Most people don’t even know they’re pregnant for 4-6 weeks. We have time, but not a lot of time.” 

“Do you really think I’m pregnant?” Seth asked them, eyes swinging back and forth between the two of them. “Like really? You think there’s a baby in there?” 

His hand fell to his stomach. 

They both nodded. Seth’s shoulders sagged, a look of relief smoothing out his features. But that relief was fleeting. Within seconds, his gaze turned wild. “How am I gonna go nine months without my meds? I can barely function with them. How am I gonna take care of a baby?” 

“What do you mean?” San asked, his confusion evident. 

Seth looked at San like he’d grown a second head. “What do you mean, what do I mean? You’ve seen me play the Sims!” 

“The Sims?” Binnie echoed, very much lost. 

Seth nodded solemnly. “I’m the literal worst. A digital fucking serial killer. I’m a bad person.” 

He said it with such gravity that Binnie had to bite back a smile. “I…don’t know what to say to that. I don’t think-” 

Seth cut him off. “No? I used to delete the pool ladder just to watch my Sim die slower? One time, I locked my Sim in a room with six fireplaces and a single chair just to see what would happen. Spoiler alert! Nothing good. I flirted with Death once. Literally. Like, I tried to seduce the Grim Reaper while he was taking my Sim-preschooler. He left, but not before we had a deep conversation about grilled cheese. That’s not normal parenting material!” 

Binnie blinked at him stupidly. “What?” 

Seth was spiraling quickly, his breaths coming faster. “My digital babies were once removed by child protective services within six hours. That has to be some kind of record. My Sim caught fire making toast. Toast, Binnie. If I can’t keep a digital household alive, what chance does one tiny, squishy baby have? Oh God. Or two? What if there’s two? Or three? I’m too small for three babies. Look at me. I’m like three inches away from being able to apply to the lollipop guild. What was I thinking?”

Binnie had never played the Sims but he got the jist of it…sort of. “I think you’re being too hard on yourself.” 

Seth looked at him with a gravity one usually saved for delivering tragic news about people’s loved ones. “I named a Sim ‘Hope’ and then starved her to death. On purpose. What kind of monster does that? It’s me. I’m the monster. I can’t do th-.”

“Okay, crazy,” San cut in, sitting up and dragging Seth with him, gripping his shoulders and forcing him to look at him. “Listen up. There’s no such thing as a digital serial killer. If people had to prove they could keep a cactus or a tamagotchi alive before they were allowed to have a baby, the population would have died out long ago. Also, you’re tiny. Your babies will also be tiny. No matter how many there are in there. You’re gonna be great at this.” 

Seth’s face said otherwise. “Why is Ollie breezing through his pregnancy like it's nothing?” 

“He’s not,” Binnie promised. “The thing about Ollie…he needs to be the helper, not the helped.”

“Unlike me? The perpetual victim?” Seth sulked. 

Binnie laughed softly. “That’s not what I’m saying and you know it. Ollie has convinced himself he always has to be the level-headed adult in the room. Even if he was as sick as you’ve been, he’d pretend it wasn’t true. He’d hide it from all of us.” 

“I don’t know how to hide stuff like this,” Seth said quietly. 

“We don’t want you to, baby,” San said. “We don’t want Ollie to either, but that’s just who he is.” 

Binnie nodded. “Physically, he’s definitely had it easier than you. Mentally, he’s panicking pretty much daily. He doesn’t think we notice but those of us who were around beta Ollie for years, know that omega Ollie has his very last shred of calm in a death grip.” 

“I know it's selfish,” Seth said. “But I want my alpha back. I want him to pull it together so he can take care of me. Without him, I feel…lost. And lonely. Our bed is too big and too empty. At least Ollie isn’t doing all of this without Deke.” 

Binnie raised a brow. “Why do you think Ollie is trying so hard to act nonchalant? For Deke. Our baby alpha might eventually be some big, bad enigma. But right now he’s about to be a father and he’s barely old enough to drink.” 

San sighed. “And he’s agreed to be a pin cushion to protect Ollie and the baby. None of us really are as together as we look. I promise.” 

Seth flopped back on his pillow. “Saint’s gonna be okay, right?” 

Binnie’s heart twisted like someone squeezing out a dish rag. “Of course, he is. He just needs a little time. But I’ll talk to him tomorrow. Actually, I’ll drag Loch and Ollie with me and we’ll all go talk to him tomorrow. Might be time for a slight intervention.” 

Seth’s apples smelled sweet once more. “Will you guys scent me?” 

“Of course, baby,” San said. “How do you want us?” 

“I don’t care. I just want to forget everything for a while. Can you just Xanax me with your alpha pheromones?” 

“Sure. Is that all you want from us?” San asked, his fingertips floating under the hem of Seth’s shirt. 

“Just do what feels good,” he pleaded. “I’m lonely and horny. And…scared.” 

“We got you, little one,” Binnie promised, kissing his forehead. 

He took Seth’s wrist and brought it to his nose, licking the skin there. Seth shivered. He was so pretty like this. He got why Saint protected him so violently. There was a vulnerability to him that just made people want to hide him away. 

Binnie’s cock hardened as he watched San capture the omega’s mouth, tongue sweeping inside easily. Seth melted, immediately letting San take whatever he wanted. Binnie’s hand slipped beneath Seth’s shirt, toying with his nipples, drawing a stuttered gasp from him. He was much more sensitive. Was that a pregnancy thing too?

Tomorrow they would snap Saint out of his martyrdom before he got ideas about running back to the desert. But tonight, they’d give Seth what he needed in whatever form he chose. 

San licked across the seam of Seth’s lips, a string of saliva keeping them connected as he drew back to whisper, “What do you want, baby?”