By the time his heat came on properly in the middle of the next night, Lance woke with sweaty skin and wet underwear.
But it hadn't been the arousal or the feverishness that had woken him. There was something else. Sounds that seemed out of place and unnatural and it took Lance a moment to figure out what it was through the haze in his head, when he did he shot up in bed with a choked off noise.
Lance slapped his hands over his mouth as he made the sound, trying to muffle it as much as possible as his eyes drifted towards the window where dark silhouettes were swaying. There were no lights on anywhere so Lance couldn't see any detail but the guttural groaning was unmistakable and even through the stodgy haze of his heat he felt terror grip him. The only dead he'd had to deal with so far had been his family, but the ones pawing at his window were strangers from god only knew where.
He scrambled out of bed, knocking the side of his nest down in the process. But when he tried to stand Lance felt slick trickle down his inner thighs as his legs gave out and he slumped to the floor. His heart was pounding in his chest, fear and adrenaline making him tremble all over as he pulled himself up again and stumbled towards his bedroom door.
Lance felt slightly better when he was out in the hallway, there were no windows there so he couldn't be seen and more importantly he couldn't see them either. He stopped outside Keith's room with his fist raised to knock but froze when more slick made a mess of his legs. Shame overcame him then. Memories of their stilted conversations and the odd looks and weird atmosphere between them now coming to the fore.
Lance's head was a complete mess of hormones and thoughts and fear, but breaking through it all—aside from the arousal which still had him painfully hard despite the situation—was indignation.
So what if he was an Omega? That didn't make him weak. He could still kick ass and fend for himself and he didn't need an Alpha to do that for him.
Lance stumbled away from the door and instead made his way to the kitchen, which was on the same side of the house as his bedroom and thus it didn't take long for the walkers to begin clawing at that window instead. Lance wondered how the hell they knew where he was in the dark, he wasn't even being noisy aside from his heavy breathing but he couldn't do anything about that.
Lance grabbed a carving knife and turned to leave the room, only to stop when he bumped into the back of one of the bar stools. The pressure of the corner on his dick hurt initially but very quickly turned good and Lance got side-tracked for a moment. Panting harshly as he rolled his hips and humped up against the furniture with a low whine.
One of the zombies slammed against the window hard and Lance yelped, jolting and dropping the knife with a clatter as he gripped the backrest of the stool in a white-knuckled hold. Lance sobbed, humiliation washing over him as he couldn't still his hips even when the dead were literally outside trying to get in to eat him. Maybe he really was weak and stupid. He sobbed again and whimpered with a mixture of emotional pain and physical pleasure and then Keith was there.
Lance could smell him before he saw him and it made his body ache even more. The scent of Alpha making him trill as he looked up with eyes full of tears to Keith's shocked and heavily flushed expression. Then the other man's eyes jerked to the window when the zombies got more excited with the commotion inside and his disposition changed completely.
One moment Keith had seemed concerned and embarrassed and the next he'd adopted a hardened scowl and his gaze drifted from the window to Lance to the knife on the floor.
Keith scowled at the utensil before turning on his heel and leaving again.
“Stay here. Don’t move.”
Lance had been frozen in shock and embarrassment and shame when Keith had entered but after he heard Keith leave a few moments later he couldn't stop himself. Lance grabbed the back of the chair harder with one hand and pressed the fingers of the other against his boxer-clad ass as he bucked against the chair with more abandon. Keith smelled so good. He was so good, Lance wanted him so much.
The pressure against his ass was bliss and Lance came quickly with a few uneven jerks and a high keening noise.
At the same time he could hear the sounds of a scuffle outside, but only barely over the loud throb of his own pulse in his ears. Lance collapsed to the floor and pressed his head against the wooden siding of the kitchen island, the coolness against his flushed skin felt good and grounding as he tried his hardest to catch his breath. Cumming had also eased the fog of heat for now and Lance felt irritation at himself for how pathetic he was being, how stupid he must have looked to Keith.
The Alpha hadn't even said anything other than a command to 'stay', as if Lance was some kind of dog.
Now Keith was out there fighting off however many deadheads there were whilst Lance practically fucked a kitchen chair because he couldn't control himself. On-top of that now his underwear was too soaked to do much of anything aside from stick to his skin and it felt absolutely disgusting.
Lance grabbed the knife and crawled to the nearest bedroom—one that wasn't Keith's— and pulled off the underwear with a disgusting, wet squelch as they hit the wall he threw them at. Fuck heats. Fuck being an Omega. Lance sobbed loudly as he rifled through his sisters drawers and found some jersey cloth shorts, better than trying to wear panties and much better than nothing at all. He put them on awkwardly and then tried to stand again, only to fall down.
"Fuck!!" Lance swore and punched the floor, yelping as pain shot through his knuckles and the inner side of his right hand.
Unable to stand and feeling thoroughly done with his heat already, Lance hugged his knees to his chest and hid his face against them. He was still clutching the kitchen knife, just in case Keith died or something and he had to protect himself against the undead. Lance only sobbed harder at that thought, Keith dying wasn't something he even wanted to entertain, regardless of how repugnant he was to the Alpha, Lance couldn't deny his feelings. Especially not in the midst of his heat.
There was suddenly a shape in the doorway and Lance screamed, throwing the knife towards it before belatedly realising that it was Keith. Luckily for the Alpha Lance's throw—whilst accurate aim wise—wasn't great when it came to hitting things with the sharp and pointy business end of things. It hit Keith in the chest handle first and then clattered to the floor.
Seeing Keith standing there just staring at him and out of breath made Lance cry even more. The other man was sweating and half dressed—fuck, his legs were nice—and covered in gunk that Lance could only assume was zombie blood. It was both hot and gross as fuck but all Lance wanted to do was cling to him.
"K-Keith..." Lance cried and uncurled from his position. He began to half crawl towards the Alpha.
"I told you to stay there." Keith admonished him but before he knew it Lance was bundled into the Alpha's arms and enveloped in his comforting scent and all he could do was whine again at the effect it had on him.
"I... I made a mess, I wanted to fight too... I can still fight shit! I'm not weak—" Lance was cut off in his ranting by a hiccupping sob rattling out of his chest.
"I know, Lance, I know. You're not weak." Keith stroked his hair and Lance was lulled into a slightly calmer state by the Alpha's soothing pheromones. Plus the stench of rotted corpses that should have bothered him more than it did. But beneath that all was something much sharper and hotter which could have actually been arousal.
Keith was aroused by him? Lance pulled back slightly, frowning in confusion because he'd been sure his affect on Keith was quite the opposite. Not quite enough to have sent the Alpha packing quickly but enough to make him seem avoidant and standoffish.
Before he could open his mouth to question Keith's scent—not really able to filter himself for politeness' sake it seemed—Keith stood and pulled Lance into his arms like some sort of damsel. Lance flailed and sputtered for a moment until Keith's hand was on the back of his head and pressing him forward, right into the crook of the Alpha's neck. Fuck, he really did smell good. Lance went lax and hummed, lifting his arms so he could cling more securely to broad shoulders.
"Next time just wake me up. I'll take care of it when you're like this. You can pay me back another time." Keith's voice was low and thick, quiet as he whispered close enough to Lance's ear to make the Omega shudder.
"K-kay..." Lance groaned, feeling another heatwave quickly washing over him like an incoming tide. "Mngh... Alpha..." Lance shuddered as he called out to Keith.
"Fuck, Lance." Keith's hold on him tightened for a second before the other man seemingly forced himself to move.
Keith carried Lance down the hallway and back into his room, he stumbled for a moment after opening the door and Lance was gifted with the sound of a breathless growl erupting out of the Alpha. It was probably because Lance's room was saturated with his scent. Both his normal scent and that of his heat.
Lance made a disapproving sound when he was placed on the bed in the middle of his nest. He didn't want Keith to stop holding him, even with the gross blood all over him all Lance wanted was to be pressed up against him. His body was burning and the soft sheets felt good against the areas of bared skin. Lance arched and sort of writhed in place to feel the material moving across the backs of his arms and legs, at the same time Keith was picking up the clothes on the floor and fixing the destroyed side of the nest.
As he worked Keith kept one hand over his nose and mouth, though his breathing was still heavy and his gaze kept drifting up to Lance and getting stuck there. Lance briefly wondered if Keith would climb into the bed with him when he was done, but his thoughts were a jumble of conflict. He really, really wanted Keith to touch him and get him off and scent him and fuck him—fill him with his cum and breed him—but at the same time Lance remembered his feelings. How he'd not wanted this to be when they initiated anything, heat fuelled sex without feelings wasn't something that Lance had ever been interested in.
It seemed Keith didn't want to let things get out of hand either, and Lance knew he'd be utterly thankful for that self control when his heat was over. But in the moment all he could feel when Keith ducked out of the room after telling Lance he'd keep watch for more zombies was hurt. The Alpha didn't want him, he wasn't good enough after all.
The rest of Lance's heat after that had been utterly horrible, filled with both heartache and physical pain where his body clamped down around nothing and his fingers did nothing to help ease it.
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
When the heat was over Lance didn't want to leave his room and face Keith. He knew he'd been loud and not always in a sexual sense. Between his fits of finger fucking himself to multiple unsatisfying orgasms, Lance had whimpered and whined and keened for Keith. He'd even sort of yowled in distress and a few times the Alpha had come close to the door and leaned against it with a thud. But Keith had never entered his room after the first two times.
Those times had only been to initially bring Lance back to his bed, and then to bring in bottles of water and some pickled vegetables if Lance got hungry. Lance was grateful for that now. His heat being over brought back all the clarity he'd been sorely lacking, but at the time he'd felt like he would die if Keith didn't hold him. Not even sexually, he just needed the other man there with him somehow, the scent through the door wasn't good enough. His heat had been worse this time around, too.
Lance sat up in bed and pressed his hands to his face with a humiliated groan, his cheeks burning with the shame of his memories from the past 48 hours. He wouldn't ever be able to face Keith again now, they weren't even dating—scratch that they weren't even courting to date. Did those rules even still apply now? The whole official courting thing had been 'the done thing' before AZE but now that society was pretty much decimated, Lance wasn't sure if they should even bother with it if they wanted to date. It'd always seemed stuffy and out of date to him and his friends.
Peeling himself out of bed—literally, gross—Lance stood on weak legs and hobbled to the bathroom to sponge himself down with a flannel in the cold bucket of water by the sink with a shiver.
He hated winter so much.
Lance rushed through his cleaning and lamented how low his last tub of moisturiser was as he massaged it into his cheeks with a tired sigh. Of course he wouldn't die without it, and his skin wasn't really that bad either, but it was yet another security blanket that he was losing. Something else from the 'before' that was disappearing and Lance hated change these days. Too much had changed too quickly already.
He wondered if the rest of the world was faring better than the city and towns in his province. Lance had seen the news before it all shut down and he got too sick, everything looked wrecked by riots and fearful stockpiling. He wondered how many other people were actually still surviving out there, how many of them had caught it and recovered like him?
Lance left the bathroom and did his best to find some clean clothes, settling on a pair of his dad's sweats and a black polo shirt that used to be one of his own favourites. A small cracked and faded print of vaporeon sat over the chest pocket. Lance made sure to tug on the thickest, fluffiest socks he could find and then wrapped himself up in his mothers baby blue winter cardigan. He remembered the times he'd hug her from the side as she cooked their evening meals as they'd chat about anything and everything.
Lance held one side of the garment against his cheek and his breath hitched at how soft it still felt. He wished it smelled of her too, but it had been too long and he'd worn it too many times so all it smelled of now was the faint and lingering smell of the soap he used to wash the clothes. It probably smelled like him, too, but Lance couldn't pick up his own scent.
When he finally worked up the courage to leave his bedroom everything was quiet. A glance to the digital clock in the lounge showed it to be just past 11am but Keith was nowhere to be found.
Lance hesitated before knocking on the Alpha's bedroom door just to let him know he'd need to use the outside tub for washing everything he'd gotten messed up during his heat. There was no answer and after knocking a second time with the same result Lance gingerly opened the door, to find the room empty.
Lance shut the door quickly as a wave of Keith's scent hit him and the lingering heat that was still working its way out of his system began to react. He was not going there again, he was sore and tired and the last thing he wanted to do was get another goddamn boner just because he got a whiff of Keith sweat. Or whatever.
Maybe Keith had left?
The thought made the pit of Lance's stomach drop and he felt almost nauseous. He pressed a hand to his mouth and took in a few deep breaths through his nose to calm himself and try to stop the pain in his chest from getting worse. No, Keith hadn't left without saying goodbye, and Lance would remember if the other man had knocked to tell him. So he wagered that Keith was just outside or something, maybe taking a bath. That had to be it, right?
So Lance made his way outside and found... nothing. The fire in the stove was dark and cold, only ash and burned logs, the same thing with the fire beneath the bath and there was no heat lingering so neither had been lit that day, probably.
Lance felt panic starting to settle in and he hated it. Keith didn't belong to him, he had no obligation to stay and he'd even said he was looking for someone important to him. Keith had already spent enough time there so maybe he really did move on.
Lance blinked, feeling tears slide down his cheeks and cooling quickly in the chilled winter air. His breath hitched loudly and he made a frustrated and garbled noise that sounded suspiciously like profanity. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and rubbed at them angrily, so what? So what if Keith left and he was alone again. He was used to it, no big deal.
It felt like a really, really big deal, actually. Lance didn't want to be alone again, trapped in monotony and silence and cold.
He let his knees give way so he slipped to sit in a messy heap on the floor of the patio, the chill of the stone tiles quickly seeping into his skin through his clothes. The snow that had been around had gone and all that remained was a wet and hazy mist of moisture to the air.
Lance sobbed again and growled in annoyance at how stupid he was being. He had to get up and warm some water in the tub and wash himself properly and then the sheets and some of the soiled clothes and... and he couldn't make his legs work.
Lance didn't want to give a name to the feeling he had as he sat there crying like a baby. He didn't want to acknowledge that it was heartbreak all over again. Keith could have at least said goodbye to him, thanked him for the roof and the food or something, goddamnit!
Lance slapped the palm of his hand to the floor hard, hating the mangled mix of sorrow and anger and stupid, stupid hints of horny still trying to cling to him and would be for the next few hours.
He hadn't even known Keith for that long so there was no way he should be so attached to him already. But Lance knew what he was like, he'd always fallen fast and hard and he couldn't even blame that on being an Omega, however much he wanted to.
He sat there until his ass was numb and his fingers and toes hurt from the cold. With his face sore from where his tears had dried against his skin, Lance pushed himself to stand and stumbled with the effort. He caught himself against one of the thick pillars holding the veranda roof up and then yelped as a sudden and unfamiliar noise ripped through the air from the direction of the large storage shed. Lance used to call it Barn 2.0 but his father had insisted it was just a shed.
Ignoring his bare feet and the cold still biting at his extremities, Lance did the opposite of what any self-preserving person would do, he ran towards the sound. He ran towards it because the longer he listened the more familiar it seemed and by the time he got to the large double doors that were half open he knew it was his brother's truck.
Lance yanked one of the doors open and stood there with wide eyes at the sight before him. Not only was the truck actually running, but Keith was there. Standing over the open hood with oil smears on his bare arms and face in various places, looking like some kind of sexy mechanic calendar spread.
Lance did what anyone with a good grasp on speech would in such a situation, he squawked and his voice broke around the sound just to add another layer of embarrassment.
Keith turned and blinked owlishly, staring at Lance unmoving for a moment before he went around and leaned into the truck to turn the engine off. Then, then the bastard walked over to Lance as if nothing was amiss and smiled at him. Wiping his hands on an old towel that had definitely seen better days, and had probably been sitting in the shed for forever.
“Hey, feeling better today?” Keith said, and Lance’s heart tried to punch a hole through his chest with how fast and hard it started to thrum.
Lance knew that he was making things awkward, he knew that he should formulate some sort of reply to the Alpha before Keith thought he'd leaked his entire brain out through his ass with all the goddamn slick. But it was harder than he’d thought to ignore the warm scent of motor oil—from the truck—mingled with cedarwood and that sharp hit of ozone that made up Keith’s scent.
He could feel it; the heat. It was oozing into him all over again and as he shifted where he stood Lance felt his ass cheeks sliding against each other with the help of a fresh dribble of slick. The sudden hot spike of cinnamon coming from Keith indicated that the Alpha also knew what was happening.
“Oh…” Keith cleared his throat and took a step back, colour dusting high on his cheekbones and he turned his head to the side.
“I thought maybe it was over by now.”
“It is. It was.” Lance managed to croak out a response at last. Hoping his disappointment at Keith’s retreat wasn’t obvious.
“What do you mean ‘was’? Don’t they just...stop? I thought once they stopped that was it.” Keith was apparently full of questions all of a sudden.
Lance couldn’t stop the frustrated, tortured whine from bubbling up out of him as he tried to formulate an answer. In truth he didn’t know. He’d been under the same impression but he was definitely feeling all flavours of horny and moist and thick headed now that Keith's scent was so close and fresh.
“I’unno.” Lance finally managed to make his mouth work again.
He took a step towards Keith before freezing at the sensation the inside of his sweats caused against the sensitive, sore skin of his half hard dick. Not to mention the slick that slid down the inside of one thigh, tickling on its way towards his knee. Gross.
“Lance- Don’t.” Keith backed up until he was pressed against the hood of the truck, one of his hands lifting to cover his mouth and nose like he’d done before.
That woke Lance from the fog of need like a bucket of ice water.
He stumbled back and ducked his head. Shame made him feel hot all over in a way that was so much worse than the inescapable temperature of his heat.
Lance bit his lip hard enough to hurt and took a deep, shuddering breath as he tried to get himself back to normal. His heat was over. The reaction was just because Keith was spreading his stupid, sexy pheromones about the place and Lance’s body was still on high alert. That was all.
“Sorry I… it’s over. I’m sure it’s over, just got too close to you for a minute there, heh heh!” Lance pressed a hand to the back of his head and ruffled his own hair.
“You’re okay right? Do you need anyth-”
“Yep! I’m good! All great! Just wanted to let you know I’m gonna be using the tub so uh…” Lance interrupted Keith’s question hastily and forced himself upright again. “Smell ya later!”
With that, Lance ran away before Keith had a chance to give any form of answer. He strode across the dirt driveway and into the house, down the hallway to his room before finally letting himself slump against the wall and slide down into a squat. He let his face drop into the cradle of his hands and let out a long, low groan of humiliation and discomfort.
He ached, he was wet and had to change his pants again and the room still smelled of gross slick and cum. Still, it was better to be surrounded by that than Keith’s scent. Lance loved it, it was even better when he was coming out of heat and that spicy cinnamon hit of arousal was something else.
Lance had never even liked the smell of cinnamon before.
He groaned again and fell to his ass, legs spreading as he gave in and palmed the painful hardness of his cock through his sweats.
“Fuck…” He’d have to do the sheets later.