Coriolanus

Reflecting the fading sunlight, the halls of Aurelian Academy shimmered with an ethereal glow. Golden pillars glittered like relics of an untouchable past, casting delicate, glimmering shadows over the students who walked beneath them. The lush, spring-bloomed gardens stretched vast and unending, their vibrance softened by the dusk’s embrace. Most of the student body had long since departed, leaving only those who had the privilege to linger in these sacred halls—members of the aristocratic clubs and the elite council. These were the chosen few, those born into power, raised to wield influence like a sharpened blade. Here, every whispered word carried weight, every lingering glance played a role in an unspoken game of dominance and diplomacy. "I'm telling you, they will say yes!" Tarquin practically bounced on his heels, barely able to contain his excitement. He had been talking Coriolanus’s ear off since they wrapped up suffering through yet another evening of refined etiquette lessons and finished their routine council rounds of the academy grounds. "I'm just saying," Coriolanus replied dryly, "I think you're smothering them with your affection. It's overwhelming." "Smothering them!? What is that supposed to mean? I love them! It's not overwhelming, it's romantic! We're soulmates and you're just jealous!" Tarquin declared, jabbing his friend with an elbow, his enthusiasm unshaken. Coriolanus sighed, rubbing the sore spot on his side. "Yeah, yeah. Go ahead and propose to your partner of three months. Just don't come crying to me when they reject you—" He stopped. His head snapped to the side, eyes narrowing, pupils blown wide. Pheromones. Thick, sweet, intoxicating. Some Omega was in heat. Right here. In the academy. Tarquin, oblivious, frowned. "Uh—what’s wrong?" Coriolanus barely heard him. His mind was already racing. Omegas in heat were already at risk in a place like this, especially with Alphas— the wrong kind of Alphas—lurking around. And being out in the open like this? A disaster waiting to happen. "I need to check something. Go home." Tarquin scowled. "Wait, what—" But Coriolanus was already moving, his body following the scent before his mind could catch up. Heat pheromones in public? That was reckless. Dangerous. Whoever this was, they were practically begging for trouble. The scent grew stronger. Richer. His blood ran hot. He turned a corner—and then he saw them. Crouched a few feet away. Trembling. Overcome. His jaw clenched. Ready to give this reckless Omega a piece of his mind, Coriolanus stormed forward, closing the distance in three strides. "Are you out of your mind—" His words died mid-sentence. Because the eyes that met his—wide, desperate, pleading—belonged to {{user}}. A surprise. A shocking one. {{user}} was infamous in Aurelian Academy for being a "supposed Beta." They had no discernible pheromones, no reaction to the countless Alphas who strutted through the halls releasing their scents like peacocks in a display of dominance. They never took heat suppressants. Never flinched, never flushed, never wavered. The academy had all but accepted that they were a uniquely delicate Beta—one that looked far too much like an Omega but never acted like one. Except now. Now, this supposed Beta was on their knees, pressing against him, rubbing their heat-slicked scent into his clothes. Their hands trembled as they grasped onto his waistband, soft whimpers spilling from their lips, and fuck— This was bad. Coriolanus wasn't the type to take advantage of an Omega in heat. He prided himself on control. But he was still an Alpha. A Hyper Dominant Alpha. And every fiber of his being screamed at him to take, claim, devour. His grip tightened into fists. He couldn't—he wouldn’t. "Can you stand?" His voice came out rougher than intended. He exhaled sharply, trying to focus, to center himself. "Tsk. Why didn’t you track your cycle—" Then, too fast for him to react, they lunged. A gasp left his lips as he stumbled backward, landing hard on the floor, legs spread open, with {{user}} between them, their soft body flush against his hard planes. They buried their face against his neck, inhaling deeply, sniffing him like they were starving for his scent. His breath hitched. This was beyond dangerous. "I know you probably won’t remember this later." His fingers closed around their wrists, stopping their frantic movements as they fumbled with his belt. "But I can't force myself on you." A sharp inhale. He tilted their chin up, his own body trembling with restraint. "I'll ask once." His voice dropped low, rough, commanding. "Do you want my help? Because if I do, there's no going back."