Peregrine by Piper Scott
Sebastian
1508
As it transpired, the omega did not take easily to life at sea. Due to his good breeding, he didn’t complain in any way, though, so Sebastian was slow to realize his distress. All had seemed so perfectly normal. During the day, Peregrine kept their cabin spotless and tidy, and was attentive in his daily tutoring with Alistair; and at night, he opened both arms and legs to Sebastian.
It took Alistair, in fact, to alert Sebastian that there was even a problem.
“You need to do something with your omega,” Alistair told him several days into their voyage.
“Do you insinuate that I cannot please him?” Sebastian growled.
Alistair held up his hands in mock surrender. “Lord, no. The entire ship knows how well you please the boy. The problem is when he’s not in your bunk. Peregrine is peaky, brother. Have you not seen it?”
Sebastian frowned. “Nonsense. What do you know of omegas? Other than how to sniff them out and seduce them, that is.”
Alistair colored, but persisted. “Mark my words. Your omega is not well.”
To Sebastian’s chagrin, he found that Alistair had been right. There was something amiss with his omega. When he thought himself unobserved, his face would fall into fretful lines and he’d hurry to one of two places: either the ship’s rail, which he’d retch over while clinging to it so tightly his knuckles turned white; or their cabin, where he’d curl up and fall into a fitful sleep. Unless he knew himself to be watched, he did not smile.
“You were right,” Sebastian was forced to admit to his brother three days later. “There is something amiss with the boy.” His gut churned with worry and his dragon was remarkably unhelpful. “What should I do?”
Alistair’s face brightened. “I know just the thing. His humors are imbalanced. I think Everard should agree with me that what ails him is an excess of black bile. Until we can find him herbs to remedy the situation, you should feed him moist foods and see if you can’t do something to lift his melancholy. Maybe you could woo him.”
Sebastian glared at his brother. “Woo him? Tis a bit late for that.”
“Hardly. You’ve taken his innocence and snatched him from his home—”
“A bloody horrible home,” Sebastian grumbled.
“And you only interact with him with your cock and knot,” Alistair continued. “Of course he’s not happy. What omega would be in those circumstances?”
“And what do you suggest to remedy this, brother?”
“I know just the thing to bring a sparkle to any omega’s eye.” Alistair gave Sebastian a dragony grin.
Sebastian stared at his brother blank-faced, waiting for him to explain.
“Poetry,” Alistair revealed, grin unwavering. “It never fails. Your omega’s spirits will be much improved in no time at all and his excess of black bile should lessen if only you share with him your appreciation for the arts. I swear it. It’s worked a thousand times before. Science agrees with me—the answer is poetry.”
* * *
The answer was not poetry.
The evening started out as normal. Sebastian and Peregrine ate in their cabin. As usual, Sebastian ate heartily while the omega picked at his food, saying that he’d eaten a large meal earlier and wasn’t hungry. After the dishes were cleared and removed to the galley, however, Sebastian didn’t take Peregrine to bed. Instead, he bade the omega to lie down and be comfortable while Sebastian read to him from a book of poems Alistair had brought with him. The author was Stephen Hawes, and Sebastian had never heard of him, but Alistair assured him that he was a much-admired poet and his verses very romantic.
In a halting rumble, Sebastian started to recite. The poem was silly, to his point of view, but there were two stanzas that did seem appropriate for the occasion. Sebastian hoped Peregrine would like them. Otherwise, he was afraid the entire endeavor was a lost cause.
“The lord and knight deluteth for to here
Chronicles and stories of noble chivalry
The gentle man’s gentleness for his pastime dare
The man of law to hear law truly
The yeoman delighteth to talk of yeomanry
The plowman his land for to air and sow
Thus nature worketh in high degree and low
For if there were one of the gentle blood
Consigned to yeomanry for nourishment
Discretion comen he should change his mode
Though he knew not his parents verament
Yet nature would work, so by entendyment
That he should follow the conditions doubtless
Of his true blood, by outward gentleness”
Two-thirds of the way through the poem’s recitation, Peregrine had gone a noticeable green shade. That boded ill. Sure enough, Peregrine frantically began to seek for something by the cabin’s bunk. Sebastian’s words faltered as he watched the omega struggle. At last, he found what he sought: the chamber pot. For a bare second, Sebastian thought Peregrine might have grabbed it to dash its contents at him, as sometimes happened to public orators, but instead, Peregrine vomited into the vessel, which wasn’t, when you got down to it, much better.
Sebastian knew he was no elocutionist, but he hadn’t thought his efforts sick-inducing. He threw down Alistair’s precious book and was at the bunk’s side in an instant, stroking Peregrine’s fine, silky hair.
“The poetry was Alistair’s idea,” he told Peregrine as he voided into the chamber pot. “Not mine. He holds the blame.” That was petty, but if the omega had to despise someone, Sebastian would rather it be his harebrained brother.
Peregrine let out a wheeze of laughter, then groaned. “It wasn’t the poem, my lord. It was lovely, and I thank you for trying to entertain me. I apologize for ruining your efforts. That was not well done of me, but my body was not being cooperative.”
Sebastian considered that. “So the poetry did not cause you to vomit?”
The omega wheezed out another short laugh. “No, my lord.”
Sebastian stiffened. “Then whatever is the matter? Have you the plague? I can send Alistair to fly with a message to bring Everard. They could be here in a day or two.” Humans were so very fragile, and omegas even more so. Sebastian didn’t know what he’d do if the young man he’d taken into his care grew ill and died while he was forced to watch.
Peregrine shook his head. “I’m fine, my lord. Nothing is amiss.”
“The very full pot by my foot tells a different tale, omega. Either you hate poetry or you’re ill. Either way, I will fix this.”
“There is nothing to fix, my lord. Not unless you can stop the tide. I’ve never been sailing before, and my head and stomach do not like it, it seems.”
That was puzzling. Sebastian frowned. “You’ve never sickened in my presence before.”
Peregrine colored. “Ah, as to that. For some reason, the tossing of the ship ceases to bother me when you touch me, and it’s rare indeed that we’re together without being in contact.”
Sebastian frowned harder. “Is this why you’ve been eating precious little?”
Shyly, the omega ducked his head. “Yes, a bit. Also, the portions are very large. I’m not used to so much in the way of provisions at each meal. Even without my affliction, I’m afraid I could never eat a quarter of what you serve me.”
“Hm.” Sebastian, still frowning, thought about the situation. “But you’re fine if I touch you?”
The blush sprang back to Peregrine’s cheeks. “Even holding my hand helps, but the more you—”
Sebastian ripped off his shirt.
“My lord dragon,” Peregrine squeaked. “It is the middle of the day!”
“I need to make you better,” Sebastian said with a shrug. “This must be some form of draconic magic. I’ve not studied it much. In truth, I’m not much for studying.” Carefully, he plucked off the loose shirt that was Peregrine’s only clothing. “I prefer bashing my foes about the head to using diplomacy. That’s my brother Geoffrey’s concern. But from what little I do know of dragon magic, if me touching you helps relieve your illness, more skin contact will only improve your situation.” Sebastian crawled into the bunk and pulled Peregrine onto his lap so the boy’s back was against his wide chest.
“You can’t spend the entire voyage in here with me,” Peregrine said gently and, Sebastian thought, somewhat wistfully.
“I can,” Sebastian rumbled, wrapping Peregrine up in a tight embrace meant to maximize their skin-on-skin contact, “and I will.”
* * *
Sebastian was true to his word. He rarely ventured from Peregrine’s side, and when he did, he hurried back as soon as he might. They ate their meals cozied up together, with Peregrine nude on Sebastian’s bare lap. Not only did that settle Peregrine’s stomach, but it allowed Sebastian to ensure he ate a proper amount of food.
Slowly, over the course of the voyage, Peregrine began to put on weight, doing away with his near-skeletal thinness. He’d been lovely before, but now he was breathtaking. Sebastian didn’t have to remind himself to touch Peregrine, for it was all he wanted to do. They made love over and over, in as many positions as the cabin’s bunk would allow, until Sebastian knew every inch of Peregrine’s body intimately. The same, of course, could be said for the omega, who quickly learned what pleased Sebastian best.
“If I didn’t know better,” Sebastian said into Peregrine’s hair, which was getting quite long, “I’d say you were a witch, little one.”
Peregrine squirmed in Sebastian’s arms to face him. “Why would you say such a horrid thing?”
“Because you’ve enchanted me as surely as any sorceress or wizard. I cannot get enough of you.”
Peregrine smiled, but the expression slowly fell off his face and was replaced by a look of worry. He bit his lip. The sight of him like that made Sebastian want to smash things and howl and set the entire world on fire, but violence would not solve the problem, so he refrained.
“Peregrine,” he uttered. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Peregrine shook his head. “It’s nothing, I swear. Here, let me show you.”
He pushed Sebastian onto his back and mounted an assault worthy of a great general on his body. Slender limbs twined with his much larger ones. Soft lips traced endless patterns over his wide, scarred chest, and clever fingers brought him to the brink of release again and again and again. Sebastian usually enjoyed being in charge of his lovers, but for the sake of that sadness he’d earlier seen in Peregrine’s eyes, he let the omega do as he would. It was torture, but of the absolute sweetest kind.
“You slay me, Perry,” Sebastian gasped as Peregrine yet again lifted his mouth from Sebastian’s cock right before he spilled his seed. “I am vanquished. I concede. Please, please put me out of my misery.”
A strange look flitted over Peregrine’s face, then he said, “Perry. You’ve never called me that before.” His hand toyed lightly with Sebastian’s aching bollocks.
Sebastian groaned in utter surrender. “I’ll never call you that again, I swear it. Just please… please…”
“No. I like it, I think. Perry. Yes. I think I like it very much.” He then bent his head and added his hot mouth to the delicious torture being wrought by his hand.
“Anything,” Sebastian promised. “I will give you anything. Everything.”
“Hm.” Peregrine licked up the underside of Sebastian’s cock, and he thought he might go utterly mad.
“I swear it,” Sebastian said. “I swear it on my blood and bone and scale.” That was a serious oath indeed, and the omega knew it, because he let out a small gasp of surprise.
“What if it’s not yours to give?” Peregrine asked. Then he set his lips once more upon Sebastian’s member and sucked it down into his throat.
All thoughts and vows flew out of Sebastian’s head as finally Peregrine brought him to orgasm. It was full of so much pleasure it was part pain as well. He roared loud enough for the entire ship to hear, but they were used to such bellows and would let the two of them be. Peregrine’s mouth milked him dry, then his eager tongue cleaned away all the seed that had escaped down Sebastian’s knot. Peregrine himself had some on his mouth and chin. Sebastian hauled him upward and kissed and licked it all away.
Mine,his dragon said. It was, prior to meeting Peregrine, the only thing it ever had to say, and it only spoke when there was something it desperately wanted.
The omega is ours,Sebastian promised. Forever. I vow it.
With a sigh, Peregrine tumbled off Sebastian’s chest to lie beside him. He cuddled close, touching as much of his body to Sebastian’s as was possible. To Sebastian, it felt very much indeed like he would burst from happiness. Touching Peregrine was a high more intense than even the poppy juice Alistair had shared with him once. The boy was addictive. Sebastian could not get enough.
I would ruin myself for him,Sebastian thought. The implications of that should have been terrifying, but Sebastian was not easy to scare. It was due, his sire had often said, to lack of a proper imagination. Case in point, Sebastian could not, no matter how hard he tried, imagine his life once Peregrine was no longer in it. He’d ask Alistair for advice, but he’d likely just give Sebastian more poetry to read. Instead, Sebastian held Peregrine a bit tighter and listened to his dragon say, over and over, mine, until, at last, he fell asleep.