Chapter 3: Mint Tea and Confessions
The mint tea steamed in two chipped mugs on the coffee table, forgotten. Leo lay boneless on the sunken sectional, his cheek pressed into the cushion that smelled most strongly of Marcus. The alpha’s shirt—soft, washed-out grey cotton—swallowed his slimmer frame, the collar falling off one shoulder. The heating pad across his lower back and hips hummed a low, comforting song of analgesic warmth.From his vantage point, Leo watched Marcus move around their living room. There was a new deliberateness to his actions, a quiet intensity that had nothing to do with rut. He straightened a crooked frame on the wall.He plumped a pillow Leo hadn’t touched. He paused by the bookshelf, his broad shoulders tense under his thin white t-shirt.
“You’re prowling,” Leo murmured into the cushion, his voice muffled.“The territory is secure, alpha. I’m not going anywhere.”
Marcus turned, a faint smile touching his lips. “Habit.” He walked over and sat heavily on the edge of the couch by Leo’s legs, the furniture dipping under his weight. His large hand came to rest on Leo’s ankle, his thumb making absent circles over the bone. The silence between them was warm, full of the unspoken weight of the last two weeks.
Leo extracted an arm from his nest of blankets and poked Marcus’s thigh with a bare foot.“Spill it. You’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“The ‘I’m rearranging our entire future in my head’ look. It’s the same one you get before you redesign a client’s entire brand ecosystem.” Leo pushed himself up slightly, wincing at the protest from his sore muscles. He fixed his warm hazel eyes on Marcus.“You said you were thinking about what comes next.While the kettle was boiling. Then you went quiet.”
Marcus let out a long breath, his gaze dropping to where his hand encompassed Leo’s foot. The golden light from the floor lamp cut across his profile, highlighting the strong line of his jaw, the dark fan of his lashes. “Forever,” he said, the word simple and immense.“I was thinking about forever. And what that means now.”
Leo’s breath hitched. He pulled his foot back, tucking his legs underneath him to sit up fully, the heating pad settling in his lap.He waited.
“When we met,” Marcus began, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room, “my forever plan was… abstract. A good life.Success.You.” He looked up, his dark eyes soft. “Then it was concrete.This apartment.Our shared office. Waking up with you wrapped around me like a starfish.” A smile, genuine and warm, broke through. “Making sure you remembered to eat when I was on deadline. Hearing you purr when you finally managed to crawl into my lap during a call.”
“I’m an excellent starfish,” Leo whispered, his heart a fragile, hopeful drum in his chest.
“The best.” Marcus reached out and brushed a stray curl from Leo’s forehead.“But these last two weeks… that wasn’t abstract or concrete.That was biological. Primal.It was a different layer of forever. One I’d only thought about in theory.” His hand slid down to cradle Leo’s jaw, his touch possessive and unbearably tender. “If we made a life. If what we did took root… that’s a forever that outlasts us, Leo. It’s terrifying.”
Leo leaned into the touch, nuzzling Marcus’s palm. He’d spent so long craving the immediacy of contact—the scent, the weight, the heat—that this verbal dissection of their future felt like a new kind of intimacy.“You’re scared?” he asked.“Terrified,” Marcus affirmed without hesitation. “Of everything.Of something going wrong.Of not being enough. Of the world being too harsh.” His thumb stroked Leo’s cheekbone. “But more terrified of the idea of not trying.Of that layer of forever just… remaining a theory. After what we just shared, that feels like a coward’s choice.”
The words settled in the space between them, heavy and real. Leo thought of the discarded pills, the secret hope, the way his body had felt both ravaged and sacred during the heat. He thought of Marcus’s rut-driven intensity, the absolute focus that had been both overwhelming and, in a strange way, reverent.
“I’m not a coward,” Marcus stated, his voice firming. “And I don’t want a life built on ‘what if.’ I want the life we’re making, every messy, exhausting, perfect layer of it.” He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Leo’s. “So, whatever comes next… positive test, negative test, next month, next year… we’re aiming for that forever.Together. All in.”
Tears pricked the corners of Leo’s eyes, blurring the golden lamplight.He’d expected a conversation about logistics, maybe a whispered hope. Not this raw, steadfast vow.It filled a chamber of his heart he hadn’t known was hollow.
“All in,” Leo echoed, his voice thick. He tangled his fingers in the hair at the nape of Marcus’s neck. “Even if it’s scary.”
“Especially because it’s scary.” Marcus pulled back just enough to look at him. The intensity in his eyes had softened into something deep and unwavering.“We’ll remodel the office.Soundproof a wall. Learn about cribs and… pup stuff.” He said the last part with a deliberate, awkward casualness that made Leo laugh through his tears.
“You, researching crib safety ratings,” Leo grinned, wiping his cheek with the sleeve of Marcus’s shirt. “That’s a website history I need to see.”
Marcus rolled his eyes, but the affection in them was plain. “I’ll build the damn crib myself if I have to.” He stood up, offering a hand to Leo. “Come on.The tea’s cold, and we need real food. Forever starts with not passing out from low blood sugar.”
Leo took his hand, letting Marcus pull him upright. His body ached, a pleasant, deep reminder of their secluded weeks. He didn’t let go of Marcus’s hand as they shuffled toward the kitchen. The future, once a vague, hopeful sketch, now felt solid, like a doorframe they were about to step through together.
In the bright kitchen light, as Marcus scraped leftovers into a pan, Leo leaned against the counter, watching him. The fear was still there, a tiny, cold stone in his own stomach. But it was outweighed by the warmth of Marcus’s certainty, by the scent of him mixing with the sizzling garlic, by the simple, profound fact of their togetherness.“Hey, Marcus?” he said softly.
“Hmm?” Marcus didn’t turn from the stove.
“Thank you.”
Marcus glanced over his shoulder, his dark eyes catching the overhead light. “For what?”
“For wanting the forever that outlasts you.” Leo smiled, a slow, real thing. “It’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever said.”
A deep chuckle escaped Marcus. He shook his head, turning back to the food.“Only you, Leo.” He flipped the contents of the pan with a practiced wrist. “Only you.”
A month later, the phantom scent of garlic from that night seemed to cling to the walls. Leo’s world had narrowed to a brutal, olfactory minefield. The crisp, alpine punch of Marcus’s shower gel, once a comfort, now sent him stumbling to the bathroom. The cinnamon candle they’d burned during his heat reeked of chemical decay. Even the lavender in their bedroom smelled strangely metallic, like coins left in bleach.
“It’s just a bug,” Leo gasped, forehead pressed against the cool porcelain. He’d just finished a large breakfast of toast and eggs, only to lose it all minutes later.His body was a traitor, raging at him from the inside. “A really persistent, horrible bug.”
Marcus hovered in the doorway, a clean towel in his hand. His brows were drawn together.“A bug that makes you hate the smell of my coffee? That’s personal.” He knelt, wiping Leo’s mouth with a gentleness that contradicted the worry in his eyes. “This is day two, Leo. You’re eating like you’re training for something, then… this.”
“I’m hungry,” Leo protested weakly, accepting a sip of water. He was ravenous, actually. The thought of the leftover pasta in the fridge made his mouth water even as his stomach churned.“That’s a good sign, right? It’s just a stomach thing.”
But Marcus was cataloging details, his alpha instincts shifting from care to analysis. The pallor of Leo’s skin. The unusual fatigue that had him napping on the office floor instead of clamoring for Marcus’s lap. The specific, violent aversion to scents that had never bothered him before.It was a bizarre, contradictory illness.
“Get dressed,” Marcus said, his voice leaving no room for argument.He stood up, pulling Leo gently to his feet. “We’re going to the doctor.”
“Marcus, no, it’s just–”
“No.” The word was final, but his hands on Leo’s shoulders were warm. “You’re not getting better. You’re eating and throwing up in a cycle that makes no sense for a virus. I need to know why.” He brushed Leo’s tousled hair back from his damp forehead.“Humor me. Please.”
The clinic waiting room was a sterile bubble of antiseptic and quiet anxiety. Leo leaned against Marcus, breathing through his mouth to avoid the assault of perfumes and cleaning products.He felt foolish.It was a stomach bug. They’d let their hope, that conversation about forever and pups, fade into the background of normal life. The two weeks of mating felt like a distant, intense dream.The nurse called his name. In the examination room, the routine questions began. The doctor, a Beta woman with a calm demeanor, listened as Leo listed his symptoms: the nausea, the vomiting, the fatigue, the sudden scent sensitivities. He mentioned the healthy appetite, almost embarrassed by it.“And your last heat?” the doctor asked, her fingers tapping on her tablet.
Leo blinked. “About a month ago.” Marcus’s hand tightened imperceptibly on his knee.“Any medication changes before or during? Birth control, suppressants?”
Leo felt a strange, slow heat crawl up his neck. He glanced at Marcus, whose intense gaze was fixed on the doctor.“I… I stopped my birth control.Before the heat. We were…” He trailed off, the memory of their conversation about forever rushing back.The doctor nodded, her expression becoming focused. “And you haven’t taken a pregnancy test?”
The question hung in the air, loud and absurd.Leo stared at her.Marcus went perfectly still beside him.A pregnancy test? They hadn’t even considered it.The sickness had felt so visceral, so medical. The idea that it could be something else, something linked directly to those feverish weeks of passion and promise, hadn’t crossed their minds.“No,” Leo whispered, his voice strange to his own ears. “We thought it was a bug.”
A slow, knowing smile touched the doctor’s lips. “The pattern you’re describing, especially the acute scent aversion coupled with a strong appetite, is textbook for some omegas. It often hits around the second trimester, when hormonal shifts accelerate.” She swiveled on her stool and opened a cabinet. “A bug doesn’t explain the scent issues.Your biology, however, might.” She placed a small, flat box on the counter. “Let’s rule it out, shall we?”
Leo looked at the test, then at Marcus. His alpha’s face was a mask of stark, stunned realization. The fear and hope they’d spoken of in the golden lamplight was no longer abstract. It was here, in this bright, cold room, contained in a plastic stick.
“Okay,” Leo said, his heart hammering against his ribs. He reached for the box, his fingers brushing Marcus’s as their hands met halfway. The momentum of their forever had just crashed, quiet and momentous, into the present.
The momentum of their forever had just crashed, quiet and momentous, into the present.
Leo took the box from the counter with numb fingers.The plastic wrapper crackled, an obscenely loud sound in the silent room. He felt Marcus’s gaze on him, a physical weight, steadying and terrifying all at once.
“Through there,” the doctor said, nodding to a small private bathroom attached to the exam room.
The door clicked shut behind him, sealing him in a space that smelled overwhelmingly of lemon cleaner. His own reflection in the mirror looked pale, shadows under his eyes. He followed the instructions on the leaflet with robotic precision, hands trembling. When it was done, he placed the stick on a folded paper towel on the edge of the sink. He set a timer on his phone for three minutes and walked out without looking at it.Marcus was on his feet the moment Leo emerged. He didn’t ask. He just pulled Leo into his chest, one broad hand cradling the back of his head. Leo melted into the hold, breathing in the now-safe, familiar scent of his alpha’s skin beneath the clinical air.He realized he was shaking.
“Whatever it is,” Marcus murmured into his hair, his voice a low vibration against Leo’s cheek. “It’s already ours.”
The doctor gave them a small, professional smile and gestured for them to sit. The timer on Leo’s phone buzzed in his pocket, a violent hum against his thigh.He flinched. Marcus’s arm around his shoulders tightened.
“Do you want me to look?” Marcus asked, his voice rough.Leo shook his head, a frantic little motion. He fumbled the phone out, silenced the alarm.His thumb hovered over the screen. The two of them just sat there, suspended, listening to the hum of the clinic’s ventilation system.
Finally, Leo took a shuddering breath and stood up.He walked back into the bathroom alone, leaving the door open a crack. The white stick lay where he left it.Two lines.One was a deep, undeniable crimson. The other was faint, a ghost of a line, but it was there.His vision tunneled. The roar of his own blood filled his ears.
He walked back out, the stick clutched in his hand.He held it out to Marcus, unable to speak. Marcus took it, his large hand completely enveloping the plastic.He looked down at it, his expression unreadable. His throat worked.Then his eyes snapped up to Leo’s, and the intensity in them was almost blinding.
“Leo,” he breathed, the word full of awe.
He was on his feet in an instant, gathering Leo into an embrace so fierce it stole the air from Leo’s lungs. Leo clung back, his face buried in Marcus’s neck, a half-sob, half-laugh escaping him. The doctor watched, her smile softening.“Congratulations are likely in order,” she said gently. “But as I said, those tests can be faulty. The symptoms align with the second trimester, which is why I drew the bloodwork. We need to be certain and rule out any other possibilities.”
“How long does it take?” Leo asked, his voice muffled against Marcus’s shirt. He didn’t want to let go.The doctor glanced at her watch. “Oh, I’m already running your blood sample. This was just something to do as we wait the ten minutes for it.Results will be here in two minutes.”
The two minutes stretched into an eternity. Marcus finally guided Leo back to the exam table, never breaking contact, his hand a warm, solid presence on Leo’s knee.They didn’t speak. Leo traced the lines of Marcus’s palm with his finger, focusing on the calluses, the strength there. The reality began to seep in, cold and bright.A pup.Theirs.The forever that outlasts them.
A soft knock came at the door before it opened.A lab technician entered, holding a single sheet of paper. She handed it to the doctor with a polite nod and left. The doctor’s eyes scanned the results, her face professionally neutral.Then she looked up.
“Well,” she said, folding the paper.“That confirms it.You’re approximately fourteen weeks along, Leo. Everything looks perfectly within normal ranges.”
The world tilted.Fourteen weeks. It had taken root during the heat, their frantic, desperate coupling.It had been there, growing, all through his sickness. Marcus’s hand convulsed on his knee.
“The nausea, the fatigue, the scents—it’s all perfectly normal for this stage,” the doctor continued, her tone shifting to practical. “I’ll write you a prescription for anti-nausea medication that’s safe for omegas. You’ll need to schedule a full prenatal workup with an obstetric specialist. I have a list.”
She was talking, writing things down, handing Marcus a leaflet.The words washed over Leo. He placed a hand flat on his own abdomen, beneath the soft fabric of his t-shirt. There was no change, no swell, nothing to feel.But something was there. A secret his body had been screaming for weeks.Marcus took the papers, his movements precise. “Thank you, Doctor.”
“Of course.Try to get some rest. And, again, congratulations.” She offered a final smile and slipped out of the room, leaving them alone in the stark, quiet aftermath.
The door clicked shut.The silence was different now, charged and immense.Leo looked at Marcus. Marcus stared back, the papers crumpling slightly in his grip. His dark eyes were wide, vulnerable in a way Leo had rarely seen.“Fourteen weeks,” Marcus repeated, the words sounding strange in his mouth.
“Yeah,” Leo whispered.He leaned his head against Marcus’s shoulder. “You built a crib that fast.”
A choked sound escaped Marcus—a laugh, a sob, he wasn’t sure. He turned and buried his face in Leo’s hair, his big body shuddering. “I guess I did.” He pulled back, cupping Leo’s face. His thumbs swept over Leo’s cheekbones. “Are you okay?”
Leo thought about the constant nausea, the exhaustion, the fear that had just dissolved into a different, brighter kind of terror. He thought about the deep, rumbling forever in Marcus’s voice from weeks ago, now made flesh. He thought about a tiny, unseen presence that already owned him completely.
“I’m starving,” Leo said, and a real, wobbly smile broke through. “And I really need to get out of this room.It smells like destiny and antiseptic.”
Marcus laughed, the sound rich and full of relief. He stood, pulling Leo up with him. He kept Leo’s hand locked firmly in his as they gathered the papers, as they walked out of the exam room, down the hallway, through the waiting area.He didn’t let go once.The future was no longer a doorframe. It was a path, unfolding directly under their feet, and they were already walking it.
The path led straight to a twenty-four-hour diner, the kind with sticky vinyl booths and coffee that smelled like burnt forgiveness. Leo devoured a stack of blueberry pancakes, mopping up syrup with precise, voracious bites. Marcus watched, nursing his own black coffee, his eyes tracking every movement like a man memorizing a miracle.
“I can feel you thinking,” Leo said around a mouthful, not looking up. “It’s loud.”
“Just counting,” Marcus murmured, his voice soft.“Fourteen weeks. We missed the first trimester entirely.”
“We were… otherwise engaged.” A flush crept up Leo’s neck, the memory a physical warmth. He set his fork down, the sudden metal clatter sharp in the quiet booth. “It’s real. It’s really in there.”
Marcus’s hand covered his on the Formica tabletop, his thumb pressing into Leo’s pulse point.“Yeah. It is.”
They sat in the quiet hum of the diner, the reality settling between them like a third presence in the booth.It was solid now, a fact as tangible as the check the waitress would soon drop off. The abstract terror was gone, replaced by a specific, towering responsibility that made Marcus’s spine straighten. The “forever” layer was currently the size of a lime, and it was rewriting their world.
A week later, they sat in a different examination room, this one in the obstetric specialist’s office. It was warmer, decorated with soothing landscapes and a large, intimidating ultrasound machine on a trolley. A different doctor, an older alpha with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper hair, studied Leo’s file.“Your bloodwork is excellent, Leo. Strong, healthy numbers,” the doctor said, clicking his pen. “And you’re at the tail end of the second trimester now, which explains the persistent symptoms. The fatigue, the nausea—it’s all perfectly normal, if unpleasant.”
Leo nodded, leaning into Marcus’s side on the small sofa. He’d been living on the prescribed anti-nausea medication and a careful rotation of bland foods. The scent of Marcus’s coffee was still banned from the apartment.
“The interesting thing about omega pregnancies,” the doctor continued, “especially with your strong genetic profile, is how your wolf biology takes over. The human side does the early work, but by this stage, the wolf physiology is managing most of the process.It’s more efficient, frankly. It’s why you’re experiencing the symptoms more like a wolf would—acute scent sensitivity, that deep-seated drowsiness.”
Marcus’s arm was a firm bar across Leo’s shoulders. “Is that why the nausea is so intense?”
“Precisely. Your omega’s wolf is prioritizing the pups, filtering everything through a primal lens.It’s demanding specific nutrients and rejecting potential threats with extreme prejudice.” The doctor smiled. “It’s a good sign. It means the… tenants… are assertive and healthy.”
A startled laugh escaped Leo.Tenants. He looked down at his abdomen, still frustratingly flat under his loose sweater.“Now,” the doctor said, turning towards the ultrasound machine. “I’d like to get a clearer picture. Standard human ultrasound can give us basics, but for a precise count and the best anatomical detail at this stage, I need to see the wolf form. The pup placement often shifts and settles more naturally there.”
Leo froze.“Shift? Now?”
“It would be immensely helpful. We can get an estimate of how many you’re going to have, check their development more clearly. It’s a common request for omega pregnancies past the first trimester.” The doctor’s tone was gentle but matter-of-fact.“It’s completely safe. For you and for them.”
Leo’s breath hitched.He hadn’t shifted since before his last heat. The idea of his body contorting, bones reforming, felt violent and intrusive.What if it hurt them? He felt Marcus’s hand squeeze his shoulder.
“You don’t have to,” Marcus murmured, his lips close to Leo’s temple.But the doctor’s words echoed. An estimate of how many.They’d been thinking in singular terms.A pup. Their pup.The possibility of more hadn’t even been a shadow in their minds. A sudden, sharp curiosity cut through Leo’s anxiety.He needed to know. He nodded, a tight jerk of his chin.“Okay,” he whispered.“Right.I’ll give you a moment. Just shift here on the sofa. I’ll step out and return when you’re ready.” The doctor stood and left the room, the door shutting with a soft click.The silence was heavy. Leo stared at the blank screen of the ultrasound machine. Marcus knelt in front of him, his hands on Leo’s knees.“Look at me.” Marcus’s voice was low, an anchor. “You can do this.They’re strong.You’re strong. I’m right here.”
Leo focused on Marcus’s dark eyes, on the love and steadiness there. He let out a shuddering breath and reached for the familiar, internal seam of his self.The shift wasn’t graceful. It was a hot, aching rush of sensation—fur pushing through skin, his perspective dropping, the world smelling suddenly a thousand times more intense of paper, cleaner, and Marcus. He whined, a high, soft sound in the back of his throat.
A moment later, a slim, chestnut-brown wolf sat curled on the sofa, its head low. Hazel eyes, now fully lupine, looked up with a human worry. Marcus gently ran his hand over the wolf’s head, fingers sinking into the dense, soft fur behind its ears.“Beautiful,” Marcus breathed. “You’re always so beautiful.”
The door opened, and the doctor re-entered, followed by a nurse. They didn’t remark on the shift; it was routine here.“Perfect. Let’s get you up on the table, Leo.”
With Marcus’s help, Leo’s wolf form was lifted onto the padded examination table.He lay on his side, his breathing quick. The nurse smoothed the fur on his belly and applied a clear, warm gel.It felt strange, alien. The doctor picked up the ultrasound transducer.
“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got.”
The black screen flickered to life, filling with swirling, ghostly shapes. The doctor moved the wand, his eyes focused. He pressed a button, and a rapid, rhythmic whoosh-whoosh-whoosh filled the room.One heartbeat.Fast and strong.
Leo’s wolf ears swiveled forward. A low, involuntary rumble started in his chest—not a purr, but something deeper, a vibration of profound recognition.“There’s one,” the doctor said calmly. He moved the wand slightly. “And there’s two.”
Marcus’s hand, which had been resting on Leo’s back, clenched, gripping the fur.
The doctor shifted the angle again, his expression one of concentrated discovery. The screen’s gray shapes resolved, then blurred, then resolved again.He counted softly under his breath.“Three. And… yes, there’s number four. Four strong heartbeats.”
The whooshing sound multiplied in the air, overlapping, a chaotic, living symphony.Four.The number hung in the sterile light, vast and impossible.
Marcus made a sound like all the air had been punched from his lungs. He sank onto the stool beside the table, his face ashen, his eyes locked on the screen where the doctor was now measuring, pointing out tiny spines and distinct, flickering pulses.Four.
Leo turned his wolf head, nuzzling desperately into Marcus’s trembling hand. The rumble in his own chest grew, a mix of shock, terror, and a fierce, overwhelming wave of protection.Four tenants. Their forever had just exploded in scale, a sudden, breathtaking geography they now had to learn to inhabit.
The doctor smiled, glancing from the stunned alpha to the rumbling omega. “Well,” he said, his voice warm with professional delight. “You’ve been busy.”