2026.04.19 - checked 2026.05.16

[mekachu04]

Hearth frowned, tugging the young omega's hair until his head was in better light.

 

Killer grumbled but let himself be manhandled by the pack leader. Hearth could -and had - kicked his ass already for not respecting Hearth's leadership in the last few days. The older omega twisted his head this way and that, inspecting his hair.

 

"Is this normal for you?"

 

Killer had no idea what Hearth was on about, and it clearly shown on his face.

 

Ultimately, Hearth sighed when Killer didn't say anything, swiping his fingers through the short untamed locks behind the young omega's ears. They came back greasy and smelling vaguely of mint.

 

Unsure why, Killer felt shame creeping up his neck, looking anywhere but the man's hand. Hygiene was tricky the way they lived. He wasn't sure he'd had a proper bath since HER and that was not a good time to dwell on.

 

Hearth rolled his forefinger and thumb together thoughtfully, "Are you typically a sweaty person? But around your wrists? Your ankles? Groin and pits?"

 

"Not the pits so much." Killer whispered, "But yeah."

 

It did not seem to be the answer Hearth want. "Grab a change of clothes. We're going into town."

 

---------

 

Hearth did not take them inside the city walls thankfully, but instead to the settlement south of the wall. His old stomping grounds, before him and Wire had started running together.

 

Killer, too, used to come here often enough for the markets but it had been a few years. Too crowded. Too many sounds and smells. He preferred the Scrap Yard. The Lighthouse.

 

Hearth- with Pomp and House who had tagged along- marched them to a simple but clean looking bathhouse. OMEGA'S ONLY. No pups. the sign read. The pack's lead omega counted the coin for the four of them, and their group was big enough for one of the smaller private rooms.

 

Killer felt ready to jump out of his skin the whole time. The other two omega kept to themselves, as Hearth ushered him to the low benches and instructed Killer to strip; collecting all their clothes in one bundle to wash later. Anyone else, any other point in time, Killer would have told them to fuck off. But Hearth had seen him at his absolute worse and there was little left he had to hide from the older omega.

 

Instead, Killer found himself naked, standing off to the side, uncertain if he shoud sit or if Hearth planned something else. Here is where he would of liked Kidd around. Kidd never worried if he was breaking etiquette. He just did what he wanted. Granted that was one of the reasons they were all in this mess to start with.

 

Hearth had apparently had enough of him standing around and sat him roughly down on one of the benches. Standing behind him, Hearth combed a hand through Killer's hair, still unhappy.

 

At their side was a basket of varied hygiene supplies- combs, brushes, soaps, etc. Health dug out a round soft brush like piece with no handle, just the flexable disk, and handed it to Killer. "I want you to use this to scrub your head. The gland is overdue for a good grooming but I don't want to go at it too hard by mistake. Its probably sensitive."

 

Killer didn't have a clue what he was on about.

 

"The pinna gland, your /scent/ gland... Behind your ear?"

 

Now, Killer was co-leader of a pack of omegas. He was familiar with they way they would rub on things to mark them as this. Scent Rubbing was a pretty typical part of the day. Just nobody really liked smelling like him all day afterward, so he wasn't usually a part of this. He wasn't offended, it just what it was.

 

It hadn't really occurred to him that there might be side effects to not participating.

 

It took him a moment to work the scrub brush through his hair and the knots at his crown. The strange flexible bristles were too soft to actually untangle his hair, and it was uncomfortable rubbing the bristles over the gland. Uncomfortable, but not painful.

 

Actually, Killer wasn't sure he had a word for it, but it almost felt a relief if he scrubbed a little harder, scrubbed a little deeper.

 

He froze, realizing his hand was still and he was instead moving his head along the stationary brush.

 

Hearth was smirking as he watched, having taken a seat across from him and carefully washing a dread of his own. “Don't stop on my account. It's probably backed up- scrub until it doesn't feel good anymore. It's the only one that's going to feel nice to clean out so enjoy it now while you can."

 

Killer took his time, trying not to let the ominous way Hearth said that get to him; the room was warm and damp in a comfortable way and the other omegas a peaceful unobtrusive companionship moving through their own quiet grooming around him.

 

Eventually though, the massage starts to grow tiresome and he moved the brush to the other side of his skull.

 

"Beta's don't have scent glands on their skulls like us omegas and betas do.” Hearth studdied the tight coil of blue hair between his fingers, “The alpha's – called temporals - are more forward, near the temples. Probably something to do with their habit of headbutting everything they as a threat. Did you notice Kidd's hair getting greasy lately?"

 

Killer had indeed noticed but had dismissed it as them both being overdue for good scrub down.

 

"New Alphas don't understand how little force it takes to scent mark - he's likely to give out a few concussions as he figures it out - I've witnessed overenthusiastic Alphas knock themselves out trying to greet pack."

 

As if Kidd needed another excuse for violence. Though Killer was amused that this might have been what his dumb-ass partner had subconsciously been trying to do as late.

 

Heath was pulling his mass of dreads back when Killer called it good on the other scent glad. A headache he'd not been aware he'd been toiling under had ceased, and he felt clearer headed then he'd been in recent memory.

 

It frightened him- that a solution to a problem he didn't even know he suffered from was so easy.

 

Pomp approached then- he and House had been brushing each other hair up until then, and his short hair was spiked comically up while House came over to help Heath tie his dreads back; "Killer-San, may I brush your hair?"

 

Kidd had brushed the knots from his hair from time to time, but usually Killer would get frustrated and just cut them out. Was this another thing he was supposed to ask of his pack? He felt like he was being judged for not knowing how to be a Pack Leader.

 

But no one here looked at him like he'd mistepped. In fact, Heath gave him a small nod that it was okay to accept- his own hair being managed by his pack mate. Pomp had a step stool he set up to sit on, starting carefully at the ragged ends and working his was up, massaging more oils into the split ends as he untangled the knots as he went. Endlessly patience, and even behind Killer, in a spot he could not see, Pomp was so unobtrusive that Killer wouldn't help but relax even with him there.

 

Relaxed to the point he almost wanted to doze off. Hearth let them be, turning to check Pomp's work on House's hair and tending to her for a few ambient quiet moments.

 

Eventually, Pomp worked his way up the Killer's scalp, and in the quiet of the room, Killer's soft whimper when the comb brushed against the healing bond mark was deafening. He froze in embarrassment; Pomp froze in fear; House turned to look at Hearth, biting her lip in worry; Hearth knocked their heads together softly, and then dismissed her.

 

When he turned back to Killer, Pomp scampered away. Killer tried to look at anything but the others, while also trying not to curl up and die of shame.

 

Hearth gave him a moment, before motioning for Killer to turn, so he could pull the now soft silky locks of Killer's hair away to study the healing bond mark.

 

"Besides no marking glands, betas don't have bond glands either.” His tone was even, informative. Parental almost, “Typically they are most active during heats and ruts. A stronger scent mixed with arousal. Telling anyone downwind that a mate is wanted."

 

Killer blanched, and Hearth nodded. "At least that's what biology thinks. After a heat, if they are untampered with, the swelling goes down and are dormant - if you will - until your next heat."

 

"Unless you bond..." Kidd had bitten him; There had been blood. Hell there had been blood from a lot more than that.

 

“Unless you bond,” Hearth agreed. "Alphas have perioral glands in their mouths that produce a toxicant-like oil during a rut. Mixes with their saliva. If they bite while in a rut, they inject their own smell into the bite. It can linger on their partner for weeks even if its a bite to the arm. Even if its not a bond bite." Which hardly seemed fair to Killer that they could place a smell so thoroughly with no permission needed.

 

Hearth seemed to agree with his unvoiced feelings. He nodded in agreement, and slowly braided Killer's hair so it stayed out of the way and he could see the wound. "When an omega is in heat, this gland is swollen,” he said, carefully not touching the raw healing edges. “Filled with a blood-like scent oil with much less viscosity then anywhere else. Closer to water. If a bite would break the skin, they will get a mouthful of omega scent that will absorb into the tongue and throat almost instantly. Everything will taste like that omega for weeks. It seeps into the system and will attune their own smell. An omega claim on their new alpha."

 

Bubblegum had been bonded once. Killer asked him about it a single time in the beginning; Bubblegum was trying to wait out the bond- stretch it out over the years until it broke. Until the unwanted Alpha no longer wafted from his own pores. Bubblegum said he didn't understand why the other wouldn't just let him go already - he was tired of hearing from his bond mate about how dull the world had gotten after they bonded. Food tasted funny; Pretty omegas smelled dusty and mildew-y, they said.

 

"If an alpha is in a rut... and an omega in heat," Killer trailed off.

 

"A Bond is formed.” Hearth nodded, “They can last years if conditions are right- The exact time isn't known for sure - different bodies metabolize at different rates, and typically a couple will renew the bite instinctively with every shared mating."

 

Pomp had done well on working the knots free, the rough ragged edges of Killer's hair now smoothed, the oil worked down to the split ends and leaving its soft, cascading down his back as Hearth held the braided weight in one hand, his thumb brushing the edges of Killer's neck, feeling for heat from possible infection.

 

Killer shuddered. Dark thoughts tried to surface. That night, and nights before once believed to be finally forgotten. Kidd and him had tried to come back from it - to twist the night of the bite into something else. But it was impossible to unravel the two events, no matter how much Killer wanted to.

 

Hearth took a moment to pull his questing fingers away and rested his hand heavy on Killer's shoulder – anchoring him in the here and now, and moving him away physically and mentally from the bite. For a moment they just sat, Killer trying to keep himself from spiraling. House and Pomp returned with clean rags and body soap.

 

"Ankles and wrists next." Hearth said, letting Killer go to pull out a bush with a shorter soft bristles. "Even betas have inter-digital glands, these so I'm hoping some care was taken by your pack to keep them clean."

 

Hearth motioned for Killer to turn on the bench to face him, before pulling one of Killer's feet into his lap. “The ankles are the weakest scent glands. They are not used for marking - only so small pups can identify the towering adults around them. Once pups get walking they don't hardly notice it anymore unless they are lost.

 

“However,” Hearth continued, "Some people never grow out of it. Still have a fascination with feet that could be called fetishistic. It's just a thing that happens sometimes."

 

Hearth showed him the small gland behind each ankle. Small, slightly sweaty but it looked like day-to-day sock and boot wear had been enough even pressure over the years to keep them functioning normally. Killer watched Hearth massage the glands one at a time, a tingling sensation that was almost pleasant.

 

His wrists were next. “The closest betas can come to marking is with the wrists. Its not much, shop perfumes last longer. But its a touch that means you are family. One day I'll find a way to bottle Wire's scent so I can have him close no matter how far away we might find ourselves.”

 

Killer's right one was a little swollen; Hearth massaging the gland with the little brush and Killer watched in mild fascination at the clear liquid glistening on his skin. “Its why I insist he holds Dive as often as possible. I want her and the whole world to know that she is his as much as she is mine. I want her to know his smell, I want others to smell his claim on her.”

 

It wasn't more that sweat, a faint sheen that seem to evaporate shortly after it was produced. Killer couldn't smell anything but he supposed that was normal. Too used to his own smell to notice anything now.

 

Unfortunately, his left wrist was not so straightforward. Years of fidget-picking on his arm had left deep scars, and a note worthy amount around the scent gland.

 

Hearth prodded the area. No oils secreted. Hearth couldn't actual feel the gland. Killer may have picked it completely away over the years. Health sniffed it but could smell nothing more than irritated and healing flesh. The area was still torn from his fight with Kidd. Hearth would check on it later in a few weeks.

 

Marking, Bonding, Scenting. Only one set of glands left to explain to the naive young omega. Breeding. "Everyone has set glands." he started with, sitting back on his haunches to give Killer a moment before his personal space was violated again. "Omega, Alpha, Beta- we all have the ability to bear and sire pups. Some of us are just built to do one of them better.”