Aiden groaned as he tugged at the seams of his tunic for the third time that morning. The cloth rode up awkwardly over his swollen belly, pinching his sides, cutting into his skin. He swore under his breath, shifting from foot to foot, and immediately felt the familiar ache in his legs radiate through him. Three pups, five months of pregnancy—his body had never felt heavier, clumsier, and more infuriating.
"I hate this," he muttered, tossing the shirt onto the chair beside him. "Everything hurts, nothing fits, and I can't even—"
"—stand for long without help?" Theron's voice cut in smoothly, calm but layered with that unyielding alpha authority. He was watching from the doorway, long white hair catching the dim light, amber eyes scanning Aiden's movements with hawk-like precision.
Aiden shot him a glare sharp enough to sting. "I'm not weak," he snapped, teeth gritted. "I don't need help. I can handle this."
Theron's expression didn't waver. He stepped forward, careful and deliberate, closing the distance. "Not weak," he repeated softly, almost teasingly, though every movement radiated authority. "You're carrying three pups. That doesn't make you weak—it makes you my omega. But it does mean I won't let you hurt yourself."
"I can handle it!" Aiden said again, fists clenched, pride flaring hotter than the ache in his legs. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to stand taller, straighten his back. But his muscles burned, the baby's weight tugging at him mercilessly. "I can still move, I can still… I—"
Theron stepped closer, reaching out to steady him, just a hand on his arm. "You're allowed to slow down. You're allowed to let me handle the heavy work."
Aiden froze for a heartbeat, heat flushing his cheeks. His pride bristled, every instinct screaming against submission. And yet… the warmth of Theron's hand, the grounding presence, the sheer calm that radiated from him—it was impossible to ignore.
"I'm not weak," Aiden repeated, softer this time, almost to himself, though his hands shook slightly as he pressed against his belly.
"No," Theron said, leaning closer, amber eyes locking with his. "You are my omega. Strong, stubborn, and fierce. Not weak. Never weak."
Aiden's breath hitched, partly from frustration, partly from relief. He hated needing help—but he loved the way Theron's patience never turned into condescension. He hated the limitation of his body—and yet, he loved the way Theron adjusted blankets, rubbed his back, and stayed silent except when guidance was necessary.
He let out a low groan, sinking into the chair beside the bed, pressing his hands gently against his belly as the babies shifted and kicked. The motion made his back ache, his legs scream, and yet—he couldn't stop smiling.
"I hate this," he muttered again, leaning back, letting Theron settle a hand on his shoulder. "But… I love that you won't let me fall."
Theron's lips curved slightly, a slow, patient smile. He brushed a thumb over Aiden's shoulder in a grounding touch. "You won't. I'll always be here. Every step of the way. You're not alone in this, Aiden. Not now, not ever."
Aiden's pride and stubbornness wrestled with the truth of those words. He hated that he needed Theron so badly in this moment—but he couldn't deny the safety, the warmth, the quiet power of the alpha who never demanded more than he could give.
He glanced at Theron, amber eyes meeting blue, and for the first time in months, allowed himself a small sigh of surrender—soft, controlled, just enough. "Fine," he muttered, voice gruff. "I'll… let you help. But don't think I'm softening."
Theron's hand tightened gently, not overbearing, just steady. "I wouldn't dare," he said softly.
Aiden groaned again, leaning back into the cushions, a mix of exhaustion, frustration, and warmth flooding through him. He hated being limited, hated that he needed help—but… he loved it. Loved the closeness, the protection, the unwavering devotion.
And Theron? He stayed close, patient, protective, proud—watching his stubborn omega navigate the final stretch of pregnancy with all the dignity, pride, and stubbornness he had ever loved.
Aiden's hands moved to rest over the baby's kicks, soft amber sparks of life reminding him why he could bear it all. Hate it… love it. His world was full of frustration, aches, limits—and the strongest love he had ever known.
Aiden shifted again, trying to tug at the waistband of his pants, only to grimace as the fabric dug into his swollen hips. "These damn clothes," he muttered, voice tight with irritation. "I can't wear anything anymore."
Theron's amber eyes followed every movement, every grimace, every tense breath. "You don't need to," he said softly, stepping closer. "I've laid out what you'll wear. Loose, comfortable. You don't have to struggle with this."
Aiden spun toward him, cheeks flushing. "I don't need you to dress me, Theron! I'm not… I'm not helpless!" His hands trembled slightly as he adjusted the shirt again, tugging at the seams, glaring down at the stubborn fabric that refused to stretch.
Theron's gaze softened, but there was no yielding in it. "I know. You're not helpless. But you are pregnant, carrying three pups, and your body—" He gestured vaguely at Aiden's belly, gentle, almost reverent. "—needs rest. Needs care. And I won't let you hurt yourself."
Aiden huffed, frustration radiating through him. "I hate this. I hate not being able to fight, to hunt, to… to move without pain!" His legs ached from standing too long, his back protested every shift, and his pride was screaming louder than any physical discomfort. "I'm not weak, Theron!"
Theron didn't flinch. He reached out, resting a hand lightly on Aiden's hip, steadying him. "You're not weak. But being strong isn't about doing everything alone. Strength is knowing when to accept help—when it's needed."
Aiden glared at him, but his hands fell to his belly instinctively, feeling the gentle kicks of the pups. A shiver ran through him, a mix of frustration and awe, and he let out a low groan. "I hate needing help… but I can't deny… it feels… safe."
Theron's hand stayed on his hip, a grounding presence. "Safe, yes. Loved, yes. Proud? Always. You're my omega. Stubborn, fierce, and full of life. I wouldn't change a thing."
Aiden's chest heaved, pride warring with exhaustion, pain, and the undeniable warmth that spread through him at Theron's words. He hated being dependent, hated the limits—but he loved that someone believed in him enough to protect him without diminishing him.
He slumped into the chair beside the bed, legs aching, hands still cradling his belly. Theron followed, settling beside him without crowding, letting Aiden keep the space he so desperately clung to. "I hate this," he muttered again, voice almost lost in a sigh. "I hate being… slowed down. But…" He pressed his forehead against his hands, listening to the soft, rhythmic movements of the pups. "I love… that you're here. That you won't let me fall."
Theron's lips curved, brushing a thumb over Aiden's shoulder, steady, patient, protective. "I'll always be here. You'll never fall. Not while I can stand."
Aiden exhaled, letting a tiny fragment of surrender slip through, not weakness—just acknowledgment. He hated needing this… but he loved the closeness, the safety, the love, and the unspoken promise in Theron's presence.
The babies kicked again, tiny, urgent reminders of why he had to endure the discomfort, the limitations, the aches—and why every moment of frustration was tempered by something stronger, fiercer, and utterly unbreakable: the bond of pride, protection, and love.
Hate it… love it. And in that tiny, perfect contradiction, Aiden allowed himself a faint, tired smile.