Surrender
The gentle evening light filtered through the penthouse windows, casting long shadows across Fisk's bedroom. Matt lay curled on his side, his body still trembling with aftershocks of emotional and physical exhaustion. The silk sheets felt impossibly soft against his hypersensitive skin, and the air was thick with the protective scents of both Fisk and Dex.
"Here," Fisk's voice came from beside him, accompanied by the sound of water being poured. "You need to stay hydrated. The withdrawal symptoms will be easier to manage if you don't fight them."
Matt wanted to refuse, but his body had other ideas. His throat was painfully dry, and when Fisk helped him sit up, supporting his weight with one massive arm, Matt found himself drinking eagerly from the offered glass.
"Good boy," Fisk murmured, the praise sending an unexpected shiver down Matt's spine. "That's it. Small sips."
"Don't," Matt whispered, his voice hoarse. "Don't treat me like... like..."
"Like what you are?" Fisk's tone remained gentle but firm. "Like an omega who needs care? Like a little who's been forced to be big for far too long?"
Matt tried to pull away, but his muscles felt like water. "I'm not... I can't be..."
"You can't be what others need you to be anymore," Dex's voice came from the doorway, his alpha scent wrapping around Matt like a protective blanket. "And that's okay, Matthew. It's okay to let go."
"No," Matt choked out, even as tears started falling again. "You don't understand. I have to be strong. I have to protect... have to fight..."
"Oh, Matthew." Fisk's hand came to rest on the back of his neck, the touch simultaneously grounding and overwhelming. "You've been fighting for so long. Fighting your nature, fighting your needs, fighting the very essence of who you are. Isn't it exhausting?"
It was. God, it was so exhausting. Years of suppressing his omega side, of forcing himself to be what others expected, of denying the part of him that just wanted to be small and safe and protected... it had all taken its toll.
"I don't know how," Matt admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I don't know how to stop fighting."
"Then let us show you." Dex moved closer, his presence adding another layer of safety to the cocoon of alpha protection surrounding Matt. "Let us help you remember what it feels like to just... be."
Matt felt something inside him crack at those words. A lifetime of walls, of pretense, of forced strength - it all began to crumble away, leaving him raw and exposed.
"It hurts," he whimpered, curling in on himself. "Everything hurts."
"I know, little one." Fisk's voice had taken on a distinctly paternal tone that made Matt's omega side keen with need. "The suppressants damaged your system. It will take time to heal, to find balance again. But we're here. We'll help you through it."
"Why?" Matt asked, his voice small and broken. "Why do you care? Why are you doing this?"
There was a long pause before Fisk answered. "Because I see in you what I see in Dex - someone who's been forced to deny their true nature. Someone who needs guidance, structure, protection. And because..." His voice softened further. "Because sometimes the most damaged souls are the ones most deserving of care."
Matt felt more tears falling, but he couldn't stop them anymore. His carefully constructed defenses were gone, leaving him vulnerable and exposed. But instead of feeling threatened, he felt... safe. Protected. Held.
"I'm scared," he admitted, the words barely audible.
"Good." Fisk's hand continued its gentle stroking. "Fear means you're finally letting yourself feel. Finally letting yourself be honest about what you need."
"And what... what do I need?" Matt asked, though part of him already knew the answer.
"You need what every omega needs - safety, protection, care. What every little needs - structure, guidance, love." Fisk's voice was firm but gentle. "You need to let go of the mask you've been wearing and accept who you truly are."
Matt felt himself slipping deeper into his omega headspace, his little side surfacing with overwhelming force. He should fight it, should resist, should maintain some semblance of control...
But he was so tired of fighting.
So tired of being strong.
So tired of pretending.
"That's it," Fisk murmured as Matt finally, finally let himself go limp in the alpha's embrace. "Just let go, little one. We've got you now. You're safe."
And as Matt drifted into a space between consciousness and sleep, surrounded by alpha protection and genuine care, he realized that maybe, just maybe, it was okay to be weak sometimes.
Maybe it was okay to need help.
Maybe it was okay to just... be.