This is the most erotic thing I have ever seen in my entire miserable life.
“More,” Cass gasped. His rhythm was getting desperate, his hips stuttering. “I need—it’s not—please—”
“You have a little freak in there, huh?” Riot pressed a third finger against him and waited, letting him feel the stretch coming. “You need three fingers to cum for me, princess?”
Cass’s eyes went wide, just for a second, and then he sank down. The sound he made was devastating. Like pain and relief tangled together so tightly they were the same thing, and his body clamped around the intrusion like it was trying to decidewhether to fight or surrender. His head fell forward against Riot’s shoulder, his whole body shaking.
“Too much—” he whimpered. “It’s too—”
“Breathe.” Riot’s free hand cradled the back of his skull, holding him close. “You’re being so fucking good for me, Cass. You can take it.”
“I know—” Cass’s voice broke. “I know—it’s so much—”
“Don’t move yet. Just feel it,” Riot groaned against his ear. “You feel how good that is? To be filled? Don’t you want more?”
Cass nodded and trembled against him. His breath came in shallow hitches against Riot’s neck, and Riot could feel the wet heat of tears soaking through his shirt collar. But Cass’s hands hadn’t let go of his shoulders. After a long moment, something in Cass unclenched. Not just physically, Riot felt it in the way his breathing slowed, the way his weight settled more fully into Riot’s lap, the way his inner walls stopped fighting the stretch and started accommodating it, fluttering greedily.
Then, without any instruction, Cass started to rock.
Small movements. Careful. His face was still hidden against Riot’s neck, and the sounds he was making were quiet —private little gasps and bitten-off moans that Riot felt more than heard, vibrating against his skin. Every movement dragged his fingers deeper, and every time Cass’s body jolted, his ass ground down against Riot’s cock through the fabric, the friction a delicious torment that had Riot’s hips bucking up involuntarily.
The pressure was becoming a problem. A serious, the-Berserker-is-not-going-to-tolerate-clothing-much-longer kind of problem. Riot’s jaw was locked so tight his teeth ached. Every grind of Cass’s weight sent fire through his spine, and the gold was flickering at the edges—brightening, trying to take over, trying to drown out the part of him that was still thinking in sentences instead of imperatives. But the feeling of it all, the slick heat coating his hand, the tight, rhythmic clench, the wayCass’s body trembled like it was alive with electricity... it was everything.
“Riot—” Cass gasped against his neck. “I can’t make it—I need—more. Please. More.”
Riot teased a fourth finger against his stretched rim, gathering slick, and pressed just enough to hint at the burn. “You want this? One more to really fill you up?”
Cass sobbed, hips grinding harder. “Yes—fuck, Riot, please—give it to me, I need it—”
Riot pushed in, the fourth finger joining the others in a slow, relentless slide. The stretch was obscene, Cass’s body yielding with a wet give, so tight it bordered on pain for them both. Riot growled at the sensation, heat and pressure crushing his fingers like a vice. “That’s it, take what you need, princess.”
“I can’t—my legs—please—” Cass’s voice fractured, a desperate plea muffled against Riot’s neck, his thighs quaking like storm-shaken branches.
“Cum for me. Let me feel you cum, princess.” He could feel Cass teetering on the brink, his inner walls clenching erratically around his fingers, like a star on the verge of collapse, pulling everything inward.
“I need—” Cass sobbed, chasing his release in frantic bounces. Slick flooded Riot’s palm, the scent blooming thick and sweet, intoxicating the air. “Shit—I mean—ah—fuck! Riot, I’m going to—cumming!”
Cass came with a raw, guttural cry that Riot felt in his chest. His body seized, clamping down on Riot’s fingers as his cock pulsed between them, untouched, spilling hot against both their stomachs. The tempo of it, the desperate clenching, the waves of heat, the way Cass’s whole body shook like he was coming apart at the molecular level, slick gushing around Riot’s hand in rhythmic pulses…
Mine. That’s mine. All mine.
Riot worked him through it. Slower. Gentler now, or as close to gentle as he could manage—which meant his fingers were still moving, still pressing, still wringing shudders out of Cass’s oversensitive body until the Omega went boneless against his chest.
For a moment, they just breathed together. Cass slumped against him, heavy and trembling with aftershocks. His face was buried in Riot’s neck, every exhale was hot and damp against Riot’s skin, and the scent coming off him had gone soft—temporarily sated, the sharp edge of heat-need smoothed into something warmer. Calmer.
I should stop here and let him rest.But Riot was still hard.
He eased his fingers out carefully, and the sound Cass made at the loss—a small, bereft whine—nearly ended his resolve.
“You didn’t…” Cass pulled back just enough to look at him. His face was a ruined masterpiece, tear-streaked, flushed, lips bitten red. But his eyes were clear. Present.Seeing.“You’re still...”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” Cass’s hand slid down Riot’s chest, passing over his heart, his ribs, his stomach. Riot’s muscles twitched and jumped under the touch, and when Cass’s fingers reached the waistband of his pants, they both stopped breathing.
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to see.”
