Suha stands at the edge of the bed, looking down at me with those dark, rut-hazed eyes. He makes quick work of his own clothes, shoving his pants and underwear down his thighs. His cock springs free, fully erect and flushed dark, beads of moisture already gathering at the tip. He’s huge, and the sight of him, combined with the helpless way I’m tied down, sends another jolt of desperate heat straight through me.
He grabs a bottle of lube from the same drawer, slicking his length with a few rough, hurried strokes. He doesn’t bother with any for me. There’s no gentleness in his movements, only a single-minded urgency that comes from the rut clawing at his control.
He climbs back onto the bed, kneeling between my spread thighs. One hand wraps around my hip, his fingers digging into the tender, overheated flesh of my ass, right where he’d struck me. The other hand guides his cock to my entrance.
I don’t have time to brace. I don’t have time to tense or try to adjust. He pushes in with one single, devastating thrust.
The burn is striking, a hot streak of pain that tears a ragged cry from my throat. My body seizes, my back bowing off the bed as far as the cuffs will allow. It hurts, fuck, it hurts so much, the stretch brutal and unforgiving without any preparation. My muscles clamp down around the intrusion, trying instinctively to reject it, but he’s already buried to the hilt inside me, his weight pinning me down.
He doesn’t wait. He doesn’t give me a second to catch my breath or let my body relax. He pulls back almost immediately and slams home again, setting a pace that is nothing short of punishing.
The rhythm he establishes is relentless. Each thrust is a full-bodied drive of his hips, pushing the air from my lungs in sharp gasps. The sound in the room is lewd—the wet, slick noise of his cock moving inside me, the slap of his skin against my throbbingass, the choked sounds I can’t seem to stop making. The bed frame knocks softly against the wall with every powerful surge of his body.
The angle is cruel and perfect. With every deep plunge, the thick head of his cock grinds against that spot inside me that makes my vision blur. Pleasure arcs up my spine, tangling violently with the pain of the stretch and the ache of the cock ring. They twist together until I can’t separate them, until every nerve is singing with a confused, overwhelming sensation that is equal parts agony and ecstasy.
My own cock is painfully hard, trapped and ignored. It leaks steadily onto my stomach, a slick pool of frustration. I try to move, to push back against his thrusts to get some friction, some relief, but the cuffs hold me fast. I’m completely at his mercy, a vessel for his rut, and the helplessness of it is its own kind of dizzying pleasure.
Suha leans forward, his sweat dripping onto my chest. His eyes are wild, unfocused, consumed by the biological drive to claim. His mouth finds the junction of my neck and shoulder, the place where his bond mark already sits raised on my skin. He doesn’t kiss it. He bites.
His teeth sink in deep, a sharp, piercing pain that overrides everything else for a blinding second. I scream, the sound torn from me, as I feel the skin break and the warm trickle of blood start to slide down my shoulder blade. He doesn’t let go. He holds the bite, growling low in his throat, a primal, possessive sound that vibrates through my bones as his hips continue to piston into me with undiminished force.
He’s marking me again, reinforcing the bond with pain and possession, claiming me in the most basic way an alpha can. The taste of my own blood must be on his tongue. The thought is strangely, deeply arousing. I am his canvas, and he is painting me with bruises and bites and his own release, and I want it, Iwant all of it, even as tears of overwhelm leak from the corners of my eyes.
The air in my lungs feels thin and useless, each gasp scraping against my throat as I struggle to draw breath. Sweat slicks my skin, cooling in the places where his body isn’t pressed against mine, making me shiver even as I burn up from the inside. My entire body has become a live wire of need, trembling with a tension that has nowhere to go. The ache in my cock is a sharp, persistent throb, a demand my body is screaming but cannot fulfill.
“Please,” I hear myself beg, the word cracking in the middle like dry wood. It sounds foreign, pathetic, leaving my lips. I don’t beg. I taunt, I provoke, I laugh in the face of pain. But this is different. This is a biological emergency, a deep, cellular scream for relief. “Suha, please, just... let me come. Take it off. Please.”
He doesn’t answer with words. A low growl vibrates against the side of my neck where his face is buried, a purely animal sound that goes straight to my spine. His hips snap forward with renewed force, the impact jolting me up the bed an inch, the headboard giving a soft thump against the wall. His hand leaves my hip and snakes up my chest, his fingers splaying over my pounding heart for a terrifying second before closing around my throat.
The pressure is absolute. My gasp dies instantly, cut off at the source. My eyes fly open wide, staring blindly at the ornate ceiling as the world tilts, colors bleeding at the edges. The lack of air amplifies everything else—the brutal, stretching fullness of him inside me, the hot sting of the bite on my shoulder, the maddening, trapped pulse of my own blood in my cock. My heartbeat becomes a frantic drum against his palm, and I can feel his own pulse hammering through the grip he has on me.
He fucks me like this, his hand a vise on my throat, his body a piston driving into mine. The pleasure, twisted and sharp,coils tighter, fed by the dizzying lack of oxygen. Black spots dance in my vision, a strange, floaty detachment trying to take hold, but the physical reality of him—the smell of his sweat and pheromones, the burn of the stretch, the heat of his skin—anchors me violently to the moment.
Just as the grey at the edges of my sight starts to swallow everything, his hand releases.
Air floods back into my lungs in a harsh, wheezing rush that burns all the way down. I cough, my body convulsing around his, which only makes him groan and drive deeper. I am panting, tears streaming from the corners of my eyes and mixing with the sweat on my temples. My head spins, the room swimming back into focus with a nauseating lurch.
He doesn’t give me time to recover. His mouth abandons my neck and finds the other shoulder. His teeth are not gentle. They sink in with purposeful, claiming pressure, breaking skin with a sharp, bright pain that makes me cry out, a weak sound torn from my newly freed throat. He bites and holds, worrying the flesh, marking me all over again. The pain is a clean, fiery line that cuts through the hazy, needy fog in my head. It grounds me even as it hurts, a brand that saysmineas clearly as if he’d spoken it. I moan, the sound long and shuddering, my hips pushing back against him shamelessly. The pain feels good. It feels right. It’s a punctuation mark to every brutal thrust.
His rhythm begins to fracture. The steady, punishing pace breaks apart into shorter, harder drives of his hips, each one accompanied by a grunt that is ripped from his chest. His breathing is harsh and loud in my ear, hot puffs against my damp skin. I can feel the change then, the swelling at the very base of his cock where he is buried so deep inside me. The knot.
A fresh, wild desperation seizes me. My body clenches around him instinctively, my muscles tightening, trying to pull himdeeper, to welcome the stretch. I want it. I need that final, undeniable claim.
He snarls, an unfiltered sound of pure alpha triumph, and slams home one final time. The thick bulge of his knot catches against my rim, an impossible pressure, and then he forces it through.
The stretch is blinding. It steals the air from my lungs all over again. My mouth opens in a silent scream before sound finally rips free, a hoarse, broken shout that echoes in the large room. He is locked inside me, swelling to full size, tying us together. His teeth find the original bond mark on my neck, the one from our first time, and he bites down over the scarred tissue.
The pain of the fresh bite merges with the overwhelming fullness of the knot. He comes, and I feel a hot, pulsing flood deep inside me that seems to go on and on. His body shakes with the force of it, his growl subsiding into a deep, satisfied rumble against my skin.
And I am left sobbing.
Tremors wrack my body, violent and uncontrollable. I am oversensitive everywhere—the bites sting, my ass feels brutally stretched and used, my skin is hyper-aware of every point of contact with his sweat-slick body. But the worst, the most agonizing part, is the need that has not been met. My cock is painfully hard, an angry, dark purple, straining against the cruel black ring that still holds me captive. Precum leaks from the tip in a steady, shameful stream, pooling on my stomach. The orgasm that should have been ripped from me by his knot, that my body was screaming for, is trapped, held back by a simple circle of silicone.
The frustration is a physical agony, sharper than any bite. I am filled with him, claimed by him, knotted and bleeding and utterly possessed, but I am hovering on the very edge of release without being allowed to fall. Tears of sheer overwhelm anddeprivation track through the sweat on my face. I am panting, whimpering, completely wrecked and utterly, desperately unsatisfied.
“Please,” I beg again, my voice a hoarse whisper. “Suha, please, I can’t... it’s too much. Just let me come. Please.”
He is still knotted inside me, his weight a heavy, possessive anchor. His breathing is starting to even out, the harsh pants softening into deeper draws of air. He shifts slightly, and the movement sends a fresh, dizzying jolt through my oversensitive body. One of his hands, which had been braced on the mattress beside my head, lifts. His fingers, slick with sweat, trail slowly down the side of my face, tracing the track of a tear.
