Er’it grunted and shook his head hard to clear the images from his thoughts, jerking the ties on one side open. Pretending he didn’t care that Ath’asho had an unobstructed view of the naked female huddling in the middle of the floor.
“I thought you two would like to break your fast,” Ath’asho muttered, gaze slanting aside to give the woman the illusion of decency and privacy. Hefting up the tray, he presented plates and bowls piled high, still steaming hot and fresh.
“What’s the hour,” Er’it asked, gesturing Ath’asho in with a twitch of his wrist. Beckoning him to the array of cushions where he’d fucked the Omega all night and well into the morning. It seemed cruel and fitting to make the general sit among the well scented stains of their coupling. Proving the bitch was his, and his alone to do with as he wished, and all while reminding Ath’asho of his place.
“Eight candles, Majesty,” Ath’asho replied, going to one knee to set the tray beside the Omega. Frightening her, making her cower further into the defensive ball she’d assumed.
Even that sent Er’it’s blood racing, her little whines and whimpers grating upon his nerves. He was hard again, perhaps never softened. Snapping out his arm, he grabbed his of a fistful of her tumbling curls, yanking her head back until those guileless eyes centered on him.
“Eat.” His barked command sent a shiver through her body, the muddy rose of her nipples drawing tight from fear, arousal, something that drove Er’it insane as he shoved her away once again. There was no satisfaction watching her sprawl over the rug, only the maddening urge to lick and bite at the rounded ass now on full display.
“The train is still breaking down the camp, Majesty,” Ath’asho said in a voice of crumbling rock and sooty ash. His anger sifting through the tent’s close air, ruining the decadent sweetness of the Omega and Er’it’s musky leavings.
“Have them ready to march within the hour.”
“As you wish, Majesty.” Ath’asho couldn’t leave fast enough, sparing the Omega the barest pitying glance before he fled. Another mighty Alpha brought low by the pathetic bitch.
“Drink the water,” Er’it snapped as he dropped onto a cushion, pulling the tray closer to peruse its contents. Grunting at the array, he selected the simple fare of a chicken leg. Ripping into the meat, he caught the Omega flinching from him again. It fed his rage, stoking it to new heights as he watched her terrified gaze flit in endless circuits around the room, trying to avoid him as she pecked at the food and sipped her water.
“Please, sir,” she whined when he leaned closer. Little hand cupping her pussy, shielding the abused folds from his view as she tried to make herself somehow smaller.
“Then do as I say and eat!” Er’it amazed himself. He hadn’t even been reaching for her, meaning to grab a fistful of roasted nuts and nothing more. Yet the single defiant act, her pleading denial, was enough to make him want to thrash her, fuck her, maybe even at the same time.
He needed to speak with Tor’en. Needed to find out what witchcraft the bitch possessed, because if this was the power that an Omega had, he would end them both just from the sheer exhaustion of his need for her body.
“That chest. Get my clothes.”
Vaulting up from the floor, she ran the few steps to the chest. Swung it wide and had to catch the heavy thing before it could topple over. Her little grunts of effort and hisses of pain music to his ears as she hurried to do as he commanded.
Er’it rose with slow, calculated movements. Some part of him hoping she would fail, and that he could punish her. Loving the fact she was terrified and yet would come alive at a single touch. When she just stood there with arms full of fresh clothing, he quirked one eyebrow at her and waited. Gaze centered on her bowed head until she dared to glance up, wondering at his silence.
He lost his control the moment her lips parted, little brow furrowing. Grabbing her hair, he sent the clothes tumbling. Shoving her down to her knees as he wrenched his pants open, buttons popping free and clattering around the tent. One hand clamped around her jaw, he pried her lips wide and pushed his hips forward.
Her sputtering became aggrieved retching as he shoved deeper into her mouth. His grumbling moan widening her eyes as tears poured from them, making the star filled blackness shine even brighter. Length kicking as he felt the first tightening ring of her throat, he watched on in amazement as those eyes grew softer. The brilliant night sky glittering with a light all their own as she stopped struggling to get away and breathe. Movements aggressive as the hands on his thighs clenched, tongue lapping at the underside of his cock to draw more of his taste into her mouth.
He would not last long like this. Not as she hummed around him, bouncing on her heels as he forced her head further down. Excited, eager even, to take more of him down her throat. Hunched over the kneeling female, Er’it no longer fisted her hair. Fingers combing through the ragged curls, he smoothed the rumpled mess. Petting the soft tresses as he guided her movements. His groan was loud when she strained to open her mouth wider still to take the swell of his growing knot. Teeth scraping at his flesh in the most delicious way amid her raspy whines and hard sucking sounds.
It took an act of will he wasn’t sure himself capable of to pull back. Fisting the slick length outside of her decadent lips and squeezing the pulsing thickness, Er’it roared his release. Fingers slamming against the Omega’s taut lips as he bucked, wanting to drive back into her wet heat. He reveled in the soft choking sounds she made, throat working as she struggled to swallow it all down. Shuddering when the final spray coated her tongue, his moan turning ragged when she sucked hard on his head to draw more out.
Easing her back, Er’it looked down upon the starry-eyed female. Both of them panting, eager for far more. Far from lucid she stared up at him in wonder, the Omega’s purrs scratchy from his harsh treatment of her delicate throat.
“You’re going to ruin me,” Er’it murmured, thumb tracing the pouty redness of her lower lip. Straightening, he inhaled long and deep to clear his mind. Snapping his fingers in front of her face, he startled the Omega into something approaching sober. His tight-lipped smirk making her blush a gorgeous shade of bronzed pink. “I told you I’d not go around tainted by your slick. Next time, I’ll do more than make you clean me with that little mouth.”
Her muffled cry prickled down his spine, wrenching the stiff column of his back with something foreign and unwanted. Not regret or pity, Er’it couldn’t quite name the emotion slithering under his skin as he pulled on his clothes and left the tent. Abandoning her to find the other chest with the least decorative of her attire, he sought Tor’en.
It wasn’t difficult to find the old mage. Bustling around the carts groaning under the weight of books, shouting at the young boys to secure ropes and bags full of his precious parchments. The feathery tufts of stark white hair poked up at every angle, as ever changing as the sands when Tor’en ran a creased palm over the thick locks once more.
“I told you half a dozen times to keep the brass near the top, you sniveling pile of rat dung,” Tor’en shouted at a wide-eyed boy of no more than ten years.
Er’it hid his smile, a true one he hadn’t shown in too long as he waited in the periphery of the chaos that was Tor’en and his pupils. He’d been the mage’s student once, all that bluster and name calling nothing compared to the scope of the man’s care for his charges. It had been the craggy old man who helped Er’it in those first days when he’d laid himself open upon the scorching sands, no matter that Tor’en found the bloody path Er’it had chosen distasteful to the extreme.
Humor dying on a thin wisp of sultry air, Er’it moved through the scrambling knot of boys towards his advisor and friend. Skinny limbs flying every which way, they hurried to get out Er’it’s path. Afraid of him, of the power they knew he wielded.
“And what do you want?” Tor’en huffed and grumbled, tossing precious cargo back over his shoulder for an older boy to catch. By the grunt, a sack full of brass bowls, the accoutrement of incantations.
“I need to speak with you about your recent reading material.”
“Pah! Bunch of lunatic ramblings. There was nothing more there than what I told you, what you read for yourself.” Tor’en turned, still agile in his advanced years, rounding on Er’it with a tight smile. “Unless you don’t read the ancients as well as you used to. Needing lessons again?”
