Her breath hitches. "Oh. Okay."
Clarke guides her face towards his with a firm but gentle hand. His stormy blue eyes lock onto hers. "Is 'okay' one of your six words, sweetheart?"
Her hands still. "No." A smile twitches across those plump lips.
"Well then. Let's have another go. Do you want to have a look at the other room?" Clarke's murmur is gentle, his eyes unblinking. Her gaze is ensnared in his. She can't look away from our beta.
Fuck, that's hot.
"Y—yes."
Clarke grins, the lust that I could feel through the bond that had been hidden behind his mask finally peeking through. "That took courage. It's hard to ask for the things we've been taught we shouldn't want, isn't it?"
She's melting under his steady gaze. Her fingers lightly squeeze mine again. My uninvited purr revs up even harder.
Clarke's eyes flash towards mine momentarily. The throb through the bond, and the way his gaze flicks towards the pitiful excuse the poolhouse has for a pack bedroom tells me about his unasked question. I nod, sharply. "Sweetheart, I think James would very much like to take care of you. However you like, and only how you would like. Does that sound good?"
I swear, nobody can resist Clarke's gentle nudges. Nobody with a heartbeat, at least. Her eyes catch mine, and a waft of crisp, fresh, sweet florals traverses the air, making my basil scent pulse in response. The scent makes me feel like I've just woken up to something I'd spent my whole life sleepwalking through. At this rate, I'm going to cum in my pants like a teenager in his first rut.
Her fingers squeeze tight around my hand. "I—I think so. Yes."
I reach up to stroke her cheek with my free hand.
"Can I show you the other room?" My voice is husky, and rattling from the purr I can't control.
She nods again. "Yes."
I can't rush her. Her instincts are fighting her inhibitions. I have to make sure we don't move too fast. I have to ask the question at every step.
I find conversation hard enough at the best of times, let alone when there's so much on the line. I usually step back into the carer role with omegas like this, keeping everyone limber and hydrated, while Clarke and Seb and Zeke take point on touching and orgasms and knots; but, fuck, I can't bear the thought of not getting the connection with Dellie.
This is insane. Why the fuck do I care so much?
Does it even matter?
I need to figure out how to get more chatty, and fast.
"Uh, this is a little embarrassing, but my alphareallywants to look after you. Uh—would it be okay if I carry you in?"
She chuckles lightly and rests her hand on my cheek. "Sure. Yes." She strokes my hand down my face and rests it lightly on my chest. My purr gets bolder as I scoop her up, clamping down on my alpha as I force my arms to relax. She squeaks and rests her head on my chest as I carry her through the open door, bridal style.
Thank god Allen insisted on changing the sheets before we went out tonight. It's a pain to change them on the California King, and takes at least three of us to get the duvet cover on properly, so winning the argument was not a guarantee. And thank god Seb actually tidied his sex toys away when Clarke reminded him.
I sit down on the red-and-white striped duvet with her still in my arms and pull us back up the bed, so that I'm leaning against the comforting pile of matching pillows and the wooden headboard, and sit her in my lap. She snuggles back against me, resting against my still-rumbling chest. Her hair is soft between my fingers; my hands seem to have reached up on their own to stroke her shoulders and hair. She rubs her cheek against my hand, scent marking me, making my skin flush red and the hairs on my arms stand on end.
The rest of the pack slowly filters in. Allen leans against the wall with his one hand in his pocket, the other running through his black hair, the intensity with which his gaze is fixed on hers betraying the nonchalance of his posture. Sebastian perches on the bottom corner of the bed, his bronze forearms flexing as he slowly unbuckles her shoes, his dark green t-shirt pulled tight against his biceps in contrast against his bronze skin. His gold-streaked brown hair has fallen out of its bun, and loose curls are gently grazing the top of his well-built trapezoids.
Dellie groans in relief as Seb slips her shoes off her feet, and starts rubbing them. My cock brushes against her back as it twitches at the sound.
Fuck. Calm down. Don't rush her.
Zeke slides onto the bed on my right-hand side, and Clarke settles on my left.
"Is this a bit more comfy now, lovely?" I ask.
She wriggles back against my torso and leans contentedly against my chest.
"Mmm. Yes. God, that feels so good," she breathes.
