Page 24 of Glitterati Omega

His grip went slack. He chanced a look down at the alpha, who was looking up at him with those dark eyes, and if Rupert had had anything left in him, that would have done him in.

Winston pulled back a bit, licking at him, then pushed his fingers in deeper. Rupert closed his eyes, his mouth falling open as his breathing stopped on a silent cry. He arched into the touch.

“What,” he puffed again, then drew a rattling breath, “just …”

Winston’s brows jumped. “You came,” he informed the blond, who shook his head minutely. Winston gave him another couple of thrusts. “You looked good doing it.”

Rupert groaned, then clutched at the countertop, panting. “I,” he started. He glanced down at Winston again. “It’s never felt like that.”

Winston raised his eyebrows again. Rupert stared at him for a second more, eyes wide. “I, um … oh.” He let his head fall back again, rolling his hips into Winston’s ministrations, even though he was shaking. “Oh.”

“Feels good?”

Rupert’s answer was another groan. That was followed by more panting and gasping, and finally, a strangled, “Fucking hell, get in me.”

Winston blinked. “You can’t consent to that, I thought—”

Rupert keened, his hands tensing. “I’m—oh my God, I’ve never … fuck me, please.”

“I thought we had an agreement: no intercourse,” the alpha pressed.

“Fuck me!” Rupert barked. “Or stop teasing me—can I … is that possible?” Winston had said he’d come, and he believed it—that firework show couldonlyhave been climax, and Rupert was torn between wondering why thehellnobody had ever made him feel like that before and finding out how quickly he could get there again.

Some omegas were multiorgasmic, he knew that. He’d always thought it was to make up for the rather lackluster nature of their orgasms; he’d been fairly certain he’d come before, multiple times if he wasn’t mistaken, but it had always been a little underwhelming, if he was honest.

That was bigger and better, and he wanted—needed—to do it again, preferably as soon as possible.

Winston frowned at him. He dropped his head forward, let it loll from side to side. “Feels fantastic,” he murmured, “I—I’m aching, please, I …”

“All right,” Winston said finally, fumbling one-handedly with his belt. “Only if you’re sure.”

“Please,” Rupert gasped, trying to turn around. He grabbed at his cock; his own grip was timorous—nowhere near as confident as Winston’s had been.

“Mm.”

Rupert tried to glare over his shoulder at him, but he was too unsteady for multitasking right then. He wobbled, then slipped. Winston caught him at the last second, and Rupert clung to his arm, before melting down to the ground in a pool of saffron taffeta. “I, um … I’ve never done that,” he managed. Oh, hell, he sounded completely gone.

“Not even on your own?”

“I don’t … I thought …” He lifted a hand to his mouth. “I’ve never touched myself there,” he admitted.

“And no one else has?”

Rupert shook his head, brows tenting. “I thought … I thought it was all about …” Then he huffed a laugh. “I just … didn’t get what anyone was on about. It’s nice, but not like … that, oh my God, that.”

Winston crouched down beside him. “Would you like to go to the bedroom?”

“Yes,” Rupert hissed.

Winston waited. “You have to get up,” he said after a minute.

Rupert contemplated that for half a second, then shook his head. “Nn, no. Can’t.” He felt bold though. He circled his arms around the alpha’s neck, demanding, “Carry me.”

“Are you serious?”

“Quite.” He arched a brow. “Unless you plan to do me on your kitchen floor?”

Winston seemed to consider that, and Rupert was mortified for a moment; if he had to get fucked on a kitchen floor, he would have preferred his own. “I think the bed is more comfortable,” Winston decided at last.