Page 30 of The Last Great Omegaverse

I fuck her through the swelling, each thrust shorter and deeper as the knot expands, stretching her open around the thickest part of me until finally it catches and locks us together with a deep, perfect pressure that makes us both groan. The sensation is overwhelming—heat and tightness and the relentless pulse of my cock as I start to come. Thick ropes of cum flood her, pulse after pulse, and her body milks me greedily, fluttering and clenching around the knot like it never wants to let go.

She comes again with me still locked inside her, a long, shuddering orgasm that makes her walls squeeze around the swollen base of my cock. The pressure is intense, almost too much, and it drags another pulse of release from me. I press my face in the nook in her neck and breathe her in while the aftershocks roll through both of us.

We stay like that, breathing hard, bodies locked, the room quiet except for the sounds of settling sheets and our slowing heartbeats. I shift gently so most of my weight is on my forearms, but I don’t pull away. Can’t, even if I wanted to. The knot holds us together in a deep, intimate seal that feels like more than just biology. Like the final piece of something that has been waiting to fit.

Her hands stroke slowly up and down my back, tracing the lines of muscle, the faint red marks her nails left. I press soft kisses to the side of her throat, her jaw, the corner of her mouth. When I finally lift my head enough to look at her, her eyes are soft and a little dazed, the earlier anger burned away into something subtler and fonder.

“Still angry?” I ask, voice low.

A small, tired smile curves her mouth. “Less than I was. Give me a few more minutes of this and I might forgive you entirely.”

I huff a quiet laugh against her skin and relax more fully against her, mindful of the lock still holding us. Outside the window the last of the daylight is fading into blue dusk. My knot pulses gently every time she shifts or clenches, sending fresh sparks of pleasure through both of us. I rock my hips in tiny, instinctive movements just to feel the tug, just to hear the soft sound it draws from her throat.

“I’ve wanted this,” I admit against her temple, the words more muted than the ones before. “Longer than I let myself say out loud. Every time you looked at me like you were measuring whether I was safe enough to want. I kept waiting for the moment you’d decide I wasn’t.”

Her fingers slide into my hair, gentle now. “I decided weeks ago. I was just angry enough to pretend I hadn’t.”

I turn my face and kiss her again, slow and deep, while the knot gradually begins to soften. The kiss tastes sweet and the last of the tension finally leaving both our bodies. When I finally slip free the gush of combined release is warm between us. I reach for the soft cloth near the bed and clean us both with the same care I once used for every distance, every unspoken boundary. Then I gather her against my chest, one arm under her shoulders, the other draped over her waist, and hold her while the evening melts fully around the house.

Her head rests over my heart. My hand traces idle patterns on her shoulder. The sheets are tangled and damp. Somewhere downstairs a floorboard creaks as the old house cools, but up here there is only the quiet sound of her breathing evening out against my skin and the satisfied hum of an Alpha who has finally stopped holding back.

I close my eyes and let myself want this without checking the motive twice. Just the comforting glow of her flesh near me, the leftover heat of her pussy still enveloping my dick. For the first time in weeks, the cautious part of me hushes. There is only this. Her, the darkening room, and the bone-deep certainty that I need her.

I don’t let the quiet settle for long.

The hunger under my skin hasn’t burned itself out. It coils tighter the moment she shifts against me, the soft drag of her thigh over my hip. I roll us until she’s astride me and the fading light from the window paints gold across the curve of her breasts, the flush still high on her cheeks.

“Again,” I tell her, voice low and rough. My hands ease onto her hips, thumbs stroking the soft skin just above the bone. “I need you again. Harder this time. No careful left in me.”

Her eyes darken. She plants her palms on my chest and lifts just enough that the head of my cock slips inside her, then sinks back down in one smooth, deliberate glide that steals the air from both our lungs. The wet heat of her closes around me like a fist. I groan, head tipping back against the pillow, and the sound she makes in answer is pure need.

She rides me with a rolling, devastating rhythm—rising until only the thick head remains inside her, then dropping hard enough that the impact of our bodies meeting sends a sharp, wet slap through the quiet room. Every descent forces a low growl from my throat. My hands tighten on her hips, guiding, urging her faster, deeper. The scent of fresh slick floods the air between us, sweet and heavy, and my Alpha instincts answer with a possessive snarl I don’t bother to swallow.

“That’s it,” I rasp, watching the way her tits bounce with every hard drop of her body. “Fuck yourself on my cock. Take what you need, babe.”

She does. The pace turns almost brutal—hips snapping down, thighs flexing, the soft flesh of her ass meeting my pelvis with sharp, rhythmic sounds that fill the bedroom. I can feel how wet she is, the way her cunt clenches and flutters every time she bottoms out. Her head falls back, throat exposed, and the sight of that unmarked skin makes something primal surge hard in my chest. I sit up in one powerful motion, still buried to the root, and wrap one arm around her waist to hold her tight against me while the other hand fists in her hair, tipping her head so I can mouth at the tender spot where her neck meets her shoulder.

She gasps, nails digging into my shoulders. I fuck up into her from below in short, powerful thrusts that meet every downward roll of her hips. The angle is perfect—deep, relentless, the head of my cock dragging over that spot inside her that makes her voice break on every stroke. The bedframe creaks in protest. The sheets tangle further under us. Neither of us cares.

“Silas—god—”

“I know.” I bite gently at the side of her throat, not hard enough to claim, just enough to feel her pulse jump against my teeth. “I’ve got you. Take it. Take all of it.”

I flip us again without pulling out, driving her back into the mattress with my full weight. Her legs wrap high around my waist. I brace one hand beside her head and use the other to hitch her thigh higher, opening her wider, and then I fuck her the way the last three weeks of restraint have been demanding—hard, deep, almost punishing. The wet sound of my cock driving into her is obscene, continuous, mixed with the slap of skin and the low continuous growl vibrating in my chest.

Her cunt is scorching, impossibly tight around me, walls fluttering and squeezing like she’s trying to pull me deeper still. I can feel the second swell of my knot already beginning, the pressure building at the base of my cock with every powerful stroke. This time I don’t ask. I simply drive harder, shorter thrusts that keep the thickening knot grinding against her entrance until it forces its way inside with a deep, stretching pressure that makes us both shout.

The lock catches hard. Instant, complete. The sudden impossibility of pulling free sends a shock of pure possessive heat through me. I grind against her, the swollen knot tugging at her rim with every tiny movement, and the sensation is so intense my vision whites out at the edges. She comes first—violently, back arching clear off the bed, a broken cry of my name tearing from her throat as her cunt clamps down around the knot in rhythmic, milking waves. The pressure is almost too much. It rips the orgasm from me in long, heavy pulses, thick ropes of cum flooding her already full cunt around the seal of the knot, leaking in heated rivulets down the cleft of her ass.

I keep moving through it—tiny, instinctive rocks of my hips that tug the lock and drag another aftershock from both of us. My face is buried in the curve of her neck. Her nails have left stinging crescents across my shoulders. The air is thick with the scent of sex and sweat and the deep, satisfied musk of an Alpha who has claimed his Omega twice in the space of an hour.

Even locked together I can’t stop touching her. My hands roam over the soft weight of her breasts, down the damp plane of her stomach, around to grip the full curves of her ass and pull her tighter against the knot. Every shift makes her whimper and clench. Every clench makes my cock twitch and pulse another small spurt of cum deeper inside her.

“Fuck,” I breathe against her throat, voice wrecked. “You take me so well. So perfect. Like your pussy was made to lock around me and never let go.”

She answers by turning her face and capturing my mouth in a messy, open kiss that tastes like her and the salt of exertion. Her legs stay locked around my waist, heels digging into the backs of my thighs as if she can somehow pull me even deeper. I roll my hips in small, continuous circles, grinding the base of the knot against her clit, and the soft, helpless sounds she makes against my tongue are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.

We stay like that until the second knot finally begins to ease—long minutes of slow, grinding friction and shared heat and the occasional fresh pulse of release whenever she squeezes around me just to feel me react. When I at last slip free the gush of combined fluids is abundant, soaking the sheets beneath us. I don’t move away. I simply gather her closer, still half-hard and aching, and press kisses along her jaw, her cheek, the damp hair at her temple.