Page 8 of His Beast

“One day,” Zayn whispers against my stomach, his warm breath causing goosebumps across the sensitive flesh. “Not right away obviously, but one day, I hope you’ll allow me the honor of putting our child here.”

Well fuck me.

Of course I want children, always have, but I also don’t want to give up the freedom I have fought so hard to procure for myself. Children would change how I work, how I live my life, especially in the first years before they become little independent creatures and realize that Daddy is working when he’s in this room. I know I could hire a nanny for a few hours a day so I could work, but at the same time, the idea of someone else looking after my child makes me feel like I would be a failure as an Omega, that I should feel ashamed for not dropping everything to take care of our child. But I also have this feeling deep within me that Zayn wouldn’t see me that way. That he would support me in the same way he is already supporting my career by purchasing my books. That he would ensure I could continue to maintain as much of my freedom as a child would allow. In that same feeling, I just know that Zayn would be an amazing, doting father. Obsessed with our child as much as I would be. And the idea of giving him one puts a strange sense of urgency within me, as if I can’t wait.

Zayn’s hair falls forward, creating a curtain between us before I reach up to tuck it behind his ear, pushing it off his face so that I can get a good look at the man before me. His designation doesn’t matter to me, what matters to me is that I feel safe with him, that our future is a possibility that I can finally allow myself to consider. That he’s mine. I went to that ball with no desire for a mate, and instead I left with someone that I feel was perfect for me.

“I’d be happy to give you a child.”

Zayn gawks at me with impossibly large sage green eyes before his face splits into the largest grin I have ever seen, his smoked birch scent devouring my honeyed one as his arousal and happiness become more evident. He lurches forward, his lips crushing into mine as he reaches between us, pulling down my pajama pants and the ones I gave him that practically clungs to his body for dear life.

His cock springs free from his pants, twitching against mine, and I can’t help but stare, precum weeping from his tip. He’s thicker and longer than the dildo I’ve used for my heats, and I'd be lying if I wasn’t slightly worried, especially if his knot expands within me. Logically, I know my body is designed to take him, but there is a difference between seeing it soft in the outlines of fabric and seeing it hard and eager for me now. It was the first cock I have seen that wasn’t my own or on a screen, and I’m not entirely sure if that thing is going to fit inside me. I look up to find Zayn watching me, his expression soft but cautious.

“We don’t have to.”

I firmly shake my head. “You’re just bigger than I expected, which is stupid of me because everything about you is big.”

“If it hurts, tell me, please. I’ll stop immediately. I don’t want to hurt you. ”

My gaze softens as I look at him, cupping his cheek. “You would never hurt me, Z.”

The low growl that emanates from his throat vibrates across my stomach while he nuzzles into the flesh, nipping at it once more, slick pooling between my legs as if an answer to his song. He moves down my body before swallowing my smaller cock in one fluid movement, my back arching against him as a loud surprised curse erupts from my lips, the fingers of my right hand tangling themselves in his hair.

His mouth is liquid heat, creating a pleasure I have never in my life felt before. It’s euphoric and mind numbing, leaving me dazed and thoughtless. There is no real rhythm or technique, but his mouth felt like heaven—warm and inviting, threatening to undo me before I can even catch my breath, slick puddling onto the blankets.

My balls draw up close to my body, the tingling sensation enveloping me as my orgasm grows closer and closer to the surface, but I don’t want this to end so soon. Tugging lightly at the strands of his hair, I urge Zayn to pull away from my body with a gasp but he resists, twirling his tongue around my tip and thought leaves me once more. His fingers run down my thigh before sliding between my legs, tracing the rim of my hole. I grind my hips against his finger, encouraging it to enter me, slick coating his digit effortlessly. I felt him push into me at last, and the groan that escapes me doesn’t sound human even to my own ears as he slowly pushes inward, sinking deeper into my inner channel.

“So tight and wet for me, baby.” he mumbles, pulling off my cock briefly to nuzzle his nose into my sack, licking and sucking each testicle.

“More,” I beg desperately, breathlessly guiding him back to my aching cock.

I feel the rumble of Zayn’s chuckle as he takes me into his mouth once more, inserting a second finger followed immediately by a third, spreading them slowly to stretch my hole in preparation to accept him. His long fingers graze my prostate and white heat blossoms throughout my body, a strangled, moaned cry rips from my throat as I arch off the the blankets of my nest. It feels so different to have something other than a toy hits that spot within me, and the feeling was almost impossible to describe. A toy is cold and hard, brutal with every thrust. His fingers are lightweight, soft and warm, driven by a mission and insistent with every touch. Without warning, I’m pulled over the edge, spilling into his mouth with my fingers tangled in his hair while he greedily gulps me down.

Unaware I have closed my eyes, I slowly open them as Zayn removes his fingers from my body and looks at me with a proud smile on his face.

“Mmm tastes like honey.”

“It does not, you perv.” I pant out a laugh, my brain still foggy.

Zayn leans over me to devour my mouth with his, the salty yet sweet taste of my cum still on his tongue as he slides it between my lips, and I can’t argue with his assessment any longer. It did taste faintly of honey. Reaching between us, I lube my fingers with my slick before sliding them around his cock, eliciting a deep groan from him while my fingers stroke him lazily, slick coating his shaft as I enjoy the feel of the velvety soft weight in my hand.

Twisting my hand gently around his shaft, I was becoming addicted to seeing the pleasure he presented, as he tilts his head into the crook of my neck, his breath heavy against my skin while his low groans echo in my ears. He begins moving his hips in time with my strokes, and I can’t wait any longer—I need to feel him inside. Shifting my lower body slightly once more, I position the blunt round tip of his cock at my wet entrance, slowly sinking my body around him as it tenses at the foreign sensation of something warm and not cold silicone. He slowly pushes forward, stretching me more than his fingers had—than any dildo had before.

Letting go of his cock, I grip his biceps, which flex beneath my touch. The stretch of his intrusion stings slightly, but not enough for me to tell him to stop as it slowly turners from pain to pleasure while my body adjusts to him. I feel so full, fuller than I had ever expected to feel and I know he’s not fully inside met, yet something settles deep within me in contentment. I suck in a breath, only to exhale slowly before opening my eyes when I feel him no longer moving. He staring down at me with concern etched onto his face as he watches me, his body tensing beneath my fingers. I can imagine the war raging behind his worried gaze. His body, his nature, telling him to surge forward, to take me and claim me as his mate. I know that voice well, because it is the same one shouting in my head, demanding he move quickly, to consume all of me. But his insecurities are telling him he is too much, too big, and he’s hurting me.

“Does it hurt?” he questions, shakily, and I felt him slowly withdrawing himself from my body. But my inner Omega growls, desperate to keep him where he is.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” I snarl, shaking my head furiously, while wrapping my legs around his waist and moving my hands to his lower back. My fingers brush over the raised edge of a scar I hadn’t noticed before. “Do not leave me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, but you feel so fucking good, bee. I’m struggling to hold back,” he practically whimper, nuzzling into my neck.

“Stop holding back, then! I’m not fragile, I can take it.”

He pulls back, our eyes locking into each other as he searches for something in my expression. For what, I’m not sure. Maybe permission to let go, to give into his instincts? The scent of smoked birch clashes furiously with my honeyed one once more as his hips roll forward, pushing deeper into me and stretching me in places my toy never could, reaching the end of me in one thrust. Cursing together, our breaths mix as our foreheads meet, panting at the sudden wave of pleasure and desire rushing through us like lightning.

Zayn waits once more, buried to the hilt within me as I adjusts to him, while he savors the feel of me wrapped around him. With a nod of encouragement from me, he begins to move, easily aided by the abundance of slick my body produces, soaking the blankets between us with a puddle of pleasure I can’t prevent. The combined scents fill my office, thickening the air so that I could practically taste it, taste us. He kisses me, our tongues tangled in a dance, lost in the experience of each other. The blunt tip of his cock slides over my prostate with each thrust, eliciting moans that he devours greedily as if they give him life. Angling my hips upward, he thrusts hits that special place inside me that sends bolts of electricity through me, my second orgasm of the night began to build, nails digging into his back, but I need one last thing from him before this is over.

“M-mark me, Zee. Mine. Y-Yours.”