Chapter 11 #2
I move away and wipe my mouth. I look down at the small bead of precum glistening at the slit of my cock.
As much as I want to impale him on it again, that’s not going to do, either.
My stomach tenses in anticipation of something else.
A specific appetite it won’t be deprived of that I can’t quite put my finger on.
While Rus struggles through the quivers of pleasure overtaking his body, the pheromones he lets out must cloud my mind completely, because once my eyes land on my hands pressed against his glutes, it hits me.
The image fills my head, rippling and intensifying, and there’s no way to erase it now. It has to happen.
I don’t know why, but the why doesn’t even matter, does it? Why should it? Why should anything matter when it’s just him and me?
I lick my lips, relishing the taste of him, before I come close again. I glide both of my index fingers in smoothly, thrusting in and out a few times before adding two more digits from each hand. Rus groans and tilts his ass in eager cooperation.
“You like that, hm?”
“Fuck, Wren… I l-love everything you— Ah!”
I knead around Rus’s opening, spreading and massaging it gently.
When he seems to have gotten comfortable, I remove my left hand and instead use four of my fingers from the right to push in, all the way to the knuckles.
Going in until my palm sits flush with his perineum, I use it to rub into that delicate area while teasing my thumb near his entrance.
What a perfect omega he is. So malleable. Ready for anything I can give him, his body completely surrenders to me and follows my lead. It makes my heart skip with excitement and adoration and pure, unfiltered joy.
“Fuck! D-don’t stop!” He blurts out, his insides constricting violently around my hand. Panting with my mouth open, I stare at his cock as it twitches and squirts all over the sheets. The small, whiny, erotic sounds Russell creates burrow into my psyche, forever burned into my brain.
I squeeze my shaft, fighting the urge to jerk off, knowing that with only a few strokes, I could follow him into that place of pure bliss.
But…I’m not done yet.
I rest my palm against his ass and wait a moment, giving him some time to collect himself. The sight of this strong man barely able to hold himself up on all fours is really something. I can’t help but smile when he looks at me over his shoulder, eyelids heavy with exhaustion and arousal.
I hold his gaze with confidence. “Nearly all five of my fingers are inside of you right now.” The heat in his eyes flares. Clearly, he has plenty of fuel left. “Have you ever…done this before? The entire fist?” I ask in a tight voice, suddenly paralyzed by the mere idea of his rejection.
He shakes his head but doesn’t look away. “I-I want you to do it, though,” he whispers. There’s no doubt, no fear.
A jolt of relief pulses through my chest. “I want that, too. I want it very, very much.” As I speak, I gently press my thumb in and marvel at the ease with which he accepts me. “Tell me if it hurts, okay?”
Even as Rus’s eyes fall shut and his breath hitches, he keeps yielding to me beautifully until the last knuckle slips in and my entire balled hand is inside him.
“I wish you could see this, Rus,” I breathe, barely able to restrain myself from going all in straight away. Instead, I make small, careful movements, twisting my arm in a corkscrew motion rather than just pushing in and out.
When I reach a little further and down toward his belly, Rus moans out my name, his head falling between his shoulders with a jolt.
“That’s it. That’s the sweet spot, huh?” I ask with a satisfied grin and rub against it again. I will remember the desperate sounds he makes for the rest of my life. I’m sure of it. “You like that? Tell me how it feels, baby.”
The word slips out of me without a thought. I used to call Felix that when we made love. You don’t just call people that unless they are important to you, but it feels…right at this moment.
I can’t think straight anymore, anyway. Rus seems barely capable of thinking, too. He mutters something before crying out again and adjusting his hips against me.
“The stretch’s so…so… I feel like I’m gonna b-burst. Fuck,” he whimpers, voice trembling, limbs trembling, his entire body almost vibrating with pleasure. His words boom in my ears, echoing.
“Do it, sweetheart. Go on. Let it out for me,” I urge him. My own point of no return is quickly approaching no matter how hard I try to delay it, but before I do, I’ll make sure to give him the best damn prostate orgasm of his life.
I keep thrusting in harder and faster, my wrist hugged tightly by his ring of muscle, and target that sensitive place inside with as much focus and care as I can muster.
“Come for me,” I moan out desperately, tears of joy pushing into my eyes. I feel him getting close just by how insanely potent his pheromones are, consuming me in the most delicious way.
“Wren! Wren, I’m…”
“Me too. That’s it. Ugh, that’s it. Let it out for me.”
My mind goes completely blank. There’s nothing but the pulsing, otherworldly ecstasy rushing through, ripping us apart only to blur us back together as my orgasm fuels his and Rus’s mine.
It feels like minutes of uninterrupted, solid, incomprehensible euphoria before I come to my senses with my cock in my hand, dripping cum and buzzing with a fading ticklish sensation. My other hand is still inside Rus, crushed by his contracting walls as he rides out his orgasm, too.
I pull my fist out gently once he relaxes. Rus makes a sweet, choked-up little whimper when I do.
Somehow, we end up lying next to each other again, and it probably isn’t until a few more minutes pass that we’re present enough to actually focus on each other.
“That was…”
“Incredible,” I mutter.
Rus laughs tiredly. His blinks are slow. Dazed. “I never thought that would be somethin’ I’d do,” he notes, almost like he’s thinking out loud. “Never felt anythin’ so damn intense. It was good, just…fuck, I feel so empty now.”
I smile, feeling nothing but warm satisfaction because he enjoyed it and I was the first to ever make him feel that way. I might not have been the ideal alpha in a lot of ways, but even Felix never could’ve argued that I didn’t care for his pleasure.
“Does…your head hurt, too?” I ask as I rub my temples. “We need to open the windows before we both get sick from pheromone overexposure.”
“Could also be us not drinking or eat—” Just as he’s about to say it, Russell’s stomach makes a comically loud rumbling sound.
We pause before bursting into a fit of laughter. My muscles ache by the time we calm down.
“Right. Should get some sustenance after all this physical exertion.”
Rus might be used to that, but I’m definitely not. The pheromones can drive my body only for so long until they, like adrenaline, fade away and leave me the way I often feel immediately after my rut—exhausted and completely drained. Mentally and physically.
I sigh, wishing we could stay in bed forever and be irresponsibly indulgent instead of being adults, but slowly sit up anyway. “We better shower first.”
“Again,” Rus notes, flashing me a chastising glance.
He just walked out of there when I woke up, didn't he? I offer an apologetic grimace. “Sorry.”
That feels like a century ago now. My goodness, how long have we been messing around? What time is it?
Rus winces when sitting up. “Don’t be. You’ve more than made it up to me,” he says.
The playful expression on his face makes me feel a tad better about making him sore.
I’m glad I didn’t actually hurt him. “Let’s hope there’s enough hot water.
Could you put the stove on and start boilin’ some rice while I’m in there? I’ll be a spell.”
Like a good little soldier, he’s already alert and kicking into gear.
“Only if you promise you’ll sing for me as you cook.”
He turns back with his brows raised, and even I have to admit that I’m surprised by how flirty my mood is. “Alrighty, then,” he says softly, that shy side of him peeking out, which only makes me want to pull him in bed with me again.
What is this tender domestic bliss we’re acting out? What are we doing?
I try not to think about that. To not let reality into this sweet little bubble.
Not yet.
I help Rus with the cooking. It is just a lazy mix of some chicken, rice, and various vegetables he has lying around.
Still, it comes out smelling and looking absolutely delicious.
We sit at the table together, wearing only our pants because it’s so damn hot.
We both look out the window at the same time.
“The storm is settling,” Rus notes in a low, almost melancholic tone.
Something inside me shifts as I watch the white scenery. It is much more peaceful than before. And there’s hardly any snow falling now. “Yeah…”
He opens his mouth to say something, but we’re startled by the magpie soaring above our heads, barely turning in the air before hitting the door and then flying back toward the fireplace.
Absentmindedly, I rake my fork through the food in front of me. “The bird’s getting restless,” I say.
“It has definitely improved. It probably wants to be outside.” Rus releases a quiet sigh, eyes fixed on the bird somewhere behind me.
“It must have friends and family looking forward to seein’ it again.
Birds have friends, right? We should be able to release it tomorrow.
By the looks of it, the storm will’ve passed completely by then. ”
There it is.
The expiration date for this cute little fairytale.
The realization that I will have to return to my life in the city hits me, sending cold shivers down my back. I try to hide it by pressing my lips together and hanging my head down as if to focus on the food, but I feel Rus’s gaze on me. It makes me wonder if he’s thinking about the same thing.