Chapter 19 Wilson
Wilson
Oliver twists around on his knees with his face streaked by tears and glitter, chest heaving rapidly. The dildo remains inside him while his hand grips the base, and when the motion shifts its angle, a sound escapes his mouth that hovers between sob and moan.
He speaks through ragged breaths, his voice pitched high with panic. "I don't know what happened. I was fine. I took a shower and got into the nest and then everything just spiked. My heat schedule is completely fucked up, it's not supposed to be for another three weeks, Zo, I don't—"
More slick spills down his thighs as the scent fills the room with such thickness that my lungs burn when I inhale. Sweetness presses against the inside of my skull while my body steps backward before I consciously register the retreat. My shoulders connect with something solid and warm behind me.
Nicholas stands there, his hands finding my arms to steady me as his scent cuts through Oliver's sweetness. Amber wraps around my shoulders and the pressure behind my eyes eases enough for me to breathe again through the haze.
Lorenzo moves across the room toward the nest and drops to his knees beside Oliver. His hand finds the Omega's face while his thumb wipes away tears from beneath reddened eyes. "Breathe, baby. I'm here. We're going to take care of this," he purrs.
Oliver releases the dildo and grabs Lorenzo's wrist instead, his fingers tightening until they whiten against the Beta’s skin.
A whimper breaks through his teeth as his hips rock forward involuntarily, seeking stimulation the toy cannot provide.
Lorenzo's jaw tightens visibly while he eases the dildo out, causing Oliver to hiss at the emptiness, his body clenching around nothing but air and need.
I watch Lorenzo look over his shoulder at Nicholas, his expression shifting instantly, the tender concern for Oliver folding into something more calculated.
“This is a dance we’ve done before. Oliver’s heats spike sometimes, usually triggered by stress or a change in his environment.” His gaze locks on Nicholas’. “I’m going to ask you every time. Are you comfortable helping with this?”
Nicholas’ hands are still on my arms. His thumbs press against my biceps and I feel the moment his grip changes, the steadying loosening into something that asks me a question without words. I don’t pull away.
“Yes.” His voice comes from above my head, resonating through his chest into my back.
Lorenzo nods once and turns to me, rising from the nest and crossing the room.
His hands find my face the way they do when he needs my full attention.
“Gorgeous, our Omega needs a knot and Nicholas is going to help him.” His thumb traces along my cheekbone.
“Do you want to stay and watch Oliver fall apart, or do you want to move with me into the guest bedroom?”
Behind him, Oliver makes a sound that liquefies my spine, a keening moan that fills the room and makes the sweetness surge. Nicholas’s chest expands against my back on a sharp inhale.
“Stay.” The word leaves me before I’ve weighed it. “I want to stay.”
His mouth curves as he presses a kiss to my forehead before stepping aside.
Nicholas moves past me toward the nest. He pulls his jacket off and drapes it over the chair, then lifts his shirt over his head in one smooth motion, exposing the breadth of his shoulders, the defined lines of his chest, and the tattoos running down his left arm and across his ribs in patterns I’ve only ever seen by lamplight in Sebastian’s bed.
His body is larger than I remembered, definitely broader. The years since I last saw him undressed have added muscle to his frame, filling out the lean build I knew at twenty-four into something more substantial.
Nicholas steps out of his pants and my mouth goes dry.
His cock is hard and thick against his thigh, and the sight of it sends a pulse of heat through my abdomen that has nothing to do with Oliver’s scent saturating the air.
My body knows that cock. It knows how it feels pressing inside me, the way its width stretches me open, the knot swelling against my rim, the only knot I’ve ever taken.
Nicholas kneels on the edge of the nest. I watch Oliver reach for him with grabbing hands, pull at his shoulders, and Nicholas lower himself over Oliver’s body with a careful tenderness that makes my chest ache.
The way Nicholas’ arms bracket Oliver’s frame, the way his hips settle between Oliver’s thighs, the way his mouth finds Oliver’s temple before anything else, I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
“I got you, baby,” Nicholas murmurs, his voice low and rough with the scent pouring off Oliver. “I’m right here.”
Oliver’s legs wrap around Nicholas’s waist, and the first press of Nicholas’s cock draws a moan from Oliver that dismantles something behind my chest. Oliver’s head tips back against the pillow, his throat bared, his mouth open, and Nicholas pushes into him in one slow, full stroke.
They both groan as Oliver’s nails rake down Nicholas’s back, leaving white tracks across the tattooed skin, his hips bucking up to meet each thrust.
I lean against the doorframe, hands gripping the wood at my hips.
There’s no jealousy in my chest, only a surprised gratitude.
Nicholas’ body covering Oliver’s, Oliver’s legs locked around Nicholas’s waist, the intimate sounds filling the room with each thrust: it all lights up something in my blood that feels like thanks.
Thanks that Nicholas is here. That Oliver has exactly what he needs. That the man pressing into my Omega is the same man whose touch is the only Alpha touch my body has ever trusted.
My Omega.
I’ll deal with that later.
I’m frozen in the doorway as Oliver cries out and flips Nicholas onto his back.
Nicholas grunts, his hands clutching Oliver’s hips, and Oliver presses his palms against Nicholas’ chest, rising and falling with each thrust. He rides Nicholas with that raw, familiar power I’ve seen in every private moment, his voice echoing through the apartment.
Nicholas’ hands spread across Oliver’s ass, fingers sinking into the curves, holding him steady as our Omega takes what he needs.
With each downward press, Nicholas’ cock slides slick and flushed into Oliver’s body, Oliver’s rim stretching around the girth.
My own cock throbs painfully against the seam of my jeans, and I inhale sharply, the sound loud despite the moment.
Lorenzo moves closer, his hand sliding to the back of my neck and guiding me onto the nest of pillows where the blankets are still dry. He settles me against the mattress, and presses his mouth to my cheek, to my jaw, and to the spot beneath my ear where my pulse thunders.
“Watch them,” Lorenzo murmurs against my skin.
His hand drifts down my chest, over my stomach, and cups me through my pants.
The firm pressure pulls a groan from my throat that mingles with Oliver’s cries and the wet rhythm of his body rising and falling on Nicholas’ lap.
“Look at our Omega. See how beautiful he is when he falls apart.”
Oliver’s orgasm hits him like a wave. His back arches, his cock pulsing unused against his belly, his mouth open in a scream that makes the walls vibrate.
He clamps down on Nicholas, and the Alpha’s hips jerk upward, fingers digging into Oliver’s flesh but Nicholas holds steadfast. His knot hasn’t swollen yet.
Oliver goes limp for a breathless three seconds, then his hips begin to chase the next wave, because one surge is not enough.
Lorenzo’s hand massages me through the fabric, matching the rhythm of Oliver’s hips as his mouth presses against my ear.
“You’re so hard, gorgeous. Watching them does this to you.
” His thumb slides along the underside of my cock through my pants, and my vision fogs at the edges.
“Nicholas is going to knot our Omega, and you’re going to watch every second of it. Tell me how it makes you feel.”
“Fuck.” The word rips out of me. Oliver is riding Nicholas harder now, his second orgasm coiling in the tension of his thighs. Nicholas’ hands guide him, the muscles in his arms flexing with every roll of Oliver’s hips. “Lorenzo, I’m going to—”
“Come for me.” Lorenzo presses his hand harder. “Right here, in your pants, watching them.”
My orgasm detonates, buckling my spine against the pillows. I jerk up into Lorenzo’s palm, warmth flooding through the fabric as my cock pulses against wet cotton. Lorenzo’s mouth curves into a smile against my ear, his hand easing up a little, stroking me gently through the aftershocks.
“Good,” he murmurs. “That’s my gorgeous boy.”
His fingers find my waistband and flick the button open. He peels my ruined pants down my legs with surprising patience, knuckles trailing lightly across my thighs. Lorenzo pauses at my shirt, my previous hesitation somehow gone after everything that’s happened.
I nod slowly, Lorenzo removing my shirt. Then his mouth claims the center of my chest, the Beta never once lingering on my scar.
“Whenever you’re done, we stop. You say the word and everything stops.”
“Don’t stop.”
Something in Lorenzo’s expression makes my breath catch.
He guides me up to sit, my back resting against his chest. His legs bracket mine; his still-clothed body warm against my bare skin.
He reaches for the lube on the nightstand, slicks his fingers, and presses them between my cheeks, circling my entrance before the first finger pushes inside.
He opens me slowly and thoroughly. One finger becomes two, curling inside me, hunting for the spot that makes my cock twitch back to life against my stomach. His mouth trails kisses along my neck, lips warm beside the scar, nipping at the column of my throat while his fingers stretch me.
“Ready, gorgeous?” I tense a little and then relax, Lorenzo humming inches from the rough skin. “You’re right here, with us. Look at your Omega and your Alpha. You’re ours, Wilson. Ours.” His purr vibrates through my back as he asks again. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
He lifts me. The shift in position is effortless, Lorenzo’s strength concentrated in his arms and core as he settles me into his lap, my back pressed against his chest. The sound of a zipper meets my ears before the head of his cock presses at my entrance and I sink down onto him, one long slide that fills me completely.
His arms wrap around my chest, holding me flush against him, his chin hooking over my shoulder.
“Watch,” he breathes in my ear.
Oliver is close again. His body trembling on Nicholas’ lap, his thighs shaking, moans dissolving into incoherent sounds that pitch higher with each thrust.
Lorenzo begins to move inside me with long, deep strokes that press his cock against every nerve ending.
My hands clamp down on his forearms where they lock over my chest. Oliver screams and comes for another time, his body seizing as his nails carve bloody crescents into Nicholas’s chest. This time Nicholas doesn’t hold back.
His hips snap up, his knot swelling until it locks inside Oliver, stretching the Omega’s rim until Oliver’s eyes roll back and his mouth goes slack.
The sound tearing from Nicholas’s throat rips through me.
My entire body goes ice-cold and then sears with heat. I know that sound. I’ve heard it exactly once before, years ago, in a bedroom smelling of cold metal and smoke.
Sebastian had gone out. It was one of the rare nights Nicholas and I were alone—Sebastian’s schedule had conflicted with our arrangement—and Nicholas was inside me, his knot swelling for the first time, his face buried in my neck.
The sound he made shook through his whole body and into mine, stirring something deep and biological that recognized it long before my mind could catch up.
I looked it up afterward. I spent hours on my phone in the bathroom with the door locked, scrolling through forums and medical texts and pack dynamics research. The sound has a name. A claiming roar.
The involuntary vocalization an Alpha produces when their body recognizes a mate. It can’t be faked. It can’t be forced. It erupts from somewhere primal when an Alpha is with the person their biology has chosen.
Nicholas made that sound with me. And now he’s making it with Oliver.
Lorenzo thrusts up into me and the orgasm crashes through my body so hard that my vision fractures.
I clench around him, my back arching against his chest, and Lorenzo comes inside me with a groan pressed into the crook of my neck.
The warmth of him filling me pulls a sound from my throat that I can’t categorize, something between a moan and a sob.
Lorenzo’s arms hold me against his chest as my mind tries to catch up. My gaze falls to Oliver collapsed over Nicholas’ chest, his face slack with satisfaction, his body still twitching around the knot locking them together. His eyes are glazed, his smile loose and dazed.
“That’s so much better than the toy,” Oliver muses, his voice wrecked, barely audible, muffled against Nicholas’s collarbone.
Nicholas laughs as he turns his head and presses his mouth to Oliver’s cheek, his teeth grazing the skin in a gentle nip that makes Oliver purr. My thighs tremble as I lift myself off Lorenzo’s cock, the room swaying when I stand. Lorenzo’s hand catches my hip, steadying me.
“Okay?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. My voice sounds like someone else’s. “Bathroom.”
My legs carry me through the bedroom door and down to the guest bedroom’s bathroom as I try to wrap my head around the idea of mates.