Chapter 4
She was watching.
O knew she was.
Probably from the office where he’d just left her after filling out the paperwork.
Oberon had started this with the intention of riling her up. He’d wanted her to watch, had inwardly laughed at how foolish she was for thinking he wasn’t aware of the hidden cameras in the room she’d chosen. He’d already spotted three and had pretended otherwise.
But as soon as Fenrir leaned back and bent his legs, spread his thighs and exposed himself…Something shifted inside of O.
Their impromptu audience wasn’t such a laughing matter anymore. Strange, since jealousy had never been something Oberon needed to worry about. It was an altogether new experience, one that had him momentarily contemplative.
If he called an end to this now, he’d tip his hand, and he couldn’t allow that.
Did Fenrir know his mistress was spying on them?
Did that get him off?
Oberon’s gaze swept down his form, taking stock of the hard ridges of muscle and the way his waist tapered. Fenrir looked gorgeous in the golds, his chained wrists moving to accommodate the order given, palms slipping between his thighs.
Even soft, his dick was impressive.
“I’ve read your file,” Oberon broke the silence, but Fenrir didn’t seem surprised to hear it.
“Was that before or after you bid on me?”
Was he trying to feel O out?
Fun.
“Before.” He wouldn’t lie and claim that wasn’t his deciding factor. “I’m curious, what kind of training do they give you if they aren’t allowed to pop your cherry? We’ve already covered that they make you suffer through your heats with unsatisfactory toys. What else?”
“It’s not very pretty.”
“That’s all right. You’re pretty enough to keep me going. Tell me.”
Fenrir rolled his heavy sack, tugging at it lightly before letting go and moving his hand away enough that Oberon got a good view of his balls bouncing back in place.
Then his fingers moved to the base of his dick, pressing against a smaller bump there that was hardly noticeable with the man still soft.
“You still have your knot,” Oberon recognized. “I thought Rebirth—”
“Only the newer versions,” he cut him off. “Their original success wasn’t capable of altering the alpha physiology to that degree. Now, they’ve perfected the coding so the altered subject’s body targets parts of them no longer deemed necessary, like their knot.”
“That sounds horrible.”
“To actively remove a piece of someone against their will?” The sarcasm was impossible to miss.
“Not at all.” Fenrir brought his hands to his face and spit into his palm, then finally started to stroke himself in slow, lazy movements.
“You want to know about their training program? Why? Is the White Frost interested in dipping their toe in the business?”
Oberon scowled, some of his arousal dying at the suggestion. “Don’t be offensive.”
“Oh? Apologies, King. I didn’t realize a man willing to pay for sex would have a problem with raising product of his own. Is it a moral issue, or do you just see the work as dirty and beneath you?”
“Social decorum clearly wasn’t a lesson they bothered to enroll you in.”
That seemed to give the omega momentary pause, but he was back to working his semi-hard shaft in no time. “Something about you makes me want to mouth off. I’m not usually like this. Maybe it’s your smell.”
“My smell?”
“Your pheromones. They’re…unique.”
Oberon snorted. “Everyone’s pheromones are unique, omega.”
“No, that’s not—” He shook his head. “Forget it.”
They could return to that topic later.
“Since you still have your knot, was that incorporated into your training?” Probably used against Fenrir, more like. That was the only reason O could see for the guy’s sadistic mistress to allow him to keep it and not force another round of the upgraded Rebirth.
Sure enough, the omega’s jaw clenched, and it was an obvious struggle for him to make himself relax. “I was given Fleshlights and similar toys.”
“Ones meant to take a knot?”
“No.”
O shifted uncomfortably in his seat, thinking about how tight a squeeze that meant those toys had been. It wouldn’t have been pleasurable. “Stamina?”
“Exactly.”
He hummed. It made sense. Since they didn’t want to allow their product to experience a true mating, they’d teach them how to last through their first one instead.
The point of any product was to please the buyer, after all.
An alpha who blew his load too early, or an omega who passed out from overstimulation before the first knotting could occur, would be useless to the Wardrobe.
Worse than.
They’d be considered embarrassments.
Even though Oberon hadn’t insisted on this trial run simply to see the other man get off, sensing this trip down memory lane would make it harder on him, he opted to switch gears.
“I’ve never seen an alpha touch himself before,” his voice dropped low and suggestive, and he added the barest hint of alluring pheromone into the air at the same time.
“Not an alpha.” It was impossible to tell whether Fenrir was annoyed by his past presentation being brought up. He continued to rub himself with his left hand, slowly stroking himself to life.
“Fine.” Oberon wasn’t finished poking. He wouldn’t be until he got a reaction. Until he figured out what it was that made this fine specimen tick. “I’ve never seen an ex-alpha—”
“Full stop.”
He waited to see if Fenrir would elaborate, but when he didn’t he grinned. “Yes. Full stop.”
“Most early-stage test subjects were beta,” Fenrir said then. “It was considered less risky than messing with an alpha or omega. Killing one of us wasn’t the same as murdering a beta.”
“How cavalier of you to say.”
“I’m only repeating what we were told by those in charge of the initial program.”
“And you’re telling me this because?”
“Probably for the same reason you brought up that I used to be alpha,” Fenrir quipped. “I’m feeling you out, King of the Fairies.”
“Acquainted with many fairies, are you?”
The corner of Fenrir’s mouth twitched. “Maybe.”
“Stop.” This wasn’t working. “Remove the blindfold.”
Fenrir let himself go and tugged the silk tied around his head off, tossing it onto the bed. The second his gaze landed on Oberon, his nostrils flared and his cheeks pinkened slightly, the scent of omega slick permeating the air.
O smirked cockily. “Like what you see that much, do you?”
Instead of tipping his head down like most omegas would, he rested it back against the headboard, the move causing his chin to jut stubbornly upward.
No, the Wardrobe definitely wouldn’t have taught him to act like this in front of a client. Vaguely, Oberon wondered what Michelle was thinking from where she sat spying on them through the camera lens.
“There we go,” he praised when the omega’s dick finally grew to full mast, his impressive length on proud display between powerful thighs.
Fenrir’s shaft pointed straight up to the ceiling, mushroom crown turning a pretty shade of crimson the harder he got.
Under O’s scrutiny, a single, pearly drop of precome formed from his slit, rolling down to travel all the way to the dip between his balls.
A fresh gush of slick wet his tight entrance, the rosy bud glistening enticingly beneath the warm overhead lighting.
“As you can see,” Fenrir was no longer as put together as he’d been only a moment prior, and his frustration over that crackled in his heated gaze, “everything is in working order. Can we say I passed the test now and go sign the contract?”
“Can’t wait to get stuffed?” Oberon knew that’s not what he meant, but he couldn’t help teasing him further. He palmed himself between his pants, liking when the omega’s eyes landed there and Fenrir’s hips jerked as if on their own accord. “I haven’t seen everything I want to yet.”
An annoyed sound huffed out of the omega.
“Show me your knot,” Oberon ordered. “I want to see all of you.”
Fenrir faltered. “In order to do that, I would have to—”
“The point of having you jerk off was so you would come for me,” O stated bluntly. “Don’t think you’re going to get out of the grand finale. What’s wrong? You keep insisting you’re not alpha, yet you’re certainly acting like a humiliated one. Is this how the Wardrobe trains their product?”
An alpha didn’t have to knot to get off. Unless they were in rut, or in the presence of a horny omega, they could typically control that sort of thing.
Did Fenrir still have control over it? Over his own body? Or had that been taken too? Stripped away like the rest of his rights and autonomy?
“Let me help you.” Oberon sent a strong wave of targeted pheromones toward Fenrir, the kind meant to instigate arousal.
He chuckled when clear, sticky fluid spilled from the omega’s entrance, seeping into the sheets and creating a dark wet spot impossible to miss. “You certainly cream like an omega.”
“I am an omega,” he growled, bound hands returning to his dick. His movements were more harried than before, both hands gliding up and down, the movement aided by the precome that leaked from his tip.
The plan hadn’t been to touch him, and yet Oberon found himself standing, moving toward the bed as though entranced. To his credit, Fenrir didn’t stop, even when O planted a knee on the mattress and hauled himself up. Or when he crawled until he was kneeling between his spread thighs.
“I promised not to touch you during the trial run,” he said, recalling that stupid deal he’d made with Michelle. “Think she’ll come bursting in here if I break the rules?”
Fenrir’s gaze slipped over Oberon’s head, toward a corner of the room where he knew one of the cameras was hidden and then in a quiet voice mumbled, “She wouldn’t risk it.”
In a flash of motion that surprised them both, O captured him beneath the knees and bent him forward, practically folding the other man in half. It forced his ass high in the air, giving Oberon ample access to his balls and his tight hole.