Chapter 10 #2
“If you were a born omega,” Oberon voiced the thought as it came to him, lost in his own head, “I’d be in your womb.”
If Fenrir had the ability to get pregnant, how many alphas would attempt to breed him all for the sake of stealing Oberon’s omega?
“An ass worth eleven million coin.” Men and women would come flocking like vultures, whether or not Fenrir could be bred.
And Oberon had done that.
Had put this omega, who had otherwise lived in relative obscurity, on the map for all of the garbage to find.
Not even being the Wolf would help him. Hell, thanks to O, his fame was now even greater than it’d been when he’d only been known by that nickname. At least then no one could recognize his face.
He was no longer Michelle’s Wolf.
He was the man Oberon King had paid a small fortune to possess.
“No womb.” Fenrir’s thighs squeezed around his waist, his inner walls clenching in a poor attempt to push Oberon’s drilling cock out. “King, you’re going to break me! Please!”
Break him? Yes, that was true. He was breaking him in. Molding his precious omega to take him the way he liked. The way he needed. In a way that would turn this willful omega desperate and addicted to O and all that he had to offer.
“Alpha!” Fenrir did the unthinkable, clearly at his wits' end, and lifted his head, sealing his mouth over Oberon’s in their second, albeit sloppy, lip lock.
The kiss was brief, pointed, and left a lingering hint of those sweet omega pheromones on Oberon’s skin.
“Oh.” Alpha. He liked the sound of that. Liked the sound of his omega calling to him by title respectfully.
Detested the idea of Fenrir ever daring to address another in that same, breathy, pleading tone.
Following his instincts was how Oberon had survived this long, so leaning into them was second nature by this point. That was why, when it finally hit him what he was really feeling, how he could use those impulses ingrained in his nature to his advantage, he didn’t hesitate or question it.
Didn’t doubt himself.
Oberon pulled out and left his omega writhing, gone only long enough to retrieve a second pill, which he’d stashed in his pants pocket. Without hesitation, he took it, standing at the end of the bed for a moment, waiting for the effects of the drug to kick in.
“What are you doing?” Fenrir’s hands were rubbing at his nipples, his hips gyrating, the heat keeping him in such an aroused state that he couldn’t help himself despite his earlier complaints.
When Oberon didn’t respond fast enough, he managed to shift onto his knees, crawling forward and desperately latching onto O’s wrist. “Come back.”
In another minute or so, Oberon would be just as lost to biology as he was.
Many of their species hated what they were. They hated losing themselves to ruts and heats, couldn’t process what those overwhelming states of arousal turned them into. The things it made them do. They’d forgotten all about survival and how necessary those momentary losses of mental clarity were.
In the light, people cared too much about things like consent and appearance.
Fortunately for Oberon, he’d thrived in the darkness.
“You can’t expect sunshine and rainbows from me,” he warned the omega absently, only partially meaning to voice those thoughts aloud.
“I don’t.” Fenrir tugged on his wrist, urging him back to bed. “I expect your thick cock and fat knot.”
Oberon made a sound of surprise. “Who taught you to talk so filthy?”
He liked it.
A lot.
“Still, some things should come with a little romance, don’t you agree?
There’s nothing more romantic than it happening when an alpha is in rut and his omega is in heat.
” At least, that’s what Oberon had heard.
That’s what took place in all the movies and in the dirty novels he enjoyed reading in his downtime. Synced cycles were hot.
Fenrir was hot, leaking all over the place, making those pleading sounds while tears trailed down his cheeks and slick and spent come poured from his blown entrance.
Oberon had done that. Had wrecked him.
He wanted to wreck him some more.
Wanted to wreck him for an eternity.
“It?” Fenrir tried to focus on him again, but this time it proved to be too difficult.
He gave up and closed his eyes, fingers still digging into O’s flesh.
“What? Alpha, please. I’m too empty. It hurts.
” His hole pulsed, sending another wave of fluids from his body.
“Damn it, King. What are you playing at?”
From anyone else, the words would have pissed him off, but Oberon merely grinned, confidence emboldened that his instincts knew better than logic or reason. “I’m waiting.”
“For?”
“For—” There. His skin prickled and his cock bobbed, balls tightening to the point of near pain.
In another few seconds, he’d be just as gone as Fenrir was, unable to process or speak as eloquently as he could now.
He planted a knee back on the bed and let out a wave of pheromones that had the omega’s thighs instantly widening.
Fenrir fell back into place, offering himself up, reaching for Oberon and bringing him closer as he resettled over his impressive form.
“Let’s see if my conscious and subconscious align.” O wouldn’t do it now, as tempting as it was. Overthinking was a real issue. People tricked themselves into thinking they wanted something, or a certain path was the right one, only to realize too late they’d been wrong.
Biological drives didn’t care about money, prestige, or the trappings of power or success. It didn’t care about the structure of this modern society, or of things like consent.
“Cowards fear themselves,” Oberon muttered as he got into position, bumping his wet crown against the omega’s ruined entrance.
Fenrir was still open for him, that ring of muscle tightening the second O notched his tip, already trying to suck him back inside, even as its owner frowned at Oberon’s cryptic words.
“They’ve forgotten how to trust their primal urges.
Forgotten what it means to be alpha or omega.
Perhaps that’s why there are so few of us dominant ones left.
” Oberon’s vision clouded over, Fenrir’s face swimming in front of him.
A growl rumbled in his chest and up his throat, hips snapping forward to fully seat himself within that velvet heat in one harsh motion that had them both hissing.
Possessive alpha pheromones exploded, submerging the room in a thick fog that blinded them both to reason.
He coated his omega in his scent, forced it to leach into Fenrir’s skin in the same aggressive way he made him take his cock. Over and over again, he plunged into that inviting heat, losing himself in the onslaught of sensations and the smell of responding omega slick.
Whatever problem he’d been so obsessed with only moments prior was erased from his mind, replaced by an all-consuming need.
There was an urgency unlike anything he’d ever experienced as he chased his release.
It didn’t matter that he’d come half a dozen times that night already, or that the omega was sobbing beneath him, begging all pretty like in that sinful voice of his.
Oberon couldn’t even hear him. Wouldn’t be able to make sense of the words even if he could. The pounding of his own heart was too great. The way his balls tightened and the impossible need to spear through Fenrir and get as deep as physically possible, drowning out all other distractions.
It’d been forever since he’d experienced anything even remotely close to this. Life had been dull. Boring. Meaningless.
But now…
He wanted.
Oberon was alpha.
If he wanted something, it would be his.
Even if he had to take it.
“Take it,” he snarled, and when a flicker of defiance lighted in the omega’s gaze, he reacted the way a dominant alpha should.
Oberon pulled free and forced Fenrir onto his stomach, dropping over him quickly before his prey could even think of trying to escape. His knees shoved the omega’s legs apart, and he drove back into him, thrusting with all the force he could muster.
The omega whimpered, but Oberon didn’t care if it hurt him. A point needed to be made.
“Struggle,” he demanded darkly. Only the strong was worthy of him.
Fenrir didn’t disappoint, his intrinsic impulses taking control the same way Oberon’s had.
He fought back, grabbing onto the headboard in an attempt to pull himself free, raging beneath O as his body was continuously pillaged.
At some point, he snapped his head back, successfully connecting with Oberon’s chin.
With a hard shove, he pinned the omega’s head to the pillow, inadvertently giving himself the perfect view of the unmarred spot at the man’s throat.
A few more pumps and another blast of his pheromones was all it took to send them both over the edge.
The second he felt his knot push its way inside of Fenrir’s pulsing insides, trapping the omega to him for the foreseeable future, he made the final move.
Blood had never tasted so sweet.