Chapter 21
A small room had been carved out of the stone for the toilet, but for some reason, Oberon had instructed that the shower be tucked into the corner of the main area, out in the open.
There wasn’t even a curtain. Fenrir would have questioned it for longer than a few minutes, but he’d long since realized the alpha was an oddball.
Were all people with money that way?
Fenrir didn’t think Oberon thought with his coin instead of his brain, but if there was a reason for the design, he couldn’t figure it out.
The shower head was set high on the wall, with a circular drain below and a slight dip to prevent it from spilling everywhere. Hot water poured down over him, and Fenrir rolled his shoulders and tipped his head back.
It was still dark outside, and he’d added more wood to the fire before coming to bathe to avoid the sleeping alpha waking from the cold.
The dishes were done, the food put away, and Fenrir had a kettle set on low on the stove. Aside from the light from the fire, the room was dark, and he cast his gaze about it as he scrubbed off days' worth of grime and dried bodily fluids forgotten in their haste to escape the Wardrobe.
He felt strangely…content. Like somehow, this carved space had become theirs, a safe haven from the horrors of the outside world. A part of him even had the fleeting thought that perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad to stay here forever, but it left him as soon as he felt the alpha’s eyes.
Pretending not to notice, Fenrir continued washing, hands gliding across his skin, working soap suds over his tender flesh.
There were spots that still ached upon contact, no matter how gentle he was.
He couldn’t see them in the partial darkness, but he recalled catching sight of himself in the mirror back at the cottage.
He’d been in a rush to put clothes on while Oberon held off their attackers, but had paused nonetheless when he’d spotted the bruises.
He was covered in them. Bruises, love bites, and the mostly healed indentations at his neck.
Proof of Oberon’s claim. Considering its state of healing, Fenrir figured the alpha had bitten him early on in their time together.
Try as he might, he still couldn’t conjure a single snippet from the event, but there were other recollections.
The memory of a particularly hard suck on his inner left thigh.
The way it’d felt when Oberon had sunk his teeth over his chest and pulled his nipple into the warm, wet heat of his mouth.
Fenrir hissed when he dared touch that place now, zaps of electricity racing down his spine all the way to his toes. There was discomfort as well when the skin around the area pulled, irritating the tiny cuts left by the alpha’s bite.
How many times had Oberon bitten him? In how many places?
Only the claiming bite mattered. That was the spot that tied them together, that made Fenrir his in a way he could no longer belong to another.
The only way out of a bond was death, and Fen hadn’t clawed and fought his way through life just to give up because an alpha had taken him against his will.
A hot, rich, kind of childish alpha.
Seriously, who forgot to add a table to their secret hideout?
He chuckled, the sound soft and mostly drowned out by the shower spray.
Across the room, he heard the bed protest as the alpha slowly sat up.
It’d been hours since Oberon had fallen asleep. With his dominant alpha healing, did that mean his wound would be mostly closed by now? Fen doubted it, since his body still bore all the marks from their time before he’d regained clarity.
Although, that could be because his body had been too focused on dealing with the influx. Now that his body had stabilized, he didn’t have to fear slipping into another. Hell, so long as Oberon kept his word and held onto Fen, he’d never have to suffer an influx again.
His alpha’s pheromones could help keep him in check, and because they were bonded, his Shout biology would acknowledge those pheromones as well, even though they weren’t considered an energy source.
Ideally, Fenrir would be able to burn through both energy and pheromones during mating with the alpha.
How frequently did they have to do it?
Would once or twice a week suffice?
Fenrir felt fine at the moment, which meant neither was building up to dangerous levels within him yet. Since Oberon had already admitted he’d been too afraid of losing his junk to partake in intercourse while Fen was in influx, that meant it’d been a while since their last time together.
What about—
Targeted lust pheromones drifted toward him, momentarily cutting off his train of thought. His body swayed forward, but he didn’t step out from beneath the shower, somehow managing to keep at it, even as his dick grew hard and his ass got wet.
He’d known there was a chance the alpha would wake and see him like this, and that hadn’t stopped him from stripping. Maybe it’d even encouraged him a little, if he were being honest. Oberon had said he didn’t need him to be good, but what exactly had he meant by behaving?
Omegas were meant to satisfy their alphas, and vice versa. That could refer to a range of things, but sex was definitely one of them.
With his eyes closed, Fen turned, giving the room his back as he carefully rinsed the soap off. He didn’t have to see to know that the alpha was approaching. There was an awareness that hadn’t been there before, something he’d noticed in the forest when he’d sought it out.
Every living creature in the universe had an energy pattern.
Even if Oberon didn’t have an energy source the same way Fenrir did, there was still something there for him to lock onto.
Maybe his Shout side had adapted. There weren’t any Whispers for him to bond with, but he was reacting to the alpha the same way he believed he would to one of them.
A hand settled around his left hip, fingers flexing, as though trying to get a feel for Fenrir’s mood and how much he’d let Oberon get away with.
To help him out, Fen took a deliberate step back, bumping against the alpha’s solid chest. While the other man was startled, he grabbed his hand, pulling his arm around before settling his palm directly over his stiff dick.
Fenrir dropped his head back against Oberon’s shoulder and moaned, sure he’d gotten his point across when the alpha started to stroke him.
“Are you sure, precious?” the alpha whispered, his other arm wrapping around his center, as though his subconscious feared the answer and he couldn’t help himself.
“Keep going.” Fenrir barely got the words out before he found himself pressed against the wall, the alpha tilting his hips to give himself a better angle even as his hand pumped him faster.
Oberon palmed the globe of Fen’s right ass cheek, massaging it like he had back at the cottage. “You turned me down earlier.”
“That was earlier.”
“No longer concerned about my health?”
Fen clicked his tongue. “Didn’t you claim fucking me would make you heal faster?”
The alpha groaned, fingers slipping between his crack to find his entrance. He rubbed at it lightly, not letting up even when Fenrir hissed. “Still sore?”
“It’s fine.” He was already too turned on to care. “It’s not like we have anywhere to be.”
“That’s true,” Oberon drawled, pressing a single digit past that tight ring of muscle. “You aren’t going anywhere in the foreseeable future. When you were in heat, you could take my cock for days. I wonder how many rounds we can go now before you pass out on me.”
“Slow down.” Fenrir chuckled. “How about we get through one first and see where the night takes us?”
“Precious.” Oberon moved in closer, driving his finger in deep in the process. His other hand moved lower to cup his balls. “Once I’m back inside of you, I’m not leaving until I damn well please.”
“Even if I actually do pass out?” That shouldn’t be hot, shouldn’t cause shivers to skate across his skin.
But it did.
“It’s not like it’ll be the first time I screw you while you’re unconscious.” Oberon’s mouth found the spot on the side of his neck where the claiming bite was, and he lapped at it teasingly. “Is this turning you on, omega? Do you like knowing how badly I want you?”
“Yes.” There was no point in denying it.
“I’m sure loads of people wanted this tight ass,” the alpha practically growled, the hint of jealousy impossible to miss. “The only good thing the Bitch of the Wardrobe did was keep them away.”
“It’s not the same,” Fenrir reassured. He could have stopped there, but he was craving more, and he’d do anything to keep the alpha happy and on him, even confess a few vulnerabilities. “No one has ever wanted me the way you do.”
Against all reason and logic, Oberon had chosen Fen.
He’d claimed him, an odd omega bought from the Wardrobe at auction.
Fenrir wasn’t a respectable member of society, he wasn’t well educated, and he didn’t have a penny to his name.
Michelle kept him around because she could get use out of him.
She wanted his Shout abilities and the clout that would have eventually come with it once she’d tested his loyalty.
The fact that she could so easily turn on him and send a team to assassinate him at the cottage was proof she’d never harbored any sort of fondness toward him.
But Oberon…
Oberon had covered Fenrir’s back. Had insisted Fen get to safety, even staying behind himself to fend the Wardrobe off. He’d given him space before and after dinner when it’d become apparent Fen needed it, and he hadn’t complained once about anything that had happened since the two of them had met.
“Some might argue that I’m bad luck,” Fenrir said. “Things haven’t been easy for you since you bid on me.”
The alpha pressed in a second finger, curling them until Fenrir lifted onto his toes and cried out. “Behave.”
“I…am?”