Chapter 17 Chase #2
But Killian started chanting to himself again, those soft, rumbling “gentles,” and then he took. His. Fucking. Time.
One finger. Two fingers. Three. And then his mouth was on Chase’s ass, Killian seemingly not caring about the lube he’d just worked into him. And then back to three fingers. Then his mouth again.
By the time Killian got to four fingers, Chase was whimpering into his folded arms, trying not to buck and writhe against the teasing, because it only got Killian more agitated, and then he would start the process all over again.
Chase knew because Killian had already done it. Twice.
But fuck, Chase wanted to come. He wanted to come so fucking badly.
And he knew if he touched his cock, Killian was going to lose it, or even worse, make that sad, wounded noise again.
But four fingers was a fucking lot—Killian’s hands weren’t exactly dainty—and Killian wasn’t making any attempt to stroke Chase’s prostate or force him to come a million times like he usually did. He was just … stretching him.
It didn’t hurt—not with the lengthy amount of time Killian was taking with it—and there was something intoxicating about being stretched so full with Killian bent over him, nuzzling at Chase’s skin and biting into Chase’s ass with blunt teeth in warning any time he dared move too much.
But it was intense, and when Killian wiggled and scissored his four fingers, Chase had one brief, terrifying moment where he thought, Holy shit, is Killian going to fist me?
And before he had time to process how he felt about that possibility, Killian suddenly pulled Chase’s hips up and back, pressing Chase’s weight down on his forearms. It was the same position an omega would take when presenting to their alpha, and Killian seemed to like that, growling low in satisfaction when he had Chase contorted the way he wanted.
And then those fingers were finally leaving Chase’s ass, and a familiar fat cockhead was pushing at Chase’s entrance, sliding in easy as butter.
Chase moaned, louder than he ever had in his life. He didn’t care that he sounded like a desperate slut—it felt so good after so much teasing. So much goddamn ass play without any relief.
He felt absurdly shameless as he let his voice tip into a whine, “Want you to touch my cock, Alpha.”
Killian usually liked when Chase asked for what he wanted—rare as the occasion was—and even now, Killian’s broad hand gripped Chase’s cock immediately, stroking once before he let go with a frustrated grunt.
Well, it had been worth a shot.
And then the rough, brutal fucking Chase had been expecting finally began.
Chase lost his mind immediately. His load followed right after.
It turned out Chase didn’t need Killian touching his cock. It barely took two pumps of Killian’s hips, and all that tension and building heat finally broke over Chase like a storm, his cock spurting all over the nest as he screamed into his folded arms.
Killian seemed to like that fine, if the way he put his weight into fucking Chase into the mattress right after was any indication.
And maybe betas really did respond to rut pheromones in their own way because Chase’s cock began to fill again almost immediately after his surprise orgasm, even as his toes were still curled into the mattress, shaking with the force of it.
What followed was animalistic and primal and almost frightening—the bed pounding against the wall so hard it sounded like the wood might crack—but maybe Killian was just as worked up by fingering Chase as Chase had been, because it was quicker than usual when he slammed his hips into Chase with a stuttered growl and bit hard into the crook of Chase’s neck, just to the left of where a mating bite might lie.
Chase could feel the hot spurt of Killian’s cum—more than Chase was used to—and then … pressure.
For once, there was no cautious half withdrawal after orgasm, no effort to keep that swelling knot outside Chase’s tender rim.
This time, Killian’s knot was growing inside him, locking Killian’s cum in place as it pressed harder and harder against Chase’s inner walls.
It was painful but not at the same time.
Intense in a way Chase had maybe expected but had no way to prepare for.
Chase made a noise he’d never made before, something shaking loose deep within him.
He was full. So full. As full as he could get without breaking into a million pieces.
But Chase didn’t break. He took it all, his cock spurting weakly again as his prostate was mercilessly pressed by that unforgiving bulk.
Killian was letting out a constant, low growl from above him—almost like a purr—as he stroked his hands up and down Chase’s sides, nuzzling at the bite mark he’d left in Chase’s skin.
“Good beta,” he rumbled, the words clearer than anything he’d said so far that day.
And Chase whined, low in his throat. He sounded exactly like an omega in heat, and he was too overcome by the pressure to be embarrassed by it.
Killian let the bite mark be and nuzzled Chase’s cheek. His ear. His hairline.
“Good beta,” he said again. As if it was confirmation Chase had needed to hear.
And maybe it was, because Chase finally found it in himself to relax around the immense pressure holding him in place. He let his body go limp in the nest Killian had made for him, Killian’s impressive weight on top of him.
Killian’s rumbled approval grew louder, and Chase let his eyes fall closed, secure in the knowledge he’d pleased his alpha.
After the second or third time, Chase’s mind went somewhere else. Some place floating and far off and perfect.
Everything was sensation. Everything was fucking.
Killian knotted him twice more before falling asleep for a brief rest, and when he woke up, he lubed Chase’s inner thighs, folded Chase in half, and rutted between them, pressing them together to squeeze his knot as he came, rumbling and growling as he used Chase’s muscles to massage himself.
Next he carried Chase to the kitchen and fed him fruit by hand, and then he pushed Chase to kneeling and fucked Chase’s face, bringing Chase’s hands up to squeeze his knot as hard as he could manage.
It became clear over the next few days that Killian was giving Chase as many breaks as he could bear to give him.
But then Killian would get twitchy and growly and hungry for it, and he’d inevitably fuck Chase again, knotting him with a groan so deeply satisfied it sent shivers down Chase’s spine every single time.
And Chase fucking ate it up, soreness be damned, because when they were knotted together it was like heaven, that crazy pressure and Killian’s stroking, roving hands, his mumbled words that were only clear half the time. Words like “my beta” and “sweet mate” and “gentle, gentle” over and over.
Occasionally Killian seemed hungry for something else, and then he sucked Chase’s cock with feral intensity, and once he spit Chase’s cum back into Chase’s mouth, watching carefully until Chase swallowed it all.
And then he smiled, both tender and wolfish, and stroked Chase’s cheek.
“Pretty,” he crooned, and Chase blushed like a brand-new fucking virgin.
Sometimes Chase would cry when he was knotted, and he didn’t even know why.
But Killian seemed to sense it was something cathartic and not pained, because he never got distressed.
He would only make that weird, rumbling alpha purr and lick the tears off Chase’s face if he could reach them.
Which was sweet and sort of hot in a way that only made Chase cry harder half the time. It was a whole cycle, really.
And Chase would have to remember to do more research later because he did seem to be responding to the rut pheromones, at least as much as his body was able.
Chase might not have had slick, but he’d never tolerated this much sex in his life before, and yet he kept coming and coming, his body responding to each of Killian’s many demands.
Although, Chase was growing a little weaker, maybe. And a little more sore. And tired. So fucking tired, the catnaps they’d been taking in between bouts nowhere near enough sleep to keep him actually rested.
Maybe this was what all those years of athletic training had been for. Not to be some sort of lacrosse champion, but just to survive this rut without breaking into pieces.
Things began to slow down on the third night.
It was hard to tell at first, but then after the last knot, Killian finally fell asleep and stayed asleep for three hours without stirring.
Chase let out a sigh of relief even as he held his alpha close, stroking Killian’s sweaty hair back from his face.
(Chase had learned quickly that just because Killian was sleeping didn’t mean he didn’t want Chase right there, within arm’s reach.)
Chase was apparently going to make it out of this after all.
Who would’ve thought.
And yet he couldn’t help feeling that something important had shifted. Something deep and unnameable that Chase couldn’t look at too closely in his raw, overstimulated state. He wondered if he’d be able to find his feet when they both got their senses back, and what would happen if he never did.
For now, Chase slept.