ALEX #6
Wow, he really wants to feel safe and fully insulated from me, but honestly, I can’t blame him.
He doesn’t know if I told him the truth about my sexual history, and I could have lied to convince him to stay with me through the heat.
For all he knows I could be hooking up with guys in parks without protection.
People lie all the time about their sex lives, usually to make themselves look better for some strange reason. I told him the truth, but I can’t fault him, caution never hurts.
I feel his presence behind me, I hear his heartbeat, fast and solid. His breath under the mask is audible, a faint rustle against the fabric.
A moment later, his hands slide over my ass, slow and lazy, sending another wave of pulsing contractions through my hole. His touch is unhurried, sensual, exploring.
At this stage of my heat, I don’t need prep anymore. My entrance is loose and open, and I know he’s staring at it. It’s darker than usual, deeper in color, like it’s begging for an alpha with its intense pink glow.
I feel his cock press against my cheek, first just the hard length resting on my pale mound. The stalker drags it over the surface of my soft curves, but slowly, it finds its way toward the pulsing target. Soon, the blunt tip of his cock presses against my swollen folds, quivering with hunger.
With a leisurely, almost teasing motion, he pushes inside. The pressure on my ring builds, and the feeling of being filled is so good that when he glides along my prostate, I hit my first small orgasm just from the massage alone.
A loud gasp escapes me, and I grip the edge of the table to steady myself.
"Fuck me, fuck me hard…" I demand, my voice dripping with slutty tones.
I never thought I had it in me, but apparently, it was just waiting.
"Plow me!"
He sinks in deep, and I feel him all the way in my stomach, bulging, pushing out.
Pull back and thrust, pull back and thrust…
His gloved hands slide toward mine, clenched on the table’s edge, and in an unexpected gesture he covers them, not gripping, just resting his palms over the backs of my hands.
There’s a brief moment when his finger seems to brush along mine, as if he noticed the new ring on it, the engagement band from Bay, but maybe I’m just imagining it.
It’s strange, and sweet, even though we’re supposedly total strangers, even though there are layers between us. I don’t feel like I’m having sex with someone whose face I’ve never seen. I don’t feel anxious, threatened. There’s no fear he’ll hurt me. Instead, my whole body hums with absolute trust.
I surrender completely, no hesitation.
I remember the chorus of a song that Bay once wrote:
"I don’t know your name
But I trust in you, all the same
I don’t know why you did it to me
But your touch is all I need"
I hum it softly under my breath. For a moment, he slows, as if the song affects him, but then he picks up the pace again, giving me exactly what I want.
I let myself drown in the pleasure, silencing the guilt, shutting everything else out.
My channel grows more pleasure-drunk with every thrust, spark after spark of ecstasy building…
This is heat, after all. That’s why it’s so easy, why every orgasm builds in two minutes and explodes out of me. I tremble and moan on the kitchen table, but he doesn’t stop, he fucks me with deep, even, powerful thrusts, perfect.
My hips knock against the table’s edge, my dick’s hanging there, hard and bouncing. I’ll probably have bruises, but right now, I don’t care.
I’m getting fucked in my own kitchen, by my own stalker, dear Fate have mercy!
All this time, I feel his body behind me, the strength in him, that massive physical power, all that delicious energy of a young, powerful alpha, exactly what I need most right now. My pleasure swells, builds, but it still isn’t fully satisfied. I want more. And more!
Then I feel it.
Something inside me starts to expand even further! In a split second, I sense his intention—he wants to pull back. But I weave my fingers through his, tugging his hands forward on the table just enough to let him know I don’t want him to retreat.
"Stay!" I gasp.
Fuck. The knot swells inside me, and for a moment, I regret telling him not to pull out, because it feels like it might split me open.
I take a sharp breath, filled to the brink of pain but never crossing it. That balance between pleasure and discomfort is oddly freeing. A long, drawn-out moan escapes me, and my cock sprays another load, all while the stalker stops thrusting.
I hear his breath right behind my ear. I know, with the knot’s expansion, he came too.
We both freeze.
I pant, trying to wrap my head around the fact that we’re locked together, even though we’re officially strangers…
It’s a tricky thing.
And a hint:
A knot expansion is technically impossible for people who don’t share at least some emotional bond!
Even in heat, alphas who don’t have a close emotional connection with an omega can struggle with this.
Yet here we are.
"Why are you doing this?"
I whisper it as I press my head to the table, the cold surface cooling my flushed cheek.
"Did Bay send you? My ex boyfriend. He’s the only one who might still care about me after all these years, or at least that’s what I think…"
I don’t expect an answer. But I repeat the question quietly.
"Did he send you to protect me? Tell me he did! Tell me, please," I plead.
Then he answers me.
This time… he uses his own voice, but the whisper is so soft and barely audible it’s impossible to pick out any individual traits, nothing that would make it recognizable… it’s a delicate rustling voice I can’t place.
"In a way."
That’s all he says.
But that also can mean anything.
A small shiver runs through me, and I let out a sharp breath.
"What does he have to think about the fucking in the park? About me calling my stalker to come back here to…?"
I say it exactly in this way, since if it’s him, the question is… valid. I want to know what he thinks about the idea of me, in theory, wanting another guy.
"What must he think of me, dear Fate… That I’m a slut?"
Suddenly, a wave of emotion almost crushes me, hitting my nervous system so hard I tremble, and tears start spilling from my eyes. It all feels like a shameful confession, like my silent plea for forgiveness.
But the stalker senses my mood, his gloved hand brushing lightly over my wet cheek as if trying to erase the tears.
"He doesn’t judge you, Alex. Never. You haven’t been together for many years, he has no such right, he wants what’s best for you."
But my tears won’t stop, and I press my forehead to the table.
"I still love him, I’m not over him."
"He feels the same, but you have the right to live, Alex. You can’t be a prisoner of the past, you should find someone who loves you and treats you well, because you two can’t be together."
My voice trembles when I ask,
"He’s not angry about what happened in the park?"
"How could he be? He wants you to know it’s okay to be with other men, to find someone who will love you… because you deserve the best."
"Bay was the best! And if he loves me then how can he accept this?"
"Would it be love if he wanted to keep you chained while not being close to you himself? Would it be love if he forbade you from being happy? It’s time to start living, Alex. Do it for him."
And I cry again, damn it, soaking the table with my tears.
"I don’t know what happiness means without him…"
"It’s time to step out of mourning, Alex. You always wanted to have a family, right? Bay wants that for you. More than anything."
"I want that, but with him!"
"That’s impossible, Alex. You need a purpose in life, you need to move on."
I say nothing else because I know I won’t convince him. He won’t understand. He echoes all the things others have told me, what Dereck said, what Jared said.
Move on, Alex…
"I want you to leave after the knot goes down," I say in a flat voice, "you’ll come back only when the next wave hits."
"Whatever you wish."
My mind stays suspended and strangely resigned.
Yes, the longer I think about it, the more obvious it feels.
He’s Bay, but more like a ghost of Bay, a shadow of him returning from beyond the grave to service me in need, protect me, and soothe my heat, but only that.
I CAN’T bring him back to life. And knowing I’m getting his blessing to build a life somehow hurts me even more.
Why?
Any normal person would think this is right and normal of him. It’s commendable; he isn’t acting like the dog in the manger. That encouraging me to build a life is something correct, even admirable.
The problem is…
It pisses me off…
Majorly!
Why isn’t he possessive?
The way I feel about him?
The thought of Cosmo… or Malik, because some people pair Bay with him too, cuts my heart in half.
And him?
He’s not bothered by the fact that I could be hooking up with guys in parks? All he says is that he ‘wants me to be happy’. Duh!
Wait. That’s probably also a sign he himself has moved on.
Surrounded by so many fans, so many opportunities for casual sex, he must have taken advantage of it more than once even if he isn’t officially with Cosmo or Malik.
Am I petty for feeling jealousy and anger whenever that thought slips into my head?
Yes, I am.
And standing proud with this!
He wants me to find happiness. Could I be that noble? Do I want to see him with some other omega, happy, maybe with kids?
I realize I’m not above any of this, that the thought still tears me down.
Am I a bad person? Is he, in fact, a better, less selfish one than me?
He made the highest sacrifice for me one day; his heart is like this, caring, noble. Angelic in its core.
But I’m not like this.
I’m jealous.
I’m possessive!
I wait in silence for his knot to go down, my cheek still pressed to the tabletop, my eyelids squeezed shut.
Eventually he eases back. I stay there a moment longer, giving him a bit of privacy while he buttons his pants.