Chapter 5 Sully #2
One second he's drowsy against my side. The next his whole body goes rigid, his spine arching, and I feel the heat pour off him in a wave I can actually smell, his scent going from warm and sleepy to sharp and desperate in the space of a breath.
His eyes fly open and his hand grabs my thigh and his nails dig in. The sound he makes is barely human.
I'm ready for it. I've been half-hard since the lull started because his scent hasn't stopped doing things to my brain.
Now it's fully back and my body responds like a match to gasoline.
Rut kicks in, the deep pull that says your omega needs you, go, now, and I let it take me partway but not all the way.
I want to be clear for this. I want to choose what happens next.
I push him onto his back. He goes easy, his legs falling open, and he's already wet again, I can see it shining on his thighs in the low light. His cock is hard against his stomach and his chest is heaving and he's reaching for me, grabbing at my arms, trying to pull me down.
I don't let him.
"Look at me."
His eyes find mine through the masks. Wide and desperate and glazed.
I lean down close. Put my mouth near his ear. "I'm going to make you say it this time. Out loud. What you want."
He shakes his head. Stubborn even now, even with slick pooling under him and his cock leaking onto his stomach. I almost laugh. I settle between his thighs instead and slide two fingers into him and he gasps and bucks. I start a slow rhythm and then I stop.
"Tell me."
"Please." It comes out like it's being torn from him.
"Please what." I push my fingers deeper, curl them, press against the spot that made him scream last time, and hold. Just hold. Steady pressure, no movement. His legs are shaking and his hips are trying to fuck down onto my hand and I won't let him.
"Please fuck me. Please, I need your knot, I need—" He breaks off, turns his head to the side like he can't look at me and say these things at the same time. "I need you inside me. I can't, I need it, please—"
"Good." I pull my fingers out and line up. "That's so good. See how easy that was?"
I push into him and the sound he makes reverberates through my whole body. He's slicker this time, more open from the first wave, and I slide in deep in one long stroke and bottom out. His back arches off the couch and his mouth drops open in a silent shout.
His legs wrap around my waist and my hands brace on either side of his head.
I can see his eyes through the mask, dark and blown, and I start to move.
Slow. Deliberate. The first wave was frantic, both of us running on instinct.
This time I want him to feel every inch. I want to watch his face while he does.
"You took my knot so well the first time." I roll my hips and he whimpers. "You cried and it was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I want to see it again."
His hands come up to my chest, fingers spreading across my skin, and I feel his nails bite in when I thrust deeper.
His body is gripping me so tight it's almost painful, pulling me in, and the wet filthy sounds of us together fill the alcove.
His cock is trapped between our stomachs, rubbing against my abs on every stroke, and it's leaking, the hot smear of precome slick between us.
I slow down. Pull almost all the way out. Hold there with just the head inside him, his body clenching around me, trying to pull me back.
"Tell me again."
"You're a fucking—" He grits his teeth. His hips strain toward me. "Please."
I push back in slow. So slow. And his resistance crumbles, the sharp tongue giving way to raw need, and the sounds coming out of him are wrecked and honest and mine.
I pick up the pace. Harder now, each thrust pushing him up the couch, and his hands slide to my back and his nails rake down my skin and the pain lights me up.
"I've wanted this for so long." It slips out.
I don't mean to say it. My hips don't stop but I hear the words leave my mouth and I know they're wrong, they're too much, they mean something I can't explain away as in-the-moment rut talk.
His eyes flicker, something registering behind the heat-glaze, but then I shift the angle and hit deep and whatever thought he was forming dissolves in a moan.
My hand finds his hip. The scar. My thumb traces the raised line of it and I've touched this scar before, not like this, never like this, but I've seen it, I know where it is, and my thumb moves over it with a familiarity that doesn't belong to a stranger.
He's too far gone to notice. I hope he's too far gone to notice.
The knot starts to build. I feel it swelling, thickening, and this time I don't rush it. I rock into him steady and let him feel it growing, let the stretch build gradually, and he's gasping with every thrust, his eyes wide and locked on mine.
"Take it." I push the knot in slowly this time, watching his face, watching his mouth fall open and his brow crease and the tears start leaking from the corners of his eyes. "That's it. You're so good. Fuck, you're so good at this."
The knot locks and we both come and his whole body seizes around me, his cock pulsing between us, and he's crying again, quieter this time, tears running into his hair, and I press my forehead to his and breathe his air and think: I am going to ruin both of our lives and I don't know how to stop.