Chapter 11 Sai
Sai
The new photographs are still warm from the printer.
I stand in front of the wall and slide them into place, fingers adjusting each one until the edges line up exactly with the others.
Two-hundred-and-five now. The latest ones are from the parking lot, Mavi bending to toss his bag into the backseat.
The thin line of the thong cuts between the perfect curve of his cheeks and disappears into shadow.
One shot catches the moment just right, accentuating the dimples at the base of his spine.
My hand lingers on that image, my fingers brushing the surface just once. Then they drift lower without permission. I stroke myself through my pants, the heel of my palm pressing against the growing hardness as I stare at the visible line of the thong and the golden strip of skin above it.
Heat floods my face the moment I realize what I am doing, shame crashing in immediately.
I yank my hand away like the fabric burned me.
I was letting myself get away again. I was standing here in broad daylight touching myself while looking at stolen pictures of him like some animal that cannot control its own impulses.
I force my hands to my sides but don’t turn away from my wall. Over two hundred stolen moments arranged with the precision of a gallery exhibition. This is my private gallery. My private altar. My sickness made visible and pinned to the wall in perfect rows.
A knock at my front door steals my focus, two sharp raps, evenly spaced. My pulse spikes hard in my ears, in my wrists, and in the base of my throat. I stand frozen for half a second before making my way to the door, wondering which of my family members will be on the other side.
After my breakdown and lack of response, I am bracing for the moment one of them shows up unannounced to read the rules of the Hollis family.
Bracing myself for the worst, knowing that the chaos in my head is about to explode, I open the door.
Mavi is standing there in a charcoal silk robe, loosely tied, one shoulder sliding down to reveal the slope of his collarbone and beneath it nothing else. Just skin. Just warm, shower-damp, flushed skin. His hair is wet, pushed back from his face, and the water has darkened it to almost black.
His scent hits me all at once, honey and citrus, concentrated and heavy and warm from the shower, rolling off him in waves that fill my doorway and then my lungs and then every empty space behind my ribs where rationality used to live.
It’s not subtle. It never is with him, but tonight it’s a physical force, a wall of Omega sweetness so thick I can taste it on the back of my tongue.
Every coherent thought in my head whites out.
Like someone pulled a plug and the entire system shut down, leaving nothing but the hum of his scent and the devastating reality of him standing three feet away wearing almost nothing and looking at me like he already knows exactly what I was doing before I opened this door.
“Well, well.” His voice is honey-dipped, sickly sweet in a way that matches his scent so precisely it feels orchestrated.
Everything about Mavi feels orchestrated, designed, a performance honed to the edge of perfection, and I am his most devoted audience.
“I know you’ve been watching me, Alpha. Don’t worry, I like it.
” A smile spreads across his lips as he tips his head up to meet my gaze better.
“But I was wondering, maybe the real thing would be better?”
Some part of me wonders if he’s here because of the tip. It was a thank you wrapped up in shame but never did I think...
I try to organize my thoughts, telling myself that whatever happens next, whatever I want to happen next could derail everything I’ve built.
I want this Omega with every molecule in my body, every synapse, every cell that has spent months rewriting itself around the shape of him.
But stepping into this, letting him into this apartment where the photographs are on the wall and my laptop holds the evidence and the Hollis name is hanging over everything like a blade, means risk.
It means exposure. It means the family, the match with Elias, the careful architecture of my public life crumbling under the weight of what I actually am.
All of those reasons die on my tongue the moment Mavi steps closer and his hand presses flat against my chest, his fingers curl into the silk of my shirt, his scent is so close now that it is inside me, behind my eyes, and underneath my skin.
“Alpha.” His voice drops half a register. “I’ve been waiting for you to take what I’ve been offering. After that kiss in the hallway, I thought you would have come over by now.” The easy smile on his lips grows wider as his grip in my shirt tightens.
A gasp pulls from my throat as he whispers his next words, the vibration of his voice making my cock thicken between my thighs.
“You see, I always put in a little extra, knowing you were watching, Sai Hollis. But you didn’t watch the new ones.”
The shoulder of his robe falls further, showing off more skin. I try to manage a response and fail, too engrossed with having this Omega pressed up against me a second time.
“Oh, you poor thing.” Something shifts in his expression. The teasing doesn’t leave, but it layers as understanding dawns in those dark eyes. He tilts his head, studying me the way I’ve studied his photographs, with attention that borders on devotion. “Alpha, do you need me to tell you what to do?”
My vision narrows as the hallway behind him blurs. My heartbeat is so loud I’m certain he can hear it. The thought of someone else deciding, someone else cutting through every loop, every cycle, every endless spiral of calculation with one clear, clean sentence is music to my ears.
For the first time in as long as I can remember, the noise just stops. It’s not like when I watch his videos. This is absolute and pure peace, the idea of giving in absolutely what I need and a craving I’ve never been able to satisfy with the Hollis name hanging over my head.
“Yes.” My voice doesn’t sound like mine. It sounds scraped raw, pulled from somewhere beneath the careful construction of who I’m supposed to be. “I want that.”
He gently pushes me into my apartment and I go, easily, watching every single movement as he closes the door. His next words have me nearly coming apart.
“Get on your knees, Alpha.”
I kneel, right there in the entryway of my immaculate apartment.
The quiet that fills me is the most terrifying and beautiful thing I have ever experienced, every muscle in my body releasing at once, every wire going slack, every loop breaking open and spilling into stillness.
I look up at him and know my face is showing everything, the terror, the relief, the desperate gratitude of a man who has been drowning and just broke the surface.
He slowly walks around me, his gaze on my shoulders, my back, and my hands pressed flat to my own thighs.
Every nerve ending in my body fires in sequence, tracking his movement the way a compass tracks north.
Being looked at like this, not through a lens, not from a safe distance across a hallway, but up close, with intent that makes the air between us feel almost overwhelming.
He stops in front of me, his hand finding my face, fingers tracing along my jaw, tilting my chin up until I’m looking directly into his eyes.
Mavi runs his thumb across my lower lip, testing my response as my eyes flutter shut and a low, broken sound escapes me.
Something between a breath and a plea. I couldn’t have stopped it if my life depended on it.
“Look at you,” Mavi murmurs, his voice as smooth as velvet. “You’ve been falling apart, haven’t you? I could hear you through the wall. Every night.”
He... heard me?
Of course he did, the same way I heard him. Or saw him. Or imagined that this very moment would happen, that Mavi’s voice telling me I’m a good Alpha would happen outside of the screen.
The embarrassment should be annihilating.
It should send me scrambling to my feet, reaching for an excuse, reconstructing the walls that just came down.
But the knowledge that he heard and came to my door because of it, not despite it, not to confront or mock, but to offer, sends heat flooding through me so intense that my vision blurs.
His hand slides from my jaw to the back of my neck, the pressure holding me exactly where I am, exactly where he wants me.
“How far does this go, Sai?”
My name. My actual name on his tongue, spoken like he’s been saying it to himself for months. He knows who I am. Maybe he’s always known. The Hollis name, the family, the weight of it, none of it is a surprise to him. He knocked on my door fully aware of what he was walking into.
My voice comes out rough, barely a sound at all. “I just… I don’t want to think.”
Something shifts in his expression. The playfulness doesn’t disappear but it deepens, layers folding over each other. Understanding. Hunger. And beneath both, a tenderness that has no business being on the face of a man who just told me to kneel.
“Oh,” Mavi says softly. The single syllable holds more warmth than I’ve heard directed at me in years. “You’re going to be perfect for me.”
He guides me to my feet and undresses me slowly, one button at a time on the silk shirt, each one accompanied by an instruction. “Hold still.” My body obeys before my brain processes the words. “Arms up.” My arms rise. “Look at me.” My eyes find his and stay.
Each command is a rung on a ladder leading somewhere I’ve never been, and I climb without hesitation because his voice is the only solid thing in a world that just liquefied.
The shirt comes off, the air in the apartment touching my skin. The cool air feels different now, more charged. His hands map my chest, my shoulders, and the planes of muscle I’ve built through discipline and routine and the desperate need to look like the Alpha I’m supposed to be.
I tremble under his touch, from the sheer, staggering overwhelm of being touched with intention.
Every other touch in my life has been transactional, handshakes, staged embraces, the careful choreography of public affection.
This is none of those things. This is exploration.
This is someone learning the geography of me because they want to.
Mavi kneels in front of me. The mirror of it, the Omega on his knees before the Alpha who just knelt for him, is so loaded with meaning that my breath stalls in my chest. He looks up at me with those dark, devastating eyes.
“I’m going to take care of you now, Alpha.
Okay? You just have to be a good boy for me. ”
Those words I’ve only heard on the other side of a screen hit differently here. And I so desperately want to be a good boy for Mavi.
He frees my cock, quickly working my button open but leaving the fabric there. I’m already leaking, the head flushed dark and slick at the tip. The first touch of his breath makes my hips jerk. Then his mouth is on me, my head falling back on a broken groan that doesn’t sound like me.
He takes me deep in one slow glide, lips stretching around my thickness, tongue pressing flat along the underside until I feel the tight heat of his throat. My hands fist in his hair before I can stop them, Mavi humming around, the vibration shooting straight to my balls.
Another, raw sound rips out of me, a mixture of an Alpha’s roar and total submission, a sound that shouldn’t exist.
Mavi works me over with devastating patience.
He sucks slow and deep, then pulls back to swirl his tongue around the head, lapping up the steady leak of pre-cum like he’s savoring it.
Every time I start to thrust, he presses a hand to my hip and holds me still, forcing me to feel every inch of what he’s doing.
The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth fill the apartment, his touch igniting pleasure through me as my knot starts to flutter. He pulls off just long enough to look up at me, lips shiny and swollen. “You’re doing so well for me, Alpha. Keep your eyes on me.”
I couldn’t look away if I tried. He sinks down again, taking me to the back of his throat and swallowing around me. A whine builds in my chest and I bite it back, but he hears it anyway. He pulls off with a wet pop and strokes me with a slick fist, his thumb rubbing over the sensitive head.
“Let me hear you,” he murmurs. “I want every sound.”
The next time he swallows me down I let the whine out. It turns into a groan, then a broken gasp as he starts moving faster, his head bobbing up and down, his cheeks hollowing out to take more of me.
My hips twitch helplessly. I’m leaking constantly now, Mavi drinking it down like he’s starving for it. One hand cups my balls, rolling them gently, while the other strokes my knot, the part he can’t fit in his mouth. The dual sensation is too much.
He feels me getting close and pulls off again, stroking me while he looks up at me.
“Not yet,” he muses, voice rough from my cock. “You don’t come until I say. Understand?”
I nod frantically. “Yes. Yes.”
He smiles and takes me back into his mouth. This time there is no mercy. He works me hard and deep, his hands and tongue relentless. The wet heat of his mouth and the tight suction of his hands paired with the way he moans around me like he’s the one falling apart is overwhelming in the best way.
“Please, Mavi. Please. Doll, I need to come.” Shame floods through me at the slip of the name I use for him only in private but it’s quickly replaced by his words.
He pulls off just enough to speak against the head. “Come for me, Alpha. Now.”
I shatter.
The orgasm rips through and I come hard, pulsing thick ropes straight down his throat while my whole body convulses.
Mavi swallows every drop, never pulling away, never stopping the slow suction until I’m spent and shaking and making broken little sounds I can’t control.
When he finally pulls off, his lips are swollen and shiny, a thin string of spit and cum connecting us for a second before it breaks.