Chapter 6 Toby
Toby
Istare at Jionni's key in my hand. The metal is warm against my palm. Yesterday, I had my life planned out to the minute. Now I can't even sit still in my own room.
My rounds are done. The floor is quiet. Everything in my room is exactly where it should be.
My bed is made with perfect hospital corners.
My textbooks sit in neat subject piles, sticky notes color-coded exactly how I like them.
This is the room of someone who has their life together.
Not someone who's about to risk everything for an alpha he just met.
I walk to the mirror, still clutching the key.
The marks Jionni left are still a bright, vivid purple.
My collar hides them, but that's not what's different.
It's my eyes. They look like they've seen something they can't unsee.
I touch the bite mark at the base of my neck.
It still throbs, a dull, constant pulse that reminds me. Of him.
Jionni.
Just thinking his name makes my stomach clench. My skin feels too tight. I ache in places I didn't even know could ache. The key digs into my palm where I'm gripping it too tight.
This is insane. I have a paper due Thursday. I have a scholarship that depends on me being the perfect RA. I have parents who are counting on me to succeed.
What I don't have is the strength to stay away.
My room has always been my sanctuary, but now it feels like a cage. The silence I used to love is suffocating. The order I've worked so hard to maintain feels empty.
I can't do this anymore. My heart races with equal parts terror and relief as I finally stop fighting.
Before I can second-guess myself, I grab head for the door. The hallway is empty, the overhead lights dimmed for quiet hours. I walk fast, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs.
"Toby? Is that you?"
I freeze, my hand on the stairwell door. I turn.
Braiden Kelly is standing there, holding a bag of chips and a soda. He looks… radiant. His skin glows, and he moves with a new confidence that wasn't there when he was a nervous freshman just a few months ago.
"Oh, hey Braiden," I say, trying to sound casual, like I'm not sneaking off to my alpha's room.
Braiden tilts his head, his eyes narrowing. Then a slow, knowing smile spreads across his face. "You look different. Good different."
My face heats up. "I—that's not—I mean—"
He takes a step closer, and his eyebrows shoot up. "Oh. Oh wow. You found your mate."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I lie, but it's so pathetic we both know it's bullshit.
Braiden laughs, a warm, genuine sound. "It's okay. I'm not gonna tell anyone." He glances around, then leans in closer. "Is it that guy from 3B? The one with all the tattoos who plays guitar?"
I don't answer, but my burning face gives me away. Braiden's grin widens.
"Knew it," he says, looking proud of himself.
"It's complicated," I say, the understatement of the century.
"Because you're his RA?"
I nod, the familiar knot of anxiety tightening in my chest.
"I get it," Braiden says, and his understanding surprises me. "When I met Wes, I had this whole five-year plan. Med school, everything. Then boom—one look and everything changed."
I remember Wes, the tall, confident alpha who came to help Braiden move out, who looked at the freshman like he was the only thing in the world.
"Doesn't it terrify you? How fast everything changed?"
Braiden takes a bite of his chips, thinking. "At first? Yeah. It was terrifying. But you know what I figured out?" He waits until I meet his eyes. "Fighting him is way more exhausting than just… letting go. Trust me, the letting go part? That's the good stuff."
Something loosens in my chest. Permission, maybe. Or just knowing I'm not the only one.
"I should go," I say, glancing at the stairwell door.
Braiden gives me a knowing look. "Yeah, you should." He starts to walk away, then turns back. "And Toby? It's worth it. All of it."
I watch him go, his words echoing in my head. It's worth it.
I can't tell if it's taking forever to get to his room or if I'm getting there too fast. By the time I reach his door, my palms are slick with sweat.
I hesitate, my hand shaking as I slide the key into the lock and push the door open.
Jionni is on his bed, back against the wall, a sketchbook on his knees. He looks up, surprise flashing across his face before it settles into something warmer, more dangerous.
"You came," he says, and I hear the relief underneath.
I step inside and shut the door behind me. I lock it.
"I'm tired of fighting this," I say, my voice steadier than I feel.
Jionni sets his sketchbook aside. He doesn't move from the bed, just watches me with that intense, storm-gray gaze. He's waiting for me to come to him. Letting me decide.
I stop at the edge of his bed, looking down at him. At his wild curls and the silver hoop in his ear. At the raven tattoo stretching across his chest, visible under his thin t-shirt.
"I don't know how to do this," I admit, my voice a whisper.
His lips curve into a smile, surprisingly gentle. "Yes, you do," he says. "You just need to stop thinking so much."
I take a deep breath. Then another. He's right. I'm overthinking, analyzing, when all I want to do is feel.
Before I can stop myself, I climb onto the bed and straddle his lap. His hands come up instantly to my waist, warm and strong, steadying me.
"Toby," he breathes, his pupils going wide. "What are you doing?"
"Breaking the rules," I say, and reach for the hem of my shirt.
My fingers fumble, clumsy with nerves, but I get it up. I shrug the shirt off, letting it fall to the floor. I'd normally fold it right away. But right now? I don't give a damn.
Jionni's eyes darken as they roam over my bare chest. His hands slide up my sides, his palms hot against my skin, leaving trails of fire.
"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice rough with want.
I don't feel beautiful. I feel exposed and terrified. But also… powerful. The way he's looking at me, like I'm something precious and wild, makes me brave.
I lean down and kiss him. It's hesitant at first, a question, but when he opens his mouth under mine, everything changes. It becomes hungry and desperate and raw.
His hands tangle in my hair, tilting my head to deepen the kiss. His tongue slides against mine, tasting, claiming. I make a sound I've never heard before, a needy little whimper that should be humiliating, but isn't.
I rock my hips, feeling the hard ridge of his cock through our jeans. The friction makes me gasp against his mouth.
"Off," I pant against his mouth, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. "Take it off."
He pulls it over his head in one smooth motion and tosses it aside. Then his mouth is on mine again, hot and demanding, and his hands are back on me.
I run my palms over the inked lines of his chest. His skin is a canvas of art and shadows; mine is pale and unmarked. His body is lean muscle and sharp angles; mine is softer.
"What do you want?" he asks, his hands resting on my hips, his thumbs drawing lazy, maddening circles on my skin.
What do I want? I don't even know. Just… him.
"I want to feel you," I say, my voice trembling. "Inside me. I want to… I want to be in control, just for a little while."
Something flashes in his eyes—surprise, then heat, then a tender understanding that makes my throat tighten.
"Then take what you want," he says,. "Show me how you want it, omega."
A bolt of heat shoots straight through me. I fumble with his pants, my fingers clumsy but determined. He lifts his hips, helping me slide his jeans down his legs. Then he's naked beneath me, his dick thick and hard, straining against his stomach.
I stand just long enough to kick off my own pants, feeling his eyes on me the whole time. Then I'm back on the bed, back in his lap, skin against skin.
He hisses as our cocks brush. "You're already wet for me."
I am. I can feel the slick between my legs, my body getting ready for him. I should be embarrassed getting this wet, this ready, like some animal. But with him, it just feels right.
I reach between us and wrap my hand around him. The velvety heat of his cock fills my palm. He's so thick, and the thought of taking him inside me again makes my breath catch.
"Easy," he murmurs, his hands steadying my hips as I position myself over him. "Take your time."
I sink down slowly, feeling every inch of him stretch me open, the slight trembling in my thighs as I take him deeper. It burns so good. A perfect pain that makes my eyes water and I can't catch my breath.
"That's it," he praises, his voice strained. "You feel incredible."
When he's fully seated inside me, I pause, breathing through it. My hands rest on his shoulders, my fingers digging into the muscle. His hands grip my hips, not pushing or pulling, just holding me steady. His fingers press into my skin, hot and possessive.
I start to move. Tentatively at first, a slow, experimental roll of my hips. The angle is deeper like this. Each movement sends sparks of pleasure shooting up my spine.
"Look at you," Jionni says, his eyes dark with wonder. "Taking what you need. Using me for your pleasure."
His words make me bolder. I find a rhythm, lifting and lowering myself on his dick, chasing the building pressure inside me. My thighs burn, but I don't care. All that matters is this—the fullness, the friction, the way his eyes never leave mine.
"That's it," he encourages, his fingers tightening on my hips. "Just like that. Show me how you want it."
I'm completely lost. Setting the pace feels so powerful. And his face, knowing I'm making him feel this good… My head falls back, a moan escaping me as I find the perfect angle, the one that makes stars burst behind my eyelids.
My movements become frantic, less coordinated. "I can't—I need—"