Chapter 7 #3
“Would you like that, Leo?” he asked, his voice deceptively gentle despite the iron control I could hear beneath it. “Would you like to feel Marco’s mouth on you while I hold you? While I mark this pretty throat?”
The image his words conjured sent another wave of slick pulsing from my body. My traitorous imagination immediately supplied vivid details despite my complete lack of experience—Marco’s hot mouth engulfing me, the wet heat, the suction, all while Stefano continued marking my neck.
This is insane. I shouldn’t want this. I should be horrified, not imagining what his mouth will feel like around my cock.
“I—I don’t—” I couldn’t form a coherent sentence, couldn’t marshal my thoughts against the overwhelming need coursing through me and the skilled fingers still wrapped around my cock.
“Yes or no,” Stefano pressed, his thumb circling the head of my cock in slow, maddening circles, spreading the precum gathered there. “It’s a simple question.”
Simple. Right. Nothing about this situation is simple. Nothing about the way my body is responding makes sense.
But the need for release had become so desperate, so all-consuming, that rational thought was nearly impossible. My omega biology was screaming for more alpha attention, more touch, more everything.
“Yes,” I finally whispered, the word torn from me. “Yes, please.”
I just gave permission for a blow job from my kidnapper. Rock bottom has a basement, apparently.
Marco’s smile was pure predator as he leaned forward, his breath hot against my exposed cock. “So polite,” he murmured, his voice rough with barely leashed desire. “Such a good little omega.”
Before I could bristle at the condescension, his mouth closed around the head of my cock, and every thought in my head evaporated.
The sensation was overwhelming—his tongue swirling around the sensitive head, lips stretching around my girth as he took me deeper.
His mouth was hot and wet and perfect, nothing like the clinical descriptions I’d read in books.
This was pure sensation, pure pleasure that short-circuited my brain completely.
Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. This is what I’ve been missing? No wonder people write poetry about this.
Marco’s tongue flattened against the underside of my cock as he sank down, taking me deeper until I hit the back of his throat. The tight, wet heat had my vision whiting out at the edges, my hands scrabbling for purchase on Stefano’s arms.
“That’s it,” Stefano encouraged, his voice rough with his own arousal as he returned to marking my throat, his teeth finding a new spot to claim. “Let us take care of you.”
Marco began to move, his mouth working up and down my length with devastating skill. His tongue traced the thick vein on the underside before curling around the head, the combination of suction and wet pressure making me see stars.
When he hollowed his cheeks and sucked hard while his tongue worked that spot just under the head, I nearly came right there. My hips bucked up involuntarily, driving deeper into his mouth.
“Easy,” Stefano murmured, his hand on my chest holding me still while his mouth continued its assault on my neck. “Let him work. He knows exactly what he’s doing.”
Of course he knows what he’s doing. Probably had plenty of practice on other captive omegas. Though right now, I don’t care about his experience level because whatever he’s doing should be illegal.
Marco pulled back until just the head remained between his lips, his tongue swirling around the sensitive tip before he sank down again, taking me so deep I could feel his throat constricting around me.
The sensation was indescribable—tight and hot and wet, his throat working around me as he swallowed.
The rhythm he set was perfect—long, slow strokes that had me trembling, punctuated by moments where he’d focus on the head with devastating precision.
“Stop staring,” I gasped at Matteo, who was still watching every expression that crossed my face. “I can’t—when you look at me like that—”
“Like what?” Matteo asked, his amber eyes dark with hunger. “Like you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen? Because you are. Especially like this, falling apart for us.”
“He memorizes everything,” Marco said, pulling off my cock just long enough to speak before diving back down. “Every sound you make, every expression. He’ll remember this forever.”
Remember this forever. Great. My complete sexual humiliation preserved in Matteo’s perfect memory for all eternity.
The pressure building at the base of my spine was becoming unbearable.
Marco’s mouth was skilled, knowing exactly where to lick and suck to drive me insane.
When his tongue found that spot just under the head that made me see stars, combined with Stefano’s teeth marking another spot on my throat, I was lost.
“Please,” I begged, beyond caring about pride or dignity. “Please, I need—”
“I know what you need,” Stefano murmured against my neck, his voice vibrating through my skin. “Come for us, Leo. Let us see you fall apart.”
Marco chose that moment to take me deep, his throat working around me while his tongue pressed against that devastating spot. The dual sensations—his mouth consuming me while Stefano marked my throat—pushed me over the edge.
Release crashed through me with shocking intensity, my body convulsing as waves of pleasure obliterated everything else. I might have screamed, might have called their names, but all I could feel was the overwhelming sensation of coming apart completely.
When I finally came back to myself, I was slumped against Stefano’s chest, my breathing ragged, my body still twitching with aftershocks. Marco sat back on his heels, licking his lips with a satisfied expression that made fresh heat rise to my cheeks.
My neck throbbed where Stefano had marked me, and I could feel the evidence of his claiming—tender spots that would bruise, marks that would remind me of this moment every time I moved.
I just came harder than I ever have in my life. In the mouth of one of my kidnappers. While being held by another. My dignity is officially deceased. And I’m marked. Actually marked by an alpha like I belong to him. And the worst part? Some treacherous part of me likes it.
“Beautiful,” Stefano murmured, his arms tightening around me in an embrace that felt disturbingly like comfort. “Perfect. You’re extraordinary when you let go, Leo.”
Humiliation crashed back with brutal force, reality reasserting itself now that the desperate need had been addressed. I’d begged them to touch me. I’d come in Marco’s mouth while Stefano held me captive. I’d surrendered completely, and worse—I’d enjoyed every second of it.
This was supposed to be just physical relief. Just dealing with the heat symptoms. So why do I feel like something fundamental just changed?
“Don’t,” I whispered, turning my face away from the predatory satisfaction in their eyes. “Just… don’t.”
To my surprise, Stefano didn’t mock or taunt me. Instead, his hand came up to gently turn my face back toward his, thumb brushing across my cheek in a gesture that felt disturbingly tender.
“No shame,” he said quietly, his cobalt eyes softer than I’d ever seen them. “Not for this. Not between us.”
Between us. Like we’re something more than captor and captive. Like what just happened meant something beyond biological necessity.
“There is no ‘us,’” I insisted, though the words lacked conviction after what had just happened. “This was… biological necessity. Nothing more. Just a physical release to address a physical problem.”
“If that’s what you need to believe,” he replied, his thumb still stroking my cheek. “For now.”
For now. Like he thinks this changes something. Like he thinks I’m going to suddenly develop Stockholm syndrome because he gave me the best orgasm of my life.
I wanted to argue, to reassert the boundaries they’d so thoroughly demolished, but exhaustion was claiming me. The combined effects of the suppressants, the intense release, and the emotional upheaval were hitting me all at once. My eyelids felt heavy, my thoughts sluggish.
In the distance, I caught sight of Matteo discreetly pocketing what looked like another auto-injector—the rut suppressant he’d palmed earlier, I realized. All three of them had been fighting their biology as much as I had, barely maintaining control in the face of an Omega’s scent.
Right. Because this whole situation wasn’t complicated enough without adding rut-drunk alphas to the mix.
“I still hate you,” I mumbled, fighting to keep my eyes open. “All of you. So much. Don’t think this changes anything.”
“We know,” Marco replied, helping to tug my sweatpants back up with surprisingly gentle hands. “You’ve made that abundantly clear. Rest now, little wildcat. Tomorrow’s another day for creative threats and escape attempts.”
Tomorrow I’ll go back to plotting their painful deaths. Tonight… tonight my body apparently belongs to them.
The last thing I remembered before sleep claimed me was being lifted from Stefano’s lap, strong arms cradling me against a broad chest that smelled like pine and winter.
As consciousness faded, I was vaguely aware of the dogs settling nearby, their warm bodies adding to the circle of heat surrounding me.
Despite everything—the humiliation, the coercion, the complete destruction of my boundaries—I’d never felt more secure than I did in that moment. Held against an alpha chest, surrounded by their scents and protective presence, my body finally relaxed after weeks of tension.
That realization was perhaps the most terrifying part of the entire ordeal.
I’m fucked. Completely and utterly fucked. And not just in the obvious way.