Chapter 11 #3
"Look how beautifully you responded to us," Marco murmured, his breath hot against my ear. "How perfectly you surrendered."
"Delete it," I demanded, trying to look away but failing miserably as Stefano swiped to yet another video—this one from a different angle, closer, more intimate.
In this footage, I was pressed against Stefano's chest, my head thrown back in ecstasy as Marco's mouth worked between my legs.
My thighs trembled in the video, stomach muscles contracting as pleasure overwhelmed me.
The sounds I made—Christ, the sounds. High, desperate whimpers punctuated by broken pleas for more. I barely recognized my own voice, transformed by need into something wild and unfamiliar.
"Matteo's bodycam," Stefano explained, his voice dropping lower as he scented my growing arousal. "He likes to document everything. For security purposes, of course."
"I hate you," I breathed, unable to look away from the screen. "All of you. So much. I hate that you kept this, that you're showing it to me, that you're—"
That I'm getting turned on, I couldn't finish.
That watching myself surrender completely was sending electric pulses straight to my cock, making it strain against my jeans while my inner thighs grew damp with slick.
That six months of midnight fantasies paled in comparison to the high-definition reality of what these alphas had done to me.
"No, you don't," Stefano said, his thumb brushing across my lower lip. "Your body remembers us, Leo. Remembers what we did to you. What we can do again."
He tucked the phone away but kept his hand on my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. "We've been very patient. Six months of watching you fight what you need. Six months of giving you space to accept what happened between us."
"Space?" I echoed incredulously, trying to regain some semblance of control despite the way my heart was racing. "You call setting up a surveillance camp outside my house 'space'? That's not space—that's stalking with glamping equipment."
Matteo moved behind me, his hands settling on my shoulders with casual possession. His scent—cedar and rain and something darker—wrapped around me, mingling with Stefano's pine and Marco's cinnamon to create an alpha pheromone cocktail potent enough to make my head spin.
"You need us," he said quietly, his fingers kneading the tense muscles at the base of my neck with devastating precision. "Your body knows it, even if your mind refuses to accept it."
"I need a restraining order," I corrected, though my voice betrayed me by going breathless as his thumbs found a particularly sensitive spot. "And maybe therapy. Lots and lots of therapy, with a special focus on why I keep making terrible life choices involving alphas with control issues."
Marco's hand landed on my thigh, fingers splayed wide as he leaned in closer. "Such a sharp tongue," he murmured, lips barely brushing my ear. "I remember how it feels against mine."
A shiver ran down my spine, memory flooding back with tactile precision—Marco's tongue dancing against mine, his teeth catching my lower lip, the taste of him flooding my mouth. My cock twitched in response, and I knew they could all scent my arousal intensifying despite the triple suppressants.
"That footage," Stefano said, his thumb tracing my jawline. "Would be very interesting to your father, don't you think? His precious omega heir, begging for three alphas to take him?"
The crude blackmail cut through the haze of arousal. "You wouldn't—"
"I would," he corrected smoothly. "Unless, of course, you cooperate."
"Cooperate," I repeated flatly. "Is that what we're calling it now? A polite euphemism for blackmail?”
"Call it whatever you want," Stefano replied, his fingers trailing down my throat to rest at the hollow where my pulse hammered visibly. "But tomorrow night, you will come to our camp. After your guardians are asleep."
"And if I don't?" I challenged, though even I could hear the lack of conviction in my voice when I was sandwiched between three alphas whose combined scent was making my omega hindbrain do the hormonal equivalent of rolling over and begging.
Stefano's mouth curved into a smile that was all predator. "Then those videos find their way to your father. And I wonder what the powerful Kenji Yamamoto would do when he sees his son begging for alpha cock like he was born for it."
The crude language made me flinch, but the threat was clear. My father would either disown me entirely or marry me off to the first suitable alpha who'd take damaged goods—either way, I'd lose what little freedom I'd managed to carve out in my gilded cage.
"You wouldn't—"
"I would," Stefano interrupted, his hand sliding from my throat to cup the back of my neck. "But I don't want to. I'd much rather you come to us willingly."
"Willingly," I echoed with a bitter laugh. "Under threat of exposure and humiliation. That's not willing, that's coercion wrapped in alpha entitlement with a side of blackmail."
"Let us show you what we're offering," Marco murmured, his hand sliding higher on my thigh. "Remind you of what your body already knows it needs."
Before I could formulate a suitably scathing response, Stefano's mouth descended on mine again.
This time, there was nothing brutal about it—his lips moved with deliberate slowness, coaxing rather than demanding.
The gentleness was somehow more devastating than force would have been, making my resistance crumble like wet sand.
His tongue traced the seam of my lips, asking rather than taking, and I opened for him without conscious thought. The taste of him—pine and winter and something uniquely Stefano—flooded my senses, making my head spin as his tongue stroked against mine with maddening precision.
One large hand cradled my jaw while the other slid beneath my sweater to explore the heated skin of my stomach. The contrast between the cool night air and his burning touch made me shiver, a soft sound escaping my throat before I could stop it.
He swallowed the noise, deepening the kiss as his fingers splayed across my ribs, thumbs brushing the undersides of my pectorals with deliberate slowness.
Every sweep inched higher, closer to where my nipples had already hardened into sensitive peaks, but never quite reaching them—a calculated tease that had me arching unconsciously into his touch.
Behind me, Matteo's hands moved from my shoulders to my hair, fingers threading through the strands with gentle possession. When he tightened his grip, tilting my head back to deepen Stefano's angle, another embarrassing whimper escaped me.
"So responsive," Marco murmured, his hand now dangerously close to where I was straining against my jeans. "Even with triple suppressants, your body knows who it belongs to."
When Stefano finally pulled back, my lips felt swollen and tender, tingling with the phantom pressure of his mouth. I barely had time to catch my breath before Marco was turning my face toward him, capturing my lips with playful hunger that contrasted sharply with Stefano's controlled possession.
Where Stefano had been methodical, Marco was pure sensual exploration.
His tongue danced against mine in teasing circles before retreating, making me chase the sensation like he was teaching me how to kiss properly.
Each time I followed, he rewarded me with a deeper, more thorough claim, his teeth grazing my lower lip in a way that sent electricity racing down my spine.
Meanwhile, Stefano's fingers finally found my nipple, circling the sensitive bud with maddening slowness before pinching just hard enough to make me gasp into Marco's mouth.
The dual sensation—Marco's tongue stroking mine while Stefano's fingers toyed with my nipple—sent my already-overwhelmed nervous system into overdrive.
"Please," I whispered against Marco's lips, not even sure what I was asking for. More? Less? Some hint of dignity to cling to while three alphas systematically dismantled my defenses?
Marco's smile was wicked as he pulled back just enough to speak. "Please what, little prince? Tell us exactly what you need."
"I need—" My words cut off on a choked gasp as Matteo's mouth found the sensitive spot just below my ear, the one that sent direct signals to my cock like they were hardwired together.
His teeth scraped gently against the skin before his tongue soothed the slight sting, the contrast making me shudder against him.
"So many sensitive spots," he murmured against my neck, his usual clinical observation transformed by the rough edge in his voice. "Each with a unique response pattern."
"I'm not a science experiment," I managed, though the protest sounded weak even to my own ears as Stefano's thumb and forefinger continued their relentless torment of my nipple. "I'm a person with—God—with rights and boundaries and—"
My words dissolved into a helpless moan as Marco's hand finally, finally cupped me through my jeans, the pressure both relief and torment as his palm moved in slow, deliberate circles. Even through layers of denim, the friction was enough to make my hips jerk up seeking more.
"Look at you," Stefano murmured, watching my face as the others continued their assault on my senses. "Fighting so hard against what your body clearly needs. Tell me, Leo—how many nights have you touched yourself, remembering what we did to you in that forest?"
My face burned at the direct question, humiliation warring with arousal as all three alphas focused on my response.
"None," I lied, even as my cock throbbed against Marco's palm in blatant contradiction.
"I've been too busy alphabetizing my sock drawer and developing a new system for categorizing pine needles by length.
Thrilling stuff, really fills the evenings. "
"Liar," Stefano said, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made my spine tingle.
"I can smell the memory on your skin. The way your body heats when you think about us.” His mouth crashed back against mine, all pretense of gentleness abandoned as his tongue thrust deep, claiming every inch while his fingers pinched my nipple hard enough to make me cry out against his lips.
Marco's hand moved faster, creating friction that had me writhing between them, while Matteo's teeth found the junction of my neck and shoulder, biting down just hard enough to send pain-pleasure racing through my system.
I was drowning in sensation, completely overwhelmed by their coordinated assault on my senses. Stefano's mouth consuming mine, Marco's hand between my legs, Matteo's teeth at my neck—all of it combining into a tsunami of pleasure that threatened to sweep away whatever remained of my dignity.
When Stefano finally pulled back, I was trembling, lips swollen and raw, breath coming in short gasps. His cobalt eyes had darkened to midnight, pupils blown wide with desire as he studied my wrecked expression.
"Tomorrow night," he said, his voice rougher than before. "Ten o'clock. The side gate will be unlocked. Come to us willingly, or we come to you. And I guarantee your aunt and uncle won't sleep through that visit."
Marco's hand stilled against my aching erection, the sudden absence of friction making me whimper with frustrated need. "We'll finish what we've started," he promised, his smile sharp with anticipation. "All night long, if necessary."
Matteo's teeth released my neck, replaced by his tongue soothing the mark he'd surely left behind. "Twenty-three hours, forty-seven minutes," he murmured against my skin. "Until you're ours completely."
The sound of Aunt Akiko's voice calling through the garden sent all three alphas into action. With military precision, they released me and resumed appropriate distances, straightening their clothes with the practiced efficiency of men accustomed to quick transitions.
I remained frozen on the bench, trying desperately to gather the shattered pieces of my composure.
My cock throbbed painfully in my jeans, my nipples still tingled from Stefano's attention, and the spot where Matteo had bitten me pulsed with every heartbeat.
I was a mess—flushed, trembling, and so obviously aroused that even a beta would have been able to scent it.
"Leo-kun? Is everything alright? You've been out here quite a while!"
"We were just discussing security arrangements," Stefano explained smoothly, his transformation from sexual predator to polite guest so seamless it gave me whiplash. "Leo has some excellent suggestions for improving the property's safety measures."
Aunt Akiko beamed, completely oblivious to what had just transpired. "Wonderful! I'm so pleased you're taking this seriously, Leo-kun. These nice young men are only trying to help."
Nice young men. If she only knew what those nice young men had just done to her nephew in the garden. What they were threatening to do to her peaceful existence if I didn't cooperate. What they planned to do to me tomorrow night.
"Yes," I managed, avoiding meeting anyone's eyes. "Very helpful. Hands-on approach to security. Very thorough."
"It's getting late," Marco observed, the picture of considerate guest. "We should be returning to our camp. Thank you for the excellent dinner, Akiko."
The farewell rituals felt like they took place in some alternate dimension where I hadn't just been blackmailed and sexually tormented by three alphas who were now bowing politely to my elderly aunt.
Handshakes, thank-yous, promises to return soon—all of it a perfect performance of normalcy that made me question my own grasp on reality.
As they prepared to leave, Stefano took my hand in a seemingly innocuous farewell. His fingers curled around mine, thumb stroking my palm in a gesture hidden from the others.
"Ten o'clock, little prince," he murmured, voice pitched for my ears only. "Don't make us come looking for you."
The threat lingered in the air long after they'd disappeared into the darkness, the dogs trotting at their heels like loyal guardians.
I stood on the porch watching their retreat, arms wrapped around myself as if I could somehow hold together the pieces they'd so thoroughly shattered. The cool night air raised goosebumps on my skin, but the chill I felt went much deeper.
They were right about one thing: this was just the beginning. And some part of me—the part I'd spent years trying to deny—was already counting the hours until tomorrow night.