Chapter 15 #2
That perfect face showed everything Stefano craved—outrage warring with arousal, pride battling instinct, defiance crumbling beneath biology. His cheeks were flushed crimson, a combination of humiliation and desire that made Stefano's cock leak fresh precum into already damp boxers.
"That's better," Stefano growled, thumb roughly tracing Leo's bottom lip, feeling it tremble beneath his touch.
A smear of blood from where he'd bitten stained his thumb—evidence of ownership, of dominance, of Leo's complete vulnerability between them.
"That clever mouth has much better uses than sarcasm. "
Leo's tongue darted out, unconsciously tasting the blood on his own lip. The movement drew Stefano's gaze, making him consider all the ways that pink tongue could serve them, all the ways that smart mouth could be put to better use.
"Fuck you," Leo whispered, but the words emerged breathless and weak, lacking all their earlier venom. His voice had taken on that particular quality that meant his body had already surrendered even as his mind continued its futile struggle.
"Eventually," Stefano promised, watching heat flood Leo's face and chest at the implication. "But not tonight. Tonight is about teaching you who you belong to."
Marco moved with predatory grace, fingers tangling in Leo's hair before pulling back to expose his throat. The sudden control made Leo's breath catch, his pulse visibly accelerating under delicate skin. "I think Daddy needs to remind his baby what happens when he uses language like that."
The word "Daddy" hit Leo like an electric shock—pupils dilating further, lips parting on a gasp, his sweet scent spiking so sharply Stefano could practically taste it.
The response confirmed every suspicion from the forest—beneath that sharp tongue lived an omega desperate for discipline, for structure, for dominance.
"I don't need reminding of anything," Leo insisted, though his voice had lost its edge.
"Especially not from three alphas with a collective daddy complex that would keep a psychiatric convention busy for years.
What is this, some kind of compensatory fantasy for childhood abandonment issues?
Or just garden-variety creepy power dynamics? "
"I disagree," Stefano snarled, nodding to Marco. In one brutal movement, Marco flipped Leo across his lap, positioning him ass-up, perfectly presented for punishment.
Leo landed with a startled sound, air knocked from his lungs.
His smaller frame fit perfectly across Marco's thighs, chest pressed against the mattress, ass raised in an obscene invitation.
His hole, pink and already glistening with slick, was fully displayed between spread cheeks.
The sight of that tight entrance already leaking for them, already hungry for their touch despite every denial, made Stefano's cock jerk.
The position left Leo completely vulnerable, every intimate part exposed to their hungry gaze.
His spine dipped in a perfect curve, the kind made for alphas to grip while mounting from behind.
His thighs spread just enough to showcase his balls hanging heavy between them, his cock already hardening again despite recent release.
Stefano's mouth watered at the display, his hands itching to grab those narrow hips and drive into that wet heat until Leo screamed his name. The need to claim was almost overwhelming, requiring every ounce of discipline to suppress.
His hands moved of their own accord, gripping those narrow hips hard enough to bruise.
In his mind, he yanked Leo back onto his cock in one brutal thrust, forcing a strangled cry from that smart mouth as his virgin hole stretched around the invasion.
Leo would thrash, trying to escape the sudden fullness, but Stefano's grip would hold him immobile, forced to take every inch.
"You fucking animal—I'll kill you—" Leo would snarl, even as his inner walls clenched greedily around Stefano's length, his body betraying his words with gushes of slick that eased the way.
After those first savage thrusts, Stefano would gather Leo against him, one arm banding across his chest while the other wrapped around his waist. He'd pull the omega back until they were chest to back, seated deep inside him, Leo's smaller frame fitting against his larger one with biological perfection.
"Feel how perfectly you take me," Stefano would growl against Leo's ear, grinding deeper. "Made for this. Made for us."
Leo's head would fall back against his shoulder, neck exposed, eyes glazed as pleasure overrode anger. His pretty cock would bounce untouched with each upward thrust, slapping against his stomach, leaving smears of precum across golden skin.
Marco and Matteo would watch with predatory hunger, eyes fixed on every detail—the way Leo's thighs trembled, how his cock jerked with each precise hit to his prostate, the conflicted ecstasy on his face as his body surrendered while his mind still fought.
With each thrust, Leo's protests would dissolve further—sharp words melting into gasps, then moans, then broken pleas. "I hate—oh God. You can't— Fuck. Please—" Coherence fracturing as Stefano adjusted his angle, hitting that spot that made Leo's spine arch like a drawn bow.
"Please what, baby?" Stefano would taunt, slowing his pace to torturous deliberation. "Tell Daddy what you need."
"Please don't stop," Leo would finally sob, pride shattering beneath pleasure. "Please more, Daddy, please—" His voice cracking as Stefano resumed his punishing rhythm, reducing him to nothing but sensation and surrender.
Stefano blinked away the vision, cock throbbing painfully against his zipper, precum dampening his underwear. His breath came in short, controlled bursts as he fought for discipline. Soon. Not yet but soon.
He raised his palm for the first strike, the fantasy making his control even more precarious, more arousing. The need to claim was almost overwhelming, but the anticipation of total surrender made the wait worthwhile.
"Wait—you can't just—" Leo's protest cut off in a yelp as Stefano's hand connected with his right cheek. The sound cracked through the tent like gunfire.
Crack!
The impact sent flesh rippling, leaving a perfect crimson handprint blooming on pale skin.
Leo's body jerked, a choked sound escaping that was more arousal than pain.
His cock, pressed against Marco's thigh, hardened instantly—responding to discipline like it had been trained specifically for their touch.
"One," Stefano counted, hunger surging as he admired his mark. Blood rushed to the surface, turning pale flesh scarlet. He traced his handprint, feeling heat radiating from the abused skin. "For continued defiance."
"Go to hell," Leo gasped, the words emerging breathless and strained. He squirmed against Marco's lap, movements sending his ass jiggling in a way that made Stefano's control fray further.
"That's two." Stefano delivered the second blow harder, watching in savage satisfaction as the impact rippled through Leo's flesh, his hole clenching visibly in response.
Smack!
Leo's entire body shuddered, a moan tearing from his throat before he could suppress it.
His fingers twisted in the sheets, knuckles whitening as he fought for control that was already lost. Slick gathered between his thighs, dripping down to dampen Marco's pants—his body producing omega lubrication in quantities that shouldn't have been possible through suppressants.
The scent hit Stefano like a physical blow—winter jasmine intensified by arousal, by submission.
It filled his lungs, clouding rational thought, making his vision blur crimson at the edges.
His cock throbbed painfully, demanding to replace his hand, to claim that perfect ass in the most primal way possible.
"Already wet for us," Stefano growled, running two fingers through the slick gathering on Leo's inner thigh. The warm fluid coated his skin, viscous and abundant. "Your body knows exactly who owns it, even if your mind keeps fighting the truth."
The sight of that tight hole already leaking for them, already hungry for their touch despite every denial, made Stefano's restraint snap. He gripped Leo's ass cheeks roughly, spreading them wider to expose that glistening entrance fully.
"What are you—" Leo's question shattered into a shocked cry as Stefano buried his face between those perfect globes, tongue pressing flat against his leaking hole.
The taste exploded across Stefano's tongue—sweet and complex, winter jasmine distilled into liquid form with undertones that spoke of perfect biological compatibility. He groaned against Leo's sensitive flesh, the vibration making Leo jerk violently in Marco's hold.
"Holy fuck!" Leo gasped, entire body going rigid as Stefano's tongue circled his entrance with merciless precision. His thighs trembled violently, muscles tensing as unfamiliar pleasure assaulted him. "You can't—that's not—nobody does that—"
Stefano ignored his protests, focusing entirely on devouring the slick that leaked continuously from Leo's hole.
He lapped at the tight ring of muscle, feeling it flutter against his tongue, tasting evidence of surrender that Leo's mind still fought.
Each stroke of his tongue collected more of that addictive flavor, each press against that twitching entrance produced more of what he craved.
"He tastes fucking perfect," Stefano growled against Leo's wet hole, making him shudder at the vibration. "Made for us. Every part of him."
Marco's hand tangled in Leo's hair, guiding his head back to expose his throat. "Look at you, fighting this when your body's literally dripping for us. Such a stubborn little omega."
Leo's mouth opened to retort, but Stefano chose that moment to push his tongue past that tight ring of muscle, breaching him for the first time. Whatever protest Leo had prepared dissolved into a broken moan, his body arching sharply as pleasure overwhelmed resistance.