Chapter 8 #2
“Surgery.” Riot’s voice came out rough. “They put things inside me. To make me... what I am.”
“The scary stuff,” Cass said softly.
“Yeah. The scary stuff.”
Cass’s fingers lingered on his jaw for another eternity before dropping away. “Thank you for showing me. I’m sorry people hurt you.”
I’m not thinking about people hurting me right now. I’m thinking about your fingers in my mouth and what sounds you’d make if I—
“We match,” Cass added, with a small, tentative smile. “Both damaged.”
“Yeah, princess,” he managed. “We match.”
A tear slipped down Cass’s cheek, and before Riot could stop himself, he’d reached up to catch it with his thumb. Cass made a small sound and leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering half-closed. “That feels nice.”
Don’t. Don’t do this.
Less than a week and Riot was already holed up in a hotel room with him, ready to commit murder over scars he’d just learned about. Less than a week and he was breaking every promise he’d made to himself about never taking advantage of innocents again.
You should leave. You should be getting suppressants back to your brothers instead of sitting here with your hand on his face like you have any right to touch him.
Riot couldn’t make himself pull away.
“Riot?” Cass’s voice was barely a whisper. “Can I... can I stay close to you? Like last night?”
Say no. Say no. Say no.
“Yeah, princess. Come here.”
Cass made a sound that was half laugh, half sob as he surged forward, wrapping his arms around Riot’s shoulders and burying his face against his throat.
Riot’s hands hovered uselessly for a moment before settling on Cass’s back—careful, so careful, his fingertips tracing the edges of scars he now knew existed.
“Thank you,” Cass whispered against his neck. “For not thinking I’m ugly.”
You’re the furthest thing from ugly I’ve ever seen.
Then Cass shifted, nuzzling closer, and—
Oh, fuck.
He was scenting him.
It seemed unconscious, the instinctive way pre-heat Omegas sought comfort from Alpha pheromones.
Cass’s nose pressed against Riot’s pulse point, breathing deep, and a small sound escaped him.
Pleased. Content. Like he’d found exactly what he needed.
He didn’t seem to know what he was doing and didn’t understand.
But Riot’s body didn’t care about innocence. It only registered: Omega. Pre-heat. Scenting me. Claiming me. Mine.
The pressure spiked so hard Riot saw stars. His hands tightened on Cass’s back, pulling him closer, and Cass went willingly—more than willingly, pressing his whole body against Riot’s with a soft moan that nearly broke what remained of his sanity.
“This feels...” Cass’s voice was dreamy. His hips shifted, rubbing against Riot’s thigh, and the friction made them both gasp. “Oh. That’s... different.”
“Different how?” Riot’s voice came out wrecked.
“Different from cuddling with Honey. Different from anything.” Cass pulled back just enough to look at him, pupils blown so wide there was barely any hazel left.
His cheeks were flushed, lips parted, and he was still rocking against Riot’s thigh in tiny movements.
“I feel... warm. But not bad-warm. A different kind of warm. Here.” He pressed a hand to his stomach.
Then lower, palm flat against his own groin, brow furrowing in confusion.
“And here. That’s never happened before? ”
Riot should explain. He should tell him what was happening, why his body was responding, what it meant when an Omega pressed against an Alpha like this. But if he explained it, Cass might get scared and pull away. He might stop making those little sounds and rubbing against him…
He’s an adult, some desperate part of Riot’s brain rationalized. He can make his own choices.
He doesn’t know what he’s choosing, the rest of him argued back. He doesn’t even understand what’s happening to his own body.
But Cass was still looking at him with those wide, trusting eyes, waiting for an answer, and Riot...
Riot was so tired of fighting.
“It’s normal,” he said. “Just your body adjusting.”
“Oh. Okay.” Cass relaxed back against him, tucking his face under Riot’s chin. “It feels good. Strange, but good.” He nuzzled into Riot’s throat again.
You should be getting suppressants back to Stave and Prepper. You should be getting OUT of the Neutral Zone before someone recognizes you from that ATM heist. You should not be lying here letting a pre-heat Omega rub against you while you pretend it’s innocent.
But Riot felt like an overfilled water balloon with the pressure building and building with nowhere to go.
“Riot?” Cass’s voice was sleepy now, his movements slowing.
“Yeah, princess?”
“Do Berserkers ever cuddle with anyone? Or is it just me?”
His cock throbbed so hard he had to bite back a groan.
This is a problem. This is a serious fucking problem. Why does his simplicity do this to me?
“Not usually,” he managed.
“That’s sad.” Cass’s fingers traced idle patterns on Riot’s chest, each touch sending fire racing through his nerve endings. “Everyone should have someone to cuddle. Even Berserkers. Especially Berserkers.” He yawned. “You deserve nice things too.”
You’re killing me. You’re actually killing me, and you don’t even know it.
Riot caught Cass’s wandering hand, stilling it. His other hand stayed on Cass’s back, his thumb tracing circles on that hot, bare skin, because apparently he couldn’t stop touching him even when he knew he should.
Fuck it.
Just for today. Just this once. He’d hold Cass and keep him safe and not think about suppressants or the Syndicate or the promises he was breaking. Tomorrow he’d figure out how to be a better person.
Cass nuzzled into his throat one last time, then relaxed against him. “‘I think I’m going to take a nap, Riot.”
“Okay, princess.”
Within minutes, Cass’s breathing had evened out into real sleep—deep and peaceful in a way it hadn’t been all day. His body was still too warm, still fighting through the pre-heat, but the tension had drained out of him completely.
Riot lay perfectly still, staring at the water-stained ceiling, Cass’s weight warm and solid against his chest.
He was in so much trouble.
Not just because of what was building in his system like a bomb waiting to go off, though that wasn’t helping.
He wanted this. He wanted him. He wanted the way Cass looked at him like he wasn’t a monster, like the scary stuff didn’t matter, like maybe Riot could be something other than a weapon after all.
Mine.
Yeah, Riot thought, closing his eyes. So fucking mine.