Chapter 16 #2
They sat in silence for a few minutes, the deteriorating countryside rolling past outside the windows. The road had gotten worse—cracked pavement giving way to gravel in places, forcing Lilac to slow down and navigate carefully.
I could just pull him into my lap right now. He wouldn’t complain. He’d be grateful. He’s so wet and ready for me. I could put that circlet on his beautiful head and announce my claim like a wedding bell. Lilac has to drive. What’s she going to do? Pull over?
Good. I could fuck him in this backseat while she waits outside.
“If Nulls don’t have designations,” Cass asked eventually, his voice slightly dreamy, “how do they know who to... to marry? Without tests telling them who’s compatible?”
“They talk to each other,” Lilac called from the front. “They spend time together and figure out if they actually like each other as people.”
“That’s how people decided before the Great Adjustment, supposedly,” Riot added. “Compatibility. Attraction. Shared values. Actually getting to know someone instead of relying on biological programming.”
“But that seems...” Cass paused, shifting and squirming until his face pressed against Riot’s collarbone. “That seems harder. How do you know if you’re making the right choice?”
“You don’t, always,” Riot admitted. “But at least you’re choosing based on who someone actually is. Not just how they smell.”
Cass was quiet, processing. Then: “Is that better? Making mistakes because you chose wrong, instead of being told who you’re supposed to be with?”
The question hit harder than Riot expected. “Yeah, princess. I think it is.”
“Oh.” Cass’s hand found Riot’s and laced their fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world. “That’s not what Brother Matthias taught me. He said doubt was a sign of spiritual weakness. That true harmony came from accepting your designated path.”
Riot ran his fingers through Cass’s hair, trying to use the motion to quiet his mind. “I’m not sure we should trust his definition of harmony.”
Cass tilted his head back to look up at Riot, studying his face with an unnerving intensity.
“Your eyes do something when you look at me,” he said.
Riot went very still. “What do you mean?”
“The gold flecks get brighter. And they glowed in the stairwell. When you were chasing me.” There was no fear in his voice—just curiosity. “Do all Berserkers’ eyes do that?”
“No. Just a few Protocol Endeavor survivors.”
“Why?”
Riot swallowed. “There are implants in our eyes during the modifications. They’re supposed to help with focus and low-light vision during... during intense states. They couldn’t remove them after. Too integrated with the optic nerve.”
Cass’s hand drifted up toward his own face, fingers hovering near his eye like he was trying to imagine it. “So they’re stuck in there? Forever?”
“Yeah.”
“That must have hurt. When they put them in.”
The matter-of-fact empathy in Cass’s voice made Riot’s throat tight. Underneath all the want, underneath the desperate pulse of take take take, he wanted to be worthy of that gentle concern. “Yeah. It did.”
Cass was still studying his eyes, close enough that Riot could see how blown his pupils were. Close enough that their breath mingled. Close enough that Riot could see the flutter of his pulse in his throat and count each individual eyelash.
“I’m sorry they hurt you,” Cass whispered. “But I like it when they glow. It’s how I know you’re really looking at me. Really looking.”
Riot didn’t trust himself to respond.
They sat in charged silence for a few minutes, Cass seemingly content with proximity while Riot desperately tried to think about anything except how perfectly the Omega fit against his side.
The road had gotten even worse—they were off pavement entirely now, bouncing along what might have once been a highway but was now more pothole than road.
Then Cass tensed, his whole body going rigid.
“Cass?” Riot felt panic spike through him, temporarily drowning out the want. “Princess, what’s wrong?”
“Cramp,” Cass gasped. “Really bad cramp. Worse than before. Much worse.”
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
Cass whimpered, the sound cutting straight through Riot’s chest. Without thinking, he hauled Cass onto his lap, both arms wrapping around him like a protective cocoon.
The new position pressed Cass’s ass directly against Riot’s straining cock.
For a moment, Riot couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
Couldn’t do anything except feel—the heat of Cass’s body, the wet press of slick-soaked fabric against his erection, the way Cass instinctively ground back against him seeking pressure—
“Riot! What the fuck are you doing?”
“He’s cramping,” Riot said, pressing his nose into Cass’s neck and breathing him in. “He needs—”
“He needs you to not have him in your lap while you’re both about to go off like fireworks!” She swerved around a pothole hard enough to jostle them both. “Get him off your—”
“I can’t—” Riot’s hands tightened on Cass’s hips, holding him still. “Just drive. Please. Just fucking drive.”
Cass whimpered again, shaking, his hands balled into fists as he pressed his face against Riot’s neck.
“Breathe through it,” Riot murmured against his hair. “Like meditating. Focus on your breathing.”
“It hurts,” Cass gasped. “Please make it stop. Please, it hurts so bad—”
“I’ve got you,” Riot choked out. “I’ve got you, princess. Just breathe.”
It seemed to last forever—Cass shaking in his arms, making small sounds of pain, whispering “please” over and over. When it finally eased, Cass went limp against him.
“I’m sorry,” Cass mumbled into his neck. “I’m sorry, I know I’m being difficult—”
“You’re not being difficult.” Riot stroked his hair, his back, anywhere he could reach that might offer comfort. Riot closed his eyes, pressing his face into Cass’s sweat-damp hair. Every instinct was howling and every want felt like a command. Every need felt like survival.
But underneath that was something else. Something that wanted to protect. To comfort. To make this better for the trembling Omega in his arms even if it meant suffering through his own body’s demands.
That’s new, some distant part of his brain noted. Caring about what he needs more than what I want.
“Can you go any faster?”
“I’m trying.” Lilac took a turn that had Riot bracing against the door, one arm locked around Cass to keep him steady. “The roads are shit and I don’t want to blow a tire in the middle of nowhere with you two about to—” She cut herself off. “Just hold on. We’re close.”
They drove the rest of the way like that—Cass drifting in and out of lucidity, each cramp hitting harder than the last. Riot talked him through it, stroked his hair, rubbed his back, all while his cock throbbed and leaked and ached with denied release.
Mine, he thought, during every quiet moment between cramps. Mine. Mine. Mine.
And underneath that: I’m going to burn Elysian Dynamics to the fucking ground for what they did to him.