Chapter 17 #2
“Refuse, do you?” Beckett leaned down and sucked Arden’s bottom lip into his mouth, nipped it, and slid his tongue inside like he had all the rights in the world when it came to this man. “We’ll see.”
Arden threaded his fingers through Beckett’s hair and mashed his mouth hopelessly against Beckett’s.
“Ow.” Beckett pulled back sharply.
“Sorry,” Arden said.
Beckett touched a finger to his lip where Arden had managed to bite him.
Arden’s hand flew up and he patted clumsily at Beckett’s cheek. Beckett jerked out of his reach. Arden’s hand fell away.
Beckett stared down at him.
Arden’s eyes were clouding over. Any minute now, he’d lose it. He’d lose control over his body. Over his mind. Over his determination to not use Beckett.
Arden knew it. He felt it coming. Beckett could tell by the way he was squirming around, one moment pushing away from Beckett, the next moment pulling him closer.
And Beckett had wanted him to command it. But…
“Listen,” he said briskly. “You need a good fuck and a big cock.”
Arden turned bright pink with mortification. “Oh,” he said softly.
“I’m a good fuck. Got a big cock, an’ all.” He rocked into Arden, who moaned and rocked back. “I’m offering it. Up to you whether you take it or not.”
“Can’t I—”
Beckett began to flex slowly into Arden’s tense body, trying to gentle it with his own. “You can’t go through a heat alone, pet,” he said. “Haven’t you worked that one out yet?”
“I’m sure I can,” Arden said. “I’ve managed this far. I know what to expect now, after…after last night. And I’ve been knotted. It’s a matter of enduring before it burns out. I can do that! I’m good at enduring.”
“It won’t burn out unmet,” Beckett corrected. “It’ll burn you. From the inside out.”
Arden stared.
“If’n it don’t kill you, will leave you sick as a pig. Rest of your life.”
And the ridiculous man considered it, even after that, Beckett could tell.
“Listen. I ain’t beggin’ for it. That’s your job, omega.
Hop on my cock, now, like a good boy, and I’ll see about giving you another knot.
Let’s get it over with.” Beckett almost lost his breath all over again at how cruel he was being. He couldn’t seem to stop.
“But—”
“Arden,” he said, at the very end of his patience. “Fuck me.”
So Arden did.
He parted his legs, he welcomed Beckett in, he stroked his sides as Beckett worked inside him—gods, he was soft, he was ready—and he pressed his silly, clumsy kisses wherever he could reach.
He whimpered and shivered with relief. With orgasm.
He came and came and came. As did Beckett. They fucked each other mindlessly.
Beckett’s anger, his cruelty, his fear for Jack…everything fell away.
He was tending to his omega, and it felt right. It felt perfect.
It was perfect.
All the way to the last, exhausted time.
Arden was on his side then, thoroughly knotted.
Beckett was behind him and rolling his hips lazily, pulsing his sore cock in Arden’s swollen hole at a languid, savouring pace.
His hands drifted over Arden’s front. It was a gentle touch; exploratory.
He sighed and kissed the back of Arden’s damp neck, inhaling the addictive scent of his satisfied omega.
Sunshine, honey, and something sweet and light, like lavender.
His hand drifted up to circle the base of Arden’s throat, collaring it protectively. He rubbed a thumb along Arden’s tight jaw. He’d have thought the dampness he found there was sweat, if not for the minute quiver and a hitching breath. He paused before tracing his fingers higher, to Arden’s face.
He went still.
Hot tears were pouring down Arden’s cheeks.
Slowly, carefully, Beckett drew his hips back.
He grimaced at the pressure. It wasn’t too much.
His knot had been down enough to pull out for an hour or so.
He’d stayed there because he’d been enjoying it.
He thought they both were. He held Arden’s hips firmly, withdrew, and rolled Arden to his back.
In the dim light of the room, Arden’s grey eyes shone. His russet lashes were stuck together in spikes and his lips, which were as puffy and well-used as his hole, trembled.
“Why are you crying?” Beckett said hoarsely.
“No reason. I’m tired,” Arden said, and managed to conjure up a wobbly smile. “Just tired. Will you…?”
“What?” Beckett leaned down and kissed him. When Arden didn’t continue, he ran the tip of his nose the length of Arden’s; kissed him again. “What do you need, sweet? Tell me. I’ll give it to you.”
He’d asked that many times during the night. Arden had gasped out breathless requests. Beckett had filled every one.
Had filled Arden.
“Will you hold me?” Arden said after a moment. “For a little while more? I know this is over. That we’re done. But I’d like it if you’d hold me a little longer.”
“You want me to finish you off first?” He’d meant it as a joke, but Arden shook his head.
“No,” he said quietly.
“You sure? I can get you there one more time.”
Us. He meant us. A final, soft, dreamy orgasm, and then sleep. After that, he’d find a way forward for them. Beginning with an apology for making Arden wait. For being a dick.
Arden shook his head again and shifted. Beckett moved, letting him roll onto his side. Beckett settled in behind him, wrapping an arm around his chest and scooping him as close as he could.
“This is enough,” Arden said. “It’s lovely.”
There was something distant in his voice that set off warning bells, but the fact of it was, the pair of them had been at it for hours, and Beckett could only keep his eyes open for so long.
When he opened them, it was the middle of the afternoon and Arden had gone.
Not from the bed.
From Avendene.