Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
Playing: “Got Me Started” by Troye Sivan
Normally, I like to be in the throes of whatever party we attend, but sitting here with Thatcher is better than anything else I could be doing.
My mission to find him was borderline selfish. I wanted to dance, drink, and have a good time. I also wanted to share that with Thatcher. But when I found him lingering in a spare room upstairs, all of that went out the window along with my sanity, because he looks hot tonight.
His black T-shirt is definitely a size too small as his muscles strain beneath it. His pecks are pointed, his jeans are perfect, and I am an omega in heat, apparently.
I wince. That’s probably not a joke I should make anymore, since now I know omegas can just randomly go into heat without bond mates.
Thatcher sits with his ankle propped up on his knee, leaning back like he doesn’t have a care in the world as he nurses his whiskey sour. He looks every bit as beautiful as the day we met.
The memory of that day pops into my brain as I move towards him.
The way we both smiled and hugged, trying not to let the disappointment show.
We were so excited to meet each other, but when we didn’t have that immediate reaction to each other’s scents, the way that scent matches often talked about, hope seemed to dwindle fast. His eyes lost that twinkle, and I’m sure it reflected in mine as well.
Still, we felt the pack mate bond and I was content with that. For a time.
Now that I know he wants to try again, I am more determined than ever to keep him. The feeling in my gut that told me he was mine wasn’t manufactured in some perfect fairytale that obscured my intuition. It was real, and I was patient. And now I feel like I’m reaping the rewards.
Every day, he’s made me at least one meal or snack and invited me to sit with him and watch historical documentaries that he knows I would love.
New historical magazines and books have also been left outside my door.
No note, no declaration. Just a single layer of mint lingering on them from Thatcher’s scent.
Courting gifts that I’ve long awaited and am now finally getting.
I am the most giddy omega to ever live.
When he sees me, his mouth morphs into a lazy smile, and that is enough to make me see stars. My grumpy alpha cracking from the mere sight of me is enough to send butterflies soaring through my whole body.
“I thought you were living it up with Sam,” he comments when I get closer. “It’s not often that he lets loose like this.”
“He went to the bathroom and then got distracted, I think. I came to find you.”
“Are you going to make me get up and dance?” he asks, his tone teasing. I can tell that he would prefer I didn’t, but I can also tell that he would definitely do it if I asked, which makes my inside grow warm.
“No, I’d like to sit here with you instead.” His cheeks flush slightly as I sit beside him and relax my body, which actually did need a rest after standing for the last hour and a half. “I need some quiet time.”
“I’d say that isn’t true, but you do spend a lot of time playing your quiet games.”
I give an incredulous laugh. “Quiet games?”
“You know.” He fiddles his fingers around, like he’s trying to figure out what to say. “Those farm games. The simulation ones.”
“Ah, the cozy games.”
“That’s what they’re called?” He scrunches his brows. “What makes them cozy? They’re not blankets.”
“Yes, but they feel like blankets.”
He blinks at me and I burst into laughter. When he sees the happiness on my face, he relaxes a bit. “Well, I may not understand them, but I’d like to learn. Maybe you can teach me sometime.”
My laughter subsides as I process that statement. “Really? You want to play with me?”
“I mean, yeah,” he says, scratching his neck. “If it means I get to spend more time with you, I’ll try anything.”
The sentiment hits its mark, right in the center of my chest. “I always assumed you hated them and didn’t want to.”
“No, I was…” He shrugs. “I was scared to ask.”
I look at him for a few more seconds, then I reach over and take his hand. Tentatively, I lace them together, all while Thatcher watches in anticipation. When they’re interlocked, my entire being feels satiated, and the alpha I’m holding sneaks a tiny smile behind his cup as he drinks.
“Do you feel the same way about Opal? Are you afraid to close that gap?” I ask, throwing some breadcrumbs into the conversation.
His brow raises but his eyes hold curiosity. “What do you mean?”
“I’m just saying if you find yourself wanting to connect with her, you can. Don’t be scared of showing interest in the things she likes.”
He gives me a staggered look. “Are you saying…” He pauses and then lowers his voice. “Are you saying you would accept her? In our pack?”
My smile is sly. “That, my dear alpha, is exactly what I’m saying.”
Thatcher blows out a low breath, a faint blush unfolding across his cheeks. “I thought wanting another omega would mess things up with you,” he admits.
“You,” I start, poking at his chest. “You are way more than you give yourself credit for. Seriously, all the stuff you’ve done for me these past few weeks… it has meant everything to me. You could never mess things up with me.”
Thatcher’s eyes gleam with something unspoken. Perhaps pride for his effort being acknowledged, but also embarrassment for me mentioning these things out loud.
“I just want to make up for all the idiocy this past year. For not realizing sooner that I wanted you—no, needed you in my life.” His hand squeezes mine tighter like he’s afraid I’ll let go, but I have no intention of ever doing that.
“The entire year, or whatever you feel like you need to make up for, is forgiven. I promise.” My words seem to bring a new vitality to him as his shoulders physically relax and his eyes visibly brighten.
“Gosh.” He peers into me, an intensity that I’m not used to showing itself behind his eyes. “I don’t know how I never saw it.”
“Saw what?” I ask.
“That you’re a whirlwind,” he responds, his tone soft. “And you were always meant to push down my walls.”
His scent is the strongest I have ever smelled it, the cool mint covering me in a frost that I don’t want to ever let thaw. He looks to the side, then to my mouth, and then back to my eyes. I squint at him, trying to access the thoughts going through his head.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask softly.
He swallows. “Things that I’ve never really thought about before.”
My jaw drops slightly as I look at the beautiful specimen of a man beside me.
His arms are pulsing, his veins protruding and tensing in a way that leaves my mouth dry.
“Do you…” I trail off, trying to figure out how to approach this topic delicately.
I lower my voice as I ask, “Has anyone ever gone down on you before, Thatcher?”
His eyes widen as he shakes his head, but his scent becomes so sweet. I let out a quiet groan at the presence of it.
“I want to be the first,” I say, my hand going into his T-shirt. “Will you let me?”
“No.”
I balk at his abrupt rejection, a twinge making its way to my heart just as Thatcher stands and pulls me from our spot. We move through the other people who were chilling in the room and make it to the bathroom down the hall, where he tugs me in and immediately locks the door.
“What’s going on?” I ask, grinning. “I thought you didn’t want me to.”
“I don’t,” he says. Confusion comes back again, but my instincts don’t let me get upset. There’s a possessive glint in his eyes as he watches me, but also a nervous notion in the way he tenses his jaw.
“You need to spell it out for me, Alpha,” I tell him, and the title makes him snap back into attention.
“Sorry, I—” He pulls one shoulder into a shrug. “I don’t want you to go down on me, not yet. I want you to teach me first.”
My thoughts rear to a screeching halt. The glitch also travels all the way down to my cock.
“You want me to…”
Thatcher gets down on his knees and I forget how to breathe.
“I want you to teach me how you like it,” he whispers, now looking at where my dick hardens in my jeans. His fingers slide up to unbutton them. “I want you inside my throat.”
Oh shit.
“I think that can be arranged,” I try to joke, but my words come out husky, betraying how turned on that makes me. He undoes my jeans and pulls the zipper down, but then pauses. I shake away my surprise that this is actually happening (because oh my god this is happening) and take control.
“It’s not just about what I like, but what you like, too,” I tell him as I pull the waistband of my boxers down, and my dick springs free.
He nods, his eyes wide, but I’m not sure if he’s listening.
“So, we’ll both be learning today, okay?
If you like it slow, we can do that. If you want me to take over and—” I stop, wondering if bringing up the idea of fucking his throat is a bit much for his first time.
“Take over and what?” he says, seeming excited by the prospect.
I swallow hard. “Like, if you’d want me to take over and fuck your throat. It’s a bit rough sometimes, and you’d have to tap me if you can’t breathe, or if you panic.”
“No, I want that,” His tone is full of sincerity. “I want you to use me.”
I must have died sometime before Opal moved in and went to heaven, because what?
“We can try it.” My throat feels scratchy, and my cock drips slightly from the nature of our conversation. I stroke myself a few times to ease the feeling and his attention snags on it. He watches me and licks his lips, and I decide I can’t take it anymore.
“Open up, Alpha.” My voice is low, and I can’t help the rush that zooms through me when he immediately obeys.
I move forward and the tip of my dick feathers across his lips. I swallow a curse. “Stick your tongue out,” I instruct him, and he does, looking eager as I control the pace. “Take your time. Do what feels natural.”
He looks at my cock and then tentatively wraps his hand around me.
I encourage him with a nod, barely restraining myself as he pumps a few times with his fist. The feeling is intense.
A bit dry, yes, but intense nonetheless.
I’ve waited months for this, imagining it secretly underneath my covers.
How his huge hand would feel on me, how he would taste and smell, and what would turn him on.
And now, he’s on his knees for me, basking in this new experience like he wouldn’t be anywhere else, and it sends me into a tailspin.
He places me onto his tongue, and my hips thrust forward slightly, wanting to be further inside him.
When I go to move back out, he moves his head and slides my cock against his tongue and down his throat.
What meets me is a whole new sensation that drives me wild.
I pull my shirt up and out of his way, flashing my abs in a way that Thatcher must appreciate because his eyes follow the movement.
The sight elicits a moan from him, and it echoes around me in a way that makes me grit my teeth.
Then he takes more of me, swallowing my cock bit by bit until I’m snug in his throat.
“This is the best day of my life,” I say dramatically as I dip my head back and appreciate the velvet feeling of him.
His palms go to my thighs as he moves back out and repeats the motion, taking his time to learn which pace he enjoys.
He quickens after a few seconds, determined to destroy me as the pressure begins to build, and the energy trapped at the base of my spine begins to tingle.
“Oh, god,” I moan, and my hands move to rest on the wall above my head as I start to thrust my cock in and out of his mouth.
The movement elicits a deep groan from his throat, and the sound causes me to whine.
I take over more efficiently, setting a steady but quick pace that makes my entire body sing.
When I look back down at him, his eyes sear into mine as he watches my reactions, and it’s that alone that causes me to start tumbling toward a fast edge.
“Don’t stop,” I whimper. “Please let me come down your throat, Alpha. Please.”
His hand grips my thigh tighter. When he sees that my rhythm is losing traction and precision, he takes over and does the movement exactly the way I want.
It makes me lose control, my body suddenly bending to his will as he forcibly pulls the orgasm from me.
The pleasure takes over my entire body, and I cry out, biting my own arm to stay quiet as Thatcher continues to work me over.
Every single ounce of me spills down his throat and leaves me panting, my body finally relaxing as the glorious ecstasy ebbs and flows away.
I lean against the wall and catch my breath, my body feeling bled dry in the best possible way.
Thatcher is also breathing heavy, and I notice his hand is down his own pants, where an obvious stain is beginning to form against the denim.
My own cock twitches again at the sight of it, knowing he was stroking himself while going down on me and came from it. He sees the stain and chuckles.
“Well, shit.”
His nonchalant reaction makes me burst out in laughter. “You have a bunch of frat brothers. I’m sure I can ask one of them for some spare pants for you.”
He nods and then looks at me with complete admiration. “Was that okay?”
I don’t think, I just pull him right up and claim his mouth before I can stop myself.
I can taste my watermelon-flavored arousal on his lips, and it sends a heady rush right through me.
He kisses back with just as much intensity, his tongue dancing with mine as we paw at each other like we didn’t just finish moments before.
When he pulls away, his features take on a look of wonder, like he can’t believe I’m real.
“Fuck,” he whispers, not daring to wipe his mouth as he stares at mine in hunger.
“Fuck,” I repeat in full agreement, because now that we’ve started, I can already tell we’re never going to stop. We’ve reached the finish line, and now we have the rest of our lives to celebrate.