Thirty-six nights after meeting the General #3
“Look at me,” he said. His voice was deep with desire.
I opened my eyes. “Perfect.” I wanted to look away in embarrassment, but I was distracted when he undid his trousers.
He pulled it out. It was even bigger than expected.
It was large all over, the whole thing itself and everything attached to it as well.
It made sense for a man his size, a werewolf, an alpha, but still, it was of proportions I had never considered.
Part of me was afraid of what he was going to do with it.
Worried and excited that he might take me as his own that very first time.
As if what we had done so far was not already several steps too far, several meetings too early.
But he just held it in his hand to take care of it himself.
I looked at him. Looked at it. I felt myself get hot again. He bent down to kiss me.
“So pretty,” he said. His kisses were different this time.
They were wet and filthy and full of tongue.
He seemed to go on forever. I was halfway towards another release when his body jerked and something sticky coated my belly.
It was warm and it just kept coming. There was so much.
It was dripping off of me, onto my opened tunic.
He kissed me one more time. Softly, this once.
“You did good for me.” One more touch and I would have come again then and there.
It was the gravelly tone of his voice, the little words he spoke.
He was not exactly a man of many words, but he knew exactly how to use his voice to wind me up.
I looked down at myself, and immediately covered my eyes with my hands.
It was filthy, scandalous and I found I enjoyed it more than I should have.
The bruises, the mess. A cloth wiped my body.
A gentle but firm touch. A kiss on my newly cleaned abdomen.
The General took my hands away from my eyes, and pulled me up to a seated position.
He did not look much different. His trousers were tied again, he appeared decent.
It was likely that his hair had been in its messiest state even before I came. To his study, that is.
He was again standing in between my thighs.
I looked up at him. His expression was still lifeless, but his eyes twinkled with something that held more mirth than insult.
Possibly even adoration. Not love, of course not love.
We had only just met. But there was some affection there.
It made my heart beat in an uncomfortable rhythm.
There were moments where it seemed to skip a beat, only to beat ferociously a mere few seconds later.
His face was now close to mine. Our lips were almost touching.
I would not close the distance. I was too shy about it all.
What we had done. The immorality of it all, seeing as we had not courted for long.
I was not that aware of all courting rituals in the Oaklands.
But expensive gifts were several steps removed from whatever just occurred between us, that much I knew.
“You’re thinking again,” he said. It was another rumble.
A whisper. He put his lips on mine again.
I cursed him for being so nonchalant. And for looking the same as before it all happened, when I was still bare chested, covered in pinks and purples, and all too drenched down there.
But when he kissed me so softly, sweetly, I found he had more admirable qualities to him than expected.
He was indeed not just a killer, not callous, in all situations.
As a lover, there were moments where he was surprisingly tender.
So I lost myself in him again. I let it happen.
Axel let go of me. He took his time buttoning up my tunic.
And there I sat. Not fully dressed yet. A bruised neck.
Swollen lips. Dirty trousers. Completely obscene.
How was I going to get back to the healer’s quarters?
I could not go anywhere looking the way I did.
Rumours were sure to follow me if I did.
“What is it?” he asked. I frowned. I meant to look angry, but I’m not sure it would have the desired effect when I looked the way I did.
“I’m a mess.” He laughed. A more genuine laugh. Not a big smile, or a cackling laugh. Just a laugh that felt easy and free. It was rather disarming. It made him look younger, kinder.
He took me by the hand and helped me up from his desk. He pointed at a door near the window. “My chambers.” I stared at him blankly. “There’s a bath.” I blushed. We had done that much already, but the thought of bathing in his chamber felt too daring still.
“And what would I be wearing when I get out of the bath?” I asked.
I did not mean to speak of the mess in my trousers, I did not want him to be more smug than he already was.
He grabbed my waist. He brushed strands of messy curls out of my face.
His thumb caressed my lower lip. I tried to keep my wits about me.
This had been enough excitement for one day.
“If you’d be so kind as to instruct your guards to fetch me some clothes, it would be much appreciated. ”
He kissed me. Short and sweet. “Sure, princess,” he said.
What came over me when I slapped him playfully on the arm, I did not know.
He looked up at me. Not in anger. He was most likely stunned by the gesture.
Who would slap the flaming General? But what was done was done, I had better stand my ground.
“I am male.” His smile was gone. The smirk was back.
“Oh I know,” he said. I rolled my eyes at him.
Did he have to be that self-congratulatory about this?
As if the leader of the Oaklands could not order for any omega he wanted to be delivered to him in a second.
I was his prisoner before. I was not too difficult of a conquest. If he so desired, he could have taken me the day he first laid his eyes on me.
This meant that the General was not that kind of man.
That at least some of the respect of his subjects was warranted.
Still, it was annoying how he revelled in getting me to submit to his whims. It made me want to slap him again, just to see what he would do.
“I demand the bath be hot,” I said. He lowered his hand from my waist to my backside. Gave it a squeeze unbecoming of a leader. It was a gesture made by drunk men at a tavern to a tavern wench.
“You’re a brat,” he said. He seemed amused. I did not want him amused. I wanted him displeased, at the very least. “I know what you want.” I wanted a good night's rest. I wanted several pieces of bread. “You want me to discipline you.”
“I most certainly do not!” I said, affronted. Not only by his words, but by the fact that the one time he spoke more than three words at once, it was to say something as uncouth as that!
“I will, you know,” he said, as if I hadn’t said a thing. “Soon,” he promised. And it did not send shivers down my spine.
“Like hell you will,” I said. I stepped a few steps back. I crossed my arms.
“Language, omega,” he said. It was teasing, and it sounded rough.
“Oh, do excuse me if you will, my lord.” It was rather contemptuous in tone. I turned away from him. He wrapped his arms around me from behind me.
“That’s it, apologise.” He was massive, and I was captured.
“Good boy,” he said again. Just like last time.
And I hated that it piqued my interest more than anything else he could have said.
“You like to be praised,” he said. And I went quiet, because there was not much I could say to refute that.
It would be too blatant a lie. Somehow, this was when the emotions I was feeling made my thoughts spiral, making me think of problems I had not envisioned before.
What did it mean if the General favoured me in this way?
What would that mean for my chances at freedom?
Was there ever any true chance of leaving the Oaklands, or had my fate been sealed the moment I was rescued from the grasp of the empire?
And although the Grey Keep had been calm so far, it would not do to forget that these lands are in open rebellion against the Empire.
How did I find myself going from a commoner from lower Auriyonne, to an omega favoured by the leader of the Oaklands?
It would be too much for anyone to go through this much change in such a short amount of time.
And then of course I had to consider Axel’s sincerity.
He said he would take responsibility for his actions, but what would this entail?
I knew nothing of the culture in these lands.
“Stop thinking,” Axel said. “Take a bath.” I was sure that my thoughts would be racing even more in the quiet of the tub.