5. Dante
DANTE
T hree days later, Dante's body betrays him completely.
The heat hits like a tsunami, without warning, without mercy.
He wakes in the night burning from the inside out, his scent pouring out of him in desperate, intoxicating waves.
His hole is slick, desperately needy, clenching around nothing.
His cock is achingly hard, leaking pre-come that soaks through the silk sheets.
His entire body is screaming for alpha, screaming for Marco, screaming for claiming.
I need him. God, I need him to break me, Dante thinks, his mind entirely consumed by the primal mating urge.
His slickness is in its production, coating his thighs and the sheets beneath him in evidence of his omega desperation.
Every nerve ending is hypersensitive, every touch sending shocks of pleasure through his system.
His hole is begging to be filled, his scent speaking to any alpha within range that he's ready to breed, ready to carry an alpha's heir, ready to be permanently marked.
He stumbles out of bed and somehow makes his way to Marco's bedroom, barely coherent, barely able to form words. He knocks on the door, then just enters—protocol be damned. He can't think about protocol. He can only think about the desperate need consuming every part of his being.
Marco wakes instantly, his alpha senses attuned to every shift in his omega's state. When he scents the heat, his pupils dilate until there's barely any color left, just darkness and hunger and absolute obsession.
"Jesus Christ," Marco breathes, and then he's out of bed and pulling Dante toward him, his massive frame overwhelming the omega's smaller form. "You're in heat. You're in goddamn heat."
" Please ," Dante gasps, and it's all the permission Marco needs.
Marco strips away Dante’s clothing with brutal efficiency, tossing him onto the mattress. Marco’s alpha pheromones explode through the room, heavy with the scent of tobacco and dark spices, instantly shattering whatever restraint Dante has left.
Marco grabs Dante by his ankles, dragging his hips to the edge of the bed and forcing his legs up over his massive shoulders.
Dante gasps, exposed and shivering as Marco kneels between his thighs.
Instead of diving straight in, Marco leans down, his dark eyes locked on Dante's flushing face as he buries his mouth against the omega's heat-slicked core.
His tongue strikes out, flat and wet, licking over the entrance with a feral hunger.
Dante arches off the bed with a sharp sob, his fingers clutching at the sheets. "Marco, please?—"
"Shut up and take it," Marco growls against his skin.
He uses his large thumbs to stretch the tight entrance open, diving his tongue deep inside to taste the cloying sweetness of the heat slick.
The wet, rhythmic sweeping drives Dante wild, his hips twitching helplessly against Marco's face as the intense friction pushes him closer to the edge before a single finger has even entered.
Satisfied with the wet ruin he is making of the omega, Marco reaches blindly for a heavy bottle of silicone lubricant on the nightstand.
He pours a thick, icy stream onto his palm and smears it over Dante's puckering entrance. He drives one thick, calloused finger deep inside, forcing a choked gasp from Dante’s throat as the muscle stretches.
Without waiting, Marco adds a second, then a third finger, thrusting them into the tight channel in a hard, mimics-of-fucking motion that mimics the heavy pounding to come. The burning friction turns to a slick, sliding ache that stretches Dante wide open.
Marco yanks his slick fingers out with a loud, wet pop and positions his massive, rigid cock right against the weeping entrance.
He pins Dante’s wrists above his head with one hand, his massive weight crushing the omega into the mattress.
In one deep, unyielding thrust, he drives his length all the way in to the root.
The sudden stretch makes Dante cry out, his body tightening around the massive intrusion.
The friction is intense, a burning mix of pain and immediate, overwhelming pleasure that rips a sob from his throat.
Marco doesn't give him time to adjust; he begins slamming into him with a relentless, brutal rhythm, his hands digging into Dante’s hips to anchor him against the mattress.
"You belong to me, Rossi. Say it," Marco commands, his voice raw.
"Yours... I'm yours," Dante screams, his head rolling back as another hard thrust hits his sweet spot.
While driving deep inside him, Marco leans down, his mouth tracing the sensitive line of Dante's neck.
He finds the exact junction where the neck meets the shoulder—the mating gland.
Marco opens his jaws and sinks his teeth deep into the flesh, tearing through the skin to leave a permanent, bleeding mating bite.
The pain of the bite shatters Dante's focus, triggering an immediate, violent orgasm. He screams into the empty room, his entire body convulsing and squeezing down tightly around Marco’s length as his release coats his own stomach.
The intense internal clenching pushes Marco over the edge. The base of Marco's cock begins to swell rapidly, the knot expanding inside Dante’s stretched core, locking them together physically.
Marco groans against Dante’s blood-stained neck, releasing a massive wave of hot seed deep inside the omega's womb. The lock holds them trapped in place for over an hour, the physical binding cementing the fated bond as their pheromones mingle and lock completely.
Over the next forty-eight hours, the penthouse becomes a blur of relentless, feverish heat cycles. Marco refuses to let him up, taking him from behind on his knees, pinning him on his side, and driving into him until Dante's voice goes completely hoarse from begging.
Between the violent bouts of sex, Marco forces him to drink water and eat small pieces of food, keeping his body functioning just enough to endure the next wave of the rut.
By the third day, the fever finally began to break.
The room smells heavily of spent pheromones, sweat, and spilled seed.
Dante lies limp against Marco’s massive chest, his skin covered in dark bruises and dried blood from the permanent mark on his shoulder.
His core is wide, aching, and thoroughly claimed.
Marco wraps his heavy arms around Dante’s torso, pulling him flush against his chest.
"Mine," Marco mutters against his damp hair, his grip tightening with absolute ownership. "You're completely mine now."
Dante closes his eyes, his hand rising to touch the heavy leather collar still locked around his neck.
I'm never getting away , Dante realizes, his heart hammering with a terrifying mix of relief and total surrender. And I don't want to .