11. Marco
MARCO
T he changing chemistry in the penthouse is something Marco smells before he even processes it logically.
The sharp, smoky note of Dante’s defiance has softened, replaced by a dense, milky sweetness that wraps around the alpha’s senses like a physical weight.
Walking into the master bedroom, Marco looks at his omega lying on the sheets. The realization settles in his chest with absolute, violent clarity: Dante is carrying his heir. The fated bond inside Marco reacts instantly, shifting from a desire to dominate to a suffocating, lethal need to protect.
He’s carrying my seed , Marco thinks, his eyes tracking the slight, firm curve of Dante’s lower stomach. Everything changes now. Nobody touches him. He doesn't leave my sight.
The power dynamic shifts instantly. Marco orders the penthouse doors locked from the outside, cutting off all access to the external world.
When the private family doctor arrives, Marco stands directly over the bed, his massive frame looming over Dante as the examination begins.
Dante looks up, his scent spiking with nervous compliance. Marco doesn't leave the room for a single second. He watches the doctor’s hands with dark, intense focus, his alpha pheromones flaring as a silent warning that any wrong move will result in immediate death.
Once the doctor finishes the checkup and exits under the watchful eye of guards, Marco closes the door and bolts it.
He walks over to the bedside table where a bowl of warm broth sits.
Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he lifts the spoon.
Dante reaches for it, but Marco pulls it back, his grip on the bowl unyielding.
"I feed you now, Dante," Marco growls softly, his voice thick with absolute possession. "Every single thing that goes into your body comes from my hands."
Dante’s lips part in a soft whimper. He leans forward, opening his mouth to take the food directly from Marco. He swallows, tears of emotional fragility gathering in his eyes as Marco wipes a stray drop from his chin with a heavy thumb.
"Good boy," Marco murmurs, putting the bowl down. His focus drops straight to Dante’s chest, where the thin fabric of his shirt is visibly stained with small, damp circles. The pregnancy has made Dante’s nipples highly sensitive, already leaking clear fluid.
Marco grips the hem of the shirt and pulls it over Dante’s head, tossing it aside to expose the soft, pale torso. He presses his face directly against Dante’s throat, inhaling the rich, milky scent of his mate, his tongue licking over the scarred mating bite on his shoulder.
Dante arches his back, a soft groan slipping past his teeth as Marco’s large hands slide down to frame the firm swell of his pregnant belly.
"You look so perfect like this," Marco whispers, his fingers digging gently into Dante’s hips as he positions himself between the omega's thighs. "Swollen with my kid. Leaking for me."
Marco leans down, his mouth closing over one leaking nipple. He sucks hard, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud, drawing a sharp sob from Dante’s throat.
Dante’s hands find Marco’s thick hair, pulling him closer as the intense stimulation sends a rush of slick down his thighs. Marco moves to the other side, biting lightly at the sensitive skin until Dante is shaking from the sheer intensity of the worship.
"Marco... please," Dante whines, his legs curling around Marco's waist. "I'm so hot. I need it."
Marco reaches for a bottle of thick lubricant, pouring it directly onto his palm before smearing it over Dante’s tight, swollen opening. He pushes two fingers inside, stretching the soft walls with a slow, deliberate motion that makes Dante gasp.
The core is incredibly hot and tight, squeezing down around the intrusion with frantic contractions. Marco adds a third finger, opening him up wide, watching the way the pink flesh stretches to accommodate him.
He pulls his fingers out with a loud squelch and lines up his massive, rigid cock. Marco drives forward slowly, burying his entire length inside the tight channel in one deep, heavy stroke.
Dante screams out, his head rolling back against the pillows as his body takes the immense size. The stretch is fierce, a burning, addictive ache that fills him completely.
Marco doesn't fuck him with the brutal violence of before; instead, he uses a deep, slow, crushing rhythm, his heavy pelvis pressing firmly against Dante’s hips with every stroke to maximize the contact against his sweet spot.
"You are my perfect pregnant whore," Marco growls, his hands sliding underneath Dante's ass to lift him higher, forcing the penetration even deeper. "Only good for taking my knot and carrying my heir. Tell me who did this to you."
"You did... Alpha. Ah! " Dante chokes out, his vision blurring from the overwhelming pleasure. His untouched cock drips rapidly onto his own stomach, the friction of the deep movements driving him closer to the edge.
Marco speeds up slightly, his chest slamming against Dante's as he pumps into the wet, tight core. The sound of their bodies meeting fills the locked room, an unapologetic declaration of ownership.
Marco reaches down, his fingers gripping Dante's jaw to force him into a deep, wet kiss, drinking in the omega's breathless gasps as he drives toward the finish.
The intense internal pressure hits Dante’s prostate with every heavy thrust. His inner walls clamp down like a vice, triggering a powerful, hands-free orgasm that sends thick ropes of release spurting across his own chest.
The tight, violent milking forces Marco over the edge. He lets out a guttural roar, his hips locking tightly against Dante's as the base of his cock swells rapidly into a massive knot, anchoring them together completely.
Marco groans against Dante’s neck, releasing a huge, hot wave of seed deep inside the omega's womb. The knot holds them physically bound on the mattress, their breathing ragged as the heavy load fills Dante completely, leaking slowly around the thick tie.
Minutes pass in the quiet room, the physical bond humming between them. Marco relaxes his weight, shifting slightly, so he isn't crushing Dante’s belly, but he refuses to pull away. He wraps his large, heavy arms around Dante’s torso, pulling the trembling omega flush against his broad chest.
He kisses Dante's damp forehead, his hand moving down to rub slow, soothing circles over the firm swell of the pregnant belly where his heir is growing.
“You’re mine. My pregnant omega. I own you… all of you,” Marco murmurs, his voice a low, rumbling purr that vibrates against Dante's skin.