I am grateful. That's the worst part. Even as he fills me in ways I never imagined possible, even as he stretches me beyond what should be bearable, I'm grateful. My body recognizes this as right, as necessary, as exactly what it's been craving.
When he's finally seated fully inside me—one cock buried deep in my pussy, the other stretching my rear entrance until I feel impossibly full—I can barely breathe. The fullness is overwhelming, perfect, exactly what the hollow ache inside me has been demanding.
Every nerve ending in my body is firing at once. I can feel every ridge, every pulse, every tiny movement of both his cocks. The dual sensation is indescribable—pressure and fullness and rightness that makes my head spin.
"Perfect," he murmurs, his hands spanning my waist as he holds himself still, letting me adjust. "Look at you, taking everything I give you. Such a good girl."
The praise sends warmth flooding through me that has nothing to do with heat. I crave his approval with a desperationthat should terrify me, but in this moment, all I can feel is satisfaction at pleasing him.
And then he starts to move.
The sensation is beyond description. Every ridge, every shift, every tiny thrust sends lightning through my core. His upper cock moves in counterpoint to the lower one, creating a rhythm that has me gasping and crying out with each synchronized stroke.
The ridges on both shafts seem alive, pulsing and shifting against my inner walls in ways that create friction and pressure and pleasure beyond anything I've ever imagined. They hit spots inside me I didn't know existed, sending sparks of sensation racing through my nervous system.
I'm helpless beneath him, pinned by his weight and his cocks, reduced to nothing but sensation and need. This is what I was fighting for weeks—this complete surrender, this total loss of self.
And it feels like coming home.
"Mine," he growls against my neck, his breath cold against my fevered skin. "Say it."
"Yours," I gasp, the word torn from my throat by pleasure so intense it borders on pain. "I'm yours."
"All of you. Forever."
"All of me. Forever."
The words feel like a vow, binding and permanent. Something shifts in the air around us—magic responding to our joined bodies and spoken bond. Ice crystals begin forming on my skin where he touches me, beautiful patterns that don't hurt but seem to mark me as his in ways that go deeper than flesh.
He rewards my surrender by changing his angle, and both cocks hit something inside me that makes me see stars. I come so hard my vision whites out, my pussy clenching around his primary cock while my rear entrance spasms around thesecondary. Pleasure tears through me like wildfire, consuming every thought except his name.
But he doesn't stop. Keeps fucking me through the orgasm and into the next one, his dual cocks creating sensations that layer and build until I'm sobbing with the intensity.
"So tight," he groans against my neck, his voice strained with effort. "Both your holes gripping me so perfectly. Like you were designed specifically for me."
"Yes," I sob, past caring about pride or shame or anything except the feeling of being completely filled by him. "Made for you, alpha. Only you."
The title falls from my lips without conscious thought, but it feels right. Natural. Like acknowledging a fundamental truth about the universe.
He changes our position, rolling me onto my side and holding my leg up to get deeper. The new angle makes me scream as both cocks hit different spots, sending lightning through my core in patterns I never knew were possible.
"That's it," he growls, his thrusts becoming more powerful. "Let the whole palace hear what I'm doing to you. Let them know their omega is being properly claimed."
I come again, harder this time, my body convulsing around both his cocks as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me. The ice patterns on my skin pulse brighter with each spasm, responding to my arousal like living things.
"Please," I gasp when I can finally form words again, not even sure what I'm begging for anymore.
"Please what, little omega?" His voice is rough with his own need, but he maintains that maddening rhythm that keeps me on the edge of sanity.
"Don't stop. Never stop. I need?—"
"You need to be fucked. Filled. Bred like the perfect omega you are." His voice drops to that tone that makes my hindbrainpurr with submission. "And I'm going to give you exactly what you need."
I feel something changing at the base of his primary cock—a swelling that makes my already stretched entrance grow tighter. My body responds immediately, getting wetter, muscles relaxing to accommodate whatever's coming.
"Time for my knot," he growls, and the words send a shiver of anticipation through me.
I've heard of knots from whispered conversations, forbidden books, scandalous stories. But feeling it happen is entirely different. The swelling grows larger with each thrust, catching at my entrance, promising to lock us together in the most primal way possible.
