"I was," I whisper, staying still as he completes his circuit. "Professor Wells said I had days left."
His face goes white, something that might be guilt flickering across those pale features. But it's quickly replaced by possessive hunger. "Then we need to reactivate the bond completely. Your body needs my touch, my scent, my seed to remember how to live."
The clinical words should sound detached, but his voice is rough with barely contained need. Through the bond—already strengthening with proximity—I can feel his desperation matching my own. He's been dying too, just in a different way.
"On your knees," he says quietly.
I sink down without hesitation, looking up at him from the position that feels increasingly natural. This is what I came back for—not gentle healing or emotional reconciliation, but this raw need that only he can satisfy.
He releases his own clothes with a gesture, ice magic stripping them away to reveal the body I've been dreaming about for weeks. And there they are—his dual cocks, already hard and weeping with arousal, ridged with ice crystals that catch the chamber's light.
My mouth waters at the sight. I remember the taste of him, the weight of his shafts on my tongue, the way he'd grip my hair and guide my movements until I was choking on his length.
"I'm going to use your mouth first," he tells me, his hand tangling in my hair. "Let you taste what you've been missing. Let your body remember what it needs."
"Yes, Alpha," I breathe, parting my lips eagerly.
He guides the first cock between my lips, and the taste of him explodes across my tongue—winter and power and something uniquely him that makes my pussy clench with desperate need. The ice crystal ridges scrape deliciously against my lips as I work him deeper, relaxing my throat to take more of his length.
"That's it," he groans, his grip tightening in my hair. "Show me how much you missed this. Show me what a good little omega you are when you stop fighting."
The praise sends liquid heat through my veins. I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks as I suck, while my hand finds his second cock and strokes in rhythm. Pre-cum leaks from both tips, and I lap at it greedily, savoring the taste I've been craving for weeks.
"You came back to me," he says, his voice rough with emotion and arousal. "Even hating me, even dying, you chose to come home."
I moan around his cock in response, the vibration making him groan. This is my answer—not words, but submission. Not explanations, but acceptance. My tongue works along the ridged underside, tracing each ice crystal bump while my hand pumps his second shaft.
"Switch," he orders, and I obey instantly, releasing the first cock with a wet pop and taking the second into my eager mouth.
His hand guides my movements, controlling the pace, using my mouth for his pleasure. I surrender to it completely, letting him fuck my throat while I stroke his saliva-slicked first cock. This is what I needed—not gentle understanding, but his dominance reminding me of my place. Not careful healing, but raw claiming that makes the bond sing with recognition.
"Look at you," he murmurs, watching me worship both his cocks with devoted attention. "My perfect omega, finally where she belongs. On her knees, taking what her alpha gives her, exactly as you were made to do."
The words should sting with their casual degradation. Instead, they make me wetter, make my pussy clench with need for more. Because he's right—this is what I was transformed to do, and fighting it nearly killed me. Slick runs down my innerthighs as my body responds to his dominance, preparing itself for what comes next.
"Enough," he says after several minutes of worship, his voice strained with need. But instead of pulling me to the bed, he does something I don't expect.
He drops to his knees before me.
I stare at him, shocked into stillness. This ancient Fae lord, this alpha who commands winter itself, kneeling like I'm something precious instead of a desperate omega who crawled back to him in heat.
"What are you doing?" I whisper.
"Something I should have done the first time," he growls, his hands gripping my thighs hard enough to bruise. "Something Fae alphas don't do. But you're mine, and I'll claim every inch of you however I fucking want."
The emphasis on possession sends a shiver through me. Through the bond, I feel something shift—the preservation magic that's been holding me in rigid patterns begins to loosen, just slightly. Not releasing me, but... changing. Evolving into something less about control and more about connection.
"You don't have to—" I start.
"I don't do anything I don't want to do," he cuts me off, spreading my thighs with commanding force. "And right now, I want to taste this pretty pussy that's been dripping for me since you walked through my gates. I want to make you come on my tongue before I fuck you senseless."
When his mouth makes contact with my pussy, I gasp—not just from the physical sensation, but from the overwhelming intensity of it. No one has ever done this to me. Not in my human life, and certainly not during my time here. This is new territory, uncharted and terrifying and perfect.
His tongue traces my folds with aggressive hunger, learning what makes me whimper, what makes my hips buck. There's nopracticed expertise here—just raw desire to devour me, to mark me with his mouth the way he's marked me everywhere else.
"Alpha," I breathe, my hands finding his hair. "Oh god, that's?—"
"Mine," he snarls against my folds. "This pussy is mine. Your pleasure is mine. Every fucking moan that comes out of your mouth belongs to me."
