"Gorgeous," he breathes, watching me. "My beautiful omega taking her pleasure."
But I don't stop. The heat demands more. I ride him through the aftershocks, building toward another peak.
"Hungry?" he asks, reaching for the tray.
I nod, still moving on his cocks. The idea of being fed while riding him sends fresh arousal through me.
He selects a strawberry, holding it to my lips. I bite into it without breaking rhythm, sweet juice running down my chin. The combination is overwhelming—fruit's sweetness, the stretch of his cocks, building pleasure.
"More," I breathe, and he obliges.
Piece by piece, he feeds me while I use his body. Pastries, berries, ice-wine. Each morsel heightens the experience.
"Such a perfect sight," he murmurs. "My omega feeding and fucking simultaneously. Taking everything she needs."
The praise heats my system. This is different from before—less about his dominance, more about my agency. I'm taking what I need from a position of power.
"I can feel your knots swelling," I observe, pressure building at both bases.
"You're in control," he reminds me. "Take them at your pace."
The permission is precious. I can feel them growing and adjust accordingly. Rising slightly to ease pressure, then sinking as my body accepts the swelling.
"So big," I gasp. "But I can take them. I can take everything."
"That's my brave omega," he praises, still offering food. "Taking my knots so beautifully."
When they finally lock, the sensation is overwhelming but manageable. I'm seated fully on his hips, both knots swollen inside me, completely joined but still in control.
"Perfect," I breathe, settling comfortably. "I love this position. Love seeing your face while locked inside me."
"I love it too," he admits. "Love watching you take control."
His release begins, both cocks pulsing as he fills me. From this angle, I feel everything—every pulse, every jet flooding my intimate spaces.
"Mine," I whisper, leaning down to kiss him.
"Yours," he agrees. "Just as you're mine."
The bond pulses with renewed strength, carrying not just possession but partnership. We're both trapped, both changed, but maybe we can make it beautiful.
"Feed me more," I request, settling on his lap while his knots keep us locked.
He reaches for chocolate that melts on my tongue. The intimacy of being fed while joined creates peace I've never known.
This is what I needed—not just to be claimed, but to claim in return. Not just surrender, but taking what's mine.
And he's mine now, just as I'm his.
"I'm still angry," I tell him quietly.
"I know."
"And I'll probably always resent you."
"I know."
"But I choose this. Not because I have to, but because... because maybe broken love is still love."
