I had killed a man, a young guy caught in the trap of rut, and maybe he could have been saved if the stalker had shown up a few seconds earlier, if I hadn’t reinforced the fucking door, or if that storm hadn’t started and knocked over the flowerpots, or if I had invited Jared in instead of telling him to come later.
So many things could have gone differently.
I look at the business card. A carpenter with his own workshop, I also need to deal with the door issue anyway.
So I make the call. I ask for help with the door and emphasize that I want a beta or omega to come. The carpenter immediately tells me he’s a beta. I ask if they offer old furniture removal on the side and if they can take the old piece away. For an extra fee the guy agrees.
Two hours later two betas show up. They’re completely unaffected by the intense scent of heat, they fix the lock on the door and take the bed.
It’s hard to explain, but I simply don’t want to sleep in a bed where I killed someone. And maybe it sounds strange, but that room will always have a different kind of aura for me because of it.
I survive the next two heat waves by training myself intensely in how to handle them in the most optimal way, and only in the evening around nine do I finally give in and call the stalker again.
He doesn’t seem surprised that the door is fixed.
When we move to the bed, I lie on my back again. And then he does something unexpected, he grips my shoulder and easily rolls me onto my stomach.
"Hey!"
I growl, because I want it on my back, but he ignores it.
Does he want a change? Or was the roleplay from before too much for him, too close to the past?
So instead of taking him on my back, I feel the weight of his body from behind, and it’s so pleasant, so overwhelming that the frustration disappears instantly.
Maybe I shouldn’t push for the roleplay.
Or maybe I should.
"Tell me you want me, like he would…" I mumble as I start pushing my hips up in a pulsing rhythm, small movements encouraging him to penetrate me.
His head is now to the right of mine, and I hear him whisper.
"I want you… Tell me you’re only mine."
I freeze for a second, since this is a pretty peculiar request. If he really hasmoved onhimself, that would seem kind of insolent in the eyes of others, since he has no rights to me anymore, but that’s not how I see it. I want to hear it; it’s catnip for my soul.
"I’m yours… only yours!"
A moment later, I feel him press into me, his full weight covering me, and my gosh, how I love that feeling of being almost flattened into the bed, pierced by his thick dick.
In no time, he drives into me, pushing deep from the very first thrust, and I spill breath after breath of moans, whimpers, and sighs as he sets the pace.
This time, the sex is far wilder, more intense, he slams into me like he’s starved for my body, like he’s gone into rut, which isn’t impossible, even though I didn’t call him for every wave. He feels coiled, ready, drilling into me with fierce passion, and my hole pulses in steady rhythms, as my cock sprays cum across the sheets.
At one point, I feel his hand slide under my torso, so I lift myself higher, and higher, assuming an L-shape position, he sits behind me, my legs between his bent thighs, and he thrusts between my ass cheeks. I can work with him, driving downwith my hips, my head falling back against his chest. His gloved hands squeeze my nipples, wringing shameless cries of pleasure from me.
Then, after his knot expands, we stay like this. Me bent back, my head resting on his shoulder, immersed in a fleeting closeness. And still, I feel so broken and lost inside.
???
Finally the third day comes and with relief I feel my waves begin to weaken.
I get through the whole day wrestling with myself, but I keep treating it as a kind of training for future heats, a way to learn my body and my needs so I can handle things if one day the stalker isn’t next to me and I have no one in my life.
I know that knowledge is valuable, so I try to take as much from this experience as I can.
Only in the evening do I allow myself to invite him again.
