"Just needed some fresh air," I managed, the lie tasting bitter on my swollen lips. "Thought I heard something outside."
"Well, sit down and eat before everything gets cold," she chided, gesturing toward the table where a plate of traditional Japanese breakfast awaited.
"I'll eat later," I said, already sidling toward the stairs while keeping my lower body angled awkwardly away from her. "Need to shower first. I'm… sweaty from the morning air."
Her eyebrows rose slightly. "The morning air made you sweat?"
"Exercise," I blurted, backing toward the stairs. "I was… exercising. Outside. In the morning air. Very vigorous. Hence the sweat. And the need for immediate showering. Before breakfast. I'll be down soon. Very soon. As soon as I… take care of things."
I escaped to my bathroom upstairs, closing the door behind me and leaning against it as I finally released the groan I'd been holding in. My cock throbbed painfully against the constraints of my shorts, demanding attention after Stefano's thorough reminder of what I'd been missing.
Six months of trying to convince myself I didn't need them, shattered in twenty minutes of alpha proximity. Six months of touching myself at night to memories that never quite satisfied, destroyed by a single kiss against a tree.
And the worst part? The absolute worst part?
Some not-so-small part of me was thrilled they were back.
ten
. . .
The bathroom mirror reflected exactly what I expected: a flushed, disheveled omega who looked like he'd just been thoroughly ravished against a tree. Because I had been. The evidence was written all over me—swollen lips, hair sticking up where Stefano's fingers had gripped it, and two very visibly sensitive nipples that still tingled from his attention.
"Traitor," I muttered to my reflection, watching my face burn even redder. "This is why we can't have nice things."
I turned the shower as hot as it would go, peeling off my sleep clothes with the grim efficiency of someone disposing of crime scene evidence. My tiny shorts were a lost cause, the fabric sticky with slick and precum. Just the memory of Stefano's mouth on me—the way he'd commanded me to kiss him back, how he'd sucked on my nipples while Marco and Matteo watched—sent another treacherous pulse of heat through my body.
"Stop that," I hissed at my traitorous cock, which was already hardening again despite the embarrassment still burning through me. "We've been humiliated enough for one morning, thanks."
Under the scalding spray, I scrubbed every inch of my skin like I could somehow erase the memory of alpha hands and mouths. It didn't work. Six months of trying to forget what they'd done to me in that forest hadn't worked either. If anything, the real thing had only proven how pathetically inadequate my memories were. No fantasy could capture the overwhelming reality of Stefano's presence, the heat of his body against mine, the way his voice alone could make me weak at the knees.
I leaned against the shower wall, letting my head fall back against the tiles. "I'm so fucked," I whispered to the empty bathroom. "So completely, utterly fucked."
My hand moved down my stomach of its own accord, fingers wrapping around my aching length. One stroke, two, and I was biting my lip to keep from making sounds Aunt Akiko might hear through the door. Images flashed behind my closed eyelids—Stefano's eyes going black with desire, the way his lips had curved around my nipple, Marco's knowing smirk as he watched me fall apart.
I came embarrassingly quickly, my release washing down the drain along with whatever remained of my dignity. Shame immediately followed the brief moment of pleasure. This wasn't just about sex anymore—it was about control. They knew exactly what they were doing by setting up camp right outside my fence. This was a siege, and they were playing the long game.
By the time I made it downstairs, I'd armored myself in layers—a loose sweater over a t-shirt, jeans that weren't remotely formfitting, even socks despite the warming air. If I could have justified a scarf without raising questions, I would have worn one to hide the ghost-feeling of Stefano's teeth on my neck.
"There you are, Leo-kun!" Aunt Akiko smiled as I entered the kitchen. "I was beginning to think you'd drowned in there."
"Just thorough," I muttered, sliding into my chair at the table. "Very… dirty. From the exercise."
She placed a reheated plate in front of me—rice, grilled fish, miso soup, and pickles. Traditional Japanese breakfast that somehow always tasted like home despite my complicated relationship with my heritage.
"You must be hungry after all that… exercise," she said, eyes twinkling with amusement that made me wonder exactly how much she'd figured out.
I focused intently on my food, willing the heat in my cheeks to subside. "Starving," I admitted, realizing I actually was ravenous. Apparently, being sexually tormented by alphas burned a lot of calories.
"Where's Uncle Jiro?" I asked between bites, trying to sound casual.
"Oh, he's outside chatting with the alphas," Aunt Akiko replied, refilling my teacup. "Those nice young men arrived early this morning to set up camp. Stefano-san said something about needing closer security positioning after what happened in the forest."
I nearly choked on my rice. "They're camping literally outside our fence. That's not a security position; it's a stalking operation."
Aunt Akiko waved dismissively. "Don't be dramatic, Leo-kun. They're doing their job. And they've been very helpful already—Marco-san is helping Jiro-san with the garden work."
"Of course he is," I muttered darkly. "Nothing says 'professional security detail' like gardening tips and glamping equipment."
