His eyes went dark with arousal, his jaw tightening, his hands fisting in the sheets instead of gripping my hips, every muscle in his body straining with the need to flip us over and take back control. I could see the effort it took him to cede dominance, to let me take what I wanted.
"That's it." I leaned down, scraped my teeth over his collarbone — not a claiming bite, just a mark, just a taste of his skin, salt and sweat and Alpha, his scent flooding my senses as I bit down hard enough to leave a bruise, staking a claim of my own without breaking any rules. "You're mine too. Don't forget that."
"Wouldn't dream of it." His voice was strained, his hips jerking up to meet my movements despite his attempts at stillness, his cock driving deep inside me with every thrust. "Fuck, Aster?—"
I rode him harder, chasing my pleasure with single-minded determination, using him for my own satisfaction. The anglewas perfect — his cock hitting spots inside me that made sparks shoot up my spine, my clit grinding against his pelvis with every roll of my hips. His hands twitched toward my hips, and I pinned them above his head again, using my weight to hold them there.
"I said no touching." My voice came out rough, commanding, surprising us both with its authority.
"Yes ma'am." The words were teasing, but there was real submission in them, his eyes bright with arousal and something that looked like pride. I took him exactly how I wanted — fast and hard, grinding down on every stroke, angling my hips to hit the spots that made me see stars. His cock stretched me perfectly, filled me completely, and every movement sent pleasure spiraling through my body. I could feel the slick dripping down where we were joined, could hear the obscene wet sounds of our fucking, could smell nothing but him and me and us.
"Going to come." I gasped, my rhythm becoming erratic, my walls starting to flutter around him. "Going to come all over your cock."
"Do it." His voice was strained, his eyes blazing up at me, dark and desperate. "Come for me. Let me feel it." The orgasm crashed through me, and I screamed his name, my nails digging into his wrists, my walls clamping down on him in rhythmic pulses. I rode it out, grinding against him, taking every last drop of pleasure, slick flooding around his cock.
"My turn." The words were a growl, and then he was moving — flipping us with a strength that shouldn't have surprised me but did, driving back into me without missing a stroke, his hands pinning my wrists to the mattress the way I'd pinned his.
"You had your fun." His voice was dark, satisfied, his hips snapping against mine with brutal force, his cock driving impossibly deep. "Now I'm taking mine."
The orgasm had barely faded before another one started building, his cock hitting spots inside me that made me see stars. I didn't fight this time — just surrendered to the pleasure, to him, letting him take what he needed, my body going pliant beneath his.
"That's my girl." He groaned against my throat, his rhythm becoming erratic, his knot swelling against my entrance, pressing insistently. "Taking me so well. Made for this."
His knot locked inside me, and we came together — his roar mixing with my cry, pleasure crashing through us in waves. I felt him pulsing inside me, felt the heat of his release flooding my core, felt the stretch of his knot tying us together.
"Draw." His voice was rough, amused, his breath hot against my neck as we lay tangled together, both of us trembling with aftershocks.
"What?" I managed, my brain still fuzzy with pleasure.
"The fight." He lifted his head, met my eyes with a tired smile, sweat dripping from his brow. "We both won. Call it a draw."
I laughed, the sound bright and genuine, my body shaking around his knot. "Deal."
The rest of the day passed in waves of need and satisfaction. Sometimes the rut came on urgent and desperate, sometimes slower and more deliberate. We fought for dominance and surrendered to each other in equal measure, learning the rhythm of give and take.
The last wave hit in the evening, when we were standing by the window watching the sunset paint the sky in shades of gold and amber. His scent had been softening all afternoon, the sharp edge of rut fading into something warmer, and I'd thought maybe we were done.
I was wrong. One moment we were peaceful, his arms wrapped around me from behind, his chin resting on my head,both of us watching the colors spread across the sky. The next, his scent spiked sharp with need, his hands were urgent on my body, spinning me around, pressing me against the wall.
"One more time." His voice was rough, desperate, his eyes burning with the last embers of rut fever, his cock hard against my stomach. "Need you one more time."
"Then take me." I pulled him closer, wrapped my arms around his neck, my body already responding — slick gathering, nipples hardening, skin flushing with heat. "Right here. Against the wall."
He lifted me like I weighed nothing, his hands gripping my thighs, my legs wrapping around his hips, my back pressed against the cool plaster. I could feel his cock pressing against my entrance, hot and hard and demanding, the head slipping through my slick.
"Hold on to me." His voice was strained, his hands gripping my thighs, holding me up, muscles flexing with the effort. "This might be rough."
"I can handle rough." I tightened my legs around him, my heels digging into his ass, pulling him closer. "Give me everything."
He thrust into me, and I cried out at the angle — different from before, deeper somehow, gravity working with him to drive impossibly far inside me. My head fell back against the wall, my nails digging into his shoulders, my whole body lighting up with sensation.
"Fuck." The word punched out of him, his hips setting a brutal rhythm, using the wall for leverage, driving into me again and again, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. "So tight. So wet. So fucking perfect."
I couldn't respond — couldn't do anything except hold on as he fucked me against the wall, each thrust driving the air from my lungs, pleasure building impossibly fast. The sounds fillingthe room were obscene — skin slapping against skin, my gasps and his growls, the wet sounds of his cock driving into my slick heat.
"Not going to last." His voice was strained, his rhythm becoming erratic, his knot already starting to swell. "You feel too good. Need you to come. Need to feel you squeeze my cock one more time." His hand found my clit, rubbing in quick, harsh circles, and I shattered — screaming his name, my body clenching around him, pleasure whiting out my vision. He followed me over the edge with a roar, his knot swelling inside me, locking us together against the wall.
We stayed there for a moment, both panting, both trembling, his forehead pressed against mine, his purr rumbling between us.
