The command feels like it vibrates through the mattress. My heels dig into the bedding, my legs shaking as I bury three fingers deep. The world shrinks to the frantic rhythm of my hand and the light blue eyes watching me from the screen. My back arches, my spine a taut wire as I hunt for the peak.
A sharp, jagged heat snaps at the base of my neck. I let out a wrecked sound, my muscles locking so hard my fingers slip from my own slickness. The bed creaks under the weight of my trembling as the release hitches my breath and leaves me gasping.
I collapse into the pillows, my lungs burning, but my eyes stay wide and locked on the screen. The blue light of the laptop flickers against my flushed skin. I expect the Alpha to cut the feed, to disappear back into the anonymity of the portal.
Instead, Saturday has moved closer to the lens.
He stands in the center of the frame, his massive chest heaving, his broad shoulders rising and falling in a ragged tempo. I hear the rhythmic, heavy friction of skin on skin; a wet, slapping sound that makes the air in my room feel thick again. His arm moves in a steady, aggressive blur. He’s stroking himself, his eyes dark and hungry as they track the rise and fall of my chest.
A new heat, slow and heavy, curls in my belly. I don’t look away. I shift on the sheets, my skin still sensitive, and prop myself up on my elbows. My mind feels sharp, the previous panic replaced by a cold, clear focus.
“Keep doing that.”
Saturday’s hand stills for a heartbeat, his bicep bulging as he maintains his grip. A deep, possessive growl vibrates through the laptop speakers, but he doesn’t stop. He starts again, the movement of his arm becoming even more pronounced.
“Step closer. I want to see the knot.”
I sit up, the weighted blanket pooling around my hips. I reach out, my fingers searching the rumpled bedding until they close over the smooth silicone of the rose toy. I bring it into the glow of the screen, my eyes never leaving the dark slits of his skull mask.
Saturday obeys. He steps right into the light, his massive frame dominating the screen. He’s freed himself from his black boxers. His cock is flushed pink as it strains, the knot at the base already swollen into a rounded bulb. It’s a thick, intimidating sight, and I want to see him break.
“Watch me, Alpha.”
I thumb the rose to the highest setting. The high-pitched whine of the motor fills the room as I press the vibrating petals against my clit. His jaw tightens as the hand fisted around his length slows.
I grab his gaze. “Squeeze it. Harder. I want to see you fight for it.”
A sound that is pure animal leaves his throat. He wraps a large hand around the base of his cock, his knuckles turning white as he crushes the thickening knot. The cords of muscle in his neck stand out. He’s mirroring my intensity now, his hips jerking forward as I grind the toy against my clit.
“Again. Don’t you dare let go.”
Saturday’s breathing is a series of harsh, guttural gasps. He shifts his grip, his thumb digging into the head of his cock while his fingers maintain the crushing pressure on the knot.
“Take it, Saturday. Come for me.”
He lets out a roaring groan that peaks the audio. His body jolts, his head snapping back as he spends himself. I watch through the lens as he comes in heavy ropes that coat his hand and his thigh. His shoulders slump, his chest heaving as the tension breaks.
I thumb the rose off. The sudden silence in the penthouse rings in my ears. I’m spent, the noise in my head has stopped. The ghosts are gone. For now.
Saturday remains on screen, his hand resting on his hip as his chest continues to rise and fall. “Is your mind quiet now, Omega?”
I let out a slow, steady breath. The static that usually lives behind my eyes has vanished. “It’s quiet. I can actually think.”
He gives me a satisfied nod. “Go do what you need to do for the day.”
The feed cuts to black.
I kick the covers off and swing my legs over the side of the bed, my feet hitting the floor with a newfound energy. The heavy, dragging exhaustion from the morning check-up is gone, replaced by a clean hum of productivity. Grabbing my laptop, I head to the kitchen and get my coffee; it’s cold, but I drink it anyway.
Taking a seat at the gold and black island chair, I pull my laptop closer and my fingers fly across the keys as I plan out a full month of video concepts, Nesting series, tours, and interviews with staff at The Nest, safety tech reviews. The ideas pour out of me. TheRadiant Lifepersona feels less like a burden and more like a project I’m excited to tackle. The bigger my channel becomes, the closer I get to making my dream of running a good orphanage. I can’t do it without a lot of money and community backing.
This is the fix I’ve been looking for. I lean back and look around at the modern, silent expanse of my penthouse. The RAA could change the world for Omegas. I get the raw, grounding pull of an Alpha without the danger of being in the room with one. I get the reset my biology demands without the panic of a physical presence or the frustration of a face I won’t recognize the next day. For the first time, I’m the one in total control.
TheIThubmaintainsa constant sixty-eight degrees to satisfy the cooling requirements of the server racks. This temperature feels honest compared to the rest of the building. No scent-neutralizers mask the smell of warm copper and ozone. I sit center-stage in this cave of thirty-two high-definition monitors. Blue light glints off my protective glasses. I tuck my long, blonde hair behind my ears and focus on the data.
To the residents of The Nest, I exist as Ethan Emerson. I fix the Wi-Fi and ensure their smart-fridges function without glitching. Behind the firewall, however, I reclaim my name: Theo. I built these digital walls. I monitor every heartbeat and every login across the complex.
My hands move over the keys with a quiet, practiced cadence. I do not need to look at the board after ten years of translating restlessness into code. Right now, that code targets a single string: Cinder_99. This username feels like a fresh burn on a history I tried to erase.
