“Stay still, ah!” He rocked back and forth each time swallowing more of me with his ass.
“Are you sure you can take it?”
“Let me try. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”
When all my fingers were past his ring of muscle, Sol bore down and took my hand to the wrist.
He let out a wail of pleasure so loud it rang in my ears. “Deeper, oh Rhys, the stretch feels so good.”
He was so fucking wet inside, welcoming me to mid-forearm. An omegas’s body during heat was incredibly open and pliant,and Sol was making use of it to the fullest. I loved that he chased his pleasure and followed his need.
Sol leaned back on his knees and ran a hand down his chest until he stopped at his abdomen where my hand was pressing on it from the inside. He caressed it, moaning.
“That’s so hot, Sol. I can feel the opening to your womb.”
“Make it wider.”
I wiggled my fingers into an open membrane.
“Yes, like this. Oh Rhys, I’m gonna come. The wave is not here yet but—” Sol’s eyes rolled back and he impaled himself an inch more, letting me in deeper. He yelled my name and his cock shot warm cum into the air. He collapsed to the side with my hand still in him but pushing me out.
I retracted it slowly, and a full-body shudder took over Sol.
“Are you okay?”
“That was so good. But I’m dead tired. I need sleep. When I whimper, just fill me with your cock, but don’t wake me up.” He curled into me and used my clean arm as a pillow.
“What? While you’re asleep?”
“Just slide into my ass, fuck me, and knot me.” Sol sounded annoyed and sleepy at once.
“I’d have to stay inside you for at least half an hour until the knot goes down.”
“Good, I’ll wake up to my ass stretched on your cock and my belly full of your cum. Now let me sleep.”
And just like that, he drifted off.
Chapter Fourteen
Rhys
Throughout the six days of Sol’s heat, I’d knotted him in the kitchen against the counter, on the rug in the living room, several times in bed, in the shower, and against the row of windows that bore no marks of bullets that had hit them. Each time I’d carry Sol to rest comfortably for the duration, we were locked and cleaned him up.
He’d been looking radiant, smiling, and eating enough to sustain the enormous strain the heat was taking on him. Despite his enthusiasm and insane stamina, his eyes grew more tired every day. Today marked day seven, and when Sol woke up on the other side of the bed from me, I knew something was wrong. Or rather, exactly as expected.
He was curled in a fetal position and shivering, mumbling incoherent words under his breath.
“Sol? Are you okay?” What a stupid question. He clearly wasn’t. I chanced a tentative tap on his bare shoulder.
He shrugged me off as if the touch burned him. “I think the heat is over,” he said in a broken voice.
“I’ll bring you blankets.” I jumped off the bed and summoned all the information I had gathered while researching during Sol’s naps over the past days. It wasn’t a lot, as omegas relied on educating each other and not requiring Alphas to know anything. It hit me how criminally uneducated all Alphas must be, and how the lack of knowledge easily available limited omegas’ autonomy. They had to rely on their families and other omegas to learn; they couldn’t just leave home. What Sol did—running away with no solid plan—was much braver than I’d initially thought. And risky. I refused to imagine what would happen to him if the goons from the Rut Hotel caught him in the woods.
Carrying an armful of blankets and a bottle of water, I saw Sol leaving my bedroom. Hunched over and shivering, he looked ill. He was still naked, as was I, being used to not wearing clothes for the past week.
“Can I stay in the guest room?” Sol gave me an apologetic look. “The bed smells too much of you.”
“Of course.” I opened the door for him and left the blankets on the chair in the corner. I did another round and brought the recovery food and drinks he’d ordered. “Let me know when you’ll be ready for me to cook something.”
