His hips roll against mine once, grinding, and the friction makes my hands tighten on his thighs. "You said you didn't want faster."
"That was you."
"Then shut up and let me work."
His hand wraps around me and strokes once from base to tip, his grip firm enough to make my breath stutter. He shifts his weight and positions himself above me with a control that makes my fingers dig into the soft skin of his hips. He sinksdown slowly, taking me in increments, his body opening around me with the slick heat that pregnancy has made even more abundant. His head tips back and his mouth falls open. The sound he makes is quiet enough for the apartment but loud enough that I feel it in my chest.
He sets the pace. Slow rolls of his hips that take me deep on every downstroke, his hands braced on my chest, his thighs doing the work while I grip his hips and let him ride. His chest is fuller and his hips are wider. The curve of his stomach brushes against my abdomen on every forward roll. The contact makes my fingers bruise on his hips.
"You're mine." He says it between breaths, his hips working in a rhythm that's building toward something I can feel through the bond before his body shows it. "Not hers. Not your father's. Mine."
"Yours." He clenches around me as I say it and my vision grays.
The slow rolls give way to something faster, his breathing going ragged, his hands pressing harder against my chest. I reach between us and press my thumb against him where our bodies are joined, circling with a pressure that makes his rhythm stutter. His head drops forward, dark curls falling around his face, his scent so thick I can taste it on every breath.
"Come for me, firefly." I press harder with my thumb and thrust up into the downstroke.
His whole body locks above me and the orgasm rips through the bond with a force that drags me over the edge. I come inside him with my hands on his hips and his name in my teeth.
He collapses against my chest with his breathing ragged and his heartbeat hammering against my ribs. My arms close around his back and his face finds the hollow of my neck.
"She's gone." I say it against his hair. "From everything."
"I know." His lips move against my throat. "I just wanted to make sure you knew it too."
We stay in the bed until the sweat cools and Mattaniah's breathing evens out. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my chest while the afternoon light moves across the wall.
"Amos is going to know." He says it without lifting his head.
"Amos knew the second I walked in smelling like someone else's perfume." I press my mouth against his temple. "He probably calculated the probability of this outcome before the Percocet knocked him out."
Mattaniah's laugh is quiet against my neck. He shifts off me slowly, both of us wincing at the separation, and pulls the borrowed shirt back over his head. I find clean clothes in the dresser.
The living room is dim when we come out. Amos is awake on the couch with his glasses on and his laptop open, his eyes tracking us as we emerge from the bedroom.
"The meeting went well." He says it without looking up from his screen.
"The meeting is over and she's contained." I sit in the chair across from the couch.
"I can tell." His eyes move to Mattaniah, who is settling onto the floor beside the couch.
"The Percocet helped. Your delivery method was more effective than the water." Amos' fingers find Mattaniah's hair automatically, threading through the curls.
"I'll keep that in mind for the next dose."
I watch them from the chair, Amos' hand in Mattaniah's hair while the Omega's eyes close against the couch cushion. The apartment smells like us again.
"It's over." I say it to both of them. "The charges are filed, the restraining order activates tomorrow, and there's nothing left for her to use."
"You sound like you're presenting to the board." Mattaniah's voice is drowsy against the couch cushion.
"Force of habit. The board meeting is easier. The board doesn't try to convince me that trafficking is parenting."
Amos' fingers resume their rhythm in the Omega's hair. "She said that?"
"She said she was protecting him. I explained the difference between protection and inventory management."
Mattaniah's mouth curves without his eyes opening. "Inventory management. That's good."
