What I know is that Father's hands don't get to touch him again. Whatever that costs.
Mattaniah arrives at my door two hours later, wearing sweatpants and one of Amos' t-shirts that he's clearly stolen from the laundry and has no intention of returning.
"Close the door, firefly." I pull him inside by the wrist and press him against the wall. The kiss is hard enough to bend his head back as his hands grab my shoulders and his body arches into mine. I can taste Father's proximity on his skin, the faint residue of another Alpha's scent clinging to the back of his neck where Father's thumb spent ninety minutes today, and every possessive instinct in my body wants to bite down and cover it. I want to pin him to this wall and fuck Father's touch out of his skin until the only scent on him is mine.
I pull back instead. Mattaniah blinks up at me, flushed and breathless, his fingers still dug into my shoulders.
"What's wrong?" His voice is unsteady. "Why did you stop?"
"Come sit down." I guide him to the bed and sit beside him while Amos sets his book aside. Mattaniah looks between us, his flush fading as confusion takes over, because I've never stopped a kiss to have a conversation and the deviation from the pattern is scaring him.
"You're freaking me out," he says. "Just tell me what's wrong."
"Nothing's wrong." I rest my hand on his thigh, grounding us both. "I need to tell you something and I need you to hear it before we go any further tonight."
Amos shifts behind Mattaniah, his hand coming to rest on the Omega's lower back. The touch steadies the anxiety I can smell building in Mattaniah's scent.
"After what happened in the conference room today, every instinct I have is telling me to claim you." I keep my voice level even though the words cost me more than I expected. "My father had his hands on you and the Alpha in me wants to erase every second of that by pinning you down and making you smell like me instead. I want to dominate you right now, Mattaniah. I want to fuck you until you forget his hands ever touched you."
Mattaniah's breath catches as his scent spikes a little.
"But the last time I let that instinct drive, I put you somewhere you couldn't come back from on your own." I hold his gaze because looking away would make this easier and I don't deserve easier right now. "I pushed too hard and I scared you and Amos had to pull me off. I'm not doing that again."
"Dominic..." Mattaniah's hand finds mine on his thigh.
"So tonight, Amos is going to take care of you." I squeeze his hand. "I'm going to watch. Not because I don't want you, because every part of me wants to be inside you right now and the fact that I'm choosing not to is costing me more than you know. But I need to learn when to step back, and you need to be touched by someone who isn't running on territorial rage."
"That's..." Mattaniah swallows hard. "That's the most honest thing you've ever said to me."
"Don't get used to it." The corner of my mouth twitches despite everything. "Amos, he's all yours."
Amos' smile carries a warmth that cuts through the tension as he pulls Mattaniah back against his chest. "Amos said something in the kitchen," Mattaniah says, his voice already shifting from the conversation into something breathier as Amos' hands slide under his stolen shirt. "Something about you wanting to watch."
"Did he?" I settle into the chair by the window and spread my legs.
"I believe what I said was that you'd want to watch me have him." Amos peels the t-shirt over Mattaniah's head and tosses it aside. "And I've been very patient."
"Too patient." The words come out rougher than I intend because watching Amos' hands move over Mattaniah's bare chest while I sit across the room is already testing every boundary I just set for myself.
Amos lowers his mouth to Mattaniah's throat, his hands finding the waistband of the sweatpants, tugging them down to reveal the dark gray slick panties underneath. He pauses, looking at me over Mattaniah's shoulder, the recognition in his expression mirroring my own. The fabric is doing its job but the visual evidence of Mattaniah's arousal is unmistakable.
"I like these," Amos murmurs against Mattaniah's neck.
"Your Alpha delivered them this morning." Mattaniah's voice is already strained. "Apparently, my slick situation required a wardrobe intervention."
"It did." Amos runs his thumb along the waistband. "And they look as incredible on you as I thought they would."
I watch from the chair as Amos takes his time, staying seated while my little Alpha touches the Omega I claimed for us. Amos' mouth traces a path from Mattaniah's throat to his chest, pausing to bite down gently on one nipple while Mattaniah's fingers twist in the sheets. His tongue drags lower, following the line of dark hair below Mattaniah's navel, and the Omega's hips roll up off the mattress chasing the contact.
Amos hooks his thumb under the waistband of the slick panties and pulls them to the side instead of removing them, the fabric stretching against Mattaniah's inner thigh, framing the slick mess between his legs. His fingers slide through the gathered wetness and press inside, two at once, Mattaniah's back arching further off the bed with a cry that goes straight to my cock.
"Eyes on me, firefly." I unbuckle my belt and free myself, wrapping my hand around my length as I watch Amos' fingers disappear inside the Omega. Mattaniah's gaze finds mine across the room and holds, his lips parted, his eyes glazed, his body rocking against Amos' hand with a desperation that makes my grip tighten.
Amos adds a third finger and crooks them forward, Mattaniah's whole body jerking in response. The sound he makes is obscene, wet and needy and loud enough that I'm grateful Father decided to fuck off for the evening after I stepped in this afternoon. Amos withdraws his fingers and replaces them with his cock in one slow push, entering Mattaniah with the panties still stretched to the side, the dark gray fabric damp and clinging to his thigh.
Amos sets a rhythm that's slower than mine would be, each thrust rolling Mattaniah's body against the mattress while the Omega grips the sheets above his head, his sounds becoming progressively less coherent. Amos' mouth finds Mattaniah's throat between thrusts, biting and sucking marks into the skin where Father's thumb sat this afternoon, the territorial claim in the gesture tightening something hot in my gut.
"You feel incredible, Niah." Amos' voice has gone rough as his hips snap forward harder. "Tight and wet and clenching around me every time Dominic looks at you. You know he's watching, don't you? You know he's sitting in that chair stroking his cock to the sight of you falling apart on mine."
