Nicholas's face sharpens into focus above me. Wetness gleams in his eyes while his jaw clenches tight. His hands tremble against my face as he holds perfectly still inside me, his entire body rigid with the effort of waiting.
"I'm here." My voice breaks over the words. "I'm here. Don't stop."
"Are you sure?"
Oliver's mouth lifts from my throat as his hand squeezes mine. Lorenzo's thumb makes one slow pass against the base of my skull.
My hand rises from Nicholas's chest to find his jaw, feeling rough stubble against my palm. "Nico, I'm sure. Move."
His hips roll forward. The knot shifts inside me, and sensation punches through the remnants of panic. Fullness replaces cold metal. Nicholas's deep groan against my throat drowns out Sebastian's voice. My back arches into the thrust while my hands find his hair and grip hard. The sound tearing from my mouth shakes loose something I've carried in my chest for five years.
His rhythm builds. Each thrust presses deeper, the knot swelling further as my body opens around him with a willingness born of something older than fear. I wrap my legs around his waist, my hips rising to meet him. Oliver stays pressed against my side, his hand in mine, his scent layering over mine. Lorenzo’s hand rests at the back of my head, his fingers steady in my hair.
The orgasm coils at the base of my spine. His pace drives it higher with every stroke, the knot grinding against that spot where my vision fractures and my mouth parts in wordless sounds that exist only in this moment.
When he comes, the sound tearing from his throat makes every hair on my body stand on end. His claiming roar shakes through his chest into mine, vibrating through the knot locked inside me, resonating in my bones and blood and the deepest part of me that knows exactly what this means. The roar fills the nest, floods the room, presses against the walls.
My orgasm crashes over me on its tail. My cock pulses between our stomachs untouched, my body clenching around his knot in contractions that make him groan against my throat. Oliver’s grip tightens in mine, Lorenzo’s fingers press more firmly into my skull, and I come so hard that the edges of my consciousness go dark for a moment before snapping back into focus.
I feel Nicholas’s weight settle onto me. His face finds the curve of my neck, breath coming in ragged pulls against my skin; his arms slide beneath my back, holding me to his chest while the knot inside me pulses. The warmth of him fills me—a sensation I’ve missed for five years without letting myself admit the void.
Gradually, the heat ebbs. The cycle that drove Oliver’s body for sixteen hours loosens its grip, the waves spacing out, desperation softening into something tender. The nest settles around us. I feel Oliver curl against my side as Lorenzo’s hand shifts from my head to my shoulder.
Time drifts in the warm dark. Nicholas’s knot anchors us together. My hand remains tangled in his hair, fingers tracing the curls at the nape of his neck. He presses soft kisses to my collarbone. Oliver dozes against my arm, breathing deep, his grip on my hand fading into sleep.
The knot deflates slowly. When Nicholas eases out of me, my body aches with the sudden emptiness, a sharp absence that lasts only a moment before his arms tighten, the closeness of his body compensating for what just left.
Lorenzo squeezes Nicholas’s shoulder, then lifts Oliver against his chest, carrying the sleeping Omega to the far side of the nest where blankets are drier. Oliver murmurs and burrows into Lorenzo’s arms without waking.
Now Nicholas and I lie face to face. His hands rest on my hips; mine hold his jaw. He looks vulnerable, raw from the roar his body made without consent.
“Will.” His voice is barely a whisper. “I want to ask you something.”
I trace his lower lip with my thumb. “Ask.”
He breathes in, then exhales. “Can I claim you?”
I feel the question fill the space between my mouth and his. My heartbeat hammers against his chest where we press together. The nest is warm. I can feel Oliver’s steady breathing behind us, and Lorenzo’s arm drapes across both of them at the far edge.
I tilt my head. I lift my chin. I bare my throat to the ceiling, the scar on my neck stretched taut in the lamplight, the jagged ridges exposed. The gesture feels instinctive, like the tilt of an Omega offering a claiming bite but I’m a Beta, and this tilt is a choice I’m making with my eyes wide open.
I’m offering him my neck. The place where Sebastian’s bite used to be. The scar I’ve spent two years hiding.
Nicholas’s hand finds my chin. His fingers close gently around my jaw and guide my face back toward him. His thumb tracesacross my lower lip, pressing its pad against the soft skin, and his eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that makes my chest stop working.
My eyes widen. Understanding floods me in a wave that starts in my chest and radiates out to my fingertips. His thumb strokes my lip again, slower this time, the pressure deliberate.
He wants to put his bite on my lip. Not beneath a collar. Not somewhere I can hide under fabric and pretend it doesn't exist. He wants to mark the part of me I show the world every time I open my mouth. The mouth Sebastian silenced.
I nod.
Nicholas’s hand slides from my chin to the back of my head. His fingers thread through my curls, holding me steady. His mouth comes close to mine, his breath warm against my lips. The amber of his scent fills the tiny space between us.
“Eyes open,” he whispers.
I keep my eyes on his. His mouth parts against my lower lip. His teeth press down.
The bite brings a bloom of pain that flowers across my mouth and sends a jolt through my entire body. Nicholas’s teeth break the skin, blood welling against his tongue as the bond floods open like a door blown off its hinges. The connection slams into my chest with a force that pushes the air from my lungs. His heartbeat rushes into my awareness, his emotions crashing against mine, the five years of waiting and wanting and holding himself back pouring through this new bond in a torrent that makes my body arch against his.
