“I’m still your boss.”
“I haven’t forgotten. But while you’re in heat, you’re my omega and I’m your alpha.”
“The one time I let you take me.” I let out a small laugh, and his eyebrows meet. “What? What’s so funny?”
“I think you should let me take you more often. Stop fighting it so much and just let yourself live.”
His lips purse, and he tries to take his hand from mine, but I hold on tighter, shifting my knot further inside of him and making him whine.
“It’s okay to be an omega. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“No. I have to fight because it makes me weak.”
I bite down on his ear, making him moan.
“What an interesting way to look at it. Because omegas drive alphas to the edge of control, so if anything, that makes you the one with the advantage.”
“It doesn’t feel like it, though. I’m so fucking needy when I’m like this, vulnerable.”
“We need you as much as you need us. We’re just as weak in these moments.”
“Weak for each other?” he asks, his head turning slightly, our mouths once more just inches apart.
My eyes trace those wet, pink lips, and I lean forward slightly.
They brush tenderly against his, and his eyelashes flutter shut.
“Yes. You make me weak.”
And then I kiss him. My lips hit his, warm and lush, and within seconds, I’m pushing my tongue into his mouth to taste him. He groans, breathing deeply as I suck on his tongue, his heady mewls making my knot no closer to subsiding. It only seems to grow larger.
Not that Arbor is complaining about it. He’s kissing me back frantically, all tongue and teeth, as he tries to get even closer tome. And I feel the same way. My hand slips into his hair, and my fingers curl tightly, arching his head slightly for a better angle.
His throat bobs as he fucks against my knot, writhing against it. He’s on his tiptoes, his body straining as he moves, but he wants it badly enough to try.
I hold him up with an arm around his waist, licking into each part of his mouth, tasting chocolate and a hint of apricot.
Fucking delicious. Every part of him—his ass, his cock, his tongue.
When he suggested opening a window to dispel the scent of him, I bit my cheek. I had no desire to filter any part of him into the outside world. If it were up to me, I’d bottle up his scent and keep it.
His movements grow more frantic, and my knot starts to throb.
“Arbor,” I grunt, pulling my mouth away from his, only to have him chase my lips, capturing me in a kiss once more.
I’m unable to do anything but give him what he wants. And what he wants is to pull another orgasm from my knot, something that rarely happens. Something I’ve never experienced. It harkens back to the time when men could get pregnant, when the knot contained the seed for male-male conception.
I’m deep enough, can almost feel my cock in his abdomen.
But biologically, I know he can’t get pregnant. But it seems he wants me to try anyway. My knot keeps him impaled on me, but he still rides it, the bottom half sliding in and out of his hole as he slaps his ass against me. His mouth doesn’t leave mine, all spit and teeth as his moans slip down my throat.
My hand tightens in his hair, my other still around his waist, and when he slams down against me, my cock explodes for a second time, the orgasm almost painful. My knot contracts and tightens, the huge gush of cum pulsing out of me.
“Fuck!” I grunt, my lips ripping away from his, Arbor crying out from how tightly I’m holding his hair. But the orgasm only extends, and I’m unable to loosen my grip on him.
My eyes roll into the back of my head, my entire body tightening until I feel like I can’t breathe.
And then suddenly it’s over, and I’m trembling so hard I know he can feel it.
