He’d never had anything like this offered to him in his life.
Diwa gripped the straps, lined himself up, and pushed into the omega. The swing gave, then returned, driving Colin back onto him, and Colin’s mouth fell open on a moan. Diwa pulled back and the swing carried Colin away from him. He drove forward and the swing brought Colin crashing back, taking him to the root. The momentum did half the work, gravity and physics conspiring to slam them together with a force that neither of them could have managed on a flat surface.
Colin’s grip on the overhead straps went white-knuckled. His thighs clamped around Diwa’s hips, his heels digging into the small of Diwa’s back, pulling him deeper with each swing. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, obscene and rhythmic, and Colin’s head dropped forward until his forehead pressed against Diwa’s, his breath coming in hot bursts against Diwa’s mouth.
It took three more thrusts. Colin’s back bowed in the swing, every muscle in him going rigid at once, and he came hard between them. Slick flooded out of him around Diwa’s cock in a hot wet rush. Diwa’s hips stuttered and he was gone, emptying into Colin.
The swing rocked between them as they caught their breath, creaking on its beam.
Colin’s hands loosened on the straps. His head dropped sideways against Diwa’s shoulder, and his breathing slowed from ragged to deep and settled within seconds. Diwa gathered him up, lifting him out of the swing and carrying him back through to the bedroom, where the nest was waiting for them.
He laid Colin down in the wreckage of soft things, climbed in beside him, and pulled the duvet over both of them. Colin’s hand found his chest, and within a minute his breathing had evened out into sleep. Diwa lay in the dark and listened to his omega breathe.
He slept in snatches. Colin’s hand would find him in the dark, and Diwa would surface from whatever shallow rest he’d managed and be ready. His body had stopped distinguishing between sleep and waking somewhere around the second day. There was only Colin, and the intervals between Colin’s need for him.
Nothing in Diwa’s life had prepared him for this. He’d had sex with plenty of omegas, but he’d never been inside a heat, never been the alpha an omega body was calling for. Colin’s need came in waves that crashed without warning, pulling Diwa under before he’d finished catching his breath from the last time he surfaced. His own instincts answered in kind, something deep and animal surging up to meet the omega’s demand. He stopped trying to think his way through it and let his body do what it had been built for.
The swing became Colin’s preference by the second afternoon. He loved having his weight suspended in the webbing, his legs wrapped around Diwa’s hips, nothing beneath him but air as Diwa drove into him. He came harder in it than anywhere else, his whole body free to arch and clench without a surface pushing back. The sounds he made on the swing would stay with Diwa for the rest of his natural life.
Between the waves, Colin went soft. He curled into Diwa’s chest with his face pressed against his collarbone and let himself be held, his fingers tracing idle patterns on Diwa’s skin.
Diwa’s brain went quiet during these stretches. The cycling through thoughts stopped, and everything narrowed down tothree tasks: keeping his omega warm, fed and safe. He preferred these hours to the sex.
Colin started coming back to Diwa on the fourth morning. His eyes sharpened first, the soft-focus haze clearing until he was looking at Diwa rather than through him. Then the words returned, clipped and minimal.
“Tea.”
“On it.”
“Not the oolong.”
“You want the Barry’s. I know.”
The nest around them was wrecked. The sheets twisted into ropes, and the pillows flattened. Diwa’s jumper had migrated to the floor, and one of the throw cushions was in the en-suite for reasons neither of them could reconstruct.
On the fifth morning, Diwa woke to find Colin already awake beside him, lying on his back with his hands folded on his chest, looking up at the ceiling beams.
“Morning,” Diwa said.
“Morning.”
“How’re you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been fucked raw for five days straight.”
Diwa’s eyebrows went up.
“In a good way,” Colin added.
“Aw.” Diwa’s mouth curved. “Do you need me to kiss the boo-boo better?”
“Yeah.” Colin shifted against the pillow. “I’ll show you where, after you bring me my tea.”
Diwa brought him tea and toast and sat on the edge of the mattress while Colin ate, propped up against the headboard. The light through the curtains was pale and grey, and rain tapped against the window.
Colin finished his toast, set the plate on the nightstand, and brushed his hands off on the duvet. He looked at Diwa for a longmoment, his eyes steady and clear, and then shifted sideways until his shoulder was against Diwa’s arm.
“Thank you,” Colin said.
