My responsiveness was met with enthusiasm. Two large hands grabbing me underneath my thighs, hoisting me up. Practically launching me onto his lap. It was as if he was not aware of his own strength. As if he did not know he could pickme up and throw me around whichever way he wanted. I hoped he could not see me getting aroused.
I was so preoccupied with my own need, with the shame I felt because of it, that it took me a while to register the intimacy of our position. My backside on his thighs, his hardness in between them. It pressing against me. He kissed my clavicle and grabbed my behind. And I moaned. How dreadful. He loved it, I knew he did from the smirk on his face.
“Feels good?” he asked. My face felt hot with embarrassment. I could only imagine the shade of red I must have been. I buried my face in his neck to hide it. I was shocked when he decided that was as good a time as any to bite my neck. Nothing too painful, nothing too permanent. But he sucked and nibbled like it was his right to leave me bruised and purple for everyone to see. His canines were surprisingly long and sharp. I should not have been surprised of course, he was part werewolf. It felt good. It should not have felt good, but it truly did. And I wanted more. I needed something, god knows what, and I felt myself press my backside against his hardness. I thrusted against him like that for a while. My front against his abdomen. I heard myself let out a whimper, then a whine, and then a moan that bordered on a scream. I was close to release, from practically nothing. It was horrifying.
Axel did not seem to think it was horrifying. His hold on my hips got stronger. It got so intense that I feared it might bruise. I clung onto him, my hips moving like the waves of the ocean. The low growls and rumbles that came from him echoing from his chest to mine.
“You sound pretty.” he said. I had never felt like this before, it was nothing like a heat. There was someone here that I was actually longing for. I wanted him to do all sorts of indecent things to me. In my abandon, I admitted to myself that I was incredibly aroused by how big the General felt, pressing againstme. I was so close, I felt it building, when I was forced to hold onto Axel for dear life. He picked me up like I weighed nothing, with his hands around my thighs.
He sat me down on his desk. The wood was hard and uncomfortable, but I was too far gone to care. There were sure to be important scrolls, perhaps even a book, somewhere beneath me, behind me. He must not have minded. My tunic was fully opened. My linen trousers were now riding low on my hips. My hipbones were visible. If Axel pulled them down even more, I would be fully exposed. It was indecent, inappropriate, and it was wholly unfair that the General was still fully dressed. It was even worse that he prevented me from reaching climax. My disdain must have shown on my face, because he smirked at me again. Less mocking, though not fully without jest.
“You were going to come for me,” he said. I was mortified. I shook my head. As if he would believe me. He just laughed. “Patience.” It was a gentle command.
He pushed me onto my back, and there I was, splayed out on his desk, barely dressed. He grabbed my legs and spread me open, positioning himself in between my thighs. I half expected him to pull down my trousers and take me then and there. But he never did fully expose me. Instead, he assaulted my chest. He sucked and bit and left marks all over me, like he had done on my neck. He even licked my nipples, and it was all terribly humiliating. It felt so good.
“Alpha!” I moaned. He chuckled. He caressed me down there and I had never wanted to release so badly. Separated by cloth, there was not enough friction, but there was enough to drive me mad with want. I felt a sensation I had never felt outside of my heat, and even then, rarely. A wetness from behind. Liquid trickling down. A strong floral scent filled the room. I could see the exact moment he noticed it. He stood still for a moment. He then held my legs up, and pushed them flushagainst my chest. I never even knew I could lie in that position, folded in half, with him hard against me, slick staining his trousers.
He thrust in a slow but steady rhythm, making me distressingly disappointed that we were still wearing clothes. He stood behind his desk, in between my thighs, tall and broad and with firm hands on my hipbones. His crimson eyes told me he was starting to lose control as well. I could hear the sounds I was making, but I barely recognised my own voice. I started to imagine what he would feel like inside me, just how big it would be. Whether he could knot me like a full-blooded werewolf, whether I could handle that.
“You’re wet for me.” He bent down to kiss me again. The only feeling against my front was the fabric of my own linen trousers. And yet I could feel it coming up again. Closer and closer with each kiss, with each minute I felt him rutting against me.
“Good boy,” he said, and I couldn’t hold it anymore. Without being touched, without any real friction, while he was holding on after minutes of it. I moaned and my eyes rolled back. My mouth was open as I screamed alpha, or Axel, or both. It was the best it ever felt. Glorious and shameful and so very humiliating. I did not want to look at him. Confront him, to see what he thought of me now, whether he would make fun of me. But I just heard him groan and he picked up his pace.
“You came for me,” he said. I let out a little whine out of embarrassment. I was spent and he rutted against me at an incredible pace, my head banging against a stack of books with each thrust. I was folded in half, with my legs up in the air. His clothed chest looming above me.
“Look at me,” he said. His voice was deep with desire. I opened my eyes. “Perfect.” I wanted to look away in embarrassment, but I was distracted when he undid histrousers. He pulled it out. It was even bigger than expected. It was large all over, the whole thing itself and everything attached to it as well. It made sense for a man his size, a werewolf, an alpha, but still, it was of proportions I had never considered. Part of me was afraid of what he was going to do with it. Worried and excited that he might take me as his own that very first time. As if what we had done so far was not already several steps too far, several meetings too early. But he just held it in his hand to take care of it himself. I looked at him. Looked at it. I felt myself get hot again. He bent down to kiss me.
“So pretty,” he said. His kisses were different this time. They were wet and filthy and full of tongue. He seemed to go on forever. I was halfway towards another release when his body jerked and something sticky coated my belly. It was warm and it just kept coming. There was so much. It was dripping off of me, onto my opened tunic. He kissed me one more time. Softly, this once. “You did good for me.” One more touch and I would have come again then and there.
It was the gravelly tone of his voice, the little words he spoke. He was not exactly a man of many words, but he knew exactly how to use his voice to wind me up. I looked down at myself, and immediately covered my eyes with my hands. It was filthy, scandalous and I found I enjoyed it more than I should have. The bruises, the mess. A cloth wiped my body. A gentle but firm touch. A kiss on my newly cleaned abdomen. The General took my hands away from my eyes, and pulled me up to a seated position. He did not look much different. His trousers were tied again, he appeared decent. It was likely that his hair had been in its messiest state even before I came. To his study, that is.
He was again standing in between my thighs. I looked up at him. His expression was still lifeless, but his eyes twinkled with something that held more mirth than insult. Possibly even adoration. Not love, of course not love. We had only just met.But there was some affection there. It made my heart beat in an uncomfortable rhythm. There were moments where it seemed to skip a beat, only to beat ferociously a mere few seconds later. His face was now close to mine. Our lips were almost touching. I would not close the distance. I was too shy about it all. What we had done. The immorality of it all, seeing as we had not courted for long. I was not that aware of all courting rituals in the Oaklands. But expensive gifts were several steps removed from whatever just occurred between us, that much I knew.
“You’re thinking again,” he said. It was another rumble. A whisper. He put his lips on mine again. I cursed him for being so nonchalant. And for looking the same as before it all happened, when I was still bare chested, covered in pinks and purples, and all too drenched down there. But when he kissed me so softly, sweetly, I found he had more admirable qualities to him than expected. He was indeed not just a killer, not callous, in all situations. As a lover, there were moments where he was surprisingly tender. So I lost myself in him again. I let it happen.
Axel let go of me. He took his time buttoning up my tunic. And there I sat. Not fully dressed yet. A bruised neck. Swollen lips. Dirty trousers. Completely obscene. How was I going to get back to the healer’s quarters? I could not go anywhere looking the way I did. Rumours were sure to follow me if I did.
“What is it?” he asked. I frowned. I meant to look angry, but I’m not sure it would have the desired effect when I looked the way I did.
“I’m a mess.” He laughed. A more genuine laugh. Not a big smile, or a cackling laugh. Just a laugh that felt easy and free. It was rather disarming. It made him look younger, kinder.
He took me by the hand and helped me up from his desk. He pointed at a door near the window. “My chambers.” I stared at him blankly. “There’s a bath.” I blushed. We had done thatmuch already, but the thought of bathing in his chamber felt too daring still.
“And what would I be wearing when I get out of the bath?” I asked. I did not mean to speak of the mess in my trousers, I did not want him to be more smug than he already was. He grabbed my waist. He brushed strands of messy curls out of my face. His thumb caressed my lower lip. I tried to keep my wits about me. This had been enough excitement for one day. “If you’d be so kind as to instruct your guards to fetch me some clothes, it would be much appreciated.”
He kissed me. Short and sweet. “Sure, princess,” he said. What came over me when I slapped him playfully on the arm, I did not know. He looked up at me. Not in anger. He was most likely stunned by the gesture. Who would slap the flaming General? But what was done was done, I had better stand my ground.
“I am male.” His smile was gone. The smirk was back.
“OhIknow,” he said. I rolled my eyes at him. Did he have to be that self-congratulatory about this? As if the leader of the Oaklands could not order for any omega he wanted to be delivered to him in a second. I was his prisoner before. I was not too difficult of a conquest. If he so desired, he could have taken me the day he first laid his eyes on me. This meant that the General was not that kind of man. That at least some of the respect of his subjects was warranted. Still, it was annoying how he revelled in getting me to submit to his whims. It made me want to slap him again, just to see what he would do.
“I demand the bath be hot,” I said. He lowered his hand from my waist to my backside. Gave it a squeeze unbecoming of a leader. It was a gesture made by drunk men at a tavern to a tavern wench.
“You’re a brat,” he said. He seemed amused. I did not want him amused. I wanted him displeased, at the very least.“I know what you want.” I wanted a good night's rest. I wanted several pieces of bread. “You want me to discipline you.”
“I most certainly do not!” I said, affronted. Not only by his words, but by the fact that the one time he spoke more than three words at once, it was to say something as uncouth as that!
“I will, you know,” he said, as if I hadn’t said a thing. “Soon,” he promised. And it did not send shivers down my spine.
