Chapter 157
Mason
I'm a changed man.
I already knew mentally, logically that Harry was it for me. My omega. My forever. But knowing it and being inside him are two very different things.
Nothing could have prepared me for this.
It's better than every fantasy, every restless night where I imagined what it would be like to finally claim him.
I bite down on his shoulder, not hard enough to mark, just enough to ground myself because otherwise, I'll lose it. The way his body clenches around me, the way he gasps my name like it's the only word he knows, it's undoing me.
I force myself to still, to breathe, to calm the hell down. My arms wrap tight around him, pinning him to my chest, like if I let go he'll vanish.
"Okay, now?" I murmur, sliding my hand lower until my fingers close around him.
"Yeah," he whispers, voice shaky, body trembling against mine.
Amazing.
I make the smallest movements at first—slow drags of my hips, just enough to feel the way his body tightens, just enough to hear the soft, broken sounds spill from his lips.
"Okay, I love this but please—" his voice cracks, needy, "please just fuck me."
I freeze for half a heartbeat, then choke out a laugh against his neck.
"Careful what you ask for," I rasp, but my control's already unraveling.
I shift my grip on his hips, bracing my thighs under his. One slow thrust becomes two, then three—harder now, deeper, each one shaking the bed. His gasp turns into a moan, sharp and desperate, his fingers clawing at the sheets as he pushes back to meet me.
The change in rhythm hits like a spark to dry wood. My restraint burns away. My hips find their own pace—fast, relentless, driving us both higher. Harry's cries fill the room, his head falling back against my shoulder, his throat exposed to my mouth.
I bite down gently at the place where his neck meets his shoulder, not hard enough to mark but enough to make him shudder.
"This what you wanted?" I growl against his skin.
"Yes—" he gasps, voice breaking, "yes, Mason—oh fuck—"
Wrapping one arm around his chest to hold him steady, my other hand finds him again, stroking in time with each thrust. His body arches off mine, caught between my hand and my hips, trembling on the edge.
But right before he tips over, I tighten my grip around him, stopping him cold.
His whole body jerks. "No—no, please—" he begs, voice raw.
I smirk against his throat. "Nope. You don't get to cum so easily."
He whines, a sound so needy it nearly cracks my resolve. His hips stutter, trying to move against my hand, but I hold him still, keeping him trapped between my arm around his chest and the punishing rhythm of my thrusts.
"Mason," he pleads, half-sob, half-growl, "please, let me—"
"Not yet," I rasp, teeth grazing the sensitive skin of his shoulder.
He shudders at that, a whimper escaping him, but I feel the way his body tightens around me, the way his arousal leaks hot and messy against my hand. He's desperate, every breath a broken plea.
I keep him there—teetering, aching, straining for release—while I drive into him harder, deeper, each thrust dragging out another moan. He clutches at the sheets, at my arm, at anything he can reach.
"Please, Mason—please, Alpha—" he finally cries, his voice cracking on the word.
I've never been one to get off on being called Alpha. Hell, it's never really done anything for me. But right now? With Harry trembling under me, sweat-slick and begging? It's like a fuse snaps in my brain.
I shift, sitting up and dragging him with me. In one smooth motion I twist us until he's on his stomach, facing the bed. My thighs bracket his hips, my chest pressed hard to his back, caging him in. He's not going anywhere.
Ever.
I don't let go of him—my hand stays wrapped tight around his arousal, thumb circling the head just enough to make him writhe. Every little sound he makes is fuel; the heat of his skin, the sweet-salty scent of his pheromones rising up between us, the way he gasps my name.
It's a high all its own.
A low, rough noise escapes me as I push back inside him, slow but unrelenting, until we're joined again. My hips move on their own, short, hard thrusts that drive me deeper, matching the rhythm of my hand on him.
I'm possessed. It's like something primal has taken over me. This need to claim, to make a mess of him, to brand every inch of him as mine.
"Yours," he breathes, almost delirious.
I freeze for a heartbeat. I said that out loud?
Man, I don't even know anymore. I need to be deeper.
I shift my angle, pressing down on his back, dragging him higher on the mattress so I can push further. My hand slides up his ribs, teasing the hard points of his nipples before gripping his shoulder.
***
Harry
I'm trapped, but I don't want to escape.
I need to release, but it's not enough. Every drag of him inside me sends sparks up my spine, but it's like my body is begging for more—something deeper, something heavier.
"I don't know what I want," I gasp, my fingers clawing at the sheets, "but please…"
I push back on him, meeting each thrust, desperate to match his rhythm. His chest is a furnace against my back, his hand still wrapped tight around me, his thumb circling just enough to make me see stars.
"Please, Mason…" I don't even know what I'm begging for anymore. Release? More? Everything?
I don't know how long I can last like this—stretched open, filled so deep it's like Mason is inside my soul. Every thrust drags a sound out of me I don't recognize, something raw and desperate. His pheromones coil around me, heavy and warm, and I can't think.
Then he holds me down, tightly, his chest to my back, his hand splayed over my stomach. The weight of him, the heat, the scent—my eyes roll back, the pressure too much.
He's getting bigger.
I'm not even in heat. Why is he knotting me?
It's too much. But it's everything.
I push against him instinctively, trying to escape the pressure, but his arm wraps around me, anchoring me.
"You can handle it," he says, voice low, lips at my ear.
"I can't—" I choke, trembling.
"You can." His mouth brushes the back of my neck, a kiss that makes me shiver from scalp to toes. My skin feels too sensitive, every nerve alight.
The pressure builds and builds—stretching, filling—until at last it stops. He licks the back of my neck slowly, soothing, and buries his face there, panting against my skin.
"Harry," he rasps, his voice trembling as hard as his body. "If I do this… if I mark you… it's forever. Are you sure?"
My heart's a drum in my chest, but I've never been more certain of anything in my life. The heat, the weight, the ache of his knot pulsing inside me — it feels like an anchor, like a vow already made.
"Yes," I whisper. "Mark me."
For a heartbeat, nothing. Then Mason's teeth scrape the curve of my shoulder where neck meets skin, just above my scent gland. He pauses, breath hot and ragged.
"Last chance," he murmurs.
"I want you," I breathe. "I'm yours."
His teeth sink into the curve of my neck. Pain sparks first, sharp and electric, but then heat explodes through me, flooding every vein, setting my skin alight. My body arches, trembling violently, and the bond slams into me so hard I scream.
I come undone in his hand, spilling over his fingers, my release tearing through me like the bite unlocked it. Stars burst behind my eyelids. My whole body shakes.
Finally.