THE OMEGAS HEAT

BAIKAL

His hands slid down to my cock, his wrist wrapped around it, his eyes snapping open, he wanted it too. This was a mistake, it was taking the last shred of control to hold myself together.

"Shit — now, I'm the sane one?" I asked, trying to pull him off, he squeezed harder, causing my cock to jump, a long pearl of precum drooling from my tip. He stroked me slowly, his lips crashing to mine, his tongue past my lips.

His heat was way worse. My cock was aching painfully now, we were both in our respective cycles, and I was running from my own instinct.

"Baikal… help me." My eyes snapped open even wider. Moments ago, he'd been fighting me like he would rather face death than surrender. Now he was asking me for help, and I could see how much he hated having to do it. His brows drew together, frustration mixing with the confusion on his face.

He wasn't suddenly comfortable with me. He was struggling with something he couldn't understand, and he hated that I was seeing him like this.

And he had called me by my name again. No one dared do that.

"I'm trying to be sensible. I don't—" I stopped. He was fighting his own body's reactions, his expression tightening with every failed attempt to regain control. He looked ready to curse me, the palace, and his own body in the same breath.

"Don't you dare mistake this for trust," he muttered.

I hadn't. That was precisely what made him so difficult to understand. He needed help, but he still refused to let me believe I had won.

"Your majesty," he forced out, the title sounding more like an insult than respect. He glared at me, his face burning with humiliation. "I need help. That doesn't mean you get to own every decision I make."

For once, I had no immediate answer.

He had fought me from the moment we met. He had challenged my authority, drawn my blood, and refused to beg for mercy. Now his condition was worsening, and asking me for help clearly cost him more than he wanted me to know.

He was still trying to hold on to some control over his own life. I couldn't pretend not to see that.

"Shit," I cursed, lifting my fingers up. He kissed me back with weak fervor, my hand dropping down to stroke his weeping cock.

"This might hurt… I don't want you to get hurt. Try to relax. Can you do that?" I asked, but he seemed so lust-drunk that he was pressing his hips against the tip of my fingers. Prep could wait. He couldn't.

I let a finger push into his rim. He moaned, his breath stuttering, a moan slipping free from his lips, he fucked into my fist.

My knot pressed against his thigh.

I worked my fingers into him, and then another… and then another, until he'd taken all fingers and I knew he still wasn't open enough for me.

"Feels… good… so good… Baikal…" He moaned, tilting his head sideways as I fucked him with my fingers, his pheromones filling the air. I could barely move. My fingers fucked him hard and fast, my own cock swollen, desperate for a knot in anything.

I swallowed thickly, seeing his neck bared before me.

"Do it," he muttered, his half-lidded eyes open. He was asking for a mark. 

It was normal for an Omega to want to be claimed, but a bite alone would only leave a temporary mark. It wouldn't create a permanent bond. For that, the knotting had to follow.

But was this really the right thing to do? My rut was tearing through what remained of my control, but I knew the consequences wouldn't end when it did.

Zephyr had made one thing painfully clear: he would rather fight me than surrender his dignity. Even now, asking for help hadn't made him obedient. He was still challenging me, still drawing a line I wasn't accustomed to anyone drawing in front of me.

That was what had caught my attention in the first place. I wanted him to stop fighting me, yet the thought of him becoming another frightened Omega who agreed with everything I said held no appeal. And Zephyr was stubborn; he wasnt agreeing. He needed help. He'd get it that was all this whole thing seemed to him. Another fjcking conquest.

Why did I care what he thought? And why did I want to earn something from him that I could command from everyone else?

"Do it," he commanded. A shudder of pleasure coursed through my veins. Shit. He was bossy and I fucking… liked it? I was King. What made him so special?

"Please, Baikal… please…"

Fuck it.

I leaned down, my teeth grazing the gland as his pheromones flooded the air.

My knot swelled around nothing as I buried my teeth in the tender part of his skin. He thrust his hips into my fist, his ass clenching down on my fingers, a loud groan crashing through both our lips as he coated my fist. Ropes and ropes of thick cum. My own cock spurted out uncontrolled splatters of cum in between us, our mess spilling everywhere. I pulled my teeth out, licking over my wound.

But the bite wasn't enough. The mark was only temporary without the knotting, there would be no permanent bond. I couldn't pretend otherwise.

I couldn't let that happen.

I pulled my fingers out of him, ignoring his whimper at the loss. I gripped his hips, flipping him onto his stomach, pulling his ass up. His slick was dripping down his thighs, his hole swollen and gaping, begging to be filled. I lined my cock up at his entrance and pushed inside.

He screamed, his back arching, his fingers clawing at the sheets. I didn't stop. I drove deeper, my thick cock stretching him wide, filling him completely. His slick coated my shaft, dripping down my balls, making the slide wet and easy.

I fucked him hard and fast, my hips slamming against his ass, my knot swelling at the base of my cock. He was moaning, sobbing, pushing back against me, begging for more.

I drove forward one last time, burying myself to the hilt, and felt my knot lock into place. His hole stretched around the swollen base, sealing us together. He screamed, his body trembling, his cunt clenching around my shaft.

I came so fucking fast, Thick ropes of hot cum flooded his insides, filling him completely. I felt his walls milking me, drawing every drop from my balls. My knot pulsed inside him, locking us together, sealing the bond.

The mark was permanent. There was no taking it back now. I stared at Zephyr, still struggling to process what had been  done.

Out of every fucking Omega in this kingdom, it had to be him. The one person who'd rather put a knife in me than bow his head.

His legs gave way. I caught him before he hit the floor, my arms closing around his limp body.

"I better not fucking regret this," I muttered. Then the room tilted, and darkness swallowed me.