Chapter 4

Darkness came like a heavy, hot blanket. Ethan didn’t know how long he stayed there, passed out on the cold marble floor of the executive bathroom, body curled against the stone. Time dissolved. The world dissolved. All that remained was the relentless throbbing between his legs, the heat rising in waves across his skin, and a distant voice—deep, hoarse, possessive—whispering his name inside his head.

Ethan.

Ethan.

Ethan…

He didn’t truly open his eyes. Not yet. Instead, he slipped inward, into a place where the rules of the office, the elevator, reality no longer existed.

The dream began slowly, but soon turned ravenous.

He was lying face-down on black satin sheets, completely naked, thighs spread wide, hips propped up by pillows that left him exposed like an offering. The room was dark, lit only by the cold city light streaming through the panoramic windows. The air was thick with Adrian’s scent: burnt wood, hot leather, pure testosterone, and something wilder—the scent of an Alpha teetering on the edge of control.

Ethan felt the mattress dip behind him. A hot, solid, dangerous weight. Strong knees forcing his thighs even farther apart. Long, rough fingers slid along the curve of his nape, gripping sweat-damp hair and yanking his head back, baring his entire neck.

“You’re mine,” Adrian growled against his ear, voice hoarse and low, almost unrecognizable with desire. “Mine to fuck. Mine to mark. Mine to fill.”

Ethan moaned loudly, the sound echoing in the empty room. He pushed his hips back instinctively, seeking contact. He felt Adrian’s thick, hot erection slide between his cheeks, the broad head slipping over his already drenched entrance, slick with the constant flow leaking from him without pause. No preparation was needed. His body was ready—open, swollen, begging.

Adrian didn’t thrust in right away. He teased. Rubbed the thick glans against the tight ring, spreading Ethan’s slick, mixing it with the pre-cum dripping from his own tip. Every pass made Ethan tremble, made his inner muscles clench in empty, desperate spasms, aching to be filled.

“Feel how you’re dripping for me?” Adrian murmured, voice shaking with restraint. “This pretty little hole all wet, all red, winking at me. You were born for this. Born to be fucked by me.”

Ethan whimpered. Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes. He tried to speak, but only a broken moan came out.

“Please… Adrian… fuck me… fill me…”

Adrian laughed low, a dangerous, animal sound. Then came the mouth on his neck. Hot lips sucking the sensitive skin. Tongue lapping at the pulsing jugular. Sharp teeth grazing, pressing, testing.

Ethan arched his back, offering more. His cock throbbed against the mattress, leaking pre-cum in hot pools. Between his legs, the slick increased—thick, sweet, running down his inner thighs and dripping onto the sheets.

Adrian gripped his hips hard, nails digging into soft flesh. He positioned the broad head exactly at the entrance.

“When I mark you,” he growled, “you’ll come just from my bite. You’ll clench around my cock so tight I won’t be able to pull out. You’ll milk me until the last drop.”

And then he pushed.

Slow. Relentless.

The thick head breached the tight ring. Ethan screamed—pain and pleasure exploding together, making him see stars. Inch by inch, Adrian stretched him open, filled him to the hilt. When the heavy balls slapped against Ethan’s, both men groaned in unison.

Adrian stilled for a second, trembling with restraint, letting Ethan adjust to the total invasion.

“So tight… so hot…” he murmured against his nape. “My Omega. Mine.”

Then he began to move.

Slow, deep thrusts, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in. Every time he bottomed out, Ethan cried out. His cock dragged against that perfect spot inside with every stroke, making him see white. The slick poured more freely, easing the glide, filling the room with obscene sounds: skin slapping skin, wet squelching, moans, growls.

Adrian sped up. The thrusts turned brutal. One hand wrapped around Ethan’s cock, stroking in time with the pounding. The other slid up to his throat, fingers squeezing lightly.

“Come for me,” Adrian commanded. “Come while I mark you.”

The teeth sank into the junction between neck and shoulder.

White-hot pain. Unbearable pleasure.

Ethan convulsed. The orgasm crashed over him like a violent wave, his cock pulsing in Adrian’s hand, spurting hot jets onto the sheets. His inner muscles clamped down like a vise, milking Adrian. Adrian roared, hips slamming one final time, and came inside him—thick, hot ropes flooding him until it overflowed, trickling down his thighs.

As he came, Adrian licked the blood from the bite. Sucked. Marked deeper. The bond formed there—an invisible, burning cord tying them together forever.

“Mine,” he growled against the open wound. “Mine forever.”

Ethan woke with a choked scream in his throat.

His body was on fire.

He opened his eyes slowly. Still in the executive bathroom. Locked stall. Cold marble. Dress pants open, soaked underwear clinging to his skin, a wet puddle on the floor where he had come during the dream—without even touching himself. His cock still half-hard throbbed painfully. Between his legs, the slick continued, thick and insistent, as if the dream had left his body in permanent heat.

He touched his neck instinctively.

No mark. No blood. But the skin there was swollen, hypersensitive, pulsing exactly where the bite had been. As if his body had registered the fantasy as reality.

Ethan moaned low, voice hoarse. He tried to sit up. His head spun. High fever. Unbearable heat. Everything hurt and everything aroused at the same time. His nipples were hard and red, rubbing against the open shirt and sending shocks straight to his cock. He brushed one lightly and nearly came again.

“What… is happening to me…?”

He dragged himself to the sink. Cold water on his face. It didn’t help. He looked in the mirror: pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and bitten, the heavy sweet scent filling the entire bathroom.

Ethan opened his shirt farther. His chest rose and fell rapidly. He ran a hand down his stomach, lower, between his legs. Touched the leaking fluid—thick, hot, sticky. Moaned again at his own touch.

He needed to get out of there. Needed air. Needed… Adrian.

No. He couldn’t think that.

He cleaned himself as best he could. Swapped the underwear for another spare from his backpack, trembling the whole time. Fixed his clothes. Left the bathroom.

The executive corridor was empty. He pressed the elevator button with shaking fingers. Descended to the 17th floor. Every step was torture. The fabric rubbed against his sensitive thighs. His cock rubbed against the new underwear and hardened again.

He reached his desk. Sat. Tried to work.

He couldn’t.

That’s when the email arrived.

Sender: Marcus Hale – Internal Security – BlackWolf Corp.  

Subject: Confidential Report – Ethan Moore (Restricted Access)

Ethan opened it.

Scanned pages. Old medical exams. 2015 report.

At the end of page 3, digitally underlined in red:

Preliminary conclusion (2015 genetic re-evaluation):  

Presence of confirmed recessive markers for male Omega phenotype.  

Classification: Rare Omega (latent suppressed subtype).  

Probability of full manifestation in adulthood: 87%.  

Recommendation: Immediate isolation and monitoring by specialized lupine endocrinologist.  

Note: Similar cases reported as extinct for over 70 years.

Ethan read.

Reread.

The world stopped.

Omega.

Male.

Rare.

The fever spiked higher. His whole body shook.

And then the scent came again—not his own. Adrian’s. Stronger. Closer.

As if the Alpha was coming.

Ethan slammed the laptop shut. Stood. Stumbled into the corridor. He needed to run.

But his legs gave out.

He leaned against the glass wall. Slid to the floor.

The report still blinked on the open screen.

And in the glass reflection, he saw his own face: pale, sweaty, eyes glassy with fever, desire, and panic.

Heavy footsteps approached from the upper corridor.

The footsteps of an Alpha.

His Alpha.