Your Omegas Are Mine 1| Euodia's Sun | Omegaverse Apocalyptic Reverse Harem

87- Beginning of Chapter 28

Quinn

Everyone here was fucking insane. Hot, then cold, mean, then nice. Quinn played life safe, stuck by their rules, and yet the Omegas seemed determined to cross lines. But it was easy to tell that behind the wall of words, all Rowan wanted was to cum. She reckoned that if he didn't have to please her, he could have what he wanted without her scent flavoured all bitter. He'd ditch the niceties and just fuck her up.

And yet, as her eyes traced his face, there was a flicker of something else in there. A dash of desperation in the tick of his jaw, a line of worry in his thick brows. And then that deep-set hunger. It thrummed between them, a hazy stir in the air, a tension that crested. A shared look that had his teeth snagging on his bottom lip, and his pretty eyes fluttering. His hands were fidgeting, desire clung to his being, and yet he remained on his knees waiting like a good little puppy.

And oddly, she relished in his obedience, his need to please her.

She enjoyed it.

It was something that reminded her of those pink pretty numbers with hearts. Her body warmed, breath quickening, grin widening.

"Rowan," she smiled, all customer-service-nice. "Don't cry." A hand to his cheek, a thumb to his tears. They pooled warm down her fingers and dripped to her wrist. His lashes were so long they fluttered lush, features all artistically carved and bright with youth. And her heart soared when he leaned against her touch sniffling. There was a beauty mark on his cheek "It's all right," she smiled like she meant it, and tasted the candy of his scent that only flowered and blossomed sweeter. "I forgive you."

"Alpha," he breathed, lips pursed into an almost kiss. His tongue was out, darting to lick at drying seams, a flush on his cheeks that coloured the gaunt, the pinch of his thinness, the skeletal waste of his body. The hunger. "D-Do you mean it?" There was velvet in his voice, velvet when the words rolled off his tongue, curled sweetly in his throat like molasses and caramel.

"Quinn," she corrected, eyes steady on him. "You don't have to call me Alpha."

"Quinn," he parroted, sweeping to his feet as she pulled him to stand.

"We're bound by our circumstances," Quinn murmured, all soft, all gentle, "bound by what we have to do." And oddly she did understand. She understood it all with Euodia's memories in her head, drifting like the water, like the sea, of Rowan's anger, Rowan's tears. The little rogue that hissed and spat at her but survived. Rowan was a survivor, and she respected that he'd do whatever it took to survive.

"I'd never," he whimpered, beseeching her with honey eyes. "I'd never do anything you don't want me to. Never again. I swear it on my life. I swear it on my wolf." Something inside her quivered, shook in her chest as if tugging as if pulling her to him, a lighthouse to her boat, an anchor to his sea. Beautiful. And she basked in his tanned gold, in the feigned sweetness, the way his fingers found her waist, swept her closer as if they were lovers.

"I know," she admitted, gripping him tighter and pressing closer.

There was a quirk in his brow as if he were truly thankful that she'd forgiven him. Something inside her shivered and called for her to take what she wanted. And it was difficult not to sink into his embrace, to sink into the amber of his eyes— sun-kissed hazel and autumn dreams. He was magnetic. Her lips quirked, stretched into a grin.

"But if you want to be punished, then you will be."

And their lips were together. She was kissing him desperately, tasting the sweetness of his mouth, the salt on his lips. Her heart was beating loud in her ears, and his was only louder under her fingertips, thrumming at his throat. He whined, the sound echoing against her mouth, gripping her tight as his fingers moulded against her ass, and pushed her tighter against him, until she felt his arousal grow against her cunt, chubby with his arousal.

He claimed her mouth like a dying man to water, traced the shape of her mouth, all sloppy pleasure and ragged breathing. He was warm, pliable, and velvety. And she felt his shape, traced the flex of muscle, the tiny waist, the shiver of his back, the veins on his forearms, the curls of his hair. They parted gasping for air; him jerking all sensitive, all drunk as he swept his nose down and pressed it to her neck, inhaling.

"You're soft," he whimpered. "You smell so good."

When had she gone and pressed him to the desk of the study? Gods, she didn't know. But now books were tumbling, spare paper flying; pens were rolling to the ground. And she had an Omega splayed over mahogany gold, with swollen lips and rumpled clothes, his legs open as if waiting. He didn't seem to be capable of patience, his hands were shaking as he clawed at his clothes. And he popped buttons that tumbled and unzipped his pants as if already desperate.

"Alpha," he panted, ripping at the seams.

"Rowan," she breathed, all surprised as he moved to strip, cheeks flushed with shame and yet lust had him tugging at his briefs.

Quinn watched, felt the Deja Vu, as he reached for her chin to take another sloppy kiss from her lips, to suck on her tongue. He drew away, spiderweb silk saliva clinging between them, panting as he finally rid himself of his underwear. Almost as if the kiss had fuelled his decision-making to go further. And his cock slapped against his belly—thick, luxurious, cresting swollen. A flood of pre-cum dripped from the silky head, shaft all ruddy and thickly veined.

"Are you sure?"

"I—" His throat bobbed, swallowed nervous and almost regretful, "I want you to fuck me." The words were almost a question, and yet he continued turning over as if determined, sweat beading on his forehead. She saw right through him then, the reluctance, the nerves. He needed it and yet he didn't want it. It was a turmoil that she recognised, a sort of dirty shame that flooded his cheeks and pulsed at his throat. "I want to cum—"

"I don't have to fuck you to get you to cum," she answered, stopping him before he could get on his knees. "Let's take this slow."

"B-but Alpha," he breathed, whimpering. There was panic in his eyes, and yet a gratefulness that grew. "Quinn, I can't if I—"

"I'll let you cum," she told him, "I promise. I'll give you what you want. I'll be very gentle. Show you what I did." Quinn paused and rubbed at his knee. "Let me touch you?"

"T-touch," he nodded then, clung to her arms, fingers clawing, curls damp on his cheeks. She manoeuvred him, had his legs draped over her shoulder, pinning him to the desk, pressed with his body open. And it was pretty to watch him mewl, eyes glazed, and all blown, knees bent, and body splayed. He blushed hotly under her, thighs growing flushed when her fingers travelled down goose-bumped flesh to thumb at his frenulum. He gasped, hot, whimpering as his hips shook. Her hands were coated in his juices.

"I'm just going to touch you, massage your prostate." She soothed and felt an odd need to satisfy him. Something in her growing protective and almost begging to please the Omega. He nodded, and she pressed a kiss to his lips, distracting him momentarily, her hands were wading over his wetness, brushing gently over his rim that dripped. "Fingers only, okay?"

"Okay," he nodded, eyes drawn to her, transforming from hazel to dripping gold. Her fingers dipped and sank into the buttery hole. And Rowan jerked with a mere knuckle, belly seizing, choking a gasp against her throat. He whined, and she pushed forward, forcing his knees to part wider, as she shushed him, and pressed kisses to his cheeks. Her other hand danced over the veins of his shaft. His cock bopped, spewing hot pre-cum.

"Bad?" Her hands moved to grasp at his cock, working him slow, allowing the pleasure to soothe, allowing his frenulum to catch at her palm, the friction causing him to widen and take her fingers deeper. He was pulsing inside, erotic and messy. His walls clamped around her, clinging tight to her fingers. And his eyes were wide, pupils dilated with heat.

"G-good," he nodded, flushed red, arms around her neck as she continued the lewd slaps of her palm, gently curling long digits against the spots of him. And he couldn't help the moans, couldn't help it as she hooked her fingers in his puffy rim, slick stringy and squirting all over her arm. He began to rut against her belly, little "ah ah ahs" tumbling from his lips as he clenched around her fingers, sucking her back in, breathing in deep as if drugged on her scent.

"Tell me if it's too much, you don't have to cum, you just have to enjoy it, " she murmured, stirred and tapped at a steady speed, already four fingers in from how much he gushed. And there were good tears in his eyes when her thumb caught the curve of his cock, trapping it in her fist. There were rivulets dripping down both her wrists, soaking her fingers in his fluids. "Slower?"