A is for Anonymous: Ch. 05

It's common etiquette to avoid an alpha's gaze unless you know them very well or are encouraging courting. Unfortunately, the latter becomes a huge issue for omegas, as alphas just love to stare. Especially at omegas. They hone in on us, whether on purpose or not, and observe closely.

It's instinctual, if you want to ignore the predatory aspect of it - the strong looking out for the vulnerable. Betas think they understand omegas and what they need, but you can tell it's not natural to them. There's often a deep sense of resentment and assumption between beta-omega couples, a leak in the communication somewhere.

It's not impossible, of course; it just takes more effort. Sometimes, more effort is healthier than relying purely on instinct. But when I've dated betas in the past, there has always been an itching lack of... something. Like we are just going through the motions.

But the moment I lock eyes with Aiden, watch the pupil swallow up the deep blue, I know this is it. It's him. His gaze reaches, like a sigh of there you are, I've been waiting for you, into me, and I melt easily for him.

I don't know what he sees, how deep he can dig into me with one look, but I don't put up any semblance of a fight. I let him pry me open and wring me out until I notice his breaths growing heavier.

Then, without breaking his stare, I let my fingertips trace the features of his face. Cheekbone. Jaw. Lower lip. This last touch has him squeezing his eyes shut and pressing a kiss into my open palm, releasing me at last.

My chest slumps from the sudden loss of his gaze, deflated but warm and sweet.

"Madison," He says, voice hoarse, "You're fucking beautiful."

I bite my lip to stop the smile, studying the wrinkles and contours of his pained expression, "Isn't that what I'm supposed to say to you?"

His eyes flash open again, and I hear his laughter in the way they twinkle, "Why?"

"Because you're beautiful," I tell him honestly.

I think I must imagine his ears turning pink. I find another mole just below the bow of his lower lip, and another just on the corner of his mouth. I want to kiss every one of them. I start with the former, then the one in his eyebrow, then against the bridge of his nose.

He finds this incredibly amusing but grows restless before I can finish and presses his weight into me until I'm pinned beneath him.

He's fully clothed, wearing sweatpants and a black t-shirt, but the fabric feels electric against my skin. I rub my calves along the muscles in his thighs, the dip of his knee, the hard pillars of tendon and bone. My body feels soft and squishy compared to his, like pudding with a velvet casing.

I swell my lungs with air to press my breasts against the solid planes of his chest, and he slips a wrist beneath me, keeping me a little arched - holding me open.

"Madison," he says, and my stomach flutters with the promise of it.

I extend my chin upward to kiss him, but he dips backward, and I groan.

He laughs and I squint up at him, "If you say 'soon' again, I'm going to-"

He shuts me up with the hot press of his mouth against mine, my body responding from a place deep inside me, bulging out against my skin from the inside. Aiden's knee presses between my thighs, and he exhales suddenly, like he's just had the wind pushed out of him. "Fuck," he breathes, "You're already so wet for me."

I nod; desperate, hot, sweating, and an all-around mess for this man. I slip my hands beneath his shirt and press the pads of my fingers against the flesh there. He inhales sharply, which I take as encouragement to push the cotton to bunch up below his armpits. His chest is warm and covered with fine, silky hair.

Before I can peek down at his torso, he's trailing a line of soft kisses down my cheek, past the hinge of my jaw, and down to my nape.

It's like my entire nervous system seizes up, and I cry out. All the heat in my body becomes concentrated in this one area; my mating gland feeling as though it will burst from the pressure. I've never had someone kiss me there while I've been in heat - the sensation is mind-bending, but somehow not enough.

"Please," I hear myself plead, and I think I've been whimpering that word over and over for a while now, "please, Aiden,"

He presses the flat of his tongue against the hollow of my collarbone and licks upward slowly, the pressure hard and cruel. I squirm beneath him, my mind swimming and feverish.

Ideas surface behind my eyelids, coming from a place deep inside me, a non-conscious place embedded in my DNA. They are of him holding me down, wedged deep inside of me, his teeth buried in my neck, his knot plugging me full of his come. His scent, somehow inside me forever, something I carry with me wherever I go. I see his hands stroking my stomach, round with our child.

Fuck. I'm so fucked. I'm so gone.

There's a pause from him, his lips parted and resting against the thin layer of skin that separates us from forever. A wave of panic crashes through me.

Why isn't he biting me? Does he not want me?

"Aiden?" I ask, and my voice sounds unrecognisable. Reedy and thin.

"Mmm," he hums against my skin, seeming to savour the moments before he replies. "Baby," he says at last, and I soften against him more, somehow. "I want you to be sure."

"I'm sure," I tell him immediately, which earns half a laugh from him. I scowl at the ceiling and bare my throat to him further, trying to prove my point. He makes a sound of approval and runs his nose up to my jaw, inhaling deeply. I can't even imagine what I smell like right now.

"You're perfect, Madison," he tells me quietly, and the overwhelming ball of emotions gets stuck in my windpipe, like when you swallow water the wrong way. "I wanted to know you before you let me look into you."

I nod, a tear suddenly slipping from the corner of one eye. It would have been so easy for him to learn everything just by getting me to meet his eyes from the start, but he wanted to wait. He didn't want to violate my privacy and take too much too soon. He wanted to court me properly, for us to fall for each other outside of our more animal instincts.

"I'm sure about you," he confesses, sounding shy again, and it has a sob of laughter breaking free from my chest. He squeezes me tighter, presses a reverent kiss beneath my jaw. "I want you," He tells me, then adds, "Not just now, but... for a long time. If you'll have me."

"Yes," I reach one hand up to wind my fingers into his dark hair. It's thick and soft, the locks curling into my touch. "I want it. I need you, Aiden,"

With that, he doesn't hold back any longer, and time slows as he fits his teeth carefully, testing the parameters of my mating gland, and bites down.

A wave of hot, thick euphoria plunders through my body, making my cry out in earnest. My hand pulls Aiden into me, fisting his hair without the tenderness my touch had just moments before. He leans into me, his heavy body pinning me into the mattress, causing us to sink sink sink further down into the molten core of the earth.

I say his name and he moans into my throat, rocking his hips into me.

It's too much. Not enough. Immeasurable.

Too quickly, he's licking the wound, a harsh sting blending seamlessly into a ticklish pleasure. There is a burning knot of something new that tugs at my breastbone, reaching for him in a way my heat has never urged me to reach for someone before. It wants me to be closer, intwined, completely melded with him.

My abdomen clenches and I feel completely empty. So much that it hurts.

Somehow, he notices; maybe I make a pained sound that has him hushing me. "I'm going to make it better," he promises, "I'll make you feel good, Madison."

Then he pulls back to rip the shirt over his head, baring his chest to me. It's pale, like his eyelids, with dark hair dusted and trailing deliciously down before disappearing into his waistband. With him leaning back like this, I can see the darkened wet patch of fabric above his knee, where his thigh has been pressing against my mound.

My face heats at how obvious I'm being, how desperate he must know I am for him. I hate this part of me - this complete lack of control and discipline over my biology. It's humiliating.

"I'm pathetic," I laugh, wincing when I realise I've admitted it out loud.

His brow creases, "What?"

"Nothing," I chew my lip, "I'm sorry, you must think-"

"I must think what?" He asks, gentle, leaning in. His eyes search mine, genuinely curious.

A breath shudders through me, and I fight off another twinge of pain low in my belly, my body frustrated with my mind's disobedience. I can't answer him, and I look away, embarrassed.

The palm of his hand slips up under the hem of my camisole, mapping out my rib cage. My eyelids flutter at the smooth friction of his skin against mine.

"I think that you like me touching you," he whispers, suddenly right next to my ear. "I think that you want me as badly as I want you. I think you're the most fucking beautiful thing I've ever seen. Ever felt. And I've not even felt you on my knot."

I clench painfully, trying to hold back another torrent of slick. He probably feels it hot through the leg of his pants as they press against me. I say his name, pleading, hoping he'll understand.

"I think that you're finally mine," he licks his bite, the skin newly knitted together after his ministrations. His saliva will have healing qualities for me now. "I think you like being mine."

I nod, eyes squeezed shut.

"I think you're getting shy on me," he says, voice softer. He presses his lips gently against my collarbone, pushes the silk up over my belly. He says my name, and it just about guts me. "Arms up, sweetheart."

I comply, eyes still closed, and the silk drags against shoulders and finally up over my wrists. I can't look at him right now. I can't watch his reaction as he sees my chest, knowing he won't be impressed after having seen everything weeks ago. All the sex appeal is gone - the way he saw me then. Bloated and sweaty and stinking of old blood.

He wheezes a curse before I feel the blistering, wet press of his mouth against the underside of one breast, then the other.

A startled, pained sound jolts from me as my hand grips the hard bulge of a bicep. The muscles ripple beneath my fingers as he leans in, adjusts to lick teasingly over my nipple before settling in and taking it into his mouth - electric. His touch shoots through my body, hot and cold all at once.

A hand slides over to hold the mound of my other breast, perfectly moulding to it and squeezing gently.

"Aiden," I gasp, not really knowing what else to say. Not knowing anything else to say.

He makes a low sound, a rumble from deep in his chest that has my spine arching into him even further. When he presses his thigh against the wet mess between my legs, I lose all self-control and dignity. I stretch an arm down to push at the waistband of his pants, and when I don't have the reach to make much movement, I use my feet to scramble and kick at the fabric like a feral animal.

I've almost managed to slightly undress him when he drags his mouth down my stomach, moving further from my reach. I make a frustrated sound, and he laughs, nipping at my navel and easily sliding my pants down over my hips. The sound the shorts make as the drenched silk peels away from my thighs is so incriminating that my face burns again. The air is cold against my core, the shorts pushed down to my ankles.

There's a pause as Aiden rests his head beside my hipbone, breathing heavily.

"I don't want to rush this," he says more to himself than to me. "I'm trying to take it slow."

"Stop trying," I urge, and I feel his teeth press into my skin as he beams against me. Then, he cranes his neck to look up at me, and I want to kiss him again. His eyes, crinkled with amusement and affection, make the knot at my breastbone tug impatiently. The sensation wars with the scalding twinge in my belly.

"Have you ever been knotted before?" He asks suddenly, and I writhe beneath his hands.

I almost lie to him. I have this desperate need for him to think I'm perfect for him, pure. But I know it shouldn't matter. Wouldn't. Doesn't.

"Yes," I nod, remorseful. But also glad - I know what to expect. "College."

His eyes darken, but he nods, clearly fighting a wave of absurd, primitive emotions like I am.

"It was... he was..." I feel the need to explain, to make him understand that it was nothing like this, like him. "He was so sure I'd get broody and bite him that he only ever took me from behind. He wouldn't even kiss me."

I can't look at Aiden, still hurt by the memory of that idiot frat guy's rough hand pushing my head down into the mattress as he fucked me. When he'd said he didn't want me getting any ideas, I'd bristled but gone along with his precautions, wanting to please this alpha who wanted nothing to do with me except to use me as a fuck toy.

And who was I to say he was wrong? It wasn't like I'd had any experience being knotted before - maybe my omega instincts would take over and defy my rational brain, which told me that this alpha was definitely not the one for me.

Besides, it's not like I had ever told him to stop. I had liked it at the time, or thought I had. I think I had just liked that he liked it, that he liked me. But I'd always find myself feeling so empty and alone once his knot had gone down and he'd left, often crying myself to sleep, confused by it all.

"Fucking idiot," Aiden says darkly, then kisses just below my belly button, causing warmth to bloom all over my body. His jaw tenses and his grip tightens as he asks, "Did he hurt you?"

I should tell him no. I should explain that this was all a long time ago, and it doesn't matter, to let bygones be bygones or whatever. But he deserves the truth, and I deserve to be honest about it.

"Yes," I admit softly, then return to chewing the inside of my cheek. Without permission, the question tumbles from my lips, "Are you going to hurt me, too? Will it hurt?"

His answer is immediate, "No," his eyes hold a promise, "I won't hurt you. It doesn't have to hurt."

I sigh at this, a tension releasing from my body that I didn't know was there.

"Then," I wriggle my thighs under his weight, pressing my pelvis up to draw attention to the underwear still very much intact, "I think I'm ready."

He exhales, eyes hooded and playful again, "I think so, too. But I'm not." Swiftly, he dips his chin to press a lingering kiss against my pubic bone, and I moan.

He inhales hungrily against my core, a deep pull like he's trying to store away the memory of my scent for later. "You smell," his voice is gravel, "fucking incredible."

Then, he's pulling the cotton of my underwear to the side, and our groans of ecstasy synchronise as his tongue dips between my folds. The feeling is searing, electric, a deep itch that has never been reached before by anyone, not even me.

He does it again.

Just when I'm convinced my skin is steaming and my shoulder blades are going to punch through the mattress, his lips seal my clitoris in a kiss that turns quickly from teasing to brutal.

I cry out his name as everything in my brain tears into two and sews itself back together again. Knuckles pop and heels dig into the meat of his obliques, clinging to him as I fall through the incomprehensible stages of one of the most agonisingly good orgasms I've ever had.

Twitching and oversensitive, I manage to push at his shoulders until he surrenders the soft, tail end of his assault on my frazzled nerve endings. He sighs, half indulgent and half sullen, and delivers one last, intentional swipe to catch the slick trickling out of me before his huge body crawls up to hunch over mine once more.

He cages me in, body radiating warmth and pheromones that mix with mine in a heady combination. His mouth is still glistening, and I watch, dazed, as his pink tongue peeks out to lick me from his lips.

"Pants," I manage to gasp, just as my mouth crashes into his in a messy kiss. His tongue presses into the cavern of my mouth, and the neurons in my brain explode in flashes of excitement like popcorn kernels. I start kicking, trying to slide his pant legs down again. "Off. Now."

He catches an ankle in his hand, grinning into my mouth, "Easy, tiger," he chides, and I do my best to scowl up at him. It's hard when he looks so good. With a promising nip at my bottom lip, he rests my foot back on the mattress and goes to work sliding his sweatpants off at long last. They get caught on his erection, which is jutting out at a painful angle.

"Those off, too," I demand, realising he's left his boxer briefs behind. Aiden gives me a look, eyebrows raised, so I add, "Please."

"You first." He eyes my underwear hungrily, an expression that quickly morphs to surprise when he observes just how quickly the flimsy piece of cotton can be extricated from my body.

I don't let him take in the new view. "Your turn,"

"Fuck," he half laughs, voice strained, "You're going to kill me, sweetheart."

"I can live with that," I giggle as I lean in, meeting his lips a little softer as he wriggles free from his briefs.

It's like being dunked into an ice bath when our bare bodies finally make contact. Our stomachs brush against one another first, the skin soft and vulnerable and so different from the hard muscle I've pressed against before. Inside of me, something tightens painfully, somehow only parched further by the first orgasm.

His hands, warm and dry against my chilled, damp skin, wander and press against places I've never thought to pay much mind to before now. The plane between my lower back and tailbone. Behind my knee. The swell of my lower belly. Just above my elbow.

Finally, his palm against my inner thigh. His knee used to spread mine wider, to let him settle his hips lower. The scalding smear of something just below my belly button, something wet and viscous and definitely not mine.

He says my name, then says it again when I don't respond. My mind swirls and suddenly my senses seem amplified - everywhere he's touching me, it's indescribably good.

"Yes," I urge, tilting my pelvis to press into the hard cock he's so politely keeping a little distantly from me.

"I want," he says from between clenched teeth, clearly struggling. The sight makes me feel a little hedonistic, if I'm being completely honest. "Can I-"

I prop myself up on perched forearms and graze my lips past his mouth, past his cheek, all the way to his earlobe, which I take between my teeth and tug on, just this side of what I think would be painful. He chokes on an inhale and rolls his hips back to drag his cock down my pubic bone, notching himself at my entrance. Here, we are somehow the same temperature.

"Yes," I hiss, still hanging off his ear, "You can."

He shudders and hands himself over to me fully, pressing his nose into the side of my head and pushing through my folds. The journey is more than well lubricated and ready for him, but my body seems to seize up at the threat. The fit is tighter than I would have expected, given the sizes of the well-loved dildos in my top drawer.

Aiden curses, then adjusts, cradles my outer thigh in his large hand and surges forward again. This time, there's no resistance.

When he's fully seated, I release a breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding. With him taking up so much room inside of me, it feels impossible to get my lungs full.

"That's it," he murmurs, one arm wrapped to hold the back of my head. I've never felt closer to another person before. "Just breathe for me, Madison. Slowly. Like that. Good girl."

Oh god, I think, trying to follow his gentle instructions. With each exhale, my body obeys, becoming more pliant and malleable. If I let myself relax into it, I fit perfectly against him.

When I begin to feel the urgency of impatience gnawing at me, I promise, "I'm okay. I'm good. You can-"

He cuts me off, voice ragged, "You're so fucking perfect." He presses his face further into my hair and inhales, the sound thick and heavy and not entirely human.

His hips flex minutely, and it sends chills up my spine. He pulls back a little, more an idea of a thrust than anything, and rocks back into me, deeper. So deep that my head falls back against the pillow.

"Madison," he says, like he wants to continue the thought. But he doesn't. He says my name again and repeats the motion of his hips, a little further. He does this over and over until he's making it all the way out, and somehow, my body is letting him; trusting that he'll push back inside.

His thrusts grow stronger, like the tide building up in a storm, and it takes effort to return to the living world when I realise he's asked me a question.

"Am I hurting you?" The words are choppy, bitten short. Like he's in agony himself.

No. Not at all. Not hurting.

"Aiden," I moan, then something like a sob bubbles from my chest when he hits a spot particularly deep inside me. Where I imagine my cervix to be.

He leans back to press his forehead against mine, panting and flushed. His skin is damp, mine already dripping with sweat. "Tell me," his eyes study me, the pupils blown wide.

He pauses and presses his pelvis into mine, forcing the air from my body. I make a keening, pleading sound that would usually make me cringe.

"Don't stop," I manage, scooping my tailbone to encourage access.

His brow pinches, frustrated with my garbled non-answers, but concerned and searching. A hand pins my waist to stop me fidgeting. "But-"

I clench down on him, hard, and revel in the choked grunt he makes. "Good," I assure him. "It's good."

He needs no further convincing, his mouth crashing against me and his body lunging into mine with renewed vigour. The sounds his body makes against my own are vulgar and ripe with intent. His pubic bone grinds and slaps against my clit and I feel like I might scream, die, or explode at any second.

I, for one, am doing a terrible job of keeping up with my end of the kiss. All of my nerves feel like live wires, each sensation demanding undivided attention. His hand still has my waist in a vicelike grip, pinning me down as he piles into me, as if he's afraid I'll disappear if he doesn't.

The sounds I make are unearthly. Howls and grunts and squawks. I'm so close, I feel that my heart might shred through my chest before I reach my orgasm. His groans are low and rumbling, sounding as if the earth itself is splitting open.

He chants my name, vowels transforming into something slurred and unrecognisable before they morph into a repetitive thrum of: "Mine. Mine. Mine,"

"I'm-" I try to tell him, but the words stick in my throat. So good. He's so good. This. Us.

"Say it," he demands, and the omega in me is drawn out by the alpha in him. Not cruel. Not aggressive. But stern, commanding.

"Yours," I relent, then, locking my gaze with his, "I'm yours."

When he leans in, eyes glassy and unfocused, he bypasses my mouth and dips down to suck at his bite. The pleasure pulls taut and seizes my body until I'm trembling beneath him, muscles fluttering in a way that makes him splutter curses.

I'm coming down from my high when I notice the pressure building inside my vaginal canal. After two attempts at releasing the clenched muscles, I realise it's not me who is narrowing the space, but him.

The base of his cock swells inside me as he rocks gently, no longer attempting to pull out.

A frenzy of panic lights up inside of me at the threat of him; what if he does hurt me, what if he doesn't stop growing? Judging by the pressure and the stretch, he's already on the brink of being bigger than the only knot I've ever had, and the first time I took that knot, I was practically crippled for days after.

"Stay still," Aiden's voice warns, both hands now clutching at my waist to prevent me from escaping.

Just then, when the pinch is turning into pain, a balm rinses my body free of discomfort. The soothing sensation engulfs me from the swollen base of Aiden's cock, and I'm reminded blissfully of an alpha's Venom.

The gel is produced by an alpha's knot, intended to soothe and arouse their sexual partner. It's ripe with hormones and nutrients that increase fertility and sexual stimulation.

I've only ever experienced Venom less than a handful of times, as it can be incredibly addictive. Especially for omegas. The guy that knotted me previously even insisted on taking Venom inhibitors to reduce the risk of pregnancy or - god forbid - emotional intimacy. That meant that his Venom was diluted; still pleasant, but nothing like the heady experience of Aiden's entering my bloodstream.

When I feel the first jerks of Aiden's cock inside of me, my body is already chemically rigged for another orgasm. I come so hard, I worry that the force of it will castrate him as I thrash around. I no longer sense the subtle spasms of Aiden inside me, but the searing liquid heat of his come spills into my channel, sealed inside by his throbbing knot.

It's so hot it almost burns. The flood of his release brands wherever it touches, the sensation glowing inside me.

We stay like that, him hunched and taut over my soft, wrung-out form. Even when my vaginal muscles completely let go, his knot holds me closely against him. I smile drowsily at the security of it.

His palm smooths over my damp hair, and when he asks if I'm okay, I reply, "Can I bite you?"

He chuckles and rolls us over, both wincing at the tug on his knot. I adjust my hips minutely, and he shudders, already growing harder while still wedged deep inside me.

"Go ahead," he stretches out his neck for me, vocal chords sounding parched and abused. The sight of his perfect, unmarred throat makes my jaw ache, and the tug at my chest pulse with a need that isn't mine, a thing that has used my body as a vessel to grow. "Make me yours."

I bend forward, pressing my torso against his, and do just that.