And me? I was up and off the bed, placing gentle kisses on Len’s forehead and Jackson’s before slipping out of the room and after James.
I found him slamming into the bathroom, his jeans unbuttoned and jerked down with hands shaking so hard, he ground out growls of frustration. So I slipped in behind him and took over.
“Fuck, omega, you shouldn’t… We shouldn’t—Uh!”
I knew the moment I had him in my hand by all that throbbing hard warmth, but also because his body went completely still, then I swivelled my hand up and down his thick length.
Every single one of my lovers was endowed in a way that made my cunt twitch, but there was something extra special about alpha cock. So big, long, hard, thick, and then there was the pièce de résistance… I let my fingers spread as I came to his knot, sweeping over its swollen surface.
“Jesus, Kit, Jesus!” I squeezed, gently at first, and then with greater confidence as his pants grew louder and more desperate. “You keep doing that, and I’ll come like some kid who’s gotten his first whiff of an omega.”
“So come,” I said into the muscles of his back. “Just take your pleasure and let go.”
Surrender, was what I was actually thinking.
He flipped up the toilet seat, his hand slamming down on the wall, and then I felt so very powerful.
So much was made in the media of our surrender, our passivity, as if we were the only ones capable of it, but everyone could if they chose. Social forces tried to make it that we were the ones always doing it, but that wasn’t how it worked. I could be aggressive, I could knot my lover, I could bring my alpha to his knees and then he would do the same to me, especially if I asked. I made my movements brisk and efficient, knowing how close he was and wanting to push him over.
“Oh fuck, Kit. Fuck, fuck, fuck…”
He sounded like he was in pain as his cum ejected out of his body at force, hitting the water in the toilet, splashing his pleasure over and over and over, until finally, he became still.
“You beautiful girl,” he said, turning around and sweeping me up and placing me on the bathroom counter after he’d flushed the loo, finding his place between my thighs. “If you knew what it was taking me to stop myself from rutting you and your omega… God, every bloody one of them. I feel maddened.”
I smiled as I stroked his face, then he kissed me with hard, bruising kisses.
“I thought I knew what I was getting myself in for. I had a very calm, very rational conversation all planned out, where we’d all get around the table and talk things out.”
“We still can, James.” I grinned, all full of the bloody hubris that making Tristan mine had filled me with. “We can do anything we like.”
And with that, we burst out laughing, his arms sweeping around me, holding me tight.
Of course, that was never true. Everyone had loyalties, commitments, social niceties they had to observe, and none more than us. Choices were closed off, put out of reach until all that was left was a narrow lane you needed to stay within, but right then, we felt like nothing could contain us.
The ancient Greeks used to focus so much on that eminently human overconfidence. When flushed with success, they challenged the natural order and the authority of the gods themselves, and in each play, the audience was forced to watch the tragic hero’s decline, his overreach, knowing the axe was going to fall. Part of the tension that comes from being an observer is the persistent blindness of the hero. He remains convinced of his rightness, up until the point the gods themselves remind him of his humanity.
Jerking my alpha boyfriend off in the bathroom of my other alpha boyfriend’s home shouldn’t have fit that bill at all, but what came later made me wonder. I ended up with a lot of time to think, to consider how it all went down.
But not here, not as James’ kisses grew slower, deeper, more persuasive, until I was groaning and so was he.
“We need to talk,” he ground out. “All of us.”
“We will,” I agreed. “After.”
Chapter 31
James’ plan was a good one—sit down, have some coffee, some bagels and cream cheese, and whatever the hell deliciousness Jackson was cooking in the kitchen, and then talk this through. It was smart, it was rational. Problem was, we were not rational creatures. We were ruled by instincts that didn’t make sense a lot of the time. That became apparent as you looked around the table.
Len looked more relaxed than I’d seen him in ages, his arms around the backs of Tris’ and my chairs, sitting there with the smug smile of the satisfied, his fingers teasing the end of my hair in a most distracting way. Jackson was literally humming and had quite a good voice for it, as he deposited bacon, sausages, and eggs on a big platter in the centre of the table. And James? I could feel his gaze on my skin. From what we’d done together in the bathroom, it appeared I had his attention and nothing would sway it.
Then of course, he grabbed my hand, stroking those long sensitive fingers of his up and down mine in a way that was even more distracting. The two points of contact, the two caresses, they couldn’t help but make me think of what could come next, the two alphas stripped bare as I was wedged—
“Bacon, princess?”
“What?”
I shook my head to see Jackson was offering to put some on my plate. Did I want that? Yeah, I should not be thinking about what I wanted right now, not if we were to do what we needed to.