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I am both so ready and also in desperate need of a therapist.
“Lucian,” I breathe- half warning, half plea, all terrified enthusiasm.
He doesn’t push. Not yet. Of course not. This is Lucian. The man probably files his taxes in pen and keeps a spreadsheet of my orgasms.
“You’ll take me everywhere,” he growls, like he’s swearing a holy vow. “You’ll know what it means to be truly claimed. Not just fucked. Not just filled. Butowned.”
Okay, well, that’s hot. That’sunfairlyhot.
I hear one of the others shift - Theo or maybe Kai - but no one interrupts. They're all watching. Waiting. Like a perverted bridal party witnessing the final stage of my spiritual ascension.
Lucian dips his fingers between my thighs and gathers it -gathers- like he’s prepping ingredients.Is this man about to baste me?!my last rational brain cell asks, right before I moan deeply and forget how to blink.
He lifts the mess of slick and come and trails it higher, up and over, fingers circling gently around my rim.
I jolt under the touch, hips twitching uncontrollably.
My dignity flees the scene.
He shushes me gently.
“Easy,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “I’ve got you, Omega. We’re going to do thisslow.”
One hand holds me steady while the other - god help me - moves with criminal finesse.
“Let me in,” he murmurs. “Just a little. Just my fingers.”
He presses a single finger in, patient and slick, and it’s so much. Not because it hurts, but because it’shim. Because it’s Lucian Vale beingthisgentle.
Like I’m glass. Like I’m holy.
“That’s it. Good girl. You’re doing so fucking good,” he growls, low and proud, like I just parallel parked under pressure.
I moan, high and broken, as he fucks me slowly with that single finger, just enough to make my whole body tighten, to make my thighs quake with want.
“More,” I whisper, desperate. “Please, Lucian,more.”
A second finger joins, and I swear I see stars. My brain glitches. I may be ascending.
Is this bonding or baptism? Because it's unclear.
“You’re opening up for me like you were made for this. Like your bodyknowswho it belongs to.”
Sir,please. I can only take so much dominant spreadsheet energy before I combust.
He curls his fingers slightly, works them deeper, his voice a low growl in my ear.
“Yours- I’m yours, always.”
His fingers slip out slowly, and I feel the press of his cock next - hot, heavy, thick against the slick mess he’s made of me.
And here’s the thing: he doesn’t just ram in like some horny freight train. He waits. Gives me time. Gives me the choice. Gives me thepower.
Through the bond, I feel him: grounded. Fierce.
And so fucking proud of me.
"You ready for me, Omega?" he murmurs, voice low against my ear. "Ready to let your true Alpha in?"
