Chapter 9: Breeding Fever
Time lost meaning. The world was the dull ache of Jaxson’s knot, the frantic pulse of the bond, the wet heat between them. Ben drifted in a haze of spent pleasure and gnawing, gathering need. His skin was too tight, too sensitive. Every brush of the velvet sheets felt like a minor assault. His throat was raw from screaming.
Jaxson’s knot subsided with a final, uncomfortable throb. He slipped out, and a gush of fluid followed—a visceral reminder of what had just been planted deep inside him. Ben shivered, a pathetic sound escaping his lips.
Before he could curl away, Jaxson’s hands were on him again. Firm, inexorable. He rolled Ben onto his stomach with a low grunt. The air hit his exposed, wet skin, raising goosebumps. He felt utterly vulnerable, ass in the air, face pressed into a pillow that smelled like Jaxson and sex.
“Jaxson…” Ben’s voice was a wrecked thing.
A hard palm smoothed over the curve of his ass, then came down in a sharp, stinging slap. Ben jolted, a yelp torn from him, but his traitorous cock twitched against the sheets.
“You’re still burning up,” Jaxson said, his tone clinical, detached, but his touch was anything but. He rubbed the spot he’d hit, his fingers trailing down to tease Ben’s swollen, slick entrance. “Heat’s just getting started, baby. Gonna ride me for days.”
His thumb pushed in, just to the knuckle, and Ben’s back arched. A fresh wave of slick soaked Jaxson’s hand. “Fuck,” Ben gasped into the pillow.
“That’s the plan.”
Jaxson lined himself up, the broad head of his cock nudging insistently against Ben’s hole. He was already hard again. Ben could feel the aggressive, potent heat of him, the renewed Alpha drive triggered by the bond and the Omega’s desperate scent.
He pushed in, not with the brutal slam of before, but with a slow, maddening, deliberate pressure. It was a stretch that bordered on pain, a relentless filling that made Ben claw at the sheets. He was so full, so open, so claimed. A low, continuous moan was pulled from his lungs.
Jaxson bottomed out, his hips flush against Ben’s ass, and leaned forward. His weight settled over Ben’s back, his chest hot against Ben’s sweat-slicked skin. One hand braced beside Ben’s head; the other slid around his waist, splaying possessively over his lower abdomen.
“Can you feel it?” Jaxson’s voice was a rough whisper in his ear. His hips began to move, a deep, grinding roll. “My come inside you? My mark on you?” His teeth grazed the fresh, stinging bite on Ben’s neck, and the bond lit up like a live wire, sending a shock of pleasure-pain through Ben’s core.
“Stop… talking…” Ben managed, but his hips were pushing back, meeting each slow, devastating thrust.
Jaxson’s hand pressed harder on his stomach, a firm, suggestive pressure. “Gonna fuck you through this whole heat. Gonna pump you so full of cum your belly swells with my pup by morning.” His rhythm began to accelerate, the deep rolls turning into sharper, more purposeful drives. “You’ll be round with it. Everyone will see. Everyone will know you’re mine. That I put it in you.”
The filthy words, the crude promise, twisted something in Ben’s gut. Fear, yes. Revolt, absolutely. But under that, a dark, shameful thrill surged. His body convulsed around the thick cock pistoning into him. The idea—the visual of it—unlocked a primal, omega part of his brain he didn’t know he had. To be filled, bred, owned.
“Yes,” Ben hissed, the word mangled.
“Yes, what?” Jaxson demanded, his thrusts becoming punishing, each one jolting Ben forward.
“Yes, Alpha!” The title burst from him, wrenched from some deep, surrendered place. He was crying, he realized. Tears soaked the pillow. He was coming apart, and the only thing holding the pieces together was the Alpha fucking him into the mattress.
Jaxson’s control shattered. A growl ripped from his throat, feral and raw. He released Ben’s waist, grabbed both his hips, and yanked him back onto his cock with brutal force. The slap of skin was loud, rhythmic, animalistic. Ben’s world narrowed to that point of connection, to the fever, to the bond screaming in unison.
“Gonna knot you again,” Jaxson grunted, his breath hot and ragged. “Gonna lock it all inside you. My good little Omega. My fucking mate.”
The pressure built, coiling impossibly tight. Ben’s orgasm hit him like a seizure, blinding and silent for a moment before a broken scream tore free. His vision whited out. He felt his channel clamp and spasm, milking Jaxson desperately.
With a final, lung-emptying roar, Jaxson slammed home and swelled. The knot popped, stretching Ben to an impossible degree, locking them together. Warmth flooded him, a pulsing, claiming rush that seemed to go on forever. Jaxson collapsed over him, his full weight a cage, a comfort, a prison.
In the molten, bonded silence, Jaxson nuzzled the mark on Ben’s neck. His voice, when it came, was stripped of its earlier brutality, leaving something hoarse and unsettlingly tender. “Got you,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Finally got you.”
Ben, pinned and filled and shaking, knew with a terrifying clarity that it was true. There was no going back from this. The fight was over. He was caught. And as the knot held and his heat still simmered under his skin, he understood the fight had never been against Jaxson. It had been against this inexorable pull, this fated, devastating truth.
He was Jaxson’s. And the proof was already taking root inside him.